Original subtitles

[Bell ringing]

Whoa, Whoa, boy! Eh, clear the way!

Go on, hyuh, hyuh!

[Lowing]

Clear the way, now! Clear the way!

[Lowing]

Hyum

Hup!

[Bell ringing]

Match over, Jonno'?

- You'd better pull yourself together.

We're on duty in 1O minutes.

- Hmm. I suppose your precious brother

made yet another century.

- Not this time.

Oh, never mind.

I suspect his adoring female public consoled him.

- Well, thanks for leaving me some of the beer.

Ha. You know, the value of alcohol as a drug

has never really been appreciated.

- This hospital is full of people who'd disagree with you.

The whole matter is complicated by religious prejudices.

Like chloroform.

I mean, the churches used to protest

against the use of anesthetics.

- Arthur, get ready.

Oh, God!

Dreary, sordid, damned routine.

There is absolutely nothing less enthralling

than spending a fine afternoon

contemplating medical case sheets.

[Knock at door] JONATHAN: Yes?

Casualty's just come in, sir. Motor accident.

Ooh. - Thank you, Joseph.

Yes, but We're not on 'til 6:00. Where's Mr. Boyce?

- Thank you, Joseph. I'll be down in a minute.

Thank you, sir.

Jonathan!

Good evening, Sister.

-I'm afraid he was dead on arrival, Doctor.

Oh.

- The ambulance is Waiting to take him to the mortuary.

I'd better take a look at him.

Bad job, sir.

Walked out of the cricket ground and straight under the wheels.

Driver never stood a chance.

Oh, God.

If you've no objection, Doctor, I'll go through his pockets

before they take him away, find out who he is.

- L can give you all the particulars

you need, Sergeant.

You knew him, sir'?

- Yes.

Thank you for coming.

-[sigh] Of all the rotten things to happen.

Yes.

- Listen, old chap, you leave everything to me.

You go home.

Would you like me to call you a cab'?

- Um...

I think I'll walk to the station.

It'll do me good.

Jonathan.

You know how I feel, don't you'?

All stations to Worcester!

Change at Stourton for Halesby and Brimsley.

Hurry along, please!

Come on, boy, come on!

Head back. Best foot forward!

[Official blows Whistle]

Come along, Jonathan!

Come on, boy! Come on! Come on!

Brimsley! This is Brimsley station!

- Come along, Jonathan!

You clumsy oaf!

Sorry, Father.

Get on the train!

- Come along, now, please, sir. Hurry along, sir!

[Blows Whistle]

I say, Dakers,

why don't you ever travel with your father?

[Whistle blows]

"In Gath, you shall not publish it".

[sigh]

"In Gath...

you shall not tell it

nor shall you publish it in the street- ♪

[Bat cracks]

Ohh!

No, no, no!

Good heavens, boy, you're not killing a fly!

- Father, do come and play.

Chin up, lad. Turn about!

Now, lower your grip.

Lower, still!

Ugh. Now hold the bat straight.

That's it.

A fast half-volley

to the leg stump, old chap.

Well done!

- Thank you, Father.

Harold's turn to bat.

We'll make a cricketer of him yet, old chap.

Watch Harold, Jonathan.

Learn from him.

Run, Jonathan!

I am uneasy about Jonathan, Lavinia.

He seems incapable of going anywhere

or doing anything Without Harold at his side.

I really think

you should encourage Harold

to spend less time with his brother.

Jonathan must find someone of his own age to play with.

As you Wish, Eugene.

I should be upset if Harold were to be infected

by any grammar-school airs before he went to Eton.

Yes, Eugene.

Ah, good, good. You're still awake.

-L-is anything wrong, Father?

Not at all, old chap.

Wanted to sound you out about Saturday.

Thought we might invite that friend of yours to join us.

The more the merrier, eh'?

He can stay the night, if he likes.

Who do you mean'?

Who do I mean'?

I mean the lad you go to school with

every morning; that's who I mean.

Boy from Halesby, goggles.

- Martock'?

Like the out of him. Ask him for Saturday.

Bound to have a bicycle.

- But he's not really a friend, you see.

High time you were asleep, young man!

Hello.

That's my mother.

She was a Shakespearean actress.

That's my brother, Jonathan.

- I know.

He was named after a character in one of my father's poems.

- No, he wasn't. It was in the Bible.

My father wouldn't crib!

Father's poems are magnificent.

- The Bible's better.

Ready, boys'?! [clap-clap] All set'?!

[Rings bell]

A perfect Rossetti, Arthur.

Have you ever seen

such a perfect Rossetti?

She was once a fine Shakespearean actress, Arthur.

Her hair that lay along her back

was yellow,

like ripe corn.

Come, lads, let us descend from our little Parnassus.

"L am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan:

thou hast been very pleasant unto me:"

thy love for me "was wondrous, it surpassed the love of women.

How are the mighty fallen

and gone forever all the weapons of war!"

Do you play cricket, Arthur'?

- Yes, sir.

Splendid, splendid!

[Singing in German]

Tell me, Arthur, what do you think of Harold'?

Arthur.

- He's very --

He's very aristocratic, sir.

- Blood will tell, Arthur; blood will tell.

Yours or Mrs. Dakers's, sir'?

Our aristocracy is no mere physical accident, lad.

An ancestor of mine was knighted by Richard Coeur de Lion

for gallantry against the Saracen in Palestine.

- You mean Jonathan's almost royal'?

Jonathan'?!

Considering his mother's beauty and my intellect,

it's difficult to believe

that Jonathan is the child of either of us.

Time to move on.

Listen, boys! A skylark!

Quiet! Listen.

"Listen Where thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool,

translucent Wave...

ls that something you wrote, Mr. Dakers'?

No, Arthur; that is Milton.

Real poetry.

Not that Jonathan is Without brains, of course.

In quantity, I imagine his wit's as good as Harold's.

In quality, they're as different from each other

as the Isle of Wight and...

Sicily.

Harold is the vessel that contains

the blood of my crusading ancestors.

All that a normal child needs, Arthur, in the way

of primary instruction, is a cultural background:

the names of flowers, how to distinguish a bird

from its song, a Wide vocabulary.

An early familiarity with fine literature, Arthur,

is the basis of all culture.

That's Where the Martyn family live.

It's called Silver Street.

It was built on an old Roman site

known as wood on the road --

wood: sffva, street: stratum --

Silva Stratum.

- Silver Street.

And it's Martyn with a y, not an i.

- Silver Street.

[Bicycle bell rings]

Here we are, at last, my love,

hungry as hunters, home from our great journey.

Ah! We have visitors.

- Eugene, I must speak to you at once.

[whispering] Bailiffs.

- Bailiffs!

Put away the bicycles, boys.

Gentlemen. Lavinia, my dear,

what have we ready for our distinguished company'?

Ready, Eugene'?

Come, now, boys, stir yourselves!

This is a great occasion.

Jonathan, fetch that magnum from the cellar.

Eugene, I only have cold mutton and pickles.

Not enough for seven.

Capital! Nothing better! Pure ambrosia.

And young Harold, here, shall initiate us

into the mysteries of dressing salads.

Gentlemen! Come in, come in!

{cough}

Boys! Find our visitors a chair.

Enjoying yourself, Arthur'?

- Very much, thank you, sir.

Good. You must come again. You must come often.

We'll open a new world to you here in Chadshill.

Ah. Gentlemen, please, be seated.

Jonathan,

if you and Harold would do the honors.

- Eugene, what are we celebrating'?

My love, this is the first time

such an incident has occurred at Chadshill.

It is our bounded duty to celebrate.

Harold.

Gentlemen, a toast!

To the sheriff of the Worcestershire County court

and his officers.

Why did you come today?

- You asked me.

You didn't want to, did you'?

My mother made me.

- Harold and I have to take a cold tub every morning.

Father does, too.

- He's jolly interesting, your father.

He knows an awful lot, doesn't he'?

He knows nothing about anything.

He's a fifth-rate sham!

I like your mother.

- Yes, there's nobody in the world quite like her.

He treats her like a scivvy.

Without her, he'd be nothing.

- What does he do'?

He works in North Bromvvich.

Shall we leave the curtains open like that'?

- But what at'?

In an office.

- You don't really know what he does, do you'?

Yes, I do! He does something in the city.

He's the only first-class season-ticket holder

at Brimsley Station.

- Why do you go to grammar school if Harold's dovvn for Eton?

They can't afford to send us both.

Father says Harold will be good enough

to play cricket at Lord's.

That's his ambition, anyway. He's awfully good, you know.

I expect he'll go on to Cambridge after Eton.

Harold, Harold, Harold.

All I've heard today is how wonderful your Harold is.

- He is! Don't you like him'?

He's all right, I suppose,

but your people never seem to say anything nice about you.

[Scoff]

Father gave me up as useless years ago.

I think he was right.

I can't seem to do anything very Well --

not like Harold.

[Knock at door]

[insistent knocking]

Come in, Lavinia!

I have finished the poem.

Listen to this...

"Upon high places the beauty of Israel is slain.

How are the mighty fallen now."

- Eugene --

"ln Gath you shall not tell it;

nor shall you publish it in the streets of Askalon."

-I'm very tired, Eugene.

"So that the daughters of the Philistines

may not rejoice, nor the uncircumciséd triumph."

There.

- Well, after that, Eugene,

anything else would sound feeble.

- There is, of course, a redundant syllable

in the last line; you probably noticed.

Well, I thought it perfect, as far as it went,

reminiscent of Keats.

I sincerely hope, my dear Lavinia,

that it wasn't reminiscent of anybody.

Eugene, I wish to speak to you about those men.

- Oh, honest, decent fellows, I thought.

They talked of selling our furniture.

Oh, an amusing contretemps, my dear.

No need to concern yourself.

Thanks to some quaint misunderstanding,

a distraint was levied;

I believe that's the correct jargon.

But the whole of Brimsley will know

that the bailiffs have been in.

Nonsense. Thanks to the prudence of your brother --

Lord rest his soul --

we have tonight navigated troubled waters

and no one beyond these four walls need be any the Wiser.

Jack'? What has Jack to do with this'?

He had the generosity and good sense, did he not,

to provide money for Jonathan's education?

Of which I am the sole trustee.

You intend to pay the creditors with Jonathan's legacy?

The thing most important to Jonathan's Welfare

at the moment, Lavinia, is that his surroundings

should be Worthy of his means.

And imagine poor Harold at Eton,

if the name of Dakers should carry the stigma of debt.

- Oh!

So, you see, my love, you have nothing at all to worry about.

The whole matter has been settled satisfactorily.

What are you doing?

-It's those bailiffs.

I think Father must be dreadfully in debt.

- You wouldn't have thought so, the way he enjoys himself.

Tsk. That's the worst of it.

As long as he has enough Wine and whiskey,

nothing else seems to matter.

Sooner or later, there'll be an awful smash.

L shall probably have to leave school.

I wish I could.

- Tsl a doctor, Arthur.

Ever since I was quite small, I've wanted to be a doctor.

But it takes 5 years to qualify and,

even if you take the exams when you're 17,

you'll be 23 before you can start earning money.

- I know.

Anyway, I expect you'll be all right: your governor said

he's got plenty of money in that colliery.

[scoff] He says a lot of things.

If you do go to medical school, we'll be together again.

I'm going there, too. - Are you'?

It's my father's idea. I'd much rather be a policeman.

I'm glad We're friends.

W-vve are friends, aren't we'?

I should jolly Well think so.

Goodnight, Arthur.

Goodnight, Jonathan.

But I want to be a doctor, Arthur.

- But it takes 5 years to qualify...

you'll be 23 before you can start earning money.

MOORE: Finish off, please, Sister.

[sigh]

Is it the spectacle of death that still troubles you'?

You've been in surgery for two years.

Isn't it about time you were familiar

with that cold presence?

It's a natural process, my friend.

We all have to go, one way or another,

some of us, in guises far more terrible than that poor vvretch.

I did my very first surgery as an unqualified assistant

to an old josser in Dulston.

Strangulated hernia. Patient died.

It's a stricken road we ride through,

not some high romantic adventure.

We live in an odor of blood and chloroform and antiseptics.

Get used to death.

My very first surgery.

How do you think I felt about that, hmm'?

Make death as stereotyped as a hospital diet sheet.

Be as little aware of it as the oxygen in the atmosphere.

Here endeth the gospel

according to Lloyd Moore.

You think me very ruthless.

I think you're a genius; I have done since my first year

at medical school.

- Admit me no confidences, young man.

You might as Well make a boon companion of a stone.

OFFICIAL: Brimsley! This is Brimsley!

Halesby, next stop!

Evening, Mr. Dakers.

[Blows Whistle] -[Horn toots]

Are you happy, Mother'?

[Door thumps]

Hello, Father.

Honoring Chadshill with your presence, at last.

I'm sorry, but I have to leave.

We expected you home earlier.

-[haughtily] "We"?

I'm needed at the hospital.

Your mother needs you, too.

Perhaps you might consider her, now and then.

Good morning.

-[panting] Good morning.

Harold! -lt's about time.

Lord, it's good to see you. Look who's here, Arthur.

How did you get in'? Can you stay'?

- Hello, Arthur. - Hello, Harold.

How is the glittering jewel of Cambridge society'?

- Playing truant for a day or two.

Why didn't you let me know?

I'll leave you two to talk.

- How are you'? Let me look at you.

My God! What a plutocrat.

- I don't think Arthur approves of me.

I can't believe it. What are you doing here?

You've been rusticated.

To answer all your questions: I'm very well, thank you;

your porter let me in; I haven't been sent down;

and, as a matter of fact, I can't stay.

I've got a train to catch in precisely 40 minutes.

Well, at least sit down.

How can you stand this place, Jonno'?

-It's a little bare, I suppose, but I feel quite at home here.

But there's such a stink.

-Is there'?

Mm, it's like...acid.

- Chlorine. We're directly over the chemical lab.

How long are you home for, Hal'?

-'Til Sunday.

How's Mother'? Have you seen her yet'?

- I shan't be staying at Chadshill.

I'll be staying with the Martyns at Silver Street.

- The Martyns'?

Alec Martyn's with me at Trinity.

- Ah. - They're awfully Wealthy.

Old family.

- Mother'll be disappointed not to see you.

Well, she won't know I'm here, unless you tell her.

How is she'?

Worn out.

And Father?

- Drinking more than ever.

I tried to talk to Mother about him, but,

she thinks the least bit of criticism is sacrilegious.

Are you free on Saturday, Jonno'?

As a matter of fact, I am. - The Martyns

have invited you to play tennis and stay for dinner.

Invited me? They don't know me.

Well, I told Alec how you spent all your spare time

crouched like a vulture over some cadaver or another

and, now, he can't wait to meet you.

They can't really want me there. - Of course they do.

They've only invited me as a sort of appendage to you.

I'll be completely out of my element.

Nonsense! You can do the "English country gentleman

with artistic leanings" to perfection.

Did you say Silver Street?

- Mm. It's near Stourton.

The house by the river.

ALEC: Love-30.

[Laughs] - ALEC: Let!

Thank you.

SHEILA: Well done, Harold!

Your brother's playing like an angel, isn't he'?

He's such a Wonderful all-rounder.

I saw him batting at Lord's, you know,

when he and Alec played for Eton.

But, of course, you musfve been there there, too.

I wonder why we didn't meet you.

Oh, yes, of course. You were at Winchester, weren't you'?

As a matter of fact --

- You musfve been there with my cousin George.

George Lapton, Lord Halberton's son.

George is a rotten cricketer, isn't he'?

I was at North Bromvvich Grammar School.

How extraordinary.

You know, I sometimes despair of my daughters.

They seem to take a perverse delight

at flaunting themselves before every young man they meet.

- They appear to be pleasant-enough lads.

Aleds at Trinity with the good-looking one.

The family have a reputation for being a little...

out of the way.

[Dog barks] - Well, the father

has been bold enough to confess himself

a poet of some standing, so I suppose he could be said

to be carrying on the literary tradition of the county.

{Dog whines]

What does he do, precisely?

Oh, something of an urban nature

in North Bromvvich, according to Alex.

[whispering] Now, be sure

and plug everything at my sister.

It won't hurt her at all.

We simply must win because she hates being beaten.

Play on her backhand. That's her Weakness.

-I'll do my best.

They Won't spare us, you know.

We're ready!

Sorry, partner.

I say, steady on, Jonno.

[whispering] That's the stuff.

Rather violent, don't you think?

Sheila has her eye on you, you know.

No, she doesn't.

- Well, not at this very moment, perhaps,

but her feelings for you are quite definitely possessive.

Doesn't that frighten you'? It ought to.

- You shouldn't talk about your sister like that.

[laughs] Why not'? I can't stand her.

I can't stand any of them.

I'm a throwback, you see, a sort of Martyn family freak.

[Scoff]

Edith the rebel.

"Edie", please. Nobody ever calls me Edith.

There you are.

What were you looking at'?

- I was thinking of the first time I saw this place.

I think you were escaping.

Now, you're my prisoner and I grant you

5 more minutes of freedom before I drag you in for dinner.

Well, come along.

If we don't move, we shall freeze on the spot.

Were you going to say how beautiful I was?

Something along those lines.

- As pale and beautiful as the moon'?

Yes.

- But the moon has a dark side, Jonathan.

Nobody's ever seen it, yet.

- Why do you let people see

nothing of yourself but '(he outside?

Don't all women do that?

Let's go in. It's cold, standing here.

You're such a romantic, aren't you'?

I doubt if it's curable.

- Why do you persist in laughing at everything'?

I suppose because most things are a joke.

[Train Whistle blows]

SERGEANT: Bad job, sir. Driver never stood a chance.

- I can give you all '(he particulars

you need, Sergeant.

His name is Eugene Dakers.

The address is ChadshiH, Brimsley.

[Official blows Whistle]

-[Horn toots]

Eugene?

Why, Jonathan,

what a surprise.

I thought it was your father, home at last.

He's been to the cricket match.

He should've been back a long time ago.

Jonathan'?

- There's been an accident, Mother.

Your father?

Tell me what happened.

-[quietly] He was knocked down by a motor oar

in the Bristol Road.

It musfve been instantaneous.

They brought him in to the hospital.

- I see.

Oh, Mother!

I'll go and make up your bed.

- Please don't, Mother. Leave that to me.

No no no, I'd rather do it myself.

Then, I think I shall go to bed.

You'll find some supper on the dining room table.

Mother.

Goodnight, Jonathan.

[Ring]

Another Wreath. Brimsley Cricket Club.

I can't believe it. - They're unpaid, all of them.

Some of them date back to the beginning of last year.

There doesn't seem to be a farmer in the district

who hasn't supplied us with produce.

Every dravvefis stuffed with bills.

Do you suppose Mother knows?

- She doesn't even know whether Father made a will or not.

I think we should speak to the solicitor.

- Mm-hmm, I've made an appointment to see him.

And the bank manager. We must get things sorted out.

Everywhere we look is a muddle of overdraft and mismanagement.

-I'd better come with you when you go to see them.

I'm glad you're here, Hal.

You're so levelheaded about everything.

You've been marvelous. -[Thump upstairs]

Hmm. -[Creak]

Have you seen her yet this morning'?

Tsk. Poor Mother.

She's still terribly shocked.

I don't think she's shed a single tear yet.

Her composurés almost inhuman.

Good God! Look at these! - Hmm'?

The Fit-u Corset Company, Sackville Street.

Midland representative: E. Dakers.

What'?!

Burn them.

He was a sales agent.

I don't want Mother to see these.

Well, she musfve known.

We didn't.

Burn them, Hal.

The old fraud.

- Hal, do you remember

Father saying he had shares in a colliery'?

- Was that a sham, too'?

No, he had them, all right. I've just found the certificates.

Well, thank God for that. We're going to need every penny.

In Sedgebury Main Colliery,

the mine that flooded two years ago.

[sigh]

It's pretty bad, isn't it?

I'm afraid, old chap, it really rather looks

as if We're in the soup.