All language subtitles for Hoffman (1970).en

- Scarborough?
- On the left, sir.

Now, there should be
something up here.

This looks all right.
There's a seat there.

- Okay?
- Yes.

- You'll write or phone, won't you?
- Yeah.

It's only for a week, Tom.

- Bye-bye, darling.
- Bye. Bye.

- Look after yourself.
- I will.

- And give my love to your grandmother.
- I will. I will.

You go, now. Go on.

Go on, Tom!

- Bye-bye, darling.
- Bye.

Come in, Miss Smith.

Don't weaken, Miss Smith.

Please.

The bedroom.

Or perhaps you would prefer
the bathroom first?

Bathroom?

Yes, yes.

The bathroom is just along here.

Miss Smith?

Please make yourself look

as though you
want to be fertilised.

What a charming silence
you make, Miss Smith.

What you need is a drink.

No pity.

With pity, a man is undermined.

Never again.

Never again.

Oh, God.
What am I doing here?

Come along, Miss Smith.

Blow your lonely nose
and come out of there.

If things had been
the other way round,

and Tom had known about you,

he'd never have done
such a horrible thing.

Horrible?

Secrets, guilty.

Yes.

But Tom would imprison you
in his little house,

and Kill you slowly
of fatty boredom.

The lock doesn't work.

Come on, Miss Smith.

Make an effort.

Breathe calmly.
Relax.

You'd think you were going
to be asked to strip before tea.

I am not.

I certainly am not.

If that's what you think,
I absolutely am not.

Well, give me your coat, then,
as a token.

- Well, I'm doing my best.
- 'Course you are.

There.

You have that.

Shall we?

The living room is just here.

Where one lives.

Excuse me.

Sit here, Miss Smith.

Calves of leg,

swelling thigh,

white breasts,

mouth of desire.

That's right.

That's the way
I've seen you for...

nearly two years.

With my door open
just a crack.

Sitting at your desk,

with your knees
always neatly together.

I have a headache.

You have a headache?

Haven't you an aspirin
or something?

You'd like an aspirin?

He's mad!

Aspirin.

Who would've suspected him?

I mean, nobody hardly noticed him.

I never did.

Aspirin.

- Where?
- In the tea.

- Oh, I don't want them in the tea.
- Ah. Erm...

They fell in.

Er... Try it.

I'll take that. Tea.

Why me?

Why did you pick on me?

Because you were there to see,

to look at,

but never to touch.

Why don't you drink your tea?

Were those old aspirins?

Yes.

Ah, yes. They may taste funny.
Mmm.

- Why do you keep staring at me?
- Because now I can stare at you.

- I can even touch you.
- Only because you're forcing me.

Miss Smith, our agreement

says that you are supposed to
look happy and willing.

Happy?

I'm supposed to be getting married
in three weeks' time.

Suddenly I'm here,
forced to do this.

Why don't you take your shoes off
and feel comfortable?

And I hate filthy talk!

You said that you'd
treat me with respect.

Nothing filthy about shoes.

And I do have full use,
Miss Smith.

Only in...

Only, you know, in... in...

Full use.

Any man suffering massive
sexual frustration

would be out of his mind if,
getting the girl of his dreams,

he didn't put her to full use.

Now, be reasonable.

If Tom knew you were saying
these things to me...

- Tom is a nothing.
- He is not!

Practise forgetting Tom,
Miss Smith,

and try looking at me
as if you were seeing him.

I love Tom, Mr Hoffman.

Love is merely a substitute
for liking people.

It doesn't make me want you less.

Well, this isn't gonna work, anyway.

Where's my handbag?

I smell your hair in my bathroom.

I smell your...

female skin smell
in my bathroom.

Can't buy that in a bottle.

Sex, Miss Smith,
is wasted on the young.

I'm used to being
in the bathroom by myself.

Given time,
people catch love and sex

the way they catch the measles.

Not me, thank you.

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

I think you do.

I think you do.

If a woman's biological urges

can make her wear
her skirt up to her crotch,

- what can they not do?
- I beg your pardon?

Idiot girls standing around
at bus stops, freezing thighs,

bladder trouble spreading wildly.

Are you in good health,
Miss Smith?

You don't seem to like women,
do you?

Um, why don't you
wash your face?

Do you mind
leaving me alone, please?

Certainly.

What you are doing to me
is atrocious!

The filthiest thing
I've ever heard of.

Yes, I am filthy, yes.

But there's no escaping
one's fate, Miss Smith.

And I am your fate.

Oh, please God, let me get away.

Please. Please.

Mr Hoffman? The...
The water's all overflowing!

I don't know what I did.
Look.

The water's overflowing.

Well, there's some more
towels in the kitchen.

Miss Smith, get some towels
from the kitchen.

Miss Smith, where are you?

Miss Smith?

Miss Smith!

Miss Smith!

Miss Smith.

Have you thought
what will happen to you

if you go through that door?

Yes.

Right. Well...

Let's start from
the beginning again, shall we?

Please.

Is...
Is this the only...

Only bed in use? Yes.

What did you expect?

I don't know.

- How did you imagine it?
- I don't know.

Miss Smith, you are here

to be two arms, two legs,

a face,

and what fits in the middle.

You understand?

I see.

No, you don't.

No, I don't!

And I'm used to
unpacking by myself.

Yes.

These drawers are ready,
waiting for you.

Did you phone Mitchell?

He saw me to the station.

Saw you to the station?

Well, he knows about
my granny up in Scarborough.

- You told me you had no parents.
- I haven't.

I have my grandmother
up in Scarborough.

Well, Tom's never seen her,

but he knows
she practically reared me,

and that she falls down.

Falls down?

I told him that she'd
fallen down the stairs,

again,

and that I had to go up
and look after her for a while.

Did he believe you?

Certainly!

I don't tell lies.

Only the truly innocent can lie
with conviction, Miss Smith.

And, um...

the girls who share your flat?

Scarborough.

So, in fact,
nobody knows you're here?

No.

Nobody.

What's the matter?

Nobody.

What are you doing?

Er...

testing.

Testing what?

Testing reality.

- Me?
- Yes.

I've never, ever touched you
before this moment.

All these things
have been in my head.

Your legs, your mouth.

I want to eat you.

I want to consume you.

I want to lick your knees.

What do you think of a man
who feels like that about you?

A man does feel
that way about me.

Oh, no, he doesn't.

He couldn't.

Please, let me go home.

Please.

- I can't.
- But you could if you wanted to.

No.

It's much too late for that now.
Much too late.

I don't know what to say
to you, Mr Hoffman.

I mean, you're nothing
like you are at work.

Even your voice is different.

Um, yes.
Yes, I have changed.

For the first time in my life,
the prisoner within me has escaped.

If only you'd understand
my position.

Understand you?
Here, now?

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

All over the world, the simple
pleasures of the flesh

are being ruined by women
screaming to be understood.

I know what is it now.

You're trying to get
your own back on me

for that time,
about a year ago,

when you wrote me
the note.

- Did I write you a note?
- Yes.

Asking me to go out with you.

Said you'd been given tickets
to a play or something.

Look, I know I shouldn't
have ignored it, but...

You did rather more
than ignore it, Miss Smith.

You told all
the other girls about it.

- No, I didn't.
- Yes, you did.

All those girls, giggling
in the lift behind my back.

It's not that youth is cruel.

It's not that youth is mindless.

It's...

just simply that youth
is wasted on the young.

They have no idea how to use it.

I couldn't go out with you
because of Tom.

You didn't have Tom then.

- Didn't I?
- No.

You were afraid to go out with me
because of my maniac face.

- No. No.
- Yes. Yes.

Girls all over the world
are afraid of men

with my expression.

What expression?

Plain, sad-faced men.

You look at us, all of you,
and you're right.

Every Miss Smith,
everywhere.

Swarms of mature,

sexually starved men.

With their thoughts

full of breasts
and bottoms and thighs,

in offices,
buses and trains.

Men who've missed the boat,

but who still need love.

Well, Miss Smith,

their day is coming.

Their revolution
is almost upon you.

Just you wait.
Just you wait.

Hope never dies in a man

with a good, dirty mind.

Miss Smith?

What?

Er...

Shall you comb your hair?

What?

And put on some lipstick.

- Now?
- Yes.

And then we'll go out to a restaurant
and eat something.

Go out? You mean, go somewhere
and not stay here?

Yes, a restaurant.
Food, wine, music, waiters.

Get your handbag.

Oh, but, Mr Hoffman, I can't
go anywhere looking like this.

I look terrible.

Hurry, Miss Smith!
Hurry!

Life is awaiting us.
Eat, or be eaten.

Now, let's have a look
at what we've got here.

Er...

Avocado with seafood dressing?

No?

- A little pasta, perhaps?
- No, thank you.

No?

Er... Prosciutto con melone?

Maybe you'd prefer
some boiled cat.

It's off, anyway, isn't it?

Yes, it's off.

Hmm. I know.

What a good idea.
Snails.

Snails, yes. Six each.

And a bottle of Valpolicella.

- E per dopo, signore?
- Per dopo?

- The osso buco is very good here.
- What's that?

Knuckle of veal on rice.

I can't eat veal. It...

It gives me a funny feeling.

Then perhaps you'd like
to have something

that doesn't need
to be slaughtered?

Yeah.

Lamb.

Allora,
uno osso buco per me,

- uno abbacchiò.
- Si, signore.

- Roasted.
- Grazie.

- Grazie.
- Grazie.

That's a charming schoolgirl frown
you have there, Miss Smith.

Many a man would drag you into
the woods just to experience it.

Am I supposed to say something?

Have you, by any chance,
any snapshots of yourself

as a child playing on the sands
at Scarborough?

No, I don't suppose you have.

No, I don't suppose I have.

It's a pity. There are
two people in all of us.

The child in the snapshot,

and the monster
the child grows into.

Ah, the snails. Good.

Where breaths may commingle,

two should always
eat the same food.

Thank you. This implement is
for holding the snail shell.

Voila.

Have they got garlic?

Well, I sincerely
hope they have, yes.

Tom's mother says that only
French railway workers eat garlic.

You're very witty,
Miss Smith.

Really?

Witty and informative.

You tell me volumes about
Tom's mother in one simple sentence.

- Aren't you gonna eat them?
- I don't like them.

How do you know
you don't like them

if you haven't tried them?

Go on, try one, Miss Smith.

Free yourself. Be venturesome.

It's a new eating experience.

I remember the day my father
introduced me to snails.

"Hello, snails," I said.
"How are you?"

"Très bien, merci," they said.

"We who are about
to be eaten salute you."

I said,
"They're worms, Father."

He said, "No, they're not.
They're snails."

And did I but open my mind
to experience,

and also to snails.

Did you know that stone age men

ate snails at fertility feasts?

Impossible, disgusting man!

And that it's rather rude
to talk with your mouth full?

Anything wrong, madame?

No, no.

It's fine, thank you.

I should like to propose a toast.

To your snails, Miss Smith.

To your knees, Miss Smith.

And to you, Miss Smith.

Cheers.

Cheers!

Snails, snails.

Osso Buco
and his rhythm section.

Well, Miss Smith, what do you like
before going to bed?

Cocoa? Acupuncture?

What's the matter?
Are you not feeling well?

The waiter kept filling up my cup
with black coffee.

Ah, well, you should go to bed.

I'm not tired.

- Oh, yes, you are tired.
- No.

Oh, yes, I am.
I am tired.

Yes, you are tired.
Now, then, unfortunately,

I don't have a dressing room.

So, I'll get my toothbrush,

and you can have
first call on the bathroom.

How would that suit you?

That be all right?

I...

shall use the servants' quarters.

You're tired, Miss Smith.

I'll take five or six aspirin,

and that'll make me feel
numb all over.

I hope you're worth it.
That's all I can say.

Put on lots of perfume,
Miss Smith.

Everywhere.

I like it.

Have you everything
you want, Miss Smith?

Have I what?

I say, have you
everything you want?

I feel sick.

Heartburn.

It's all that black coffee.

Well, you should've told the waiter
to stop filling your cup.

"Should've told the waiter

"to stop filling my cup.”

He's singing.

My God, he's getting drunk.

He didn't have to take me out

and give me things
to make me feel sick.

I'll be in bed, should you
be searching for me, Miss Smith.

Are you setting up house
in the bathroom, Miss Smith?

Miss Smith?

What is happening
in your life, Miss Smith?

I have a headache.

You have another headache?

I have heartburn.

You have heartburn
and another headache?

Why not malaria
and prickly heat?

Well, have you any
bread soda in the house?

No, but I do have
a spare piece of rope.

Night thoughts,
Saturday, October the third.

Every girl is a flower garden

with a compost heap
at the bottom.

And many a noble man

has had to drown his dwarf wife
in a zinc bath,

or strangle an idiot girl
on a muddy common,

in order to draw attention
to himself.

Reality betrays us all.

Reality betrays us all,
Miss Smith.

Miss Smith?

- Take a letter.
- What?

Take a letter, Miss Smith.

Now?

Yes, now.

To Miss Janet Smith,
care of this address.

"Dear Miss Smith.
Go to bed.

"Yours faithfully,
Benjamin Hoffman."

Come, Miss Smith.

Embrace your fate.

Do you know the most
natural thing in the world?

No.

To awaken one morning

and find a strange,

beautiful,

naked girl

asleep by your side.

My dream.

Every man's dream.

I beg to remind you,
Mr Hoffman,

that you... you said you'd
treat me with respect.

Yes, yes, of course.

Hand me the alarm clock, please.

- What's that for?
- I've set it for six o'clock.

I'm one of those people
that wake up

full of energy
and passion for life

in the early morning.

- Six o'clock in the morning?
- Yes.

Never partake of the
best things in life, Miss Smith,

when one is tired.

Experience teaches that.

Is there anything you need?

A long-playing record?

Hat pin?

No, no.

What's that?

Sleeping pills.

It will calm the nerves
after this day of excitement.

And, when I awake,

I shall find
your fair, serene face

asleep beside me

on that pillow.

How will I ever look Tom
in the face again?

With guilt,

apprehension,

remembering
the unspeakable.

Me.

I feel terrible.

Miss Smith?

It's not only homosexuals
who don't like women.

Hardly anybody likes them.

Now, please, Miss Smith,
lie down, go to sleep,

to awaken and find

your fair form

beside me.

He's sleeping.

Freshening himself up.

I can't ever remember being awake
at four o'clock in the morning.

I should've told Tom.

Should. Should.

He'd have known what to do.

At night is bad enough,

but at six o'clock in the morning,
with the little birds singing...

No, I won't, ever!

Barbara...

That's better.

Oh, naked, strange, pale girl,

found in my bed

one summer morning.

What? What?

What? What, indeed,
Miss J Smith.

What?

What?

Tell me, Miss Smith,
is it your habit to go to bed

wearing a costume, coat,
hat and high-heeled shoes?

I was cold.

- This is something you do with Tom.
- What is?

- Going to bed in a rubber mackintosh.
- I do not!

You mean you don't
go to bed with Tom?

No! Ye...

What's that got to do with it?

Are you trying to tell me

that you have
no pills, no experience?

That you are, in fact,
a complete novice?

Lots of girls
like me are like that.

This is utterly, utterly,
utterly ridiculous.

Stay there.

Don't move. Don't move.

Stay. There.

Women cheat by instinct.

Put the kettle on.

Put the kettle on!

Miss Smith?

Unplug the kettle by
disconnecting the plug, please.

The cups and saucers
are over there.

The tea is in that...

small coloured tin with the Chinese
gentleman painted on the front.

And, er...

you'll find the cow

tethered in the refrigerator.

All these things blended together
in their correct proportions

should result in
a concoction known as "tea".

Incidentally, Miss Smith,
now that we've given up escaping,

you won't need...

to eat our breakfast
dressed for the street.

And we won't need your bag
by the front door.

No.

Incidentally, have you brought
stout walking shoes with you?

No.

Problem.

Anything else?

Yes.

Yes.

How fresh it is.

How clean the air.

Only eighty tonnes of
soot per acre falling today.

Come along, Miss Smith.

Come along.

Look. London.

And could you but hear yourself
speak over the traffic's roar,

you might be in
the heart of the country.

Come along, Miss Smith.

Come along.

- It's a windmill!
- Yes, a wind machine,

on a wild heath in London.

That's Richmond Park over there,

or we could walk to
the Thames down this way.

I don't want to
go to Richmond Park.

Mr Hoffman!

Am I walking too fast for you?

Come on, Miss Smith.
Use your body.

It's good for you. Come on.
Quack-quack-quack!

Mr Hoffman,
I've skinned my heel!

Food, food, boys!

Hanging would be
too good for you.

I should've told Tom
and let him kill you!

Mr Hoffman!

Mr Hoffman!

Come along, Miss Smith.
Come along.

Mr Hoffman!

Mr Hoffman!

Look how red it is.
Look.

Hmm. Feet are bad enough,
Miss Smith.

Skinned heels are going
much too far.

Er... take your stocking off.

Stockings!

Here, clean it up.

I can't touch it.

You're not looking at it.

Give me the plaster,
please.

Many a good man has been
destroyed by pity, Miss Smith.

You're just like my granny.

She puts ointment
on plaster.

It is not my ambition
to become your granny.

I don't think
that plaster's big enough.

It is quite big enough.

Now then, I suggest you try

an antiseptic cream
and skinned heel sandwich.

They're very good.

Why don't you drink some coffee?
It'll waken you up.

Coffee? It was all
that black coffee

that kept me awake last night.

- What?
- You'll have to lie down, Miss Smith.

- What?
- Come and have a little sleep.

Oh, no, I don't want to go to bed.

No, you don't want to go to bed.

You just want to have
a little sleep.

All that fresh air
has knocked you out.

Well, I don't want to go to bed.

I'll keep the army out,
Miss Smith.

You have a little sleep.

Wake up, Miss Smith.

Wake up.

"Chicken 'cackieatory'.

"Medallions of 'boff"."

Ham. Yeah.

I'll have...

roasted ham,

with baked potatoes in their jackets.

And then, afterwards...

Oh, afterwards,

I think I'd better have
some stewed prunes.

"Barbara Anne Hoffman."

Barbara Hoffman.

"To appear in High Court
three weeks hence,

"Monday morning, ten o'clock."”

"How did she become,
in so short a time,

"such a...

"vain, demanding,
treacherous woman?

"She was old enough.

"It should have shown
from the beginning.

"What blinded us?
Or am I several people?

"To think that many a man
hanged for such a wife.

"Where was my judgement?”

- How much did you read?
- What? Read?

Nothing. Nothing.

You never told me you were married.

Who escapes, Miss Smith?

You, of course,
read the last entry first.

"A lifetime to be consumed
in a week.

"Can I consume her utterly in a week?

"Miss Smith has a soft, young body,

"and a soft, young mind.

"If a man could eat a girl's
soft, young body like an ice cream,

"he would not have to
struggle to live

"with her soft, young mind."

Where did you get those slippers?

What's the matter?

Take them off, please.

Well, I have a sore heel.

Now you have murderer's feet.

You can't win in this game,
Miss Smith.

- Game?
- You don't know the rules.

Let's have some breakfast
and ease the horror a bit.

I suggest...

toast, just golden,

dressed with cold-pressed
virgin olive oil,

wheat germ and maple syrup,

Chinese Lapsang Souchong tea
with lemon and honey.

Can you scramble eggs?

Yes.

Your accomplishments never cease
to amaze me, Miss Smith.

Oh, mother.

Was it for long?
Your... Your marriage, I mean.

No, fortunately.

Was it recently?

Yes, very recently.

Most men have their disasters early.

I, being careful,
came to mine somewhat later.

She... She's not likely to
come back now or anything, is she?

Highly unlikely.

- Madam.
- Good afternoon.

- Thank you very much, sir.
- Thanks very much.

Let's go home, Miss Smith.

How very pretty you look, Miss Smith,
in the fading light.

I could do with a little
help in the kitchen.

My mother always told me
to keep out of the kitchen,

that I might get boiled
in mistake for a potato.

These forks smell.

Why don't you wash them?

That woman you have, you know,
she doesn't clean them properly.

Why have you stopped?

An amateur performance,
Miss Smith.

An amateur performance.

I've heard that before.

I heard it somehow, but I can't
remember what the words are.

The words?

"Once I knew a pretty girl.

"I loved her as my wife.

"But I put my hands about her neck,

"and relieved her of her life."

Why don't you want me
to like you?

Why don't you stop stabbing me
in the face with your doomed youth?

I didn't invent life or death,
Miss Smith.

And why don't you ever
call me Janet?

And have you become
a human being?

I haven't got time for all that mess.

Do you mind if I start?
I'm hungry.

Hungry, yes.

Women are always hungry
for something.

Fallopian tubes with teeth.

Have some wine, Miss Smith.

Are you satisfied with your day
of domesticity, Mr Hoffman?

Yes, yes.

I saw your strong,
handsome legs,

standing at my sink,

and I was satisfied.

Yes, yes.

My head's in a fog.

Then drive carefully,
Miss Smith.

Have you anything
in the house for...

for this?

For what?

For not going, you know...

Well, it happens to me
when I'm in strange places.

I looked in the bathroom cabinet,

and there was only one
senna pod there.

Miss Smith, you are here

so that you may give me

a tremendous sensual
and erotic experience.

Well, how do you think
I feel having to say this?

And how do you think I feel
having to give you colonic irrigation?

- Open your mouth, please.
- Liquid paraffin?

Oh, no, I don't think I could.
It's too oily.

It is not oily, Miss Smith.
Open your mouth, please.

Open your mouth!

Girls with vain faces
and pert airs and graces

would have you suppose
that under their clothes

there was more than
a tube and some lumps.

Very well.

And there's more
where that came from.

Liquid paraffin.
Everybody's wedding night.

Reassure yourself.

Tell yourself you're calm and sleepy.

Repeat twenty times,

"Lips that touch kippers
shall never touch mine."

You must never become
a person, Miss Smith.

That would be...

unendurable.

- Oh! Good God!
- What...

A cramp in the arch of the foot!
It travels up the leg,

grips the leg muscle like iron.

The only thing to do is to
stamp it hard into the ground.

The Japanese have a name for it.
I can't think what it is.

The pain is... Oh, God!

What are you doing, Miss Smith?

How do I know what I'm doing,
or where I am,

or what's going on,
or anything? Anything!

Get back into bed, Miss Smith.
Get back into bed.

I just want to say this
to you, Mr Hoffman.

I just want to say this.

I don't know where you came from,

but my father was
a master carpenter in Dublin.

I was an only child, and I was
brought up very, very well.

It is the middle
of the night, Miss Smith.

You forced me to come
and live with you for a week.

All those threats.

We'd go to prison,
Tom would do hard labour.

Frightening me.

And then, after all that, what?

After all that, nothing.

Days and days, keeping me
in suspense and misery!

Every cripple must
creep his own way, Miss Smith.

I've done my very best.

When a woman starts complaining,

it means that she is
feeling thoroughly at home.

Well, I didn't come here to
feel thoroughly at home.

My God, if I told anybody
in their right minds

that you brought me here to take
sleeping pills every night and snore...

- Now, just... Just one moment!
- I beg your pardon?

- I do not snore.
- Oh, yes, Mr Hoffman, you do snore.

- Immediately I go to sleep?
- Immediately.

- Softly?
- Loudly.

- Loudly?
- Very loudly.

Has nobody ever
told you before, Mr Hoffman?

Stop! I recognise this conversation.
Good night, Miss Smith. Good night!

It just shows how you can be
mistaken about people.

Everybody in the office thinks,
"Oh, yes.

"Quiet and firm.
A gentleman.”

God, I wish I was dead!

It is the middle of the night,
Miss Smith!

- I don't care!
- Oh, God!

I've been telling you for days!

It's all this uncertainty.

I don't even know
what you really know about Tom.

- You don't?
- No.

Right, we'll settle that,
once and for all.

Now, take a memo, Miss Smith.

The firm we work for transports
30,000 pounds of the cigarettes

at a time on each truck.

Your Tom sold information to thieves,

where a truck would be,
at what time and at what route,

and received, or receives,
from the thieves, a commission.

And when he went to the café
to meet the men, I saw it.

They gave him money.

A truck stops,
the driver goes into a lavatory,

when he comes out,
the truck's gone,

and Tom gets a few hundred pounds

towards your house, your wedding.

He said he'd never do it again.
I'll see he never does, never!

What does it matter what he did?

All that matters is...

that you're here now.

But you promised...

- Yes, I promised...
- That... That you'd say nothing.

- That I'd say nothing.
- ...if I came here.

And I did. I came here,

and I've been here three whole days.

Please, Miss Smith,

take the rest of the night off
and go to sleep.

What good is it to you,
me just hating you?

Just hating you?

Sleep, sleep, sleep,
Miss Smith.

Hate you.
Hate you.

Hate you.

Mr Hoffman?

Mr Hoffman?

Mr Hoffman, I can't move my head.

Miss Smith, you are highly susceptible
to physical ailments,

but this is, by far, the most attractive
you have yet presented me with.

Come into my surgery,
please, and sit down.

There. Now...

What's that?

Er... Rheumatism liniment
or leather dye?

- Oh, I don't want leather dye.
- Bare your neck, please.

Now, where does it hurt?

- In there. All there.
- All there?

Right.

Ow! That burns.

It may burn, Miss Smith,

but it's doing you good.

Is that better?

Mm-hmm. A little.

Your neck that beckoned to me

through office walls,

and arranged your fate.

Your neck...

So young, so pretty,
so defenceless.

What did you say?

In the office,
the back of your neck was...

forever calling to me for help.

Rubbish.

"Help me. Help me,"
your neck said.

"Lead me to my fate."

You kissed me.

Shall I take a memo,
Mr Hoffman, that you kissed me?

You're mistaken, Miss Smith.

My fingers merely
brushed your neck.

But you blush, Miss Smith.

Could it be that you've been
touched by my maleness?

No, Mr Hoffman.

Could it be
that you've been touched

by the soul behind
this bloodhound face?

No, Mr Hoffman.

Then what?

- By your liquid paraffin.
- Oh.

Reality betrays us all.

Reality betrays us all,
Miss Smith.

No, no, definitely not.
Go on, have a guess.

- All right. If we're not going...
- Three guesses.

- If we're not going to Wimbledon.
- Three guesses.

- And we're not going to...
- And here we are.

"Here we are," what?

Here we are, Miss Smith.

- Who lives here?
- I will.

I will live here,

in my new flat.

Come and have a look inside.

Of course, there's
still a lot to be done,

but it's coming along
slowly but surely, don't you think?

This unit's going over there.

Of course, this'll have to
be enlarged, otherwise

Santa Claus will never
get up it, or down it.

This is nice, isn't it?

Teak oil.

What's wrong with the old place?

Oh, well, you know.

Treacheries, miseries.

Failure, despair.

It's haunted.

What colours
are you going to have?

I'm going to have
white for purity,

yellow for experience,
and black to make me cheerful.

It's nice making an old house
into a new house.

Afternoon, Captain.

- Who's that?
- That's Fred down there.

- Hello, Fred down there.
- Hello, miss.

- Did the new boiler arrive?
- Yes, sir.

We've stuck it in the corner,
shortened the pipes.

- It should really go over there.
- Oh?

Just a minute.
I'll come down and show you.

All right, sir.

This must be the kitchen.

I would have a table here,

with a different sort of tablecloth.

And...

stove's going there.

Oh, well, that's all right.
I'd have...

I'd have a clock over there,

cupboards running underneath,

lots of jars.

And I'd have check curtains.

Well, Mrs Mitchell,
have you decided to take it?

Or perhaps one of
the upper-floor flats?

Modest ground rents, long leases.
Very good investment.

- You've bought the whole house?
- Oh, yes, yes.

- Will the upstairs flats be very expensive?
- Excessive, yes.

Enough to allow one
a sort of private life, freedom.

It's a very nice house,
Mr Hoffman.

Yes.

Would you like to see
the rest of the house?

- Yes.
- Good. Right.

Is that the only song you know?

Come here.

I'll teach you something
from my extensive repertoire.

This is known as "Chopsticks".
Right?

And you start by playing
these two notes...

...together, and then you
go to these two notes...

...which are a little bit further apart.
And then, these two notes.

Then these two notes.

Quite a long way apart, see?

Don't worry about the bits
in the middle. I'll do that.

- Okay.
- Think you can do that?

I don't know.
I'll try.

Really, we start there,
there, there, and there.

- Right.
- And I'll play down here.

- You play up there.
- Okay.

That'll be a duet
for instant cacophony.

- Are you ready?
- I'm ready.

One, two, three.

Good.

You've got it. Yes.

Now, one more time.

You're going too fast.

You're going too fast.
Wait for me!

I am waiting for you.

Tom plays the guitar.

I should've phoned Tom,

to tell him how I was
and everything,

and how Granny was.

But I couldn't.
I mean, he'd have...

He'd have known it was
from London, wouldn't he?

Well, you can phone him anyway.

Tell him the call's
coming from Scarborough.

I'll be the long-distance operator.

- You would?
- Yes, yes, yes, yes.

- You know the number?
- Oh, yes.

Dial it.

Go on. Go on.

It's ringing.

It is ringing.

Hello? Er...
This is the long-distance operator.

We have a call for
a Mr Tom Mitchell, please.

It's his mother.

Hold the line, please.

Hello, Mrs Mitchell?
Yes, it's me, Janet.

Oh... Oh, Granny?
Oh, she's... she's fine. Er...

Well, she'll be better
in a day or two.

Yeah. Um...

Could I speak to Tom?

Oh. At the tennis club.

I see.

Um... Um... No.

Just... Just tell him, um,
that I rang,

and that everything's fine,
and that I'll be home soon, and...

Oh, no, he can't.

No... No, he mustn't.
I won't be here.

Look, um... No.

Mrs Mitchell, my granny,
she's better now, yeah.

And I'll be home to London
tomorrow.

Yeah, on the first train.

Well, if not the first train,
an early train, anyway.

But Tom is not to come up.
Is that clear? Yeah.

Um... I have to go now.
Yeah, goodbye.

- Tomorrow?
- It was all I could think of

to stop him from going up
and knocking on my granny's door.

Wh... What could I do?
I had to say something.

But tomorrow, Miss Smith.

I've only had four days.

What difference does it make to you?

Well, it makes all the difference
in the world.

The last days...

were to be
the most important.

Well, I will be here...

until tomorrow.

I'm sorry.

Sorry it wasn't like
what you thought, or anything.

No.

Nothing like I thought.

Nothing like I have to do now.

I must go out

for about twenty minutes.

There's something I have to do.

Er... About twenty minutes.

"Barbara Anne Hoffman."

"Dear Ben.

"You and your ideas
of cosy family life make me sick.

"I'm going to be famous,

"and have lots of beautiful men

"make love to me,

"and be free..."

Miss Smith?

Miss Smith?

Miss Smith?

Miss Smith, are you there?
Can you hear me?

Coming. I'm just in the bathroom.

I was afraid being on my own,
so I...

put the chain on.

Are you in bed?

Yes.

Not tonight, Miss Smith.

Not tonight.

I'm not going to have anything
to hold over me when I'm married,

if that's what you think.

Naked,

pale,

fair girl,

found in my bed

one summer morning.

I hate you.

I hate you!

I want to say something
to you, Mr Hoffman.

You insulted me.

Insulted me!

That was never
my intention, Miss Smith.

What's wrong with you is that
you're afraid even to kiss someone.

Just because you married
that awful woman and her gin bottles.

You couldn't even look me
straight in the face.

You think everyone's
like that, don't you?

Looking at the back
of my neck in the office.

You've made a fool of me,
Mr Hoffman!

But I have...

treated you always with
the utmost respect.

Exactly!

Did you find me
all that repulsive?

You know, when I came here,
I came prepared for the very worst.

But you're just a rotten hoaxer,
Mr Hoffman.

You never even kissed me!

I hate you.

You never even kissed me.

You'll remember me,
Miss Smith.

You'll remember me...

in weeks of grinding
domestic boredom,

when you're married to.

Tom's mother.

You see, I wanted
to show you things.

I wanted to baby you.

You need an older man.

Will Tom brush your hair?

Will Tom...

ru... rub the back of your neck?

You could live like
a little mouse in my pocket.

We'd dance and sing,

and drive in the sun
with the hood down.

I wanted a chance
to show you that

a man's face
doesn't matter all that much.

I've loved you, Miss Smith,

like a doting idiot,

for eighteen months

and two weeks.

I wanted to woo you.

You what?

...I wanted to woo you.

Get out!
Go on, get out!

Getting late.

What?
What are you doing?

Look, you can't go yet.
Um...

Th... This is our last morning.

You must have breakfast in bed.
I insist.

- You insist?
- Please, please.

Yes.

Please.

There, there.

I'll peel your egg for you.

There. That's that.

Put the radio on there.

I'm used to having
my breakfast by myself.

Yes, yes, yes.
Yes, of course.

Naturally. I'll, um...

Well, I'll... I'll just get
a newspaper,

and, um, you can
read that by yourself.

Er... yes.

There's The Times.

Don't read the obituaries.
They're always depressing.

Radio.

I'll just take this out
of your way.

Well, bon appétit.

The Times.

Yes?

Do you live here, sir?

Yes.

I'm Tom.
Tom Mitchell.

Oh, yes, yes.

Mitchell from the office.

I suppose you must
have some message.

Oh, no, no, no, Mr Hoffman.
I'm... I'm looking for someone.

It's so bloody silly.
Someone must be having me on.

Who?

What?

Who...
Who are you looking for?

My fiancée, Janet Smith.
She works in the typing pool.

Come in.

- Oh, thank you, sir.
- Um...

Er... We're a little late.

- Er... She's only just having breakfast.
- Hmm?

I do hope it's not
bad news or anything.

She was so...
So happy this morning.

Um... But anyway,
as it's obviously so urgent,

you'd, er...
you'd better see her.

Um, she's, um...

She's...

in there.

Oh, bother.

Why aren't you in Scarborough
with your grandmother?

- I'm sick. I couldn't go.
- I put you on the train.

Well, um...
I had to come back.

I thought this was written
by a raving loony.

I was gonna throw it away.

What are you doing here?

This was at the office this morning.
It was on my desk.

"Once you had a pretty girl.

"You and she were to be wed.

"Now she's at 24 Malet Court.

"In another man's bed.

"Signed, Wellwisher.

"PS. Take a friend's advice.

"Catch a boat tonight.

"Canada is the land of opportunity."

God, Tom, I never, never...
Look, he said that if I came here...

No, no, no. I'll tell you
from the beginning.

- You and him?
- No! Not me and him!

I thought you were in
Scarborough with your grandmother.

What is she doing here?

Well, Mitchell, look.

Nowadays, people demand
greater freedom, more from life.

We are each called upon

for tolerance, understanding.

But what is she doing here?!

Well, we shall have to tell him,

darling.

No, Mr Hoffman.
I'll tell him.

Look, Tom, I'll be ready in a moment.
You just wait for me downstairs.

You've no time for niceties, Mitchell.

You're about to be found out.

- Janet and I... Well...
- What?

We're very, very old friends.

Tom, he's a lunatic!
Don't listen to him, please!

I know you've been selling
information to people

who steal the firm's goods in transit.

I Know.

Why did you tell him?

I've already paid the deposit
on our house! Why?

- But I didn't!
- Resign, disappear.

Canada, Australia.

South African police needs you.

Disappear, Mitchell.

Disappear.

I might even...

pay your fare.

No, no, you're not gonna listen.
You're not. Go on, please, Tom.

- Wait for me downstairs.
- Janet, I can't go...

- Tom, please!
- Look, please, Janet, let me stay here.

Just wait for me, please.

Janet!

"Wellwisher"!

- You!
- Now you know he only cares about himself.

It was a crime to stop hanging
with people like you in the world.

- Where are you going?
- Where do you think I'm going?

To get on with my own life.

He won't want you now.

- Why don't you shut up?!
- Thinks you've been living with me.

- He'll never understand.
- He will. He will.

...I'll take him away somewhere.
I'll make him understand.

And I love you.

I adore you.

I worship every inch
of your idiot body.

Your hair, your teeth,

your being a girl.

Stay with me, Janet.

Why?
Why did you bring Tom here?

Well, you see, it was all or nothing.

It turned into that.

You...

or nothing.

- You and me?
- Yes.

You and me.

Look at you.

Who wants you?

You're mad.

And... and...
and you're ugly.

Janet! Miss Smith!

Please, Miss Smith.
Listen to me.

I... I wanted to
take advantage of you,

but I found I couldn't.

I love you too much for that.

I wanted you to love me.
Just a little.

Oh, Mr Hoffman.

Goodbye.

You and that horrible old man,

getting mixed up
with people like that.

Oh, dear God.

What are we going to do?

It's so bloody unfair.

Lots of people do it.
They get away with it. Why me?

Yes, and lots of people
go to prison too, Tom.

Where are we to go?

He was getting on so well.

He was only saying the other day
how much the people at work liked him.

We can't go away.

We can't go to a cold climate.

I can't leave my home.

We'll find a way out, Mum.

You could go to the police.

- Police?
- No, thank you.

Look, what's the worst
that can happen, Tom?

A year in prison.

A year?

You wouldn't talk like that
if you had to go through it.

I did say I'd take half the blame.

All you'd get would be
your picture in the papers.

Janet, couldn't you talk
to that man again?

I mean, you spent
a week with him.

- Four days.
- Can't you...

Can't you find out?

Make sure he'll say nothing.

If only. Oh, if only.

Yes, I could speak to him again.

Tom?

Tom, would you like me
to go back and speak to him again?

Yes, yes,
Anything you can do.

You mean, you wouldn't mind
if I went back to him, to talk to him?

You've been living with him!
What difference does it make?!

I see.

I see.

Well, I'm going home now.

To think about it.

Don't come with me,
Tom.

Stay with your mother.
She needs you.

Go away.

Something I want to ask you.

What do you want to ask me?

Can I give up going to work?

Yes.

And...

Can I have piano lessons?

- Yes.
- From a real teacher?

Yes.

And can I choose the things
for the new kitchen?

- Yes.
- And...

- And can I...
- Yes, anything.

And...

Can you kiss me now,
please?

Now?

Well, it's all right.

Just wanted to make sure it would be
all right when you did kiss me.

Can I go to bed now,
please?

Because I'm tired.

Miss Smith?

Take a memo.

What, Mr Hoffman?

"Welcome home.

"Yours sincerely..."

SUBTITLES BY POWERHOUSE FILMS LTD