All language subtitles for Tom.Viv.1994.720p.BRRip.x264.titler

Well...

...boys!

Maurice, catch!

Quite a spark, Maurice!

Oh!
Whoo!

...When the day is dawning

And all through
the wibbly wobbly walk

they get a wibbly wobbly
feeling in the morning.

They all walk
the wibbly wobbly walk

all talk
the wibbly wobbly talk

all wear
the wibbly wobbly ties

and wink at all the pretty girls
with wibbly wobbly eyes.

Oh, they all smile
the wibbly wobbly...

Hey, how about
over there, look?

God's sake, Viv!

For God's sake, Viv!
It's not funny!

Exactly how long have
Tom and Viv been courting?

Oh, minutes.
Absolute minutes.

Really?

You can't really want
to go back to America.

What would you do?

Most likely become a professor.

Write learned papers on
obscure philosophers.

I don't know... melt into the
stones of Harvard, I suppose.

No Doris,
he's my fancy man.

Whatever 'e chooses
is all right by me.

- I suppose he is quite safe,
this Eliot chap. - Safe?

I can't imagine what you mean.
Tom is a brilliant scholar.

Rather Viv's type then.

I never want to
see the States again.

I want to live in Europe
and write poetry.

I love you.

I love you more than life itself.

- I'd do anything for you.
- Oh, dear.

What?

I know all that.

You don't have to be
so wet about things.

I'm sorry.

It's all right, Tom.

It's perfectly all right.

I don't think this is
quite the right place.

It's not that I don't want to.

Are you sure?

It's just that...

when we do...

I want it to be perfect.

Nothing...

Nothing in the
world must go wrong.

Are you a virgin, Mr. Russell?

Not exactly.

Is Tom, do you suppose?

Very probably.

I am.

Awful thing the dreaded
sex business.

- Vivvie's not though.
- Not what?

A virgin.

Forgive me Maurice but,
are you doing a survey of some kind.

- Survey?
- Into sexual habits.

Ah, no.

You see, there was
a spot of bother last year.

Vivvie took rather a shine to a chap,
Mums found out, put a stop to it.

Awful scenes, bed without dinner,
house arrest, you know the kind of thing.

- I wouldn't want to go through
all that again, with Tom. - No.

I'm sure Tom's intentions
are entirely honourable.

Not sure about Vivvie's, though.

You can stay in the house.

Mum and Dad are away,
there's nobody there except the staff.

And the house is absolutely
stuffed with cigarettes,

so we can be as
decadent as we like.

And the season's coming up.

Ascot, Goodwood,
the Russians at Covent Garden.

But I don't know these places, Viv.

What a wonderful time
I'll have showing you.

But I don't have any clothes.

Cor blimey,
ain't you a bore?

I'll buy you some, you ninny.

Oh, darling, you're going to have to learn
to make an absolute arse of yourself.

We're going to get married,
be broke,

we may even starve,
it'll be absolute hell.

But it'll be worth it,
because we have this love.

And nobody else has it.

This is my one chance
of happiness, Maurice

and I'm taking it
and I'll need the car.

Yeah but Mum and Dad are
coming home, they'll kill me.

What am I gonna tell them?

For God's sake Vivvie,
you can't!

Oh, God.
You're eloping, aren't you?

Well where are you getting married?
What am I gonna tell them?

Oh, God. There'll be an
almighty row, I know it.

And I'll get all the blame.

Viv wants it this way, no fuss.

Look, Tom...

There's only one rule in our family.
Sort of unspoken, kind of thing.

You have to be kind to Vivvie.

I will be, Maurice.
That I promise you.

No, no.
I mean especially kind.

Careful handling...
"this-side-up" kind of thing.

You see, the thing is, you grow up
trying not to notice certain things.

The scenes, the closed doors...

A family of mutes...

But Mum's always said
it's not Vivvie's fault.

Not her fault at all and that's right,
she's right, you know.

Maurice, I don't think I follow.

Ah.

Well listen, Tom... man to man...

There isn't anything beastly
between you and Viv, is there?

Nothing in the...
in the medical way.

Oh.

I think I can reassure you
on that point, Maurice.

I'm perfectly healthy.

- Uh well, perhaps it's all right then.
- I'm sure it is.

Oh, I forgot.

Won't be long.

If you wouldn't mind hurrying,
my husband's waiting.

Um, yes.

The one's anodyne, the other bromide,
Miss Haigh-Wood?

Mrs Thomas Eliot.

You know Mrs Eliot,
you must never mix them?

- Yes I quite understand.
- Ma'am...

Excuse me for asking, but this is
what you were recommended, is it?

The anodyne is 60%
spirit of ether

and the bromide 90% alcohol.

You think there's
been some mistake?

Sir Frederick Lamb is
the King's personal physician.

Oh, no Ma'am, no, I know.

It's just...

You will be careful, won't you?

I will.
Thank you.

- Louise, Ma'am.
- Louise?

What's happened Maurice,
where are they?

Is it too late?
Why didn't you stop them?

Who is he?

I'm going out.

Will you come?

Forgive me, Tom.

There is nothing to forgive.

Where are you going?

I don't know.

Out.

Oh, please Tom,
don't leave me.

- Oh, God, Tom, please.
- Vivvie, don't.

I can make you happy,
my darling.

- I can. I can.
- Don't.

Oh.

Let me try and
make you happy.

No, there is...

There is no need
to say anything.

I disgust you.

Tom...

Do I?

Mr Eliot, I'm terribly sorry,
but I wonder if you could help us.

Mrs Eliot?

Vivvie?
It's me.

Thank you.

Vivvie, why?

Why did you leave me?

I take the pills for my head,
the tummy comes back.

I take the medicines for my stomach,
the headaches come back.

So sometimes I take
them all together.

I know I shouldn't, but...

You know, you mustn't
leave me like that.

You must talk to me.

I never know what
you're thinking.

I know I can make things right for you, Tom,
I know I can make you happy.

I promise.

But we have to get
used to each other.

We have to be
kind to each other.

Tom...

Darling Tom.

- Good morning, Annie.
- Morning Ma'am. Sir.

Maurice.

Has it been very ghastly,
Maurice?

Totally blistering,
absolute tongue lashing all round.

I think they...

They're in the...

I won't excuse
what we've done.

I haven't even told my family
back in the States.

But I can assure you, Vivienne is
my life now, I love her completely.

- Tea?
- Thank you.

I really, sincerely,
did not mean to hurt you.

Lemon?

Uh, please.

Why don't you do something sensible
with that hat and brolly?

Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Is Vivienne pregnant?

No.
No she is not.

After her money?
Are you a Johnny-come-lately?

A cad?
A bounder?

No, I don't think so.

- Any money or prospects?
- I have $100 a year from Harvard.

I am...
well, actually, was studying

the philosophy of F.H. Bradley,
I don't know whether you know him...

The very last thing my husband
will want to hear about

is someone else's philosophy.

I have published one
small book of poetry.

Got a roof?

A tutor of mine,
the honourable Bertrand Russell

has offered us accommodations
in his flat in Soho.

It's... small.

In fact it's in the attic...

Bertrand Russell,
the pacifist villain?

The one the newspaper wallahs call
the most hated man in London?

That sounds like him, yes.

If I can put your minds at rest,
I recently

have received an offer for six
lectures on French symbolism.

So, to be precise...

...you have $2 a week...

...you intend to share an attic with
the most hated man in London...

and you might be giving a few lectures
on French percussion instruments.

In the meantime, the whole of
Europe is at war with the Kaiser.

Nothing could make
me feel more secure.

How was the wedding?

Of course, Eastbourne's
proudest boast is that

you won't find one shop
window on the front.

It reminded me of
Forest Park in St. Louis.

Did it really?

- Was the weather kind?
- Very bracing.

Had you a sunny room?

Hardly had time
inside to find out.

Ho-ho, bliss.

"Dear Mrs Haigh-Wood, thank you for your
cheque to cover the damage to room 86.

Throughout this whole episode I
may say that Mr Eliot behaved

with considerable forbearance. "

Before Vivienne rushed you headlong
into this, did she tell you anything?

Nothing?

Nothing at all?

I really am rather proud of you.

I don't condone anything, but all in
all I feel you've behaved very well.

And you are discrete,
I sense that.

Yes, I think you're going to make
a wonderful member of the family.

Bertie Russell says
that war is a crime.

He says that killing in uniform
is merely licensed murder.

Oh, thanks very much.

What do you think, Tom?

Not at the dinner
table please, Vivienne.

Of course.

Millions of young men
are going to die and it

mustn't interfere with
the cream of broccoli.

Good lord, is that what it is?

Bertie Russell says
war must be abolished.

Bertie's Tom's friend.

He paid for all
my dance lessons.

Your friend wants to go to bed with me,
did you know that, Tom?

He seems keen,
even if you're not.

That's enough.

You should tell him
what it would be like.

These are my men, Tom and Bertie.
But they can't always communicate.

I unlock their minds!

Could you hear yourself shouting
in there, could you?

Now... very calm.

Very still.

Have you taken your medicine?

How often is Granny visiting you?

- I thought Granny was dead.
- Very well then.

How often do you
get the curse?

- Two or three times.
- In a month?

Sometimes in a week.

Tom's not quite what I
imagined a poet to be.

- Was he a virgin?
- He most certainly was!

It can't be easy
for a new husband.

No.

Have you enough ST's?

Yes Mummy, I have enough sanitary
towels to make a patchwork quilt.

- In two colours.
- Please Vivienne, try not to be vulgar.

There is never any occasion for it.

Life is quite vile
enough as it is.

Oh, it's all right, Mummy.

You don't have to
worry anymore.

Because whatever else happens,
I've got Tom.

He's mine.

And you can't stop it now.

"You see here on the sill is a boot mark,
a heavy boot with broad metal heel...

...and beside it is the
mark of the timber-toe. "

Ah, a wooden-legged
man of course...

There's always a
wooden-legged man!

Was there one
in the last one?

"There has been someone else,
a very able and efficient ally.

Doctor, could you
scale this wall?"

Yes, but not quite the same without
that Moriarty chap, though.

Here we are, Vivvie!

"I looked out the open window

The moon shone brightly
on that angle of the house.

We were a good sixty feet above the ground,
but look where I would

there was no foothold, nor as
much as a crevice in the brickwork... "

Oh, careful!

Hey!

Ha, ha, ha!

You can't fall over my feet.

Ha, ha, ha!

I never know...
when it's going to strike.

It's overwork,
as the doctor says.

No, you think you write best
when you get sick

so you make yourself sick,
you know you do.

And you can't expect to
teach and give lectures...

...and write book
reviews and articles...

...and write your poems
and not get sick, Tom.

Poetry is a mug's game.

Yes?

Yes.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

Hello, Maurice.

I say, I had no idea
philosophers danced like that.

The most hated man in London?
What do you know.

He's been very good to us.
We couldn't have done without him.

I've come to say goodbye, Tom,
just had orders.

- Gallipoli next.
- I envy you.

Yes.
Well you did try.

- If they wouldn't have you, well
it's their loss. - Physically unsound.

That's me, Maurice.

Please.

- Cigarette?
- Yes, please.

So, how's the old
poetry business?

It isn't a business,
it's a mug's game.

In fact, I've been thinking
about getting a regular job.

- Gosh. - Well it's advisable
for a poet to have...

...to, to lead a commonplace
life if he's to do his work.

Yes, yes well...

I must say, I can't quite get used
to having a poet in the family.

- Sort of, married to my own
big sis and such. - Fratris.

- What?
- Brother-in-law.

Ah. Sorry,
my Greek's not up to much.

- It's Latin!
- Ah. Squelch.

Listen, Tom...

Man to man...

There isn't anything...
awful between you and Viv, is there?

Nothing.
Nothing at all.

Well...

I say, good luck
with you two.

- It'll all turn out massive
fun in the end. - Massive.

That's the ticket.

Three out of four junior officers
don't come back, Tom.

Say cheerio to
Viv for me, will you?

Yes, of course.

Tom, how wonderful you look.

...That the boys are out
upon a holiday

You'll notice half a dozen fellows
when they're on the spree

In half a dozen minutes,
they are full of jollity.

And they all walk
the wibbly wobbly walk

All talk the wibbly wobbly...

- Blank!
- Who has the question?

- Blank. - Ah.
- Ah, the bishop.

Approximately how many
teeth has a turtle?

- 40?
- Hopelessly wrong!

The Bishop of Oxford is out!

A turtle has approximately no
teeth at all, you're out, out!

Give his bishopric to someone
who knows something!

...All wear
the wibbly wobbly ties

and wink at all the pretty girls
with wibbly wobbly...

Who has the question?

- Blank!
- Blank!

Minus 40 degrees Centigrade,
is the same as minus 40 degrees Fahrenheit

True or false?

- False!
- True, you're out!

Ignoramus!

...Oh, they all smile
the wibbly wobbly smile

When the day is dawning

All through
the wibbly wobbly walk...

Blank.

A lady when asked her age
replied she was 35

not counting Saturdays
and Sundays.

What was her real age?

I think she was...

- ... 60!
- Wrong!

Tom may answer.

Come on,
for the cleverest man in England.

Come on, come on.

49?

What was that?

- 49?
- Correct! Correct!

I declare Tom Eliot the
cleverest man in England!

Ah, the benefits of
an American education.

Well done, Tom.

Why are you glaring at me?

How dare you look
at me like that!

Why give them the pleasure?

They'd have been perfectly
happy for you to lose.

We cheated.

Don't be so sanctimonious!

For an American,
you really are a god-awful snob!

Why do you take
them so seriously?

- I mean this whole way of going
on is ridiculous! - Viv, stop it!

- Stop it, you're play-acting!
- It'll be over by the end of the war.

- And good riddance!
- If you're over-awed by their company

then you shouldn't have come!
It isn't good for your nerves.

They were showing off!

And you were showing off

- you wanted to win, I know you did!
- Not by cheating.

No, I know.

You wanted to be honestly,
truly, genuinely superior

as only an American who knows
nothing about anything can be.

Vivienne...

I don't think you're very well.

I've known this sort all my life

and not one of them is
fit to tie your shoelaces.

Daddy should never
have done it.

You're not a money-lender.
It's a disgusting idea.

Hardly that.
A banker.

I'll be working at Lloyd's.

Of course,
you won't even consider it.

My poetry has sold
about 200 copies.

- What kind of income do you imagine
that gives us? - You're an artist!

We could always borrow
some more money from Bertie

he doesn't mind a bit.

I've already accepted
the position.

Your father has
been immensely kind.

Can't you see what they're doing
to you? They want to bury you,

- they want to drag you down.
- I have no idea who you are talking about.

How can you work when you are locked
in some dungeon of a bank all day?

I shall work at the bank in
the day and write at night

- nothing could be more straightforward.
- But what can I do?

What use can I be if you're
away all day, how can I help?

You do help.
All the time.

With everything.

Well...

Bertie has offered to
take me to the seaside.

What do you
think about that?

Well you know I can't come.

Of course not.
What could I expect?

Important affairs
at the bank, I suppose.

Well Vivvie, you must go,
if you want to.

It'll be good for you.

Telegram, Mr Eliot.

Please come Tom,
she's very low.

An influenza's settled on her chest.
I am sorry.

Viv and I,
I want you to know

that I have absolutely nothing
to reproach myself with.

Of course you haven't, Bertie.

You're our closest friend.

Tom?

I'm here.

I'm sorry to be a nuisance.

- It's an awful bore, dying.
- Nobody's dying

I did so want to help
you with your poetry.

You will.

You do.
You're in every line.

I can't do it without you.

I know.

Can I help you
with anything?

Perhaps.

Perhaps you can.

Woo!

Woo!

Viv?

Have you seen my shoes?

Uh, there's no tea left.

- Shall we make out a shopping list? - And
my trousers, I seem to have mislaid them.

I need a cheque.

You should still be convalescing.

3 pounds should
just about do it.

- I'll buy you some chocolate as a treat.
- Viv, it's time I went.

- Well goodbye, then!
- Well...

I can't very well go to work
without my trousers now, can I?

Viv, where have
you put my clothes?

And my briefcase, where is it?

I'm afraid they've gone.

Vivienne...

A great poet shouldn't have
to work in a squalid little bank

he should be here, writing poems,
where I can help him.

You know we can't
afford to live that way.

Now Viv, please, I must go.

Is Mr Eliot going
to work today?

Tom?

What if it reads...

"What'd you get married for,
if you don't want children?"

I think it's better.

Yes.
Yes it is.

- Good morning, Bishop.
- Good to see you.

- So good of you to come.
- Not at all.

Please, right this way.

- Viv? - I suppose you just
happened to be in the area?

I've asked the
Bishop to call, Viv.

Vivvie, I'm sure you
have a million things to do.

Oh, I see,
you want to be alone.

Well if you like, I could go up to the roof
and see how long I could dangle in the air.

- If I'm intruding in any way...
- Not at all.

I believe the sale is
still on at Selfridges.

I thought we were working on
your poems today, Tom.

It's very good of you to devote so
much time to an unbeliever, Bishop.

I hope you don't think my
husband's looking for religion.

No, what Tom wants is boredom.

A boring and conventional life.

He mistakenly thinks
he needs it for his work.

Oh, and if you can arrange it

the egotistical little shit
would like to be a saint.

And I don't normally
use words like that.

Here, at the base of the brain,
there is the pituitary gland.

Now we know it is linked to
instances of dementia.

Here, in the lower stomach

there is unceasing colic.

We're certain that there is a link
between the gland and the colic.

She feels heights
of enthusiasm

- and then sudden great
falls of emotion. - Indeed.

Well unfortunately...

...she has what I call...

...intestinal catarrh.

She cannot control
her menstrual life.

Apart from the drugs that
I am already prescribing her

there's little we can do
to control the symptoms.

May I ask about the marriage?

We love each other.

I see.

And there are no problems?
Beyond what I imagine must...

No.

None.

Do you intend to have children?

Well...

Uh...

We have never discussed it.

I think I should tell you that your wife's
condition will not improve, it may worsen.

- What do I tell Vivienne?
- As little as possible.

With a patient like this
it's important not to...

...burden her with details.

Yes?

- Maurice, home at last!
- And not dead, either!

Oh, my dear fellow, how did
you survive all that shooting?

Oh, simple really, just ducked
when I saw the bullets coming!

Well you look, you...
you sound different, you look...

- How do I look Maurice?
- The spitting image of a banker.

A true blue, English banker!

Well, my dear fellow,
we must celebrate!

Please.

Shall I send out for
some champagne?

Oh, gosh no,
the old firewater's just the ticket!

So, how are you both?

We couldn't be happier.

Viv goes dancing,
twice a week.

Me too, sometimes.

Saturdays at the theatre.

That's us.

And how are you, Maurice?

Oh, pretty fair.

Looking all over for a job.

No-one wants to employ me.

Don't you think
that's a bit off?

After all, I have just
won the bloody war.

It's called
"He do the Police in Different Voices"

One thing you need,
it's a catchy title.

Oh, of course,
it's a work in progress.

It might help if you try to imagine
Tom's poetry as a smashed vase.

Ah, naturally.

You have to understand that Tom
quotes from many different sources.

The main character,

the prophet Tiresias has just seen
Athena's body quite naked

and it's such a frightful shock to him that
he can think of nothing but rats in a sewer.

Vivvie, I really don't
think it needs...

Is there anything more I need
to know before I hear the poem?

Other voices emerge...

The Duchess from Webster's Malfi.

She'd made a reckless
marriage to Antonio.

Her family go to
every length to stop it

there's a moment where
she brushes her hair

and he cannot bring himself to touch her,
the horror engulfs...

That's not what I meant at all.

It is.
Of course it is!

He, he quotes from Dante.

A soldier makes
a hasty marriage.

Soon after the wedding he discovers
he's made a hideous mistake...

Vivvie please,
this is really unnecessary.

Oh, is that the time?

Charles dear,
it is time for your medicine.

- But I'll miss the poem.
- I think it is time, dear.

'He do the Police
in Different Voices'

"My nerves are bad tonight.

"Yes, bad.
Stay with me.

"Speak to me,
why do you never speak? Speak.

"What are you thinking of?
What thinking? What?

"I never know what
you are thinking. Think. "

"I think we
are in rats' alley...

"Where the dead men
lost their bones. "

"What shall I do now?
What shall I do?

"I shall rush out as I am,
and walk the street with my hair down, so...

"What shall we do tomorrow?
What shall we ever do?"

There it is.

More wine, madam?

Tom looks rather bloody.

There's nothing wrong with Tom that
separation from his wife couldn't cure.

She reeks of ether.

If she had any conception of
his significance, it would be less alarming.

- The drain on his energy must be...
- I know, unimaginable.

I don't keep a line
that Viv hasn't proofed.

I rely on her completely,
she's my first audience.

- Of course.
- She's a writer, too.

- Considerable talent.
- Really?

I'll send you some
of the things, shall I?

You do realise of course,
what she's doing to you?

To your reputation?
What she might do to your work.

You're wrong.
You're quite wrong.

You have no idea,
you don't know her.

She has... an uncanny understanding
of certain things.

I haven't made her happy.

Some moments in life...

...decisions...

...are irrevocable.

Perhaps one can
become moral...

...only by being damned.

She's often in a lot of pain.

I must take care of her.

That's what I must do.

Of course Virginia thinks
Tom should leave me.

She refers to me
as a bag of ferrets.

It's my nerves you see,
"writer's insight. " Well she should know.

Lenoard has her in and out of the
looney bin every couple of months.

They all hate me because I've
got Tom and they all want him.

Ottoline's desperate
for an affair with Tom!

Lawrence says,
Ottoline's vagina is like a bird's beak.

I know he's always been
totally disgusted, but...

A bird's beak!

Why is there never any wine?

They all admire Tom's mind.
I am his mind.

- Ma'am?
- Oh, good.

What time are you
meeting Lady Botwell?

What?

- Six o'clock at the Grafton, wasn't it?
- Er, yes.

See you there then, shall I?

You know how good I am at breaking the ice,
which will need some handling, so...

Why don't you go
to the private bar?

I'll meet with her

and then I'll send a waiter over
and you can be introduced.

You don't want us to
meet with her together?

It's not that, it's just...

I just... need some
time with her alone.

Some time with her alone?

Who gave you the
title to The Wasteland?

Me.

Who wrote half your begging letters and
did your correspondence when you were ill?

Me.

Lady Botwell is the daughter
of a draper from Whitby.

She's no more breeding
than a rabbit.

You don't know the difference between a
trumped-up title and real breeding and I do!

Shall we say the
Grafton at six then?

Perfect.

Excuse me.

Morning, all.

Oh, God, my head...

You heard all that, I take it?

Gosh no, I can listen
to people all night

goes in one ear,
flies out the other kind of thing.

- Is that right?
- Nothing in the middle to hold it up.

For God's sakes,
you insufferable oaf!

Help us.

The trust-fund accounts for everything,
Mrs Haigh-Wood.

What about Viv?

What is she to be told?

I don't want to over-burden her.

She doesn't understand money.

Charles had the greatest
confidence in you.

Viv will be taken care of
just as she always has been

without fuss.

- Where is she, anyway?
- Selfridges I think.

Have I missed anything?

- There you are.
- Looking so lovely.

So...
how much has Daddy left?

What's my share?
I'm the eldest child.

We were just talking about
Mum's life and her evenings.

She's going to be jolly lonely now, so I've
proposed we should all play more bridge.

Oh, by the way,

Tom and I can't go on living in that
awful little hole in Crawford Mansions.

Tom is quite famous now

and there's a house in Chester Street
which would be quite perfect for him.

And we need a motorcar.

What's this?

It's a list of property
holdings and investments.

Houses?
In Manchester and London.

I didn't know we had
a farm in Anglesey.

So um, what is it
when we add it all up?

The trust was set up to protect
the estate against taxes

one does not "add it all up",
that's just the point.

So what's my share?

I have to be independent,
you know.

Tom's family won't let me
inherit anything from him

they're quite adamant about that,
so I have to know where I stand.

You see, your father didn't want you
to bother with any awful papers

so what he's done is...

...he hasn't said anything
about you in the will.

You are all tenants
of the trust

the trustees have
power of attorney.

And who are they?

Maurice and myself.

Oh, so it's alright?
The house and the car?

Darling, leave it to the boys.

They know best.

I have a right to some
of Daddy's money.

Viv, there's no money
to share as such...

Viv, please, please, are you sure
you wouldn't like to go home?

The solicitor will
arrange everything.

Oh, the solicitor, what else
does the solicitor have to arrange?

Does the solicitor know that Tom
and I sleep in separate rooms?

- And that I've driven him to it?
- You have not.

And divorce.

- Tom's friends say we should divorce.
- There's been no talk of divorce.

And does he know that there are times when
I'm not allowed in the same room as you?

Particularly when the
Bishop of Oxford calls.

Tom wants me baptised
into the Church of England.

Now if a big baby wants to stick his
head into a bowl, it's called baptism.

If I want to do it?
It's called shampoo.

And, and, has the solicitor taken
into account Tom's sandwiches?

- Sandwiches?
- God knows I'm tired of making them!

God knows he takes them
each day into the office

and then dives round to
a little church in the city

and ploughs through the
cheese and pickle on his knees?

I mean what do you suppose is
the legal position on sandwiches?

Oh, I see, I'm ill again, am I?

No.

No I can hear myself.

I know perfectly well
what I'm saying.

Let's just pretend
I never came in.

Just carry on as before.

Please.

By the way, I've been thinking
that I might toddle off to Africa.

Try my luck, so to speak.

Well there doesn't seem to be much
opportunity in England these days

does there?

Thank you,
thank you very much.

This next poem is called Marina.

The title will of course be quite clear to
anyone familiar with Shakespeare's Pericles.

No poet can truthfully tell
you the origin of a poem

however personal
a poem may seem.

What makes it a poem,

will not derive from the
fact that it is personal.

Poetry is not an
expression of emotion

but an escape from emotion.

Hello?

Oh, Mrs Eliot, hello.

Won't be a moment.

Rooms came with the job, Ma'am.
Night nurse.

First time they've ever given
the position to a woman.

I'm so pleased for you, Louise.

My husband's reading to some
friends in our new house.

You should be there, Ma'am.

Oh, I know them
all off by heart.

It's his fifth book of poems.

Wonderful.

700 people bought
the last one.

Proper best seller.

Sometimes I feel you're
my only friend, Louise.

- But you know so many people.
- Oh, it's Tom they come to see!

What about your family?

Oh, well they just say um...

poor Tom,
he's got his hands full.

I'm glad about Mr Eliot, though

being so busy and important.

Oh, he's in a spin alright, yes.

Ever since he left the bank
and took the job in publishing

everyone wants to see him.

Like bees round a honeypot,
I hardly ever see him now.

Isn't that awfully difficult?

Oh, I never think
about it, Ma'am.

Just something for idle hands.

As we have discussed before,
the uneven flow from the pituitary glands

somehow feeds down
to the ovulation cycle.

But in addition to this

Vivienne has what
I prefer to call...

...a febrile disease of the mind.

And that is why I have
asked Dr Miller here today

to explain the condition.

In fact, we consider it a secondary
form of mental disease.

And it is notorious in attacking
young women of exceptional gifts.

The patient fails to understand her
social position and her duty to society.

She becomes vulgar
and impulsive

and frequently shows a
rebellious disregard for propriety.

And it is this condition

the law and the medical professions
define as moral insanity.

Insanity?

Technically, yes.

Thank you.

Hello, T.S. Eliot's office.

Mr Eliot, please.

Who is this?

Who's speaking please?

Would you tell him
his wife is calling?

One moment, please.

I'm sorry Mrs Eliot but Mr Eliot isn't...
your husband's not here just now.

I know perfectly
well he's there!

And working too hard to keep you in a job,
that's what he's doing! Now...

Is this some deliberate
attempt to provoke me?

Get me the chairman at once,
I want to speak to Mr Faber immediately!

I'm terribly sorry,
but I'm under strict instructions

- not to allow anybody...
- Oh, for God's sake!

I am coming over this instant!

I am opposite this building

and I am going to make the most
awful stink you ever heard.

I only wanted to leave a small
bar of chocolate for my husband.

Anything for me?

Thank you.

Oh!

I thought I'd take
you by surprise!

A very pleasant surprise indeed.

How very good
of you to visit.

We'll be undisturbed here.

What has she done?

Hurry, yes.

I'm so sorry...

I'll never do it again,
I'll be good.

Leave me, leave me.

Oh, I'm so ashamed.

I'll be good.

I'm sorry.

- Forgive me.
- Tom...

Don't look at me.

What is it that you want?

I want nothing.

That's precisely
what you have.

You can't go on like this,
neither of you.

What is it that you want?

I am married to a
woman that I love...

...but everything we
do together falls apart.

I crave companionship...

...but I am completely alone.

I'm sorry Madam,
there's a private ceremony.

- I'm sorry I can't do that.
- I'm Mr Eliot's wife

- I've a right to be here!
- I'm sorry, the bishop's...

Ephpheta, quod est...
Adaperire...

In Odorem suavitatis...

Please excuse me!

I, Thomas, renounce the devil
and all his works.

The vain, pomp and
glory of this world...

...the carnal desires
of the flesh.

I believe in the Holy Ghost

the Holy Catholic Church,
the Communion of Saints...

...the Remission of Sins,
the Resurrection of the Flesh...

...and everlasting life.

Ego te baptizo in nomine patris.

Madam, please!

Et filii...

The door is locked!

...et spiritus, sancti.

Tom.

It's only 6 o'clock.

I'm going to Communion.

I thought you might
stay a while.

I can't.

I um...

I, I seem to be...

I seem to be free today if there's
any work you need typing up.

I have a secretary
who does all that.

Taxi!

Taxi!

Taxi!

- Why Vivienne!
- Hello Vivvie!

Hello, Vivienne.

No, no you've
made a mistake

you're confusing me with that
other woman who is so like me.

She's always getting
me into terrible trouble.

- How absurd!
- And if you don't go away this minute!

Don't be silly,
you are Vivienne Eliot!

I am not Vivienne Eliot.

I never have been,
is that clear?

- Yes!
- Yes it is.

- Is it?
- Yes it's perfectly, perfectly clear.

- Huge mistake, of course.
- You are not Vivienne Eliot.

One simply has to fight tooth and nail
to get a cab at this time of day.

Dear Mr Eliot, thank you
for your reply of the 16th.

The faculty is naturally
delighted that you have

accepted the chair of poetry
at Harvard University.

Tenure will be for one year
commencing September, 1932.

Would you be kind enough
to relay your travel plans

so that arrangements for suitable
accommodation can be made?

Yours sincerely, G.T. Lowell,
President, Harvard University.

Oh, look, there he is!

- Hello!
- There she is!

Dear friend!

Great white hunter!

- Dear Vivvie, look at you,
you look marvellous! - And you're huge!

Tom my dear fellow,
marvellous to see you!

Look at you,
look at you both!

So, how's England
treating you, Tom?

Aces all round.
New house, new car.

Same wife!

Tell us about Africa.

- Well uh, totally huge,
swimming with gin and elephants. - Yes.

Natives speaking
English to a man.

Oh, Tom I must tell you,
I met this American filly in Mombasa

and she was actually
reading one of your books.

- Oh, splendid!
- Ecstatic, who'd have believed it?

- Right here. - 'Oh, God', I said,
'that's old Tom, the frartris!'

Well, worked wonders
in the old courtship front.

- Knew poetry would come in useful one day.
- I'm glad to be of use, Maurice!

I say, super motor!

So, what have you
two been up to?

Oh, endless parties.

All Tom's friends come over.

Students banging on the door
at all hours for autographs.

And bishops by the truckload!

- Oh, Tom's one of us now,
British citizen. - Hoorah!

Welcome aboard!

Thinking about kids next,
I shouldn't wonder!

Oh, I don't know about that!
We do have cats, though.

- Both still crazy about chocolate?
- Absolutely mad about it.

Ah, you both sound so happy!

We are.

That's it?

Yes.

Mums, Tom's whole
career is at stake.

He gives lectures to the
Archbishop at Lambeth Palace.

- All that'll go up in smoke!
- Maurice, please.

No, no.
Short memory these top people.

Tom can't take her anywhere. He's terrified
in case she causes another awful scene.

I mean, she's sending letters
around town accusing

- all and sundry of trying to seduce him!
Ask Tom! - Thank you, Maurice.

First the letters, then the car

and my teeth will never
be the same again.

Sometimes she gets car sick.

I know it's not an excuse,
but you might have told her about America.

I left the letter where she could see it.
I thought it best.

So the first thing she knows
of your going to America

for who knows how long,
is a letter on the dining room table?

I can't pretend anymore.

She's sick.

All the doctors
say the same thing.

She's running around town
with a knife in her handbag!

What knife?

The poor sod only has to say
'meet the wife' and a brigade

of these Bloomsbury wallahs
stampede mad-dog for the Causey!

Think of the scandal, Mums

if she goes too far.

Where is Viv?

I sent her off to Harrods.

Mums, this is Mr Janes,
who we were talking about earlier.

- He was a policeman and...
- Maurice, please.

Mr Janes is a medical officer with
the Association of Private Practitioners.

What does a medical officer do?

It's purely hypothetical.

No final decision's been taken.

- Well, Mrs Wood...
- Mrs Haigh-Wood.

I observe the lady
of whom we speak

and report to the family.

In the event of a crisis, two doctors
are obliged to ask the lady two questions

of a simple nature.

The next morning I go to the
magistrate's court with a petition.

Yes?

And apply for a
notice of committal.

I then convey her into
the care of her doctors.

You mean you bundle her into a straitjacket
and cart her off to the lunatic asylum.

It is vital

that we act together,
as a family.

Good evening, sir.

She has locked herself in,
I thought I'd better call you.

Yes...

I think now's the time, Mr Eliot.

Ah...

I um... took the liberty
of calling the doctors.

Yes...

...I see.

I unlocked the door
the minute I heard you.

Hello, Viv.

It's all going on out there.

We need to be very calm.

Well there's no need for that.

If you want to go out, do.

- I want you to.
- Thank you, but no.

It's good for you.

You can't stay trapped
in here with me.

I do know what goes
on in your mind.

Who is it this time,
Gert or Daisy?

Ooh, you're up to something
and no mistake.

Let's be calm, Vivvie.

I keep getting all these horrible
formal letters from your lawyer.

I told them I wanted
to talk to you.

After all,
you are my husband.

We are legally separated.

Oh, that's just a
form of words, isn't it?

"Whom God has joined,
let no man put asunder. "

You're an expert on God,
aren't you?

We are going to have to
talk about things, Vivienne.

Well, we've never done
that before, have we?

You have to understand
what you have done.

We have to face this together.

The motorcar...

...the chocolate...

Oh, that!

Those rats at Faber's
wanted you all to themselves.

There was no room for me.

I was so angry
being locked out.

You see, you have to remember
what a success you are.

A famous poet,
director of a leading publishers...

I would like some
recognition for that.

After all, the poems come
out of our lives, Tom.

I'd like to share just
an inch of that success.

But... why chocolate?

Because you love it!

- Although not quite in that form,
I grant you. - And the car?

You really could've killed us.

- How are Maurice's teeth? - Fine.
- Is the car fixed?

- Yes. - And you and I
are still upright, so...

Look, I felt a rush of
blood to the head.

I was sitting listening to
a string of trivial chatter.

You were vexed by
the conversation?

You were leaving me for a year and
you didn't have the courage to tell me.

Maurice was asking us
questions about ourselves

and I heard us telling him masses
of lies over and over, you see...

...you see that...
that's why I married you, Tom.

To escape from all that.

But you...

Well Tom, you always wanted
to be the perfect Englishman.

All these years Vivvie...

...right from the start.

All the secrets
we had to keep.

Trying not to catch each other's eyes,
because we might realise we were strangers.

And always the medicines, the doctors,
the experts, the things I was never told

and the way people
looked at us.

'There go Tom and Viv. '

'What do they say
to each other?'

'Whatever do they say?'

I have the doctors
in attendance, sir.

Stay out!

What's going on?

Two of your doctors
are outside.

They want to come in and take
a look at you and make a decision.

- At this time of night?
- They have your best interests at heart

What decision?

They need to come in...
and ask you a few questions.

You won't let them take me
away from you, Tom?

After all, there've been
good moments in the past.

We've had our splendid times,
haven't we Tom?

Yes.

Are you ready?

Vivvie darling...

...if you have a knife...

...would you give
it to us, please?

We know you have a knife, there.

We're being a bit
"Ethel M. Dell", aren't we?

There have been complaints.

- From whom?
- Mrs Virginia Woolf.

And you believe them?

Well Mums, um...

I'm afraid it's too late.

I caught up with Mrs Woolf

in the ladies room
at Victoria station.

I'll show you exactly
how I did it.

Like that!

And that!

I bought it in a toy shop.

Oh, God...

Now, I believe you have
some questions for me?

Tom will tell you,
I'm brilliant at puzzles.

Ahem.

Rupert, takes his
friends to the opera.

Rupert is sitting next to
Charles and on his left.

Daphne sits immediately
on Charles' right.

Clarissa sits somewhere
to the left of Daphne.

Can you put them in
their correct order?

Clarissa is next to Rupert, Rupert is next
to Charles, Charles is next to Daphne.

Uh, yes that's correct.

Next!

The greasy pole
is 10 yards high.

The little brown monkey
wishes to climb the pole.

The monkey climbs
3 yards a day.

Each night,
he slips back 2 yards.

How many days will it take
him to reach the top?

Seven.

Wrong.

The answer is eight.

A member of the family must
sign for the reception order.

The uh, Lunacy Act
provides the following.

All Vivienne's bank accounts
and credit arrangements

at certain shops
cease immediately.

She's not allowed to vote,
or drive a vehicle

or hold any kind of passport.

She has no right of appeal
at any time for her release.

After that, everything is at
the discretion of the trustees.

But what do we
do with Vivvie now?

Well Mrs Eliot will be completely at
liberty for at least two or three days

until the magistrates can
approve the reception order.

Then... she will be committed.

Excuse me.

Oh, God... men in white coats.

Mrs Vivienne Eliot,
under the Lunacy Act

I'm obliged to take you away from here,
to a proper place of detention.

How dare you!

Now we're not gonna have a nasty
scene in a public place, are we?

I don't see why not.

Stop it!

Are we gonna be more
ladylike now, Vivienne?

Dear God!

Pay for the tea, would you?
And um, be sure to leave a tip.

Oh, goodbye Louise.

Please!

Ma'am!

Don't let 'em, Ma'am!

She was the
first in her class

to audition for
the ballet school.

And languages...

Oh, what a gift she had.

It is a very impressive place.

Acres of grass...

Viv will be very comfortable.

- And it is just for a while.
- Yes.

After you came to us, I...

I warned our family
and friends.

'He's a bit of a stick

but so eager to be like us. '

And then, those Bloomsbury
types got hold of you.

You mustn't think that riff-raff
is the heart of English life.

It isn't such an achievement
to turn gossip into art.

And write nasty
novels about one's friends.

The Haigh-Woods
have been...

...buried as far afield as...

...Alberta.
And Nepal.

Magistrates, counsellors,
church wardens.

How unfashionable, yes.

Snigger behind
Bloomsbury shutters

but that is true British stock.

Goes about its business

is quiet about it

quite unexceptional.

And, I might add

never before has one of us

been carted off in disgrace
to a lunatics' house.

You swore to us Tom,
you would always look after Vivvie.

So now you're famous
on a bookshelf.

What do we have
left to give you?

I love this family.

I've always wanted
to be a part of it.

- Family unity...
- No, please.

I've lived all my life in the hope that
Vivvie would be acceptable to someone.

It's not quite the moment

to give me the benefit
of your mind.

Good night, Maurice.

Tom...

I'm off.

Day after tomorrow.

Africa.

Oh.

So soon.

Re-joining the regiment.

Of course.

Cheerio.

I will keep in touch.

Fratris.

Brother-in-law.

- Greek.
- Latin.

Squelch.

It's been splendid
knowing you.

I feel I've touched history.

Well... sort of hung on.

Maurice...

What have we done?

Mrs Eliot?

Hi, I'm Captain Todd.

I believe you know Mr Davis,
from the border control?

- Yes, hello.
- Hello, Mrs Eliot.

- You're an American.
- That's right.

Seconded by my unit to the
Tavistock Clinic as an observer.

I've looking at your case history,
I was wondering if we could

go over a few
things together?

Certainly.

Did any doctor ever mention
hormonal imbalance?

No.

When did menopause occur?

Seven years ago.

And since that time,
you've had pretty good health?

I have, remarkably, yes.

This treatment you had, I mean...
all there is,

is this history of headaches, followed by
stomach pains and menstrual bleeding.

Yes, I suppose you could sum up a quarter
of a century of frightfulness in that way.

You see today there are courses of
hormone treatment to maintain the uterus.

it's relatively simple.

Really?

You're legally separated
from your husband?

I'm sorry to say that's true.

Look, Ma'am...

I'm not too acquainted
with British law

but I understand your
husband is a Trustee of

your estate and has
control over your money.

Is that right?

I mean,
could you clarify that?

I have no intention of clarifying anything,
I don't know what you're insinuating.

Well it seems to me that you're paying
for your own incarceration here.

I mean are you trying to say
that in all these years

no-one has ever made an
application for your release?

No member of your family,
no Trustee?

How dare you?

My husband is the
sweetest man on earth.

He had borne the most awful lies
and vilification with absolute courage

he belongs with Kings,
covered in raiment.

Look, excuse me...

T.S. Eliot is the greatest living
poet in the English language.

Ma'am, I'm sorry,
I've never heard of T.S. Eliot.

And you won't
belittle me that way.

I gave Tom the title
to The Wasteland.

We worked together,
side by side for 15 years

I am threaded through every line
of poetry he has ever written!

And he has my undying love.

He will have it until the
last breath leaves my body.

And he knows it.

And nobody can ever
take that away.

"The rending pain of re-enactment
of all that you have done...

...and been.

the shame of motives late revealed
and the awareness of things ill-done

and done to others' harm

which once you took
for exercise of virtue.

Then fools' approval stings

and honour stains

from wrong to wrong,
the exasperated spirit proceeds.

Unless...

...restored by that refining fire. "

"Where you must move in measure,
like a dancer. "

This is the National Program.

- We now present,
what is in effect... - Tom!

Tom!

Ah, Tom,
how good to see you!

Hello, Bertie.

How are you and
what are you doing?

- Cheerio.
- Bye.

Normal things, for a poet.

Watching enemy planes,
avoiding bombs...

...checking the blackouts.
And you Bertie?

I heard about Viv.

I suppose there was
no other solution.

Of course,
she was always unstable.

- You used to say she was
a free spirit. - Did I?

I don't recall.

Don't think it doesn't hurt.

She's with me all the time

every minute of the day.

Ah, my stop.

- Goodbye, Bertie.
- Goodbye.

She is well, Tom?

You have no right
to ask that.

Tom?

There's a visitor for you, Mrs Eliot.

Vivvie...

Hello, Maurice.

God...

You look so fit.

That's Africa.

Ooh, tea.

I'll move these.

There you are.

Well, looks pretty ace here.

It is.

- They're looking after you well?
- Oh, five star.

That's the spirit.

How was Africa?

Not bad.

Uh, saw off a few U-boats.

Gin is a bit difficult
to come by.

They appointed me
chief of police, Lagos.

Hurrah!

Had to give it up, though.

Hit a bit of a bald patch.

High commission wanted
this victory parade

so we held a sunset
curfew the night before

rounded up every dark blighter
we found on the streets

and popped them over to the chief
magistrate's court the next morning.

No chief magistrate.

I'd locked the rascal
up with all the others.

Red faces all round.

Dear old Vivvie.

I want to know how you are.

How it's all gone.

- Pretty quiet.
- Really?

Must have had
masses of visitors.

Celebs from the book world.

Not masses.

I mean, you do see chums?

Chums drop by?

You're the first "chum" I've
seen since Mummy died.

Ah.

But there's still old Tom.

Yes.

Well, he must write,
sort of thing?

I haven't heard from
Tom in 10 years.

But you are alright?

I mean, you seem so okay.

I'm as sane
as you are, Maurice.

Which may not amount to much,
God knows, but...

Ah, squelch.

I've learned to cook.

Wait here.

I want you to
give this to Tom.

It's his favourite,
chocolate fudge.

You know how he
loves chocolate.

I've really no idea when I'll see him,
I can't promise.

But when you do.

Yes.

Bound to bump into him,
of course.

I have to go now, Maurice.

I don't want to miss supper.

Bye, Maurice.

Chin up.

Maurice!

Subtitle:
sync, fix: titler