All language subtitles for 098 - 07x15 - the open window

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?