Original subtitles

[music playing]

[insect buzzing]

[birds squawking]

[indistinct shouting]

[gunfire]

[sobbing]

[bomb whistling]

[explosion]

[music playing]

[birds chirping]

[moaning]

[rapid breathing]

[flies buzzing]

[gasping]

[inaudible]

[moaning]

[sobbing]

Dr. Rivers, I found him with the game

keeper's tribes, dead animals.

It's all right.

I'll take him now.

Come along with me, mate.

[thunder]

Prior?

Prior?

Prior.

All right, all right, there.

SOLDIER: Come on in, get your bloody teacups.

You're all right, Tommy.

Ah, then, Williams.

Oh, that looks nasty.

[bomb whistling]

You'd better get that seen to, Williams.

[explosion]

That's a shame.

It looks as though I'm going to lose my bravest man,

for a week or two.

[gunfire]

[shouting]

Dead, sir.

Stay with him.

[bomb whistling]

[shouting]

SOLDIER: [non-english speech]

SASSOON: I am making this statement

as an act of willful defiance of military authority

because I believe that the war is

being deliberately prolonged by those

who have the power to end it.

I am a soldier, convinced that I am

acting on behalf of soldiers.

I believe that this war, upon which I entered

as a war of defense and liberation,

has now become a war of aggression and conquest.

I have seen and endured the sufferings of the troops,

and I can no longer be a party to prolong

these sufferings for ends which I

believe to be evil and unjust.

I am not protesting against the conduct of the war,

but against the political errors and insincerities

for which the fighting men are being sacrificed.

Also I believe that I may help to destroy

the callous complacency with which the majority of those

at home regard the continuance of agonies

which they do not share--

RIVERS: "And which they have not sufficient imagination

to realize, S. Sassoon."

They want him to be your patient.

Why?

So that when his declaration is read out

in the House of Commons, they can

say Sassoon is suffering from mental breakdown

and is now undergoing treatment by the eminent

Dr. William Rivers.

Will you take him?

Well, eminence never got me a choice of patients before.

So do they want me to declare he's mad or say that he's sane?

They want you to persuade him he's wrong.

That's not what I do.

Which is why you're being allowed

to choose if you take him.

Do you have a file?

Here.

Good lord, he won an MC.

One and a half hours under gunfire,

bringing out the wounded, conspicuous gallantry.

Took a German trench single handed.

RIVERS: I'll take him.

Mr. Sassoon?

Yes.

Good to meet you, Captain Rivers.

How do you do?

Come with me.

After you, I'll just check which room they've put you in.

[sobbing]

[mumbling]

Ready?

One of us is in the wrong place, Dr. Rivers.

Oh, while I remember, there was

a telegram from your friend, Captain Graves.

He missed your train.

Typical of him, a prisoner arrives without escort.

You're not a prisoner.

Oh, then I can go?

You are under orders.

We all are, through here.

Why do they call you Mad Jack?

Graves has been telling secrets, has he?

He is very concerned for you.

Because I liked going out on patrol,

looking for Germans to kill.

Taking unnecessary risks is one of the first signs

of a war neurosis.

I didn't know that.

Nightmares and hallucinations come later.

Do you suffer from nightmares?

SASSOON: When I first got back, not now.

And the, uh, the hallucinations?

When I woke up, the nightmares didn't always stop.

So I used to see corpses, men with half their faces shot off,

crawling across the pavement.

People were treading on their faces.

And you were awake when this happened?

Yes.

I wrote one or two quite good poems at the time.

Oh, I'd like to see them.

Shouldn't you be asking me about my declaration?

That's what got me sent here.

You threw away your Military Cross.

You must have been in agony when you did that.

Agony is lying a shell hole with your legs shot off.

I was upset.

Would you describe yourself as a pacifist?

No, I can't say no war is ever justified.

You said a friend was killed.

His name was David.

RIVERS: I am sorry.

[knocking]

Mr. Barnham, sir.

Ms. Crowe, this is Mr. Sassoon, our latest arrival.

Welcome to our hospital, Mr. Sassoon.

Ms. Crowe is the way, the truth,

and the light at Craiglockhart.

CROWE: That is blasphemy, Doctor.

And she is the only one who can read my handwriting.

Captain Rivers.

RIVERS: Another patient, sorry.

Oh, my bedroom door has no lock on it.

None of them have.

Privacy isn't part of the cure I'm afraid.

You don't think I'm mad, do you?

I don't think you're even suffering from war neurosis.

Good.

You seem to have a very powerful anti-war neurosis.

You realize, don't you, that my job is to try and change that?

This would end the war in six weeks, a pincer movement

here and here, forcing them to draw reinforcements from there.

[inaudible].

Top secret, old chap, not a word, if the Hun gets it--

Oh, no, top secret, well done.

We all do our bit, hmm?

Sassoon?

Yes?

Why did your Peter call you Siegfried?

He loved opera.

Yes, I expect if I had been a girl,

he would have called me Brunhilda.

Two L's in physically, Mr. Prior.

Thank you.

Open, wider.

[gagging]

No analgesia there, anyway, would

you, nurse, give me a few moments alone with Mr. Prior,

please?

Yes, Doctor.

Officers don't suffer from mutism, Mr. Prior.

Do you write in block capitals because it's less revealing?

It depends on your own handwriting.

Unfortunately, your file still hasn't turned up.

And I really don't fancy putting together a full medical history

like this.

I need to know what's happened to you before I can treat you.

No, but you won't leave here before you

have your memory back, and you will recover your speech.

Talking about it will help us deal with the difficulty.

Ah, Captain Rivers, just the man.

Mr. Campbell.

That fella they put in my room--

Sassoon, yes?

You don't think he's a German spy, do you?

No, I don't think so.

They never call themselves Siegfried.

No more they do.

Just thought I'd mention it.

SASSOON (VOICEOVER): "If I were fierce and bald and short

of breath, I'd live with scarlet mages at the base

and speed glum heroes up the line to death.

You'd see me with my puffy, petulant face,

guzzling and gulping in the best hotel,

reading the roll of honor.

Poor young chap, I'd say.

I used to know his father well.

Yes, we've lost heavily in this last scrap.

And when the war is done and youth stone dead,

I'd toddle safely home and die in bed."

- Robert, thank God you've come. - I'm so sorry, Sass.

I missed the train.

At least you've got Rivers.

How is he?

Like one's dream father, and he doesn't pretend there's

anything wrong with my nerves.

Oh, it's good of you to visit, Robert.

It makes Dottyville almost bearable.

[distant gunfire]

[shouting]

[dog barking]

I hope you're not angry with me.

Why should I be angry with you?

I, um, I told you they'd never agree to court

martial you, never--

never give you the, uh, platform.

But I didn't want you in prison or hanged

or whatever the hell they might have done instead.

The truth is they--

they probably would have court martialed you

if you'd held out long enough.

Sass, I lied to you.

I didn't really know.

Robert, I wouldn't have believed it from anyone else.

We were all very worried about you.

We?

You were threatening to assassinate the prime minister.

SOLDIER:

Oh, God, the quickest way to end it.

We both know it won't end until there isn't a--

a cat or dog left to enlist.

And now they can explain away my protests.

I'm just another loony.

Sass, Sass, I've never known anyone more sane.

How do I oppose it now?

Robert?

Don't.

I enjoyed meeting Captain Graves.

Informative, was it?

He is a good friend to you.

Yes, but it seems to suit my good friends to ascribe

what I did to mental breakdown.

It suits them?

Well, they agree with me, but conveniently they don't

have to do anything about it.

You know, I've been thinking.

If you maintain your protest--

If?

You spend the rest of the war in complete personal safety.

You don't think you might find that rather difficult?

Well, nobody else in this disgusting country

finds it difficult. I'll just have to learn to live

with it, like everyone else.

Just a thought.

Captain.

Captain.

Captain Rivers was looking strangely pleased with himself.

This way, Mr. Burns.

An encounter with a German corpse, one of the nurses

told me.

I've trodden on a few of those.

Well, he didn't tread on it.

He was thrown into the air and landed headfirst.

The stomach burst, and there he was, head inside the corpse,

mouth full of rotting flesh.

Mm, rather good, this.

Mr. Burns, would it help if you had a bowl of fruit

in your room so you could pick at something

when you felt like it?

Um, yes, that mi-- might help.

You know what the worst thing is?

Is that it's a joke.

Yes.

[sobbing]

It's not such a bad place, is it?

No.

You take my bed.

You live with a herd of lunatics.

And I'll go back to France for you.

You know, I really hate it when you talk like that,

as if everybody who breaks down is inferior.

We've all been that close.

I know how close I've been.

Dammit, Sass, there must be some bright corners.

Yes, clean sheets, hot water, regular meals, and the latter

accompanied by the sound of vomiting.

Good luck, Robert.

Give them my regards, any of them that

still want to hear from me.

Sass, every man you have served with

thinks the world of you.

Now you know that.

Come back soon, Robert, eh?

RIVERS: Have a word with Ms. Crowe.

She'll be able to help you.

Thank you, sir.

I think I might go back to London.

Really?

Yes, thanks to my good friend, Graves, lying to me,

I got a medical board instead of a court martial.

So I'm here under false pretenses, really.

You're here because the army sent you here.

Details.

If I go to London and fork out 20 guineas to see a Harley

Street doctor, hey, presto.

I'm certified sane.

And what do you think they would do to you then?

You've read about this MP, going around

with his little black book, eminent people

whose private lives make them suspect.

Relax.

I'm not eminent.

You're vulnerable, and they are angry.

In war, there is this enormous emphasis put on comradeship,

love between men.

And everyone approves.

But at the same time, there's this little niggle.

Is it the right kind of love?

They will simply charge you with treason on other grounds.

I've been called many things.

But other grounds?

That's where they'll attack.

Your declaration makes you a target they want to destroy

by any means available.

Well, then get me another medical board, here.

Yes, in three months' time.

[music playing]

CAMPBELL: Left, left, no, McPherson,

left, left, left, right, left.

Morning, Captain Campbell.

[horn honking]

Oh, either side, lads, come on, McPherson.

Come on.

Don't want to lose you now, boys.

Fall in, lads.

Come on, Wallace.

Hey, you--

[arguing]

Scouts.

You, Captain.

About turn.

By the left, quick march.

What are scouts doing here?

Implementing my therapy by helping officers rediscover

their skills of command.

Hmm.

RIVERS: When did it come back?

This afternoon, I woke up shouting

and realized I could talk.

Now your voice packed up the day you lost your memory?

Which is why I don't remember.

But you remember before?

That doesn't mean I want to talk about it.

RIVERS: What do you want to talk about?

Antony Balfour, he lied about his age to enlist.

He was 16 years old when he broke down.

Maybe his officer did, too, because he

had him tied to a post in the middle of no man's land

just before daybreak. - Murderer.

PRIOR: That kind of thing doesn't happen in the army--

You're leaving me here to die.

PRIOR: --even when it does.

He wasn't given the privilege of coming

to see you for cozy chats and being asked

what he wanted to talk about.

I don't see why it has to be like this, anyway.

Like what?

All the questions from you, all the answers from me.

Mr. Prior, if you went to the doctor with bronchitis,

and he spent half the consultation time telling

you about his lumbago, you wouldn't be best pleased,

would you?

No, but if I went to my doctor in despair,

it might help to know he at least

knew the meaning of the word.

All right, if you feel you can't talk about France,

would it help to talk about the nightmares?

No.

I'll tell you when you come back, Mr. Owen.

Sorry.

The last doctor said he was going to try hypnosis.

Well, when I feel that you want to get better,

hypnosis may be appropriate.

You have no right to say I don't want to get better.

What's going on here?

It's a hospital, not a factory.

It's part of their therapy.

Ah, this is, sir, Dr. William Rivers.

Oh.

Mr. Timmons from the war office.

Yes, well, you're going to be busy.

Oh, just a routine inspection, Doctor, carry on as you would.

Busy, busy, busy.

Well, Mr. Timmons, shall we go upstairs?

Yeah, all right.

Everything all right, gentlemen?

- Yes. - Yes, sir.

Good.

Some loose rods here.

Ah.

Ah, lovely, how are we getting on?

Watch your step there.

TIMMONS: Therapy?

BROCK: Yes, damn it, therapy, these men could barely

function when they arrived.

Think of the work in these boats.

Think of the pride it's given them.

You saw them, laughing, talking to each other.

Mr. Brock?

Hmm?

Oh, my God.

Further upstream, everyone move further

upstream where it's calmer.

These three men, out of the water.

[laughter]

No more boats in the water.

Ladies, get these men out of the water.

MAN: Let's have a race.

Move up the track to the pond.

Well, that sometimes happens in their enthusiasm.

TIMMONS: Shall we press on?

BROCK: Uh, yes, perhaps we should.

[distant bell chiming]

[dog barking]

Yes?

Mr. Sassoon?

Yes?

I've, uh, brought these.

They're yours.

I mean-- I mean, they're written by you.

My God, a reader.

More than a reader, an admirer.

Which do you like?

"He's young.

He hates it, war.

Why should he die when cruel old campaigners win safe through?

But Death replied, I choose him, so he went."

It's beautiful.

Would you be kind enough to sign them?

Yes, of course, what name shall I write?

Susan Owen, my mother.

Are you sure your mother wants to know

that Bert's gone syphilitic?

It won't come as a shock.

I tell her everything in my letters.

Good heavens.

Don't you?

My brother died at Gallipoli.

And I think my mother has enough on her plate

without any searing revelations from me.

She must be worried about your being here.

On the contrary, I think the thought of my insanity

is one of her few consolations.

Um, this one for you?

Yes, thank you, Owen, Wilfred Owen.

Did you say you wrote?

I didn't know, but I do.

Poetry?

Yes.

Why don't you bring me some of your poems to look at?

Well, you might prefer a dose of mustard gas.

No, I mean it.

All right, but they're not about the war.

I-- I don't write about that.

Why ever not?

I've always thought of poetry as the opposite of all

that, the ugliness, something for comfort,

to like, to feel for.

I'm sorry I sounded ungracious.

Please, bring them.

Honesty, I'd be glad to look.

Do you call yourself a pacifist?

No.

I mean, I guess at church and all that.

But you have to ask yourself how it's

possible to call yourself a Christian

and leave out all the awkward bits.

You'll never make a bishop.

No, well, I think I can live with that.

Are you?

No.

Sometimes in the trenches, you get

the sense of something ancient.

One trench we held, it had skulls in the side,

embedded like mushrooms.

And it was actually easier to believe

they were men from Marlborough's army

than to think they had been alive a year ago.

It was as if all the other wars had distilled themselves

into this war, and that made it something

you almost can't challenge.

It's like a very deep voice saying, run along, little man.

Be glad you've survived.

Thank you.

Owen, do try writing something about the war.

[distant singing]

Mr. Prior, don't you want to join in?

It sounds like fun.

[coughing]

I can't stand the smoke.

I'm surprised you got to France at all with that.

Well, they couldn't afford to be fussy.

[laughter]

The loonies seem to be enjoying it.

Do you think you're a loo-- loony?

Do you think the Germans have men in places like this?

Or is it just me and public school fools who break down?

How did you fit in with those public school fools?

In the back of their tiny minds,

those people really do believe the whole thing is going to end

in one glorious cavalry charge, the upper classes triumphant

again.

Are you angry at that?

No, it's just a fact, like mud, like a nightmare

you don't remember.

A distinguishing characteristic of a nightmare

is that it's always remembered.

Oh, I must be cured then, because I can't remember mine.

Can I leave now?

Mr. Prior, the night before last, you were on the floor,

trying to get through the wall, again.

I can't remember.

Mr. Prior I see has been visited

with the gift of tongues.

His memory is still blocked, though.

Tried hypnosis?

I need a breakthrough first.

If you'd just abandon that ridiculous Austrian choir--

And what, adopt the arguable therapies of an Edinburgh

quack, instead?

That's enough, you two.

How's our star patient, Rivers?

Mentally and physically healthy.

What's he doing here, then?

Haven't they got what they wanted?

Just sending him here, they've discredited him.

My job is to return my patients to active duty.

Getting him to give his protest up

is hardly a medical matter.

Uh, Dr. McIntyre, I'd like to leave

Dr. Rivers to deal with his patient as he sees fit.

All right, let's move on.

Therapy for the therapist?

I suppose so.

I find being out there helps with perspective.

You never talk about the future.

Got plans?

David and I made plans for the rest of our lives

the night before the sun.

Corpses don't have futures.

Over 50,000 last month, I never forget it, not for a second.

Sneering doesn't suit, Sassoon.

The mother of each one consoled by the fact

that we gained 500 yards of mud.

You never give up, do you?

What about those who aren't dead,

who have to get up and keep going,

and who don't like the war any more than you do?

Don't you think about them anymore?

Do you know what it means to them to be led well, by someone

who thinks about them?

Every report I've read on you talks about your men,

how much they liked and admired you, because you cared,

little things, like making sure they

had tea after a long march.

You have no right to say I don't think about them.

What do you think I'm protesting about?

I'm doing it for them.

They'd rather have a cup of tea.

You're the one who never gives up!

Do you mind if I smoke?

My first for three weeks.

It's not really a good idea with asthma, you know.

Think it might shorten my life?

Do you know how long the average officer lasts in France?

You're not in France.

Three months.

I know.

Shall we go on?

We attacked on the morning of the night we moved up.

Date?

April 23, Saint George's Day, the CO

toasted him in the mess, bloody stupid.

You were in the casualty clearing station on the 27th.

So that leaves us with four days unaccounted for.

I can't help with any of them.

Do you remember the attack?

Yes, it was exactly like any other attack.

- How is that? - Terrifying.

[gunfire] MAN: Come on, lads.

Noisy, suicidal.

[men shouting]

You walk forward in broad daylight

into the guns, blinded by the smoke.

MAN: Keep the line straight.

Steady on the right.

PRIOR: The air was full of lead.

They kept up this chanting, not so fast, not so fast,

keep the line straight.

Keep the line straight.

Steady on the left.

Keep the line straight.

Steady on the left.

And we walked into a wall of bullets, deafened by shells,

ordered by men 100 miles away.

RIVERS: How did you feel?

Feel?

RIVERS: What were your feelings?

It was like sex.

RIVERS: Yes?

Exciting and ridiculous.

I looked back.

The ground was covered with wounded,

lying on top of each other, writhing, like fish

in a pond that's drying out.

I wasn't frightened at all.

I just felt this amazing burst of exaltation.

Then I heard a shell coming, and next thing I knew,

I was in the air, fluttering down.

That's all, nothing else.

That's more than you remembered last week.

PRIOR: You're the one who wants me cured.

This may come as a shock, Mr. Prior,

but I'd been rather assuming we were on the same side.

This may come as a shock, Dr. Rivers,

but I had been rather assuming we were not.

[bell chiming]

[chatter]

Good morning.

Good morning.

Read that.

"Klatz, killed in action on the 28th of November,

dearly loved youngest son of--

aged 17 years and 10 months."

I knew him.

Sorry.

Sorry?

He was 17.

How can you live with that?

I mean, people at home can be excused because they

don't know what it's like.

But You do.

And you still go on supporting it.

They invaded Belgium.

They invaded France.

And they're still there.

German militarism isn't going to disappear simply because you

flourish a pamphlet at it.

Is that all you think I'm trying to do?

What do you want, Mr. Sassoon, the army to surrender,

the kaiser in Whitehall?

I want it all to stop.

And what if 2 million shared your view, gave up?

What then?

In the name of civilization, men are being sent to maim

and slaughter their fellow men.

I think it remains for civilization

to prove that their martyrdom isn't a dirty swindle.

He wasn't old enough to enlist, and nobody gives a damn.

Of course, they do.

What, businessmen in their leather armchairs

in their London clubs, reading out the casualty list?

I refer you to my earlier questions,

to which I hear no answer.

I neither hear nor see grief for the men who

die every minute of every day.

Look around you, damn it.

Do you think they are going to be

helped if we all burst into tears

over the ca-- casualty list?

Do you think your protest has done much for the--

for the very men you claim to represent?

Made them stronger? Made them safer?

[bell ringing]

[women laughing]

Here you are, sir.

Thank you.

WOMAN: I could give you something you've never

had your whole life before.

She turns to face him and says, will you look at this one?

He says he can give me leprosy.

[laughter]

[inaudible]

[inaudible]

BARTENDER: Yes, miss?

For that-- that table.

BARTENDER: That will be 2, please.

[hiccuping]

I've been-- I've been laughing too much.

I could give you a fright.

That never works.

Boo!

[hiccup]

See?

[hiccup]

Do you all work somewhere nearby?

Aye, at the munitions factory, just beyond the loony bin.

You're a munitionette.

I work.

A munitionette, that's what they call them.

BARTENDER: Here you are, miss.

That's cured my hiccups.

BARTENDER: Thank you.

PRIOR: Can I buy you a proper drink?

Well, what's your name?

Prior.

Don't you people have Christian names?

Billy, Billy Prior, so?

All right, I'm Sarah Lumb.

It's my day off.

I'll get my coat.

Mercy, that's going quick.

[laughter]

It starts and ends well.

What happened in the middle?

It's no good.

But there are others I--

I like better.

Some are very good, indeed.

Really?

Oh, yes, the thing is, are you interested enough to go on,

I mean, really sweat your guts out on them?

Yes.

Yes, I am.

And you are right.

It's mad not to write about the war when it's--

Such an experience?

[laughter]

You know, my mom says there's no such thing

as love between men and women.

Love for your children, yes, but love for a man, no.

What do you think?

I don't know.

Well, that makes two of us then,

'cause I'm buggered if I do.

Weren't you in love with your man who was killed?

SARAH: Jamie?

Jamie.

I can't remember what he looked like.

I think I loved him.

But when you can't put him in your mind,

you begin to doubt it.

That's the trouble with [inaudible].

The truth pours out.

There you are, Lieutenant.

We were just saying how proud we all are of the job

you uniformed chaps are doing.

Our youngest will be joining up next Easter,

just in time for the big push, I'm hoping.

Well, then, tell your men that one day the bells will

ring to tell us it's all over.

Till then, those of us still at home are with you

every step of the way.

What-- what does-- what does that mean?

[latin]

[speaking latin]

It means it is sweet and honorable to die

for your country.

I'm glad it's in Latin.

If that were in English, there's a good few widows

would laugh at it.

Which way is your lodgings?

My lodgings?

My lodgings won't do you any good.

My landlady is a dragon, 50 times worse than my mum.

Shall we go for a walk?

I don't fancy saying goodnight just yet.

Do you?

Penny for them.

I was thinking about a man in my platoon.

He wrote the same letter to his wife every week for two years.

How do you know he did?

Because I had to censor it.

Every week, I had to read all their letters.

Who read yours?

Nobody, they rely on our sense of honor.

You lot make me sick.

I suppose nobody else has got a sense of honor?

No.

Short-ass buggers, the Scots.

[music playing]

Can I see you again?

Maybe.

We could have a bit to eat in Edinburgh

and then go somewhere on the train after, Sunday.

Billy Prior.

Sarah Lumb.

PRIOR: I've been confined to the hospital for two weeks.

This is the army, Mr. Prior.

There are rules.

Apparently, a matron saw you in town.

You weren't wearing your hospital arm band.

I was looking for a girl, which, as you may or may not

know, is not made any easier by walking

around with a band on your arm, saying, I'm a loony.

Yes, well, I'm sure Major Bryce

will reconsider his action if you give him good reason.

Aren't you going to ask me if I've got one?

RIVERS: One what?

A girl, a woman, woman.

No, I wasn't.

Well, I did.

She's a munitionette.

She is very pretty.

Mr. Prior, would you like to leave it for today?

PRIOR: No.

All right, let's, um, let's go back to the time

immediately following the April 23 attack.

Have you made any progress beyond that?

No, I don't want to talk about that.

What do you want to talk about?

Something you said's been bothering me.

You said, officers don't suffer from mutism.

That's right.

Officers tend to suffer from stammering.

It's the lower ranks who suffer from mutism.

Why?

We don't know.

Even the dreams of officers-- and believe me,

I've studied thousands--

tend to be more elaborate than those of the other ranks.

I'd rather have their dreams than mine.

How do you know?

You don't remember yours.

I refuse to believe that General Haig's dreams are more

elaborate than those of the lowest ranker,

all those noodle-brained dimwits who think they're born leaders,

that God gave them a birthright over others.

Well, you've certainly conquered your mutism,

Mr. Prior.

Interesting, isn't it, that you're

one of the very few people here who doesn't stammer.

I think it's even more interesting that you do.

Is that the end of my appointment for today,

Mr. Prior?

Maybe you're the one who's ill.

[music playing]

WOMAN (ON RECORDING): (SINGING) We've watched you play

cricket and every kind of game.

At football, golf, and polo, you men have made your name.

But now your country calls you to play your part in war.

This is good.

"Red lips are not so red as the stained stones

kissed by the English dead."

It's absolutely perfect.

And, um, this one, uh, "Dead Youth," I thought, anthem.

This one?

Mm-hmm.

Anthem for the dead youth.

Well, work at it.

And then bring it back, and we'll have a go at it together.

Is it traumatic for you?

No, writing is like exorcism.

Well, if you ever get back to the front, at least

it will be good for your poetry.

Yes.

Yes, it would.

Gas, gas, quick boys, an ecstasy of fumbling,

fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,

but someone still was yelling out and stumbling

and floundering like a man in fire or line, dim,

through the misty pains and think green light

as under a green sea.

I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

he plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

[bomb whistling]

[explosion]

Within some smothering dreams, you, too,

could pace behind the wagon that we flung him in and watch

the white eyes writhing in his face,

his hanging face, like a devil, sick of sin.

If you could hear at every joke the blood come gurgling

from the froth-corrupted lungs, obscene as cancer,

bitter as the cut of vile, incurable sores

on innocent tongues, my friend, you would not

tell with such high zest to children

ardent for some desperate glory the old lie.

[latin]

I came to say sorry about this morning.

We all know if you wanted to be really offensive,

you could have done better than that.

But I was stupid, going on like that.

Sit down.

You must be tired.

Tired of paperwork.

I think we could try hypnosis now.

Now?

Yes, we're not likely to be interrupted.

You might remember things.

Does that worry you?

I want to remember.

I know you think I'm always lying, but I want to remember.

Good.

Now it's frightening.

We could leave it if you want.

No, no, I can't pester you for it then turn it down.

Can I?

So what do we do?

[bombs whistling]

[gunfire]

Get out of the bloody way, will you?

Come on, lads.

Move out of it.

PRIOR: God bless you, son.

[ringing]

SOLDIER: Who was it?

SOLDIER 2: Sawden blew.

You all right now, sir?

What shall I do with this gobstopper?

Oh, fuck, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ.

[music playing]

[gagging]

Is-- is that all?

All?

It was traumatic by any standard.

(ANGRILY) A bombardment?

That's nothing.

[sobbing]

Sorry.

That's all-- that's all right.

Other people's dreams.

Let's get some fresh air, hmm?

I wonder.

What do you think happened?

When I couldn't remember, I thought

it must have been my fault. I still don't understand

why that made me break down.

A breakdown isn't a single traumatic event.

It's erosion-- stress, powerlessness.

But I was in charge.

I was in command.

I'm not the kind of person who collapses.

We all are.

I know I co--

I know I could.

I talk to the trees.

But not being proper officer material, I don't stammer.

He had very blue eyes, Sawden.

We used to call him the Hun.

I just wanted to say thank you.

Yes, well, it isn't over yet, Mr. Prior.

No, but at least I can talk about it.

Can you?

I am preparing reports for the medical board.

You are due to appear next time.

I need to know what you want me to say.

Do you usually ask the patient?

No.

I'm not giving in.

All right.

What'll happen?

You'll get another period of sick leave,

and then another, and so on, until the war ends.

And you would despise me.

What would you think?

What do you think?

I think when you put on a uniform,

in effect, you sign a contract.

And you can't break it just because you change your mind.

You do the job you said you'd do.

That's the only way to achieve any influence

or respect for your views.

The contract was broken by the government.

I entered a war of liberation.

That was my contract.

It is now a war of aggression, and as result of which,

I've been dumped here with these creatures and judged a coward.

Your Military Cross rather speaks against that.

I will not go to a medical board.

The demands I recant.

He tries to behave as if we're equal.

But in the end, he's a gold medalist of the Royal Society,

and I left Cambridge without taking a degree.

Now and again, it shows.

Do you talk about after the war?

No, I can't.

I'm going to keep pigs.

I won't recognize him.

You will.

What if he's not got any legs?

This is Sarah.

I've brought you these.

[cheering]

[music playing]

[clapping]

Marge, I'll see you at the hotel bar, bye.

Nurse.

I'm sorry.

Passing bells is good.

Oh, I thought, um, solemn anger.

No, monstrous anger is better.

Do you realize you contradict yourself

by saying there's no consolation,

and then you say there is?

Not co-- consolation, pride in sacrifice.

SASSOON: Isn't that consolation?

No, even when courage is abused, it's still--

look.

You do exactly the same thing.

What's that if it's not pride in sacrifice?

All right, point taken.

I changed the title, too.

"Anthem for Doomed Youth" is stronger.

How's it going?

He's here.

I'll be right back.

Don't try too hard.

What happened to Sunday?

I was laid back.

They kept me in.

That stripe, your appearance, you think I didn't know?

What was I doing, drooling?

You're not the first to take it off.

It doesn't matter, Billy Prior.

I went to the medical hospital with Marge.

In there's things that matter.

This is just a kind of wound, isn't it?

[music playing]

[gunfire]

You

McLaughlin.

Owens, hi.

Sassoon.

Captain Rivers.

Oh, sorry.

Can I give you a hand?

Thank you.

I'm fine.

And we were in a cemetery when they bombed

it, 47 pieces of gravestone.

You try two months on your belly with "rest in peace"

stuck up your ass.

No permanent damage, anyway.

There's still the injury to the spine.

I know what you want me to say.

It's all in my mind.

You think I'm saying I can't walk so as not to go back.

Well, I'm not a coward.

No, no, no, I don't think you are, either.

A coward-- a coward needs his legs.

Breathe.

So what do you think is wrong?

I don't know.

I already stammer, and I'm getting a twitch.

Well, we've all got one of those.

We're isolated.

That's our problem.

Isolated?

I don't have a second to myself.

Exactly.

Peculiar, isn't it, in charge but not in control?

You know what's wrong, don't you?

I'm getting shell shocked by my patients.

My diagnosis exactly.

Your heart beat's irregular, at least one extra systolic.

Psychosomatic.

Well, as we keep telling them, psychosomatic symptoms

are real.

RIVERS: I'll be all right.

So will they, most of them.

RIVERS: I'm not ill.

Truthfully.

Everyone has nightmares.

So what is yours?

Henry Hen, he was working on the regeneration

of nerve tissue.

I helped him experiment on himself, cut the radial nerve,

then tested him for sensation over a period of four years.

My dream is that Henry hands me the scalpel.

I refuse it.

He cuts my arm, anyway.

Yes, you are there in the trenches with them, aren't you?

You need some time off.

I could do with a few days in London, anyway.

Louis Yellen has invited me to witness his treatments.

That will be restful.

He cures 100% of his patients.

Yes, so does death, William.

You're on the verge--

fatigue, stress.

Powerlessness, that's what I told Prior.

You feel powerless with them.

I do not permit myself to feel that.

I am in charge.

[children screaming]

[bell chiming]

Ah, Mr. Yellen's office?

Top of the stairs, turn left, sir.

Thank you.

And you only have one session?

Oh, yes, the patient has to know when

he enters the electrical room, the only way

out is by a full recovery.

Ah, Mons, the Marne, Hane, first and second Ypres,

Hill 60, Loos, and Arras.

Have I missed any?

I've had dozens like you, Callan, dozens.

Every one walked out of here fully cured.

You will recover your speech.

I usually do treatments alone.

The last thing the patients need is a sympathetic audience.

Now then, Callan, I expect you to behave like the hero

you are.

A man who's been through many battles

has good control of himself.

I'm going to lock the door when the orderlies are gone.

You will speak before you leave.

There's no other way out.

There is no alternative.

Thank you.

[electric buzzing]

Nod if you wish to speak to me.

[gasping]

Let's try ah and then bah.

Now ah and bah.

Bah.

Cah, dah.

Ah.

YELLEN: Cah, dah, cah, dah.

Ah.

YELLEN: Cah, dah.

CALLAN: Bah.

Bah.

Cah.

I'm going to get you unstrapped now, let you

walk around for a little while.

Silly man, I've told you how you may leave.

It's the only way.

I'm prepared to be here all day, all night.

You are not the doctor.

I'm the doctor.

I'll tell you when treatment will start again.

Now walk up and down, ah, ah, ah.

Cah, cah.

Yes, yes, you can have water as soon as you've

spoken your first word.

Now get back to the chair.

This time, the electrical charge will be applied to the larynx.

You will find it very much more painful,

but it stimulates the various centers of speech.

[electric buzzing]

All right, stronger current.

Stop.

I beg your pardon?

Stop it.

Say the days of the week.

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.

CALLAN: 1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

YELLEN: Are you not pleased to be cured?

- Yes, sir. - Nothing else?

Thank you very much, sir.

I'd hate to think you felt your techniques are

more humane.

You just prolong the pain of these unfortunate men.

[music playing]

How was your Dr. Yellen?

He uses electricity and a metal mouth probe

to great effect.

I watched him treat a man for mutism,

the only way he could protest.

I sat there and watched his silence

being taken away form him.

The only thing that was important

was getting him back to the front.

He wasn't a man.

He was-- well, he was a fighting unit, being repaired.

You wouldn't do that.

The methods are almost miraculous.

Yes, but yours are gentler miracles.

You wouldn't use pain.

No.

No, I wouldn't, not pain.

Well, see you at the boards.

Yes.

[breathing deeply]

I can still hear the asthma.

It's fine.

If this is fine, and all your breathing is highland air,

how are you going to cope with gas?

I can always be the battalion canary.

I won't be the only one there with asthma, or TB.

Doesn't mean it's a good idea.

I am going to ask Dr. Samuel to have a look at you.

I want to go back.

It's up to the medical board to decide if you are

fit to be discharged to duty.

You can tell them.

Advise them, you're sure it's what you want?

Yes.

When it's all over, those men who didn't acquit themselves,

my generation, I mean, they aren't

going to count for anything.

And this is the club to end all clubs.

And you want to be a member?

Yes.

But you already are.

No.

I broke down.

MAN: Please, don't.

They're over an hour late.

Prior, are you after Patterson?

Yes, then you, then Thorpe.

[distant dog barking]

Madness.

Excuse me.

Those are my socks.

Good morning, Prior.

Sit down, Prior.

Are you sleeping through the night now?

Yes.

BROCK: And how are you coping with the nightmares?

All right.

The medical board guidelines require

we confirm that the symptoms which bring

a man here no longer obtain.

You're obviously not mute.

PRIOR: No.

BROCK: Can you name the men in your platoon?

PRIOR: Yes.

BROCK: Well, then do so.

Jones, Marby, Kelly, McClane, Angus, Mullin, Cobworth,

Lucas, Josephs, Matthews.

BROCK: Very good.

I was ill.

I wasn't an idiot.

Have you seen Sassoon?

He went out.

Out?

He's got a board.

I know.

He just walked out?

Damn.

What time did the London train leave?

Surely, he would have packed.

Like a lamb to slaughter.

Sorry.

Dr. Rivers.

Mr. Campbell.

I never trusted the fella.

He took a pair of my socks.

Excuse me.

[music playing]

Will you excuse us, Mr. Owen?

I'm sure you have an explanation.

I was late for tea with a charming chap called Samson.

Damn you, Sassoon!

Apart from the unforgivable discourtesy,

disobeying a senior officer, the entire board,

is a very serious offense.

I'm damned if I'm going in there to be judged

by a bunch of nincompoops who have never fired a bullet

or heard a mortar explode.

So you decided to have tea?

No, actually, I decided to lay siege to the House of Lords.

But you didn't.

I didn't.

Why not?

You.

I'm very grateful for the consideration, but turning up

would have been a damn sight more considerate.

You will appear before the board,

or face the consequences.

[writing]

You will take it easy at first, won't you?

Thanks for everything.

Yes, everything was very little.

I'm all right now, just a top up

of sea air, some brisk walks.

Good luck.

Good luck, David.

Thank you, sir.

He's not fit, damn it.

He's not ready to go.

Medical boards make those decisions, William.

Yes, well, they were wrong.

He's holding himself together, though.

So does as an egg, until you drop it.

Home service, they gave me home service.

I'm never going to know about myself now, am I?

But you do know.

You were a perfectly good officer.

Until I stopped being a perfectly good officer.

My mother was always pulling me away from the ruffians

who were my friends.

Now here you are, doing exactly the same bloody thing!

Dr. Rivers?

Uh, it's all right, nurse.

Thank you.

Prior, the decision wasn't in your hands.

It was never your decision.

Everybody who survives feels guilty.

Don't let it spoil everything.

Thanks for putting up with me.

Would you mind if I wrote to you when this is all over?

I don't see why you should wait till then.

I'll write.

Good luck.

[moaning]

Dead, and I knew them all.

They are very quiet.

They look puzzled.

They want to know why I'm here.

And does the question have an answer?

I'm going back.

Really?

SASSOON: Yes.

I shan't ask why.

Oh, too many reasons, Owen gave me one.

"I heard the size of men that have

no skill to speak of their distress, no,

nor the will, a voice I know.

And this time I must go."

Your pacifist friends won't be pleased.

SASSOON: No, I know.

I'm not looking forward to that.

You'll help me with the board, won't you?

We have to help each other.

If you don't give up your protest,

I don't know what I can do.

That is, provided you turn up.

I'll be there.

But they must return me to active duty.

It's the only thing I would never forgive you for.

Very slight residual pain from shoulder

wound, otherwise, physical health excellent.

How are the nightmares now, Mr. Sassoon?

I don't suffer from them anymore.

BROCK: Hallucinations?

Not at all.

Dr. Rivers tells me that you've changed

your mind about the war.

No, sir.

BROCK: You haven't?

No, I believe exactly what I believed in July, more

strongly, if that's possible.

I see.

Wasn't there something in "The Times?"

You feel it's your duty to go back?

Yes.

Yes, I do, Captain.

No doubts?

None whatsoever.

But you will not recant your declaration?

No, sir, I will justify what I wrote precisely

by going back to serve.

How interesting.

Are you sure about this, Rivers?

He's not going to go back and foment rebellion in the ranks?

No, he won't do that, nor anything

to lower the morale of his men.

Do we see a reason, a medical reason, to keep him?

Spanish Jews, father's side, Spanish Jews.

Do you know the family?

Yes, mother was a [inaudible].

Oh, well, hybrid vigor.

BROCK: The final word is yours, Rivers.

Fit for duty?

Oh, yes.

Yes.

You don't seem half as happy as I expected.

Your refusal to recant came as rather a shock.

I could hardly lie.

Oh, you managed all right about the nightmares.

I'll be all right once I'm out of this place.

Or have them for the rest of your life.

Well, we're all wounded, one way or another.

Are we?

You don't seriously think we haven't noticed?

[whimpering]

[yapping]

Perhaps-- perhaps it's the protests of the old that

will bring things to an end.

Don't take unnecessary risks, Mad Jack.

You mean, don't go looking for a martyr's death.

You know me too well.

Congratulations, Rivers.

For what, taking a sane man and making him

mad enough to go back to war?

But I've never seen him so happy.

Two pallets on the front line.

Do you think he's mad?

This is for you, given to me by the author.

Thank you.

That's really kind.

I've written you a-- a dedication, well, sort of.

"When Captain Cook first sniffed the wattle

and loved Columbus, Aristotle."

Parody of the writer's style.

Typical of you, the only half demonstrative

thing you've done, and you can't make it serious.

Do you think it's a good idea to be serious this morning?

I think I've written something good.

Let me know what you think.

I hope we meet in France.

Be careful.

[music playing]

[moaning]

[gunfire]

[gunfire]

SOLDIER: [speaking german]

[whistle blowing]

[bells ringing]

[ominous music]

[crows calling]

[flies buzzing]

"Dear Dr. Rivers, a telegram arrived this morning.

Owen was killed two days ago, crossing some bloody canal.

I once told him that going back would be good for his poetry.

I feel as if I sent him.

He wrote the enclosed just before leaving.

Thank you again for the gentle miracles,

yours ever, S. Sassoon."

OWEN: "So Abram rose and clave the wood

and went and took the fire with him and a knife.

And as they sojourned, both of them

together, Isaac, the first born, spake and said, my father,

behold the preparations, fire and iron.

But where the lamb for this burnt offering?

Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps

and builded parapets and trenches there

and stretched forth the knife to slay his son.

When, lo, an angel called him out of heaven,

saying, lay not thy hand upon the lad,

neither do anything to him, thy son.

Behold, caught in a thicket by its horns, a ram.

Offer the ram of pride instead.

But the old man would not so, but slew his son,

and half the seed of Europe, one by one."

[music playing]