All language subtitles for Father Brown S03E10 The Judgement of Man.DVDRip.NonHI.en.BBC

I imagined it... it would
have been bigger.

Because of its value, I suppose.

But a painting like
this exudes intimacy.

It invites the viewer in.

Delicate brushwork.

Consummate use
of light and shade.

The exquisite depth of field.

A timely reminder of
the need for redemption.

Yes.

The worthy few at
the gates of Heaven.

The lost souls
condemned to damnation.

Really is one of the finest
examples of a Doom painting

ever put to canvas.

1452.

Yes, the artist left his mark.

You clumsy lummox!

Have you any idea
of the value of art?

Ted, that lighting
in there is all wrong.

I want theater, I want drama.

A celestial milieu to
stimulate the senses.

I'm surrounded by Philistines.

It was very trusting of the
Vatican to lend you the painting.

Ah, it was hidden away
in the Apostolic Archives.

I persuaded a cardinal
to pull some strings.

Oh! As if I don't have
enough to contend with.

What a surprise. And
how did you get in?

Well, I persuaded Mr. Cadwaller
to give me a sneak preview.

I am very interested
in this exhibition.

Well, don't tell Felicia.
I'll never hear the end of it.

I've checked security arrangements.
Everything seems to be in order.

Well, the Belvedere is fully equipped
with a foolproof alarm system.

All the exhibits
are perfectly safe.

I'll be allocating PC Nyland
to keep an eye on things.

Just to put our minds at rest.

I'm never going to
open on time, at this rate.

Perhaps I should
leave you to it.

Yes, perhaps you should.

I have an appointment.

- Pictura Magazine.
- Ah.

Now, there's the journalist
who's come to interview me,

so I shall see you both
at tomorrow's preview.

- Sir.
- It promises to be exclusive.

Binkie Cadwaller.

Museum curator.

I've been looking
forward to meeting you.

Yes, well, I can only spare
you about 20 minutes, I'm afraid.

- Well, let's get on with it then.
- Why don't we do this in my office?

I imagine you'll want to
take a photograph of me.

It's certainly arousing
plenty of interest.

Yes, and a drain
on police resources.

I hear the painting was
insured for a million pounds.

So are Betty Grable's legs. I
know what I'd rather look at.

I don't suppose there's any
chance of a lift back... to Kembleford?

Well, a good exhibition
takes one on a journey,

stimulates the senses
and educates the mind.

It really is all
about the narrative.

We both know the
value of a good story.

Well, I was rather hoping
for a decent spread.

Last month's Pictura piece
on Poussin could, at best,

be described as amateurish.

I like to have an angle.

In fact, I'm thinking
that this article

should be less
about the painting,

and more about the man
behind the masterpiece.

Binkie Cadwaller,
what makes him tick?

Well, clearly a
woman with taste.

And the slightest
hint of an accent?

I was brought up in Germany.

A country very
close to my heart.

The simple pleasures
of Baden-Baden.

The intimate
bierkellers of Hamburg.

Leipzig. Do you know it?

That's a city that I'm not...

not, um, terribly
familiar with, I'm afraid.

Tinted by the grey hues
of Stalinist monotony.

I was hoping that I might
have a look at the painting.

Oh, no, no. I'm afraid
you're going to have to wait.

Uh, security concerns.

It has such an
intriguing history.

Rumored to have fallen into
private hands before the war.

The painting belongs
to the Vatican.

I am merely its custodian.

Now, if you'll excuse
me, I really must get on.

Are you quite sure it was him?
Your eyesight isn't what it was.

I think I can still manage
to see across the street.

Someone has only gone
and nicked my sparkplugs.

I'm going to have to call
the railway station now,

'cause the Rolls is out of action
and Her Ladyship is turning up

on the 3:15 train.

If I were you, I
would go to the police.

They'd only accuse
me of wasting their time.

He knew I was there.
He was taunting me.

If Flambeau's decided to show
his face, that can only mean trouble.

Did you just say Flambeau?

The Father claims
to have seen him.

Outside the Belvedere Museum.

Well, you know what that means.

Yes.

He wants to steal the painting.

It's awfully kind of
you to offer me a lift.

Pleasure's all mine.

I left His Lordship up
on the grouse moors.

He likes to shoot things.

In that case, I'm
glad he's not here.

I'm all alone in this
big, empty house.

I'd never leave a beautiful
woman to her own devices.

You're almost as
fast as your driving.

I don't make a habit
of picking up strangers.

In my case, I'm glad you did.

So what brings
you to Kembleford?

I'm over in England to
paint some landscapes.

- An artist?
- I dabble.

It makes a welcome
change from the oil business.

I'm attending a preview at
the Belvedere, tomorrow.

Curator's a friend of mine.

- Religious art, it's not your thing?
- On the contrary,

religious art is my forte.

I'd be delighted if
you came as my guest.

Then I'd be delighted
to escort you.

- Thank you, Hornby.
- My Lady.

Lounge suits and summer
frocks. We're very informal.

I'll swing by and pick
you up. Shall we say 2:30?

- I don't even know your name.
- Charles Coiner the Third.

Friends call me Chip.

And when exactly is Flambeau
planning to steal this painting?

Tomorrow afternoon.
At the preview.

- In front of all those guests?
- Well, Flambeau likes a challenge.

- Impossible.
- Implausible.

I'm expected to brief my men

over an impending art heist,
based on a half-baked hunch?

That about sums it up, yes.

Why are you sharing
this information?

Because the... church
owns the painting.

I have a vested interest.

I came this close to
catching him last time.

If I remember rightly,
you helped him get away.

That's not quite
how I remember it.

I'd go as far as
aiding and abetting.

Sorry, sir. Thought
you should see this.

You've raised your concerns.
We'll take it from here.

Mirren McConnell, released
on license from Winsome Green.

How is he my problem?

Failed to liaise with
his probation officer.

- Seems he's gone to ground, sir.
- Well, hand it down to uniform.

It's his past form, sir.

Sergeant, get some reinforcements
down to the Belvedere right away.

All weekend leave is cancelled.

I want a car posted outside
the museum through the night.

Perhaps if we were
working together...

If Flambeau makes an appearance,
we'll be there to apprehend him,

and you won't be
anywhere in sight.

I'll have you taken
off the guest list.

He gives you information,
you just throw it back in his face.

If either of you set foot
in that museum tomorrow,

I'll have you arrested for
obstruction, understood?

So we're just
supposed to sit around

and let Flambeau run
rings around them, are we?

Mirren McConnell,
name ring any bells?

They call him The Spark. Wires,
explosives, alarms, he's your man.

Scar from his ear to his chin.

So, Flambeau may well have
found himself an accomplice.

Back in the morning.
Bright and early.

I'm on the press list.
Rebecca Himelbaum.

I don't know how I ever
let you talk me into this.

You didn't take much convincing.

Hmm. Bishop Talbot.

And the Dowager
Duchess of Worcester.

I'm afraid I left my
tickets in the car.

Your spectacles, ma'am.

Oh, thank you, Carter.

I shall require these
to admire the paintings.

Until then, you carry
them, young man.

Are you quite sure the
Bishop is indisposed?

Tied up at a synod in London.

Hmm.

That ring better come
off. It was Mother's.

She must have had big hands.

Oi, oi. Look out. Look out.

Lies and deceit.

We have descended to
Flambeau's level already.

Mr. Coiner is in the
petroleum business.

Oh, crude oil?

You make me sound so vulgar.

On the contrary, he's
something of an art connoisseur.

Yes, well, the Old
Masters have had their day.

Pop art is the future.

Bright young things like
Paolozzi and Rauschenberg.

Perhaps you should advise
me on a good investment.

Binkie's expert eye has
proved rather lucrative.

Champagne, madame, monsieur.

Thank you.

I hear your latest
acquisition is quite valuable.

No wonder security's tight.

Listen, perhaps I should go
and liaise with Inspector Sullivan.

Excuse me.

I'm in safe hands.

An exhibition to remember.

I'll drink to that.

I've got officers posted
throughout the museum.

Based on a spurious tip-off.

My openings have always
been fondly remembered.

We wouldn't want to lower
the tone, now, would we?

Yes, Jemima.

- Stake out the lobby, Sergeant.
- Yes, sir.

Oh, and, Goodfellow,

try and blend in.

Yes, sir!

Certainly takes the breath away.

Uh... I've always
found it rather dark.

Trial and retribution.

The blinking of an eye
between time and eternity.

The moment a soul's
fate is sealed forever.

A consummate assessment.

I learned about
art from my father.

Do you think the guilty
ever pay for their sins?

I think you know my
answer to that question.

I saw you arrive yesterday.

How is the article on
Mr. Cadwaller shaping up?

Oh, it will be enlightening.
I can promise you that.

A fitting obituary
to a colorful career.

No sign of him so far.
Maybe he got cold feet.

As I said to Her Majesty
only last Tuesday,

"The monarchy is
safe in your hands."

I am often called upon
to offer discreet advice,

as a redoubtable
stalwart of the peerage.

Are we perhaps getting
a bit carried away?

Listen, I'm going to go
and look for McConnell.

Well, I don't think much of the
paintings. Far too much naked flesh.

I think we should concentrate
on the matter in hand.

Now, he strikes me
as a very likely suspect.

I think that's the
mayor, Mrs. McCarthy.

And I think you told me
Flambeau is a master of disguise.

Oh, don't you worry, Father.

Nothing gets past me.

Father Brown! I wondered
where you'd got to.

- That's all we need.
- Lady Felicia.

- How was Scotland?
- Rather wet.

You simply have to meet a new
friend of mine. He's American.

Oh, he was here a moment ago.

Excuse me.

Unfinished business.

Why are you wearing my tiara?

I'm working undercover as the
Dowager Duchess of Worcester.

Well, you are a loss
to the aristocracy.

Oh, thank you so much.

Perhaps you'd care to
tell me what I've missed.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I should like to...

congratulate you... Oh!

You imbecile!

Wet! Wet! Wet!

Go! Get on with your work!

I've got to go and get changed for
my welcoming speech, haven't I?

I finished the article.

- You shouldn't be in here.
- I wanted you to read it.

- Yes, well, I have a speech to make.
- I'd read it now, if I were you.

I've made you a copy.

A list of priceless artwork.

Matisse, Klimt, Egon Schiele...

Perhaps you're
familiar with them.

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Paintings stolen by the
Nazis from Jewish families.

Abramsky.

Braunstein. Himelbaum.

Perhaps you remember me now.

Well, I wish someone
had warned me.

We don't even know
if Flambeau's here.

I might have known.

It's a bomb.

It's a bomb. It's a bomb!

Sergeant!

There's no need to panic!

Speak for yourself!

Quick as you can, come on!

They need some help. A bomb!

Boom! Boom!

Misdirection.

A classic diversionary tactic.

I'd love to stop and chat,

but there's a painting
I need to steal.

And if I tried to stop you?

That wouldn't be advisable.

Not while I've got
a knife in my hand.

Hmm. A painting on
the theme of redemption.

An irresistible prize.

A welcome addition
to my private collection.

And will you be strolling
out of here in broad daylight?

That might be imprudent.

Perhaps I should narrow
the odds in my favor.

- Hercule?
- Rebecca?

Red in, black in.

Red out.

He's got the painting.

Oh, no.

It's going to blow! Get down!

Thank you, Inspector.

One of these days...

The painting!

Oh, no, you don't.

The painting's gone! Seal the
exits! I want everyone searched!

Have you seen Father Brown?

He must be still inside.

That's him! That's our man!

Excuse me, excuse me. I
need to get you out of here.

- I can't leave the others!
- It isn't safe.

Well, of all the nerve!

Get your greasy hands off me!

Himelbaum.

I've been looking
at your war record.

Distinguished
service. Military Medal.

Unexploded mortar shell.

Blew up in my face when
I was trying to defuse it.

I should be a hero.

But you fell victim
to a life of crime.

Written off.

In favor of men who
barely saw service.

You realize you'll get
ten more years for this?

Bomb wasn't real.

If we don't catch
Flambeau, you'll take the rap.

He paid me a visit in prison.

Hired me for the job.

- Half the money upfront...
- Now you're out of pocket.

The rest of the money's
in a safety deposit box.

Cheltenham Station.

I expect he'll try and pick
it up, with me indisposed.

Then we'll make sure
we're waiting for him.

In the meantime, there's a cell in
this station with your name on it.

I want to talk to my solicitor.

Sergeant, get on to Cheltenham.

All available units
to the railway station.

- Inspector...
- I'll meet them there.

Any news on
Flambeau's whereabouts?

None that I'll be
sharing with you.

It's just I'm concerned
about Mr. Cadwaller.

- No one's seen him since the heist.
- Maybe he was in on it.

What do you mean by that?

Recently cautioned
for suspected "shilling",

pushing up the value of his
paintings through fake bids at auction.

Yes, the Met investigation
couldn't prove anything,

but your pal
Cadwaller's got form.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I've a thief to apprehend.

He'll be halfway
to France by now.

While the police waste
their time chasing shadows.

Any news on Binkie?

Ashamed to show
his face, no doubt.

His reputation in tatters.

Binkie Cadwaller is
hiding a grievous secret,

if the claims in this
article can be verified.

Someone else is
intent on destroying him.

Someone with a vested interest.

Well, maybe Her Ladyship
knows where he's got to.

And she left with the
American gentleman.

Some people know no shame.

What did the American
gentleman look like?

Handsome, I suppose,
in a raffish sort of way.

Expensive suit...

and French cologne.

Stolen from under
our very noses.

Typical French audacity.

I didn't even get the
chance to set eyes on him.

At least they caught
Flambeau's accomplice.

McConnell was expendable.

Collateral damage.

Something's been troubling me.

Well? Don't keep me in suspense.

You offered to
pick me up at 2:30.

You knew what time the preview
started, even before I invited you.

You're smarter than you look.

You're no oil man.

Your hands are too soft.

I've never been to Texas.

The climate doesn't suit me.

I had you down as a gentleman.
You're nothing but a common thief.

I needed a ticket.
You wanted attention.

How dare you presume
to know anything about me!

You're trapped in
a loveless marriage,

filling the void with
mundane distractions.

You see each other
briefly at breakfast

and His Lordship only
ever looks right through you.

If you don't leave this
instant, I'll ring for Hornby.

You gave the butler
the evening off.

Cheltenham Picture
House: Singin' In The Rain.

Hello, police?

Yes, this is Lady
Felicia Montague...

The police are busy
searching for a thief.

The last place they'll
look for him is here.

- Oh, thank goodness!
- Well, if it isn't the Bishop.

- I was expecting you earlier.
- Tell me you brought reinforcements.

I'm afraid I came alone.

Not even armed with
your trusty umbrella?

Ah, in all the excitement, I
must have left it in the cloakroom.

Inept and forgetful, you
are losing your touch.

Rebecca Himelbaum. You know her.

I knew her once.

In another life.

A wartime liaison
that ended abruptly.

No!

Rebecca!

They took the Himelbaums to
Theresienstadt, a camp near the Elbe.

- Huh.
- I never saw any of them again.

Until today.

I was convinced Rebecca had been
murdered, a victim of the Holocaust.

Binkie betrayed her.

Cadwaller knew the Himelbaums
owned priceless works of art.

He struck a deal with the SS.

He sent them to their deaths
in return for a cut of the loot.

- You're lying.
- It soon became a lucrative habit.

Binkie might be a rogue,
but he wouldn't stoop that low.

As soon as the war
ended, he sold on the art

for an exorbitant profit.

There were plenty of
buyers. The Vatican, for one.

You stole that painting
to settle a grudge.

This time it was personal.

- Where is it now?
- That would be telling.

Must be well hidden,
otherwise I would have spotted it.

Rebecca is determined
to exact her own revenge.

Why do women always
complicate things?

The police will arrest her
for murder, unless we find her.

Cadwaller deserves all he gets.

Do you want her to hang?

The past is history.
It's of no concern to me.

This is your chance to make
amends. This time you can save her.

We don't even know
where she's taken him.

Someone will have seen
them leaving the Belvedere.

Two office doors.

They never left the museum.

I've been compiling a
dossier since the war,

enough damning evidence
to lock you up for life.

Circumstantial evidence.

You'll never be
able to prove a thing.

First the Jews were
forced to hide their art.

Then they were forced
to hide themselves.

Now it is the Nazis
who are hiding.

The Nazis and
their collaborators.

I had no idea what
the SS were doing.

You won't be around
to refute the claims.

- I doubt you'll be missed.
- You're insane!

You were party to genocide.

I've presented the
evidence. This is your trial.

Ways to kill a war criminal...

I could leave you
here to starve,

untie you now and shoot
you while you escape.

They say gas is
a quick way to die.

We can't ask the people
you sent to the camps.

Please, this is madness.

"Dangerously toxic
in confined spaces."

Thick steel walls.

No one will hear you scream.

We've only got an hour before
Lady Felicia calls the police.

You keep him talking,
I'll break his neck.

Um...

Ah, I only meant
to hit the bonnet.

Misdirection. I'll
make a thief of you yet.

A hoard of buried treasure,
safe from prying eyes.

And thieving hands.

- There are worse sins than avarice.
- A sin is a sin.

Sin requires guilt, a cognitive
emotion I've never experienced.

Rebecca? You loved her once.

Love is an indulgence
that leads only to weakness.

A trap, like religion.

I'll never make the
same mistake again.

It's a very lonely predicament.

You took a vow of celibacy.
Every night in an empty bed?

I can always talk to God.

Praying for some company?
Now, I'd say that was lonely.

- I think we should split up.
- I think so too.

Rebecca?

Cadwaller is mine.

I didn't come
back for Cadwaller.

What did you turn into,

while I festered in that place?

I thought you were dead.

You're no better than
the man who betrayed us.

I stole the
painting to ruin him.

I didn't need your help.

Vengeance is God's alone.

You brought me a priest?

He will face justice.

My mother died of
typhoid in Birkenau.

I held her in my arms.
She didn't even know me.

- This is not the way.
- My father was killed in Auschwitz.

Betrayed and condemned,

deprived of his dignity,
the people he loved.

But you survived.

It took me eight long years to
find the proof to damn Cadwaller.

- And now I'm supposed to forgive?
- If it helps you to find peace, yes.

It's a little too late
for a homily, Father.

If Cadwaller dies, you'll
hang. Bittersweet revenge.

I give you my word,

he will face justice,

in return for his life.

I locked him in.

Help me!

Please, God! Somebody!

If you ever really loved
me, you'd let him die.

If that man dies, she
will be a murderer.

- I'll see she gets away.
- To live like you? A fugitive?

You owe her more than that.

Open it.

He unlocked the vault
with a gun to his head.

I don't even know
the combination.

For once in your life, use
your dubious skills for good.

Drive camshaft.
Three-digit encryption.

Fourteen.

We're running out of time.

To crack a lock like
this could take hours.

I need tools. Silence.

Fourteen?

The year in the painting.

1452.

Fourteen-five-two?

Try that?

An early death would
be too good for you.

The police will
be arriving soon.

I wouldn't want
them to find you here.

Say a prayer for the
Himelbaums, Father.

After all, we share
the same god.

Go after her.

I went to the camp
after liberation.

No names. Only numbers.

So you consigned me to history?

- It was easier.
- Easier? For whom?

I tortured myself for not
being able to save you.

It was only a memory
that kept me alive.

The memory of someone I loved.

So you see, you did save me.

Perhaps I could search
for the man I once was.

We've both changed.

We're strangers now.

I would never have
been enough for you.

You sent them to their deaths.

It was just business.

They were murdered...
for a painting?

If you expose me, you'll
implicate the church.

The guilty will answer
for what they have done.

And you will pay
with a proper trial.

The first time I held it

I was looking into Heaven.

And I saw the wicked,

the condemned to
doom, to damnation.

I saw my own fate.

God is a merciful judge.

There is always redemption
for those who truly seek it.

I still want you to
return that painting.

I thought I'd hang it
in my dressing room.

And what will it remind you of?

This is hardly the
time for a sermon.

You've exiled yourself
to a life of purgatory.

Surrounded by beautiful things.

Because your soul is dark.

You grew up without your father.

You couldn't help Rebecca. Is it
because you couldn't save them?

You are a bereaved human being
who now chooses to feel nothing.

The choices are mine to make.

There's no going back.

My valet will be waiting.

Then you mustn't
let me keep you.

The forecast is for
evening showers.

Why don't you take this?

At least let me protect
you from the rain.

A reckless offer
to make to a thief.

Well, I know that I will get it
back when I see you again.

A bientôt, Father Brown.

- Where's Flambeau?
- I'm afraid... he gave me the slip.

He played me for a fool.

Beguiled and deceived
by easy flattery.

Yes, well, Flambeau
can be quite the charmer.

You let him off the hook. Again.

You're beginning to sound
like Inspector Sullivan.

On top of everything else, I've
just had the bishop on the telephone,

anguished and outraged
at the loss of the painting.

Wait till he hears about
Binkie's wartime exploits.

Oh!

There'll be quite a few
sweaty palms in St Peter's.

I made a promise to Rebecca,

and we're all going to have
to live with the consequences.

While Flambeau gets
away with the stolen loot.

- Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
- How on earth did you find it?

He didn't have the painting
when he left the museum.

Events conspired against him.

He Realized that
I could help him

get it out of the Belvedere
hidden in my brolly.

Some clever improvisation
to evade the police.

That's him! That's our man!

I need to get you out of here.

- I can't leave the others!
- It isn't safe.

He knew I'd work out
where he was hiding.

An unwitting accomplice.

Unfortunately for Flambeau...

I can be absent-minded.

"For what shall it profit a man

if he gain the whole world

and suffer the
loss of his soul."

So wait, he didn't go
back to save Rebecca?

Who knows? But for Flambeau,

redemption is still...

a long way off.