All language subtitles for A.Sunday.in.the.Country.1984.720p.BluRay.x264-PHOBOS-English

A SUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY

When will you stop asking
so much of life, Irene?

Mercedes!

I can't find the shoe-kit.

It's in its usual place.

Here's the white spirits…
shoe polish…

Found it!

Excuse me, I need the quince jelly.

Bonnat used to polish them

with a cashmere cloth.

Excuse me.

Rhubarb pie, eh?

You know that Mr. Edouard
arrives at 10:50.

I'll leave at 10:40.

Remember

that Mr. Edouard
is really named Gonzague.

His wife can call him Edouard.
Here he's Gonzague.

Gonzague or not,

if you leave at 10:40
you'll be late.

This house is ten minutes
from the station.

It was… 10 years ago.

True, I walk a bit slower now.

Don't tell me a road's become
10 minutes longer in 10 years.

Monsieur knows he's wrong.

Old folk just won't admit it.

The last times,
the trains were early.

Just so long as Monsieur doesn't
walk backwards like a crayfish.

Crayfish don't walk backwards.

Maybe so.

Since his wife's death, Mr. Ladmiral
could not do without Mercedes…

and felt he mustn't anger her.

He told himself

that she'd leave
at the slightest incident.

But he knew it wasn't true.

She liked her job
and cared about her master.

Yet he nurtured this false fear
of her leaving.

A vestige, perhaps, of former
rapports with women.

Papa, there's grandpa!

Get a move on, there's grandpa.

Incredible:

Train was early again!

No, on time as usual.

But I left on the dot.

Your watch must be slow.

But…

I've 10:57. And you?

Getting far-sighted?

So, no hugs for grandpa?

Did Mireille have a good trip?

Oh, no.

She puked.

Say "vomited" or "threw up".

Poor Mimi. It happens every time.

She tries to hold it in but…

Now I bring eau-de-cologne along.

Whom does she get it from?

You're too big to be sick now.

Understand, Mireille?

He pushed me!

Look where you walk.

It's no time to fight.
You're in the country now.

- Look, quail!
- No, pheasants!

- Full of life, eh?
- That, yes.

Boys can't stay put.

Those were pheasants, no?

Partridge.

Ah, it's Mr. Tourneville.

Hello.

- You remember him, don't you?
- Yes, very well.

Son's a jockey.

Here's the lumberman's widow…

There's Mr. Dantigny.

He's the cousin of…

Can we help, ma'am?

Must be senile… my memory's going.

You had such a good one.

No reason to lose it though.

Poncet!

He's Poncet's cousin.

Not as senile as you think.

You'll bury us all.

Don't be silly.

I'm over 70.

You'll see.

It's too hot for a mackintosh.

I'm alright.

I'll catch another bit of mass.

Pious as ever?

As ever.

You boys coming?

And the office?

The same.

But Dakar is off.

I see…

Marie-Therese didn't want to.

A couple's a couple.

She already changed your name.

"Edouard"!

I'll carry you, Mireille.

Let me have her.

Hold my hat.

She'll tire you.

You're lagging behind.

Okay up there?

You're jealous. Take her back.

Watch my hat… not on my face.

I haven't been exercising lately.

I'm getting lazy.

It's been a while since
your last visit.

Two weeks.

I know it's hard…

- Last Sunday…
- I know.

No excuses necessary.
It's the same way with me.

That's true.

Since I've no real reason to travel

it's harder to make a decision.

It's easier for you.
You have only Sundays.

You're used to coming here

and there are more of you…

doing things is easier in numbers.

Of course.

Like with painting…

- Where are the boys?
- They must've gone the other way.

The last time your sister Irene came

it was still cold.

We lit a fire in her room.

She gets chilly.

It was cold.

There they are.

Go into the garden.

No, we're tired.

My leg hurts.

Don't get smart.

Have any iodine?

Ask Mercedes.

Come on.

Don't read now.

It's nicer to talk.

Play in the garden.

- And Emile?
- Will do as told.

Now do as you're told.

So, happy with the kids?

Marie-Therese is a good mother.

And school?

The eldest is fine.

The youngest is lazy

but he's doing well.

Just like yourself.

But I worked hard.

Sure you did.

But it didn't help.

The youngest is the opposite.

Doesn't work, but succeeds.

I thought you said…

I meant the contrary… wait…

It's all the same, anyway.

Sit down. You can help me.

I'll cut the dough!

Into strips,

like that.

I'll get the pie…

and you lay them out.

You're a big help.

Because I'm a bit behind.

When I serve the pie, we'll say…

that Mireille made it.

It needs reupholstering.

It could use a new look.

Then again this faded tone
is rather nice.

Dogs and chairs have
the same life span.

It's because of the sun.

What is?

The colors. They fade.

We can't live with drawn curtains.

Careful!

Not on the couch! It's posing!

I'm sorry.

I'm painting a corner
of the atelier.

You always do it so well.

It'll be stunning.

I love your work.

It's just

a sketch.

You should paint a cat
on the couch

or on the rug.

Like on your big canvas
from last year.

A cat's always nice.

Another cat!

Marie-Therese had every quality
all hidden.

She was happy, surely…

ploddingly, but dedicated
and placid.

Since her marriage, she'd relished
the pleasure of not working.

Her family was far more work
than she'd ever had at the office.

But she didn't know it.

She'd settled into the cozy conjugal
sloth of a hard-working housewife.

This marriage had been a shock
to Mr. Ladmiral.

He'd never quite recovered.

After much self-searching

he'd concluded that they'd married

because that's what everybody does.

This answer made little sense

but it at least ended speculation.

- You're crazy!
- They didn't mean to.

Who threw that?

And they just laugh?

They don't know how
to play outside.

They're not used to it.

It's just as well,
being city children…

That way they don't miss it.

It's their age.
Anyway nothing's broken.

At least it wasn't a rock.

But my boys aren't wild.

Who broke the bell jar
with the monkey wrench?

It wasn't Lucien's fault.

You see, I had to fire the maid.
She wasn't competent.

And the new one put the bell jar…

If the closet door
had been left shut

and he'd kept out of the tool box.

As for the tool box, fine!

My point was that he's not wild.

About that clod don't be upset.

What clod?

Oh yes…

You're quite right.

The older I get,
the more I'm right to him.

Thereupon a sort of conversation
developed among the three of them.

The old man was preoccupied…

hunting secrets in his canvas
in its colors and forms,

with an intensity
that made him feel young

and a bitter certainty
of finding nothing

that made him feel very old.

Lemme pull his leg off!

Gimme the piece of glass.

- It won't work.
- Just wait.

We need a lens.

The garden's pretty, eh?

I've painted it a hundred times.

That may seem strange to you.

No. You paint what you love.

The brats!

Look,

they're trying to set fire
to a maybug!

You leave them alone!

Set fire with what?

- A piece of glass.
- How cruel!

- Imagine if it were you!
- What'd the bug do to you?

It's not a harmful insect.

But they didn't set it afire.

Anyway, they'd need a lens.

Didn't you even learn
that in school?

We don't have one.

Couldn't Grandpa lend us his?

Please lend us your lens!

Always begging for things!
It's bad manners.

I was the same at their age.

Go ahead, take it.

But wait… be careful.

Burn twigs

but no bugs.

Do as you're told.

I'm sure they'll break it.

They have to be constantly chided.

Gonzague makes them out to be

real rascals.

I said that for you.

I know. You're an ideal son.

And you're an ideal dad.

We found it!

But be careful.

Feel all right, papa?

What's the matter?

Say…

- Did you see those little girls?
- What girls?

Just now… 2 little girls
in the garden.

They'll be back, don't worry.

Why should I worry?

Funny, a cock crowing at this hour.

She's got a point.

Be of good chair…

The oldest jokes are always…

- The best!
- The most ancient.

They're building a road over there.

It won't bother you much.

My bas-relief professor
used to always say:

"It's hard, painting, it's hard."

That's all he ever said,
and sometimes

he'd add: "My dear fellow…

"you're wasting your time."

"A painter can't make a living."

Though he painted…

heather… genre painting…

But now when I see photographs

I think maybe he was right.

Do you like photographs?

Some of them.

Photography's easier.

I always promised myself to live
with my times and then…

day after day

I come up against little nothings.

When it's new I shiver.

You're too sensitive.

I never was afraid before.

Well almost never.

You were lucky.

Look at your sister, Irene.

She forges ahead.

You don't.

She's not always very thoughtful.

If being thoughtful
means staying put…

You've got pointy mustaches
like your dad.

No wonder you're old-fashioned.

Edouard's your spitting image.

Speaking of images…

about Eugene Carrière…

- Hurry up.
- We're coming.

Wash your hands!

Degas said about Eugene Carrière:

"It's not bad,
but the model moved."

Because Carrière's painting

is a bit blurred.

Did you wash your hands?

We want them nice and rosy.

Grandpa says no washing hands
in the kitchen.

But we don't care.

Give me your glass.

I love paté.

Can I have more?

When Mercedes brings it.
Finish what you have first.

A wasp!

It won't hurt you.

Take your jacket off
if you like.

Paté's from a new butcher…
not bad.

The capon is just delicious.

Some people are born cooks.

Lots of sauce.

- You'll be sick.
- She'll be sick anyway…

so let her eat.

Take your jacket off.

You're perspiring.

That's all right.

I'm not hot.

Eating makes him perspire.

At the house he's in shirtsleeves.

Why not in the country?

Have the courage
of your convictions.

Boys, pass your glasses.

They can't drink all that!

A little excess never
did anyone harm.

I was drunk once.

Remember, Mama?

Go on, boast!

You were intoxicated?
How interesting! Tell us about it.

Any more potatoes?

Close your mouth.
Mind your elbows.

Finish your carrots.

Were you ever drunk, grandpa?

Oh, such a long time ago.

I wish I'd seen you.

And papa?

- Ask him.
- He says no.

Your father's very serious.

Another wasp!

A little thing like that scaring
a big fellow like you?

Meringue?

Rhubarb pie!

Did you know
that it was Canius Fanius

who forbade the raising
of chickens

in the streets of Rome.

Really?

Canius Fanius!

Nap time now.

Don't stay on the porch.

We're inside.

Sleep tight.

They had too much to drink.

Mozart!

- She's asleep?
- Yes.

This tree's always first
to turn color in the fall.

I'll serve the liqueurs.

These flies!

Not Edouard. Gonzague.

Don't stay in the house.

Take advantage of the garden.

A little brandy?

A Benedictine.

Here you are…

If I did your portrait, Gonzague…

I'd do you in purple.

All purple.

How pretty.

Not everybody can have
a purple son.

Few people are lucky

to have a purple son.

That's how I should have painted.

Beastly flies.

- How does papa seem?
- The same.

Hope the kids don't wake him.

They're in the field.

We put the trays on the table.

You needn't have bothered.

I should've kept painting.

Not enough time.

If I'd failed
it'd have upset papa.

I'd just have been in his shadow.

Otherwise I'd have become

his rival.

My first paintings weren't bad.

Whose dog is that?

Are you hurt?

Wake up, folks!

Look what I found.

Is it yours?

Irene…

Are you mad?
It's no time to sleep!

Shame! Respectable working folks!

And the master?

He's asleep in the arbor.

You shouldn't let him sleep!

Caviar!

She shouldn't wake papa.

Mademoiselle Irene!
You'll wake Monsieur.

I brought grapefruits.

They're in the car.

Your mustache's all wet.
It's bad to sleep in the sun.

How are you?

It depends, yesterday I…

My lunchdate with a girlfriend
was put off…

I thought: It's been ages
since I've seen papa.

Are you glad?

I might not stay for dinner.

It's been such a long time.

You haven't changed.

You don't look well.

I brought grapefruits.

I told Mercedes.

She sure looks funny.
Not pregnant, is she?

It would be odd.

Have you seen my dog?

Isn't he a beauty?

Guess his name.

I don't know… Othello.

Or Clemenceau while you're at it.

Sarah Bernhardt…
he'd need a wooden leg.

His name's Caviar.

Isn't that a find?

I'd have chosen a grey dog.

You've got the whole merry
clan here!

They have a darling daughter.
Is she really theirs?

And the boys?

They're out on the grass.

I'll surprise them.

Let's both go.

Come on.

My legs are heavy.

You need more exercise.

I'll take my hat.

How about a drive in my car?

Why don't you visit Paris?

It's nicer than here in the summer.

I may not stay for dinner.

You already told me.

Next time.

Mr. Ladmiral suddenly
felt heartsick.

He thought "My heart is heavy…
it's giving out."

Already he could see too clearly

the moment of Irene's departure.

So he stared hard at the landscape

and thought of nothing
but its colors.

Hello, family album!

No kiss for your aunt?

You've grown a foot this year.

- I got lipstick on you.
- Leave it.

I like that.

They're becoming real charmers.

Take us for a drive.

Is that how you talk to a lady?

There you are.

I told Irene not to wake you.

I wasn't asleep.

I know, but you need the rest.

This collar!

Let me do it.

How can you wear such a thing?

Even papa wouldn't.

It's a chastity belt.

I know it's Sunday but…

Three o'clock already!

May I phone?

You shouldn't let him sleep
like that after lunch.

They'll kill you.

Irene, really!

OPERA 34.16…

You're sure?

No, thank you.

Your house?

Irene saw that
the child would die young

at fifteen, or perhaps earlier.

So she folded her hands
and held them inside her own.

Irene believed in palmreading

as much as in mad love, romance,

and the stars' influence
on human fate.

Was this your room?

You're no fun.

But a cabin's boring.

I hate the country.

When will you stop asking
so much of life, Irene?

Anyway the last time
we built a cabin it fell apart.

When are you going to get married?

Your father never mentions it

but I know he's hoping.

He'll have to wait.

Leaving already?

I'm just parking the car.

What a beauty. Tell me…

What elegance.

I hear they're very noisy.

- You love them.
- I do, but the noise…

I had kids, not a car.

You'd been mad if I had kids.

It beats 3rd class rail.

Your shop must be a success.

Yes, I'm in business.

Gew-gaws and folderols.

You didn't come to the opening.

Buy a car…
you'll get out more often.

A pretty girl like you in
this car… must be quite a sight.

Mireille's in a tree!

Don't move!

Help me up, boys.

You're climbing in those clothes?

Papa's coming!

He's right. Hold this.

Help me.

- That's great.
- I'm scared.

How'd she get up there?

Gonzague never climbed a tree
except at school.

Don't be afraid.

Here I am.

Papa's here, honey!

I'm scared.

Careful!

Of course I'm careful.

I'm scared!

I'll see Mercedes about the tea.

It's all right, honey.

Come to me.

I'll tell Mercedes to serve the tea.

Swing over your other leg.

Catch her.

- Come to mother.
- I want Irene.

She's down, so that's that.

Make room.

Take that.

That'll teach you.

That's smart.

What are all these tears for?

What's wrong with her?

She's never done that before.

Calm down, it's over.

She's never done that.

Here's some water.

It's over.

She's not really alone.

How about a cooky?

What d'you mean?

Nothing. Just that…

my dear sister has lots of friends.

She's popular.

But I'm convinced
she wouldn't do anything foolish.

No, I guess not.

Feeling better now?

Yes, like all girls
who have lots of friends.

OPERA 34.16, please.

No, thank you.

Tea is served on the porch.

Pear jam… from dad's trees?

From the trees in the lane
green and well-cooked.

D'you know why one always pours
the milk before the tea?

The perfect hostess.

Because in good homes

the china's so fragile
that hot tea…

… would crack the cup.
And what about silver spoons?

Children, there's pie.

Same reason.

A silver spoon would crack
a china cup.

Your mother was manic about that.

Certain days I'd even avoid

having lunch with her.

But I really was wrong.

It's always easy
to get along over trifles.

Come play, Irene.

Your grapefruit juice.

You drank it.

Coffee's good, too.

Irene wanted to live

not so much free, as alone.

Those two words
define girls who leave home.

Her father accepted her departure

with a courage so strong
it couldn't be hidden.

But only when her visits grew rare

did he ponder
the ingratitude of children.

Gonzague visited faithfully

and regularly.

When he left, Mr Ladmiral wasn't sad

but he reminded him
that Irene hadn't come.

In his adieu to his son
was a sense of regret

that it wasn't Irene who had come.

Gonzague understood.

Certain days, overcome,
he stumbled on the stairs

like a rejected lover.

All sorrows look alike.

Let's go for a drive.

No, I want to show you
my painting first.

I know you won't like it…

but you're not always right.

I am about painting.

It's easy like that.

Let me give it a try.

I used to be good at this.

- Let's stop.
- You won't play?

What for?

You can play alone.

- Well, let's play.
- Mimi too?

We'll all play.

Now I paint for myself.

You used to paint for others?

Maybe.

Bertillon wants to buy 2 paintings.

He's said that for 3 years.

Is this it?

It's just a sketch.

You won't like it like the rest.

Maybe you're right.

Another atelier corner.

Your atelier's all corners!

You could like one for once.

Not this one either?

I didn't say I don't like it.

It's too tame, classic…
it lacks passion.

That's why you only have one
in your flat.

- Your brother…
- I'd rather you sell them.

When I'm dead…

you'll keep a few?

Don't mention death
when it suits you!

It's posing.

This shawl is stunning.

Where's it from?

There's a trunkful up in the attic.

No kidding! Do I like it?

Believe me, it'll sell.

Stunning.

May I take a glass of water?

I'm dying of thirst.
I'll help myself.

Nothing like a drink
when you're thirsty.

The heat doesn't bother your legs?

More or less.

I'll have another drink.

Let me…

It takes ages, when they're stringy.

When I buy beans,
I always look twice.

A day only has 24 hours.

Anyway your chicken was delicious.

Do you rub it with lemon?

Yes, the insides.

Well…

I'll join my men.

They're still upstairs?

It's normal… she comes so rarely.

It's cool in here.

It's been a nice fall day.

The 3 of hearts on the 4
will free the ace.

Thanks.

I know.

Did Irene have a lover?

He'd never asked himself openly

and he didn't intend to.

It seemed apparent.

But against those truths that hurt
men have one sure defence:

denial.

Had he known she had a lover,

he'd have been unhappy.

Like all men,

he put a high price on the virginity
of girls dear to him.

Irene was as discreet
as her father

when he had insisted
on remaining ignorant

of her first affair.

This afternoon, however,

amid the old shawls,

he was sure she had a lover,

but that she'd never tell him

and that he'd never ask and that
they were both right to lie.

Look!

How pretty. Who did it?

A young painter

some 40 years ago…

Around 1865.

It has a lot of charm and feeling.

The lady tightrope walker…

the wind, rain, sun…

And the indifference…

of the passersby.

It could bring a good price.

No.

This one's not for sale.

Put them here.

Get the boys.

Can you help me, please?

Are there boxes and string?

What a bustle!

Where's it from?

Irene wants us?

Don't run in the house.

Boys, be angels
and bring the clothes down.

From the attic.

Sorry, dear, I need the table.

Can you bring the shawls?

No more boxes?

I gave them all to the nuns.

This is for you.

What a gold mine. I never imagined.

They'll sell like hotcakes.

What handicraft.

Who does such fine work today?

If these rags of Papa's
are all the rage, fine!

He's free to give them away.

I'm no thief.

I pay for what I take.

You're crazy. Gonzague was kidding.

Don't believe it.

He never jokes about love or money.

In my job it's natural that I pay.

I bought a bridal crown
from farmers near Dreux.

They sold it?

It was hard.
They said it had no value.

So I had to offer
an absurdly low price.

Norman peasants indeed!

- Dreux in Normandy?
- Of course.

Nearly, but not quite

I'm afraid to say.

How much?

Drop it.

Can you bring me the scissors?

He ran off without asking.

Where are they?

You mentioned money.

What are they worth?

- Me?
- That's too much!

Edouard didn't mention money.

Let's not argue.

Anyway,
I'm the only one who knows!

Here's 1,000 francs.

Doing business with
my own children!

What's it all about?

Let's not haggle!
You want more?

This is only to make you happy.

You have.

Mr. Ladmiral resolved to buy gifts
for his grandchildren

while vaguely suspecting
he wouldn't.

Dreux isn't in Normandy.

Okay…

Not now, Caviar.

Wait.

And in back?

Oh no!

Bring the rest, it'll fit.

Let's go for a drive.

With pleasure.

I'll just get my hat.

Be back soon. The train's at 6:50.

- And dinner?
- We can't…

we'd get into Paris late
and Emile has an exam tomorrow.

No matter. Stay for dinner.

Irene can drive you back.

Oh yes! Take us back.

I'd love to,
but I'm dining in Paris.

I told you, I have to.

You won't leave me all alone!

We could stay
and then take the 9:13.

Get your hat… We'll all stay.

A drink?

Brandied cherries.

A peppermint for me.

With ice.

Your dumb old husband
catch any this big?

Careful!

Don't worry about your dress.

Catch!

Cook it up, we'll share it.

That's what you should've painted.

Maybe.

I painted the way I was taught.

I believed my teachers:

to respect the traditional rules.

Maybe a bit too much.

I saw originality

in others' work.

Cezanne's major exhibition
in '96 or '97

was interesting, but I thought:

"Where can that lead me?"

Like Van Gogh's work.

I'd singled him out.

I spent a summer painting in Arles

with your mother.

I'm boring you.

Perhaps I lacked courage.

Some years ago, I considered

changing my style.

I gave it a lot of thought.

But it hurt your mother

to see that at my age

I was still groping.

I'd just been decorated.

Our future was assured.

She was hurt.

If I'd imitated what was original

in other painters…

Monet, Caillebotte, Renoir…

I'd have been even less original.

I'd have lost my own special melody.

Not that I…

at least it was mine.

I painted as I felt…
with honesty.

If I didn't achieve more

I at least glimpsed
what I could have done.

Earlier when you woke me up

I was dreaming…

You'll laugh…

about Moses…

just as he was going to die.

He'd just seen the Promised Land…

and I realized

that he could die without regret

because he'd seen…

understood…

loved…

what he loved.

Do you understand?

One can die for less.

We're in a dance hall

and I talk about prophets!

I'm not very polite.

Tell me…

do you really think I aged too fast?

Papa.

Dance with me.

For my pleasure.

I want to live what I dreamed.

We'll be home real quick.

The concierge'll be amazed.

How fast does it go?

Won't Mireille puke?

There's Irene.

Come say hello.

You'll fly away.

It's not love, it's madness.

Had fun?

With Caviar?

Come, Caviar.

So what did you all do?

- Oh, we…
- Country's not bad, eh?

Who's this little halfpint…?

Know this shrimp?

Look how jealous Caviar is.

It's some man.
I didn't get his name.

No, I never said that!

Listen. I can't just now, because…

What?

You've no right to say that!

But listen…

you shouldn't have promised then.

You drive me mad…

That's not true… not true…

Oh, darling, I'm coming right now…

Don't move.
I love you, love you.

I'm really sorry, I must go…

I can't explain.

I'll say goodbye to Mercedes.

Where's your wife?

Tired?

No.

These car rides are rough.

She was ready to go… already gone.

Her cool authority

had given way

to anxious flight.

Mr. Ladmiral, who'd almost
have cried to see her stay

would now have nearly
forced her to go…

Her need to leave was that strong.

I need some water.

Can you post this for me?

Here.

Look after papa.

Irene's leaving.

- Going?
- I must.

Sit, Caviar.

I forgot that.

It's worth your trip.

You're handsome.

- You'll come back soon?
- What?

You'll come back soon?

As soon as possible.

Stay young.

She was in a rush?

She usually waves at the corner.

Let's see your drawing.

That's good for her age.

We should have seen her off.

Don't jump on the couch, boys.

There are strawberries.

Picnic's ready.

Coming.

You'll come for Christmas?

Maybe, if I'm still alive.

We'll have goose
and go to midnight mass.

Goose is fattening.

You're easily amused.

If I get a bad grade tomorrow,
it won't be my fault.

You said that already.

Use less salt.

It is bad for the joints.

It's not polite to leave your soup.

You must eat everything.

I don't have a spoon.

Hurry up.

Not in 3rd — in 2nd.

I said we'd be late.
See you next week.

Just made it.

The door. Your bag.

There's room.

Nothing left behind.

Goodbye, Grandpa.

Why do you always close
the shutters before dark?

I'll have my tea in the atelier.