Original subtitles

November in Connecticut,

the last glories of an Indian summer

are about to give way to winter.

A young girl is showing a visitor around the grounds.

I come to the country to get back in touch with nature--

the fields, the forests away from all those false trappings

of civilization, thunder in the mountains,

lightning in the black of midnight.

The wilderness howls, and something in me howls with it.

I'm one with the primal chaos.

Is that Walt Whitman?

You like the country?

I hate the country.

I like poetry.

If you hate the country, then why do you come here?

Because I have to.

I'm sorry.

This is a bad day.

No, I'm sorry.

Shall I go?

Oh, it doesn't matter.

It's gonna be a bad day no matter what.

I might as well have some company.

Well, indoors has its pleasures, too--

a crackling fire, a book of verse

to stir the soul, fine brandy to warm the innards.

Hello.

Ah, civilization beckons.

Thank you, Vernon.

I wonder if Mother is down yet.

It's really cool in here.

Shall I get those windows?

Let them stay open, please.

Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize.

I thought I heard voices earlier.

How do you do?

Jane didn't tell me that she was expecting guests.

I came unannounced.

My name is Gregory Sadler.

I'm staying at the Pollock's.

They left me your name and suggested that I call.

Jane, you should have told me that Mr. Sadler was here.

Oh-- Gregory, please.

The least we could do is offer you some refreshment.

Vernon took it away almost as soon as he brought it in.

Show a little respect, young lady.

Vernon goes a long way back in this family.

Oh, Jane is taking great care to entertain me.

Jane gets lonely in the country.

Don't you, darling?

Well, there's no need to sulk and pout.

My goodness, any smart young lady

would give anything in the world to spend a week

at leisure in this house.

Well, you no choice in the matter, anyway.

This is a very special day.

You realize that, don't you, Jane?

Yes, mother.

It's a ritual, an annual ritual

that means a great deal to me.

Excuse me, my headache is killing me.

I've got to get an aspirin.

You know you're expected to dress for dinner, Jane.

Yes, Mom.

Nice to have met you, Mr.--

um, Gregory.

I'm sure.

She hates me.

Oh, I'm sure that's not true.

What's this ritual she's talking about?

It sounds fascinating.

It's not.

It's something I'd rather not talk about, OK?

Well, I'd much rather talk about you.

Well, tell me more about yourself.

Unless I'm wrong, you're still in school.

No choice.

You don't like it?

Oh sure, I love wearing a white blouse,

and a blue sweater, and a gray flannel skirt to my knees.

Do you play Obsession?

A uniform?

Your school still has uniforms?

Knee socks and tie shoes.

Right up until graduation.

Do you want to play?

Oh, I don't know that game.

What about Othello?

OK.

Well, I'm sure you get a very good education for all that.

I'd much rather travel.

I have friends in Paris and Istanbul.

Really?

Mm, I'll go see them.

I'll go live there.

I'm not surprised school seems dull, given

your cosmopolitan perspective.

Oh, oops, I-- I didn't do that very well, did I?

Well, I find ways to amuse myself.

I have friends.

We get together-- biding my time until I get free.

Look, could we play instead of talking?

Could we talk instead of playing?

Sure.

What about you?

What do you like to do?

Oh, my life wouldn't interest you very much.

Sure, it would. How old are you?

31.

I'm a teacher, or at least I used to be.

College?

Uh, the last place was rather like your school,

or so it sounds.

Girls school?

Girls, yes.

So, that's how you know about knee socks.

My subject was English poetry.

She knew the lifelong martyrdom, the weariness,

the pain, the waiting for a man to come

who ne'er would come again--

and so on and so forth.

It's Longfellow.

I know.

I though there was something poetic about you.

When you were talking about the wilderness and wild animals,

I could feel your passion.

What are you drawing?

- Never mind. - Oh, come on.

Show me.

Let me see.

No, not yet.

Why did you leave?

What?

School.

Uh, a slight misunderstanding--

Hm?

Nothing, really.

Say, uh, I graduated.

What are you doing here in the country?

I am spending a very special afternoon with you.

I mean, what are you doing here at all?

Why are you here at all and not somewhere else?

Not-- I don't know.

For the very same reason that you are, I suppose.

You have no idea why I'm here.

Tell me.

Because of her.

Your mother?

Yes.

What's the trouble with her?

Why does she talk to you the way she does?

Why did she spend all afternoon upstairs?

What's going on here?

What's the matter with everybody?

It's the anniversary.

Your mother and father?

No, not that.

She divorced him years ago.

Why?

He was gentle and poetic.

She said he was weak.

What is today?

Apparently it's something special in this house,

and I've come at the wrong time.

It's the first day of the hunting season.

My mother's second husband, my stepfather,

kept this house for sporting purposes, or so he said.

I don't understand.

I suppose you may as well know.

It's her secret, not mine.

He loved to hunt, grouse especially.

Every year on the first day of the hunting season,

he set out at the crack of dawn to shoot birds.

Oh, my mother would kill me.

I won't tell a soul.

I hope to die. - That's not the point.

It was three years ago.

He had a son, Stanley.

Ever since Stanley there was a little boy,

they went hunting together.

He adored my stepfather, looked just like him, acted like him,

they even dressed alike.

That day, my mother and I stood there

and watched them tramp across that field into those woods.

Chase, our dog, had a special little bell,

so they could always tell where he was.

We could hear it as they went.

They had shotguns and enough provisions for the day.

We didn't expect them home till late afternoon.

They always tried to get the limit.

My mother went upstairs to rest.

I don't remember what I did.

Some time later, I remember hearing shots.

But I'm not sure.

Then, I know I heard a dog howling.

My mother heard it, too.

She came downstairs with a worried look on her face.

It was already 5:30.

They weren't home yet.

Was there an accident?

We tried to piece it together later on.

Nobody knows for sure.

It happened at the far edge of those woods.

Maybe my stepfather wanted one more bird.

Maybe he just heard a noise in the brush.

Or maybe he stumbled.

At any rate, he fired.

There was a cry--

a human cry.

He dropped his gun, and he ran.

While Stanley, dead.

My stepfather knelt down.

Imagine his feelings.

He'd killed his only son.

My mother and I knew there was something wrong when the men

didn't come home on time.

We sent the gardener out to check.

But nobody could believe it when he came back

weeping 40 minutes later and said

that he found Chase whimpering over two dead bodies.

My stepfather had killed himself.

My mother couldn't take it in.

They carried the bodies in canvas sacks

right below that open window.

My mother stood there and didn't see them.

She gazed across the field into the woods,

sure that they would appear at any moment-- still alive,

decked with game and caked with mud, tramping towards us

crying, crack the ice! We're home!

That was their great joke, ice for drinks.

Crack the ice! We're home!

That's a terrible story.

Now you know.

Today is a very special occasion.

You know, Gregory, grouse hunters

are a very dedicated lot.

Some people might even think they're

insane, all that waiting around and so little to show for it.

But when you marry into a household like this,

you have to learn to cope.

You know, to-- to rise to the occasion

and catch a little of excitement.

I have.

Jane, of course, has not.

Oh, yes.

My husband, Stuart, and his son, Stanley, loved to hunt.

It's all they ever talk about--

mad for it, in face.

They've been out all day now, but they'll be back soon--

coming out of those woods across that field,

covered with mud and gore, and grinning from ear to ear.

You know, it's them when you hear the dog's bell.

And then you'll hear their great cry.

Crack the ice!

We're home!

Thirsty for drinks, you see.

Crack the ice!

We're home!

Why don't you stay for dinner?

Oh no, I couldn't.

Well, the Pollocks were kind enough to leave our name.

You were nice enough to use it.

The least we can do is look after you.

Oh, I really wouldn't want to put you to any bother.

Oh, it's no bother at all.

We can always find room for another one for dinner.

Uh, Jane-- I see you've made quite a hit with Jane.

Mother, how can you?

What?

Never mind, I'm in a party mood.

Every now and again, I enjoy the company

of men like you, Gregory.

You have a certain air about you.

Stuart and Stanley would be so sorry to miss you.

You mustn't disappoint them.

The first day of the hunt is such a thrill.

They come home full of excitement.

They love an audience to regale with their adventures.

It's settled.

I'll go tell the cook.

- What's wrong with her? - What can I do?

She's my mother.

She'd be lost without me.

She's lost already, believe me.

I've got experience in these matters.

I know more than you think.

Leave her before she pulls you down with her.

What?

Come away with me now, this afternoon.

That's crazy.

Don't be shocked.

It's your only hope.

Seize this chance while you've got it.

I understand what you're going through, and I want to help.

But run away?

I was in a situation just like this.

When I was teaching, I felt cornered, trapped.

The pressure was insane.

Only, I didn't have your chance to escape,

so I cracked from the pressure.

You what?

I had a nervous breakdown.

Oh my god.

Well, it doesn't show because I've had extensive treatment.

That's why I've come to the country,

to have a peaceful, quiet place to stay.

When I get out of the--

well, for the past year, I've been in an institution.

You mean you're really sick?

Was, please--

I'm better now.

I tell you this because of what you told me

so that you'll understand that I know what you're going through

and can help.

It began with these tension headaches.

What I needed was good physical exercise,

and I wasn't getting it.

The problem was that I couldn't sleep.

But I'm over that.

What about the headaches?

They're gone.

It was only with all that girlish laughter, that hubbub.

But I'm afraid my teaching suffered.

That's why I left.

My best girls, seniors, came to me

after class for clarification.

I wasn't being clear.

I had always been known for my utter clarity and precision.

I don't understand.

Why did this happen?

It's not important.

It's over.

Look, you can see it.

I'm fine, no signs of strain.

My doctors are proud of me.

You need my help.

I can't run away with you.

I'm too young.

But you said yourself you hate this house.

Your mother is out of her mind.

School has nothing to offer you.

I can teach you so much more.

We'll get away tonight.

I'm sick and tired of this awful country.

This peace and quiet is driving me crazy!

All those trees!

That red and gold, awful!

We'll travel-- London, Paris, even Istanbul.

You name it, we'll go there.

Don't even bother to pack.

I'll buy you new clothes.

You'll be safe with me.

You'll be happy with me.

Quick, before your mother comes back, say yes.

I don't know what to say. Um--

I'm very sorry.

I meant it, but I am really, very sorry.

All set!

What?

Cook says we have plenty to eat.

We'll set another place.

Oh, yes-- dinner.

Dinner?

I've got to go upstairs and change.

Well, you've certainly had a wonderful effect

on that young lady.

That's the first time I've ever heard

her volunteer to go and change without

my insistent complaining.

Really, she provokes me into being such a shrew.

And I'm not.

Really, I'm not.

You know, I think she's a little infatuated with you.

Oh, I hadn't considered that.

No, of course you have.

You're an adult, mature.

She's still a child.

Tell me about yourself, Gregory.

Who are you?

Oh, there's nothing much to tell.

Where do you live?

Nowhere, really.

Yes, of course, but you must have an address.

I spent the last year in Switzerland.

Really?

How marvelous.

Skiing?

Oh, no, no, no, nothing like that.

I should say resting.

Oh, you lucky man.

I keep saying to my husband, Stuart, we-- we really

must get away for a long, long vacation together,

just the two of us.

But unfortunately, he hasn't been able to get

away the last three years.

Uh, thank you, Vernon.

What did you do before you went abroad, Gregory?

It's not important.

Don't be shy.

You've piqued my curiosity.

I was a teacher, English poetry.

She knew the lifelong martyrdom, the weariness, the pain--

and so on and so forth, Longfellow.

No wonder Jane is infatuated with you.

My first husband, her father, was the poetic type--

all sighs and moving glances, no time

for the basic bedrock of getting and spending that

makes the world go round.

She's never forgiven me for divorcing her father.

Yes, she mentioned something about it.

She said that you had been rather under a strain.

Did she?

That little witch.

I wish she'd come down.

Of course I didn't mean that the way it sounded.

It's perfectly natural for her to love her father

and take a passing fancy to you.

But I need her.

She's growing up too fast.

I respect her true essence.

I couldn't stand that.

Maybe we should change her school.

Or take her out of school altogether.

To run wild?

Absolutely not.

Though a change is possible, perhaps her school

is too rigid.

What about your school?

Are you going back there?

I don't know.

I-- I couldn't say.

Oh, it's going to be a magnificent sunset.

Dinner after the first day of the hunt

is always such a feast.

With any luck at all, they'll come

across that field absolutely covered in dead birds.

First time I saw them, I was in shock, I can tell you.

I thought, what have I married?

My husband, looking like some kind of savage

all covered in blood and feathers.

I've got to get out of here.

Of course not, you're staying for dinner.

I can't.

Please, come with me.

But we've all through that, Gregory.

We're going to have such fun.

Please, I can't handle this by myself.

Listen-- there they are now!

Vernon, come and help!

Oh--

Crack the ice!

We're home!

Crack the ice!

We're home!

Uh--

Good evening, Vernon.

Good even, Vernon.

At last.

My, don't you two look a sight.

Gregory, come meet the hunters!

Jane, where's Gregory?

What's a matter with that man?

He was supposed to stay for dinner.

It was Chase, Mother.

I should have warned him.

Gregory was terrified of dogs.

He told me he was walking with the girl in the country once,

and they were attacked by a pack of wild dogs.

He ran, but she got caught.

The dogs ripped her apart.

Gregory loved that girl, no wonder he was upset.

Did you have a good time?