All language subtitles for journee longue

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Thank heaven the fog is gone.

I...

I do feel...

out of sorts this morning.

I wasn't able to get much sleep with that
awful forghorn going all night long.

Yes, like having a sick whale
in the backyard.

Kept me awake too.

Did it? You have a strange way
of showing your restlessness.

You were snoring so hard
I couldn't tell which was the foghorn.

Ten foghorns couldn't disturb you.
You haven't a nerve in you.

You never had.

Nonsense.
You always exagerate about my snoring.

I couldn't.

If you could only hear yourself once.

What's the joke, I wonder.

It's on me, I'll bet that much.
It's always on the old man.

Yes. It's terrible the way
we all pick on you, isn't it?

You're so abused!

Never mind.

No matter what the joke is,
it's a relief to hear Edmund laugh.

He's been so down in the mouth lately.

Some joke of Jamie's, I'll wager.

He's forever making snearing fun
of somebody, that one.

Now, don't start in on poor Jamie,
dear,

he'll turn out alright in the end.
You wait and see.

He better start soon then, he's nearly 34.

Good heavens.

Are they gonna stay in the dinning room
all day?

Jamie! Edmund!

Come out on the porch.
Give Cathleen a chance to clear the table.

You'd make excuses for him
no matter what he did.

I've been teasing your father
about his snoring.

I'll leave it to the boys, James,
they must've heard you.

No, not you Jamie. I could hear you
down the hall

almost as bad as your father.
You're like him.

As soon as your head touches the pillow,
you're off.

And ten foghorns couldn't wake you.

Why are you staring, Jamie?

Is my hair coming down, or something?

It's hard for me to do it up
properly now.

My eyes are getting so bad
and I can never find my glasses

No, your hair's all right, Mama.
I was just thinking how well you look.

Just as I was telling her, Jamie.
She's so fat and sassy
there'ill soon be no holding her.

Yes, you certainly look grand, Mama.

And I'll back you up about Papa's snoring.
Gosh, what a racket.

I heard him too "The Moor, I know his trumpet."

If it takes my snoring
to make you remember Shakespeare

instead of the dope sheet on the ponies,
I hope I�ll keep on with it.

James, you mustn�t be so touchy.

Yes, for Pete�s sake, Papa.
The first thing after breakfast.

Give it a rest, can�t you�?

Your father wasn�t finding fault with you.

You don�t have to always take Jamie�s part.
You�d think you were the one ten years older

Let's forget it.
That's right, forget everything and face nothing

that's a convenient philosophy in life
if you've no other ambitions than...
James! Be quiet.

What were you two grinning about
like Cheshire cats when you came out?
What was the joke?

Yes, let us in on it, lad.

You remember, Papa, the ice pond
on Harker�s estate is right next to the farm,

and you remember Shaughnessy keeps pigs.

Well, it seems there�s a break in the fence
and the pigs have been bathing

in the millionaire�s ice pond,

Good heavens!

The poor pigs, Shaughnessy yelled,
have caught their death of cold.

Many of them were dying of pneumonia,

and several others had been taken down
with cholera from drinking the poisoned water.

He told Harker he was hiring a lawyer
to sue him for damages.

And then he wound up by saying

that he had to put up with potato bugs
and ticks and poison ivy
and snakes and skunks on his farm

but he was an honest man
who had to draw the line somewhere,

and he�d be damned if he�d stand
for a Standard Oil thief trespassing.

So would Harker kindly remove his dirty feet
from the premises

before he sticked the dog on him. And Harker did!

Heavens!
hat a terrible tongue that man has.

The damned old scoundrel.
By God you can't beat him.

The dirty blaggard.
He'll get me into serious trouble yet.

I hope you told him I'd be mad as hell.

I told him you'd be tickled to death
over the great Irish victory

and so you are, stop faking Papa.
Well I'm not tickled to death.

You are too, James.
You're simply denying it.

Well what are you laughing at?

There's nothing funny!
A fine son you are to help
that blaggard get me into a lawsuit.

Now James! Don't lose your temper.

Yes I suppose you're regretting
you weren't there to prompt Shaughnessy

with a few nastier insults. You've a fine
talent for that if for nothing else.

James, there's no reason to scold Jamie.

For God's sake, Papa.

If you're gonna start that stuff I'll beat it.

God, Papa, I should think you'd get sick
of hearing yourself.

You mustn't mind Edmund, James.

Remember he isn't well.
A summer cold makes anyone irritable.

It's not just a cold he's got.

The kid is damn sick.

Why do you say that?

It Is just a cold, anyone can tell that.
You always imagine things

All Jamie meant is he may have
a touch of something else
which makes his cold worse.

Sure, Mama. That's all I meant.

Dr. Hardy thinks it might be a bit of malarial fever
he caught when he was in the tropics.

Dr. Hardy!

I wouldn't believe a thing he said
if he swore it on a stack of bibles.

I know what doctors are,

they're all alike, anything.

They don't care what
to keep you coming to them.

What is it?

What are you looking at?

Is my hair coming down...
or something?

There's nothing wrong with your hair.

The fatter and healthier you get,
the vainer you become.

You'll soon spend half the day
primping before the mirror.

My eyes are so bad now,
I really should have new glasses.

Your eyes are beautiful.

And well you know it.
James you mustn't be so silly.

And right in front of Jamie.
He's onto you now too.

He knows all this fuss about eyes and hair
is only fishing for compliments.
Eh, Jamie?

Yes you can't kid us, Mama.
Get along with both of you.

But I did truly have beautiful hair once.
Didn't I, James?

Most beautiful in the world

It was a rare shade of red-ish brown
and so long it came down below my knees

You ought to remember it too, Jamie.

It wasn't until after Edmund was born
that I had a single grey hair.

And that made it prettier than ever.

Will you listen to your father, Jamie.

After 35 years of marriage...
He isn't a great actor for nothing, is he?

What's come over you, James?

Are you pouring coals of fire
on my head
for teasing you about your snoring?

Well then I take it all back.
It must've been only the foghorn I heard.

Well...

I can't stay here any longer,
even to hear compliments.

I have to see the cook about dinner
and the day's marketing.

That Bridget is so lazy and so sly

she begins telling me about her relatives
so I can't get a word in edgeways
to scold her.

Well...

I may as well get it over with.

Don't make Edmund work on the grounds
with you, James, remember?

Not that he isn't strong enough
but he'd perspire
and he might catch more cold.

You're a fine lunkhead!
Haven't you any sense?

Don't you know the one thing to avoid
is saying anything
that willld get her more upset over Edmund?

All right. Have it your way.

I still think it�s the wrong
idea to let Mama go on kidding herself.

It will only make the shock worse
when she has to face it.

Anyway, you can see she�s deliberately
fooling herself with that summer cold talk.

She knows better.

Knows? Nobody knows yet.
Well, I do.

I was with Edmund when he went
to see Doc Hardy on Monday.

I heard him pull that touch of malaria stuff.
He was stalling.

That isn�t what he thinks any more.

You know it as well as I do.

You talked to him
when you went uptown yesterday,
didn�t you?

He can't say anything for sure yet.

He�s to phone me today
before Edmund goes to him.

He thinks it�s consumption, doesn�t he, Papa?

He said it might be.

That poor kid!

Goddamn it!

It might never have happened
if you�d sent him to a real doctor
when he first got sick.

What�s the matter with Hardy?
He�s always been our doctor up here.

Hardy only charges a dollar.
That�s what makes you think
he�s a fine doctor!

If you mean I can�t afford
one of the fine society doctors
who prey on the rich summer people...

Can�t afford?
You�re one of the biggest property owners
around here.

That doesn�t mean I�m rich.

If Edmund was a lousy acre of land
you wanted, the sky would be the limit.

That's a lie.

And your snears against Dr. Hardy
are lies too.

I reckon I'm a fool to argue.
You can't change the leopard's spots.

No you can't.
You've taught me that lesson only too well,
I've lost all hope you'll ever change yours.

You dare tell me what I can afford!

You've never known
the value of a dollar in your life
and you never will.

At the end of each season you're penniless.

You've thrown your salary away
every week on whores and whiskey.

My salary!? God!

More than you're worth.
You couldn't get that if it wasn't for me.

If you weren't my son,
there's not a manager in the business
would give you a part.

Your reputation stinks.
As it is, I have to humble my pride
and beg for you,

say you've turned over a new leaf,
although I know it's a lie.

I never wanted to be an actor.

You forced me on the stage.

That's a lie!
You left it to me to get you a job
and I've no influence except in the theater.

Forced you?

You never wanted to do anything
except loaf in barrooms.

After all the money I wasted
on your education...

and all you did was get fired and disgraced
from every college you went.

Well for God's sake don't drag up
that ancient history!

It's not ancient history
that you have to come back every summer
to live on me.

Well I earn my board and lodging
working on the grounds.

It saves you hiring a man.

Bah! You have to be driven
even to do that much.

I'll be damned if you ever displayed
the slightest sign of gratitude.

The only thanks is to have you sneer at me
for a dirty miser, sneer at my profession,

sneer at every damned thing in the world
except yourself.

That�s not true, Papa.

You can�t hear me talking to myself, that�s all.

If you're gonna start that stuff I'll beat it.XXX

�Ingratitude, the vilest weed that grows�!

God! I could see that line coming!

God, how many thousands of times?

All right, Papa. I�m a bum.

You�re young yet.
You could still make your mark.

You had the talent to become a fine actor.
You have it still.

You�re my son!
Let�s forget about me.

I�m not interested in the subject and neither are you.

What started us on this?

Oh, Doc Hardy!

When's he going to call you up
about Edmund?

Around lunch time.

The less you say about Edmund�s sickness,
the better for your conscience.

You�re more responsible than anyone.

That�s a lie.
I won�t stand for that, Papa.

It�s the truth.

He grew up admiring you as a hero.

If you ever gave him advice
except in the ways of rottenness,
I�ve never heard of it.

You made him old before his time,
pumping him full of what you consider
worldly wisdom,

when he was too young to see
that your mind was so poisoned
by your own failure in life,

you wanted to believe every man
was a knave with his soul for sale,

and every woman who wasn�t a whore
was a fool.

All right. All right.
I did put him wise to a few things,

but not until after I'd seen he�d started
to raise hell,

and would only laugh at me
if I pulled that good-advice, older-brother stuff.

All I did was make a pal of him
and be absolutely frank

so he�d learn from my mistakes that...

Well, that if you can�t be good
you can at least be careful.

That�s a rotten accusation, Papa.

You know how much that kid means to me,

and how close we�ve always been.

Not like the usual brothers!
I�d do anything for him.

I know you may have thought
it was for the best.

I didn�t say you did it deliberately
to harm him.

Besides it�s damned rot!

I�d like to see anyone influence Edmund
any more than he wants to be.

What had I to do with all the crazy stunts
he�s pulled in the last few years?

Working his way all over the map
as a sailor and all that stuff.

No, thanks!
I�ll stick to Broadway, and a room with a bath,

and bars that served bonded Bourbon.

You and Broadway.
It�s made you what you are.

Whatever Edmund�s done,
he�s had the guts to go off on his own,

where he couldn�t come whining to me
the moment he was broke.

He�s always come home broke finally,
hasn�t he?

And what does his going away get him?
Look at him now.

God, that�s a lousy thing to say.
I didn�t mean that.

He�s been doing well on the paper.

You used to talk about wanting to become
a newspaper man

but you were never willing
to start at the bottom, you expected...

Oh, for God's sake, Papa!
Can't you lay off me?

Damnable luck Edmund should be sick
right now.

It couldn't have come at a worse time
for him.

Or for your mother.

It's damnable she should have this
to upset her

just when she needs
peace and freedom from worry.

She's been so well in the two months
since she came home.

It's been heaven to me.

This home's been a real home again.

But I needn't tell you, Jamie.
No, I felt the same way, Papa.

Yes. She's been a different woman
entirely from the other times.

She's control of her nerves,
or she had until Edmund got sick.

Now you can feel her growing
tense and frightened underneath.

I wish to God we could keep the truth from her
but we can't if he's to be sent to a sanatorium.

What makes it worse is her father
died of consumption.

She worshipped him.
She's never forgotten it.

Yes, it'll be hard for her.

But she can do it.
She's the willpower now.

We must help her, Jamie,
in every way we can.

Of course, Papa.

Outside of nerves
she seems perfectly all right this morning.

Yes, never better,
she's full of fun and mischief.

Why do you say 'seems'?

Why shouldn't she be all right?
What the hell do you mean?

Don't start jumping down my throat.

God, Papa.

This ought to be one thing
we can talk over, frankly,
without a battle.

I'm sorry Jamie.

But go on and tell me.
There's nothing to tell. I was all wrong.

It's just that... last night...

Well, you know how it is, Papa...

I can't forget the past.

I can't help being suspicious any more
than you can.

That's the hell of it.
And it makes it hell for Mama.

She watches us watching her.
I know.

Well what was it?

Can't you speak out?

Around 3 o'clock this morning,

I woke up and I heard Mama
moving around in the spare room.

Then she went to the bathroom.

Now, I pretended to be asleep

and she stopped outside in the hall
to listen as if she wanted to make sure I was.

For God's sake! Is that all?

She told me herself the foghorn
kept her awake all last night.

And every night since
Edmund's been sick she's been up and down

going to his room to see how he was.

Yes, that's right.
She did stop to listen outside his room.

But it was her being in the spare room
that scared me.

Papa,

I can't help remembering
that when she starts sleeping alone
in there

it's always been a sign.

But it isn't this time. It's easily explained.

Where else could she go last night
to get away from my snoring?

How you can live with a mind

that sees nothing but the
worst motives behind everything
is beyond me.

Don't pull that.
I've just said I was all wrong.

I suppose I'm as glad of that as you are.

Yes, yes. I'm sure you are, Jamie.

It's been like a curse she can't escape
if worry over Edmund.

It was her long sickness
after bringing him into the world
that she first...

She didn't have anything to do with it.

I'm not blaming her.

Well who are you blaming?
Edmund, for being born?

You damn fool, no one was to blame.

That bastard of a doctor was.

From what Mama said
he was another cheap quack like Hardy.

You wouldn't pay for a first class doctor.
You liar!

So I'm to blame, am I?
That's what you're driving at.

You evil minded loafer.

What were you two arguing about?
Same old stuff.

I heard you say something about a doctor.

And your father accusing you
of being evil minded.

Oh That?
Well I was just saying again that Doc Hardy

isn't my idea of the world's
greatest physician.
Oh.

No, no. I wouldn't say he was either.

That Bridget.
I thought I'd never get away.

She told me all about her second cousin
on the police force in St. Louis.

Well if you're going to work
on the hedge, why don't you go?

I mean... take advantage of the sunshine
before the fog comes back.

Because... I know it will.

That is, the rheumatism in my hands
knows it.

It's a better weather prophet
than you are James.

How ugly they are.

Who would ever believe
they were once beautiful.

Now now, Mary. None of that foolishness.

They're the sweetest hands in the world.

Come on, Jamie.

The way to start work is to start work.

The hot sun will sweat
some of that booze fat off your middle.

We're all so proud of you, Mama,
and so darn happy.

But you've still got to be careful.

I mean you mustn't worry
so much about Edmund.
He'll be all right.

Of couse he'll be all right

And I don't know what you mean.

Warning me to be careful...

All right, Mama. I'm sorry I spoke.

Here you are!

I was just going upstairs
to look for you.

I didn't want to mix up in any arguments.

I feel too rotten.

I'm sure you don't feel half as badly
as you make out.
You're such a baby.

You like to get us worried
so we'll make a fuss over you.

No, no. I'm only teasing you, dear.
I know how miserably uncomfortable
you must be.

But you feel better today, don't you?

All the same you've grown much too thin.
Come on, sit down.

All you need is your mother
to nurse you.

Because you are,
you're still the baby of the family
to me, you know?

Never mind me.
You take care of yourself.
That's all that counts.

But I am.

Heavens, don't you see how fat
I've grown?

I'll have to have all my dresses
let out.

They started clipping the hedge.

Poor Jamie.

How he hates working in front
where everyone passing can see him.

Not that I want anything to do with them.

I've always hated this place and everyone in it.

But your father liked it

and insisted on building this house and

I've had to come here every summer.

It was wrong from the start.
Everything was done in the cheapest
possible way.

Your father would never spend the money
to make it right.

It's just as well we haven't any friends.

I'd be ashamed to have them step
in the door.

But your father has never wanted
family friends.

All he likes is to hobnob with men,
in barrooms or at the club.

You and Jamie are the same way.
But you're not to blame.

I know it's useless to talk but...

sometimes I feel so lonely.

You've got to be fair, Mama.

It may have been all his fault
in the beggining

but you know that later on,
even if he'd wanted to,
we couldn't have had people here.

Don't. I can't bear having you remind...

Don't take it that way, please, Mama.
I'm trying to help.

Because it's bad for you to forget,

the right way is to remember.
Then you'll always be on your guard.

I don't understand
why you should suddenly say such things.

What put it in your mind this morning?

Nothing, it just... well,
because I feel rotten and blue, I suppose.

Tell me the truth.

Why you so suspicious all of a sudden?

I'm not.

Yes you are, I feel it.

Your father and Jamie too, particularly.

Now don't start imagining things, Mama.

It makes it so much harder
living in this atmosphere of constant suspicion,

knowing everyone is spying on me,
that none of you believe in me or trust me.

That's crazy, Mama,
we do trust you.

If there was only some place I could go
to get away for a day

or even an afternoon,

some woman friend I could talk to

not about anything serious,
simply laugh and gossip
and forget for a while.

Someone besides the servants,
that stupid Cathleen.

Stop it Mama, you're getting yourself
worked up over nothing.

Your father goes out,
he meets his friends in barrooms
or at the club.

You and Jamie have the boys.
You know, you go out.

But I'm alone, I've always been alone.

Come on, now. You know that's a fib.

One of us always stays around
to keep you company.

Because you're afraid to trust me alone.

I insist you tell me why you...

act so differently this morning.

Why you felt you had to remind me.

It's stupid,

it's just because I wasn't asleep
when you came into my room last night.

You didn't go back to your and Papa's room.

You went into the spare room
for the rest of the night.

Because your father's snoring
was driving me crazy.

For heaven's sake!

Haven't I often used the spare room
as my bedroom?

But I... I...

I see what you thought,
that was..

I didn't think...
Well I...

So... you were...

you were pretending to be asleep,
in order to spy on me.

No, I did it because I knew if you found out
I was feverish and couldn't sleep
it would upset you.

Jamie was pretending to be asleep too,
I'm sure.

And I suppose your father...
Stop it, Mama

Oh, Edmund!
I can't bear it when even you...

It would serve all of you right if it was true.

Mama, don't say that! That's the way you...
Stop suspecting me!

Please, dear.

You hurt me.

I couldn't sleep because I was thinking
about you.

That's the real reason.

I've been so worried ever since
you got sick.

That's foolishness.
You know it's just a bad cold.

Yes, yes, of course, I know that.

But listen, Mama.
I want you to promise me...

that even if it should turn out
to be something worse

you know I'll soon be all right
again anyway.
No, no!

And you won't worry yourself sick
about it and you'll keep on taking care
of yourself.

No, no! I won't listen when you're so silly.

There's absolutely no reason to talk
as if you expected something dreadful.

Of course I promise you.
I give you my sacred word of honor.

But I suppose you're remembering...

I've promised before.

I've no word of honor.

No.

I'm not blaming you, dear.

How can you help it?
How can any of us forget?

That's what makes it so hard for all of us.
We can't forget.

Stop it, Mama.

All right, dear. I didn't mean to be so gloomy.
Don't mind me.

Here, let me feel your head.

Well! It's nice and cool.

You certainly haven't any fever now.
Forget me, it's you.

But I'm quite all right, dear.
Except I naturally feel...

tired and nervous this morning
after such a bad night.

I really ought to go upstairs...

and lie down until lunch time
and take a nap.

What are you gonna do?
Read? Here?

It'd be much better for you if you...

went out in the fresh air... sunshine.

Don't get overheated, remember.

Be sure and wear a hat.

Or are you afraid to trust me alone?

Can't you stop talking like that?

I think you ought to take a nap.

I'll go out and help Jamie bear up.

I love to lie in the shade and watch him work.

It'll be lunch time soon.
Will I call your father and Mr Jamie
or will you?

You do it.

Oh, and you'd better call my mother too.

What for?
She's always on time without any calling.

God bless her she has some consideration
for the help.

She's taking a nap.

She wasn't asleep when I finished my work
upstairs a while back.

She was lying down in the spare room
with her eyes wide open.

She had a terrible headache, she said.

Oh well then... just call my father.

No wonder my feet kill me each night.

Mr Tyrone! Mr Jamie! It's time!

Sneaking one, eh?

Cut out the bluff, kid.
You're a rottener actor than I am.

Grabbing while the going was good.

Why don't you sneak one
while you got a chance?

Yeah, I was thinking of that little thing.

Hey, the old man was out there
talking to old Captain Turner.

Yep, he's still at it.

You don't think that'll fool him,
do you?

Well, maybe not...

but he can't prove it.

God, I hope he doesn't forget lunch
listening to himself talk.

I'm hungry.

That's what I hate working out
down at the front.

Puts on an act for every damn fool
that comes along.

You're in luck to be hungry.

The way I feel I don't care
if I ever eat again.

Look, kid...

you know I never lectured you

but Doc Hardy was right
when he told you to cut out the red eye.

Well I'm going to after he hands me
the bad news this afternoon.

A few before then
won't make any difference.

Jamie... what do you think it is?

How the hell would I know?
I'm no doc.

Where's Mama?

Upstairs.

When did she go up?

Oh about the time you started working
on the hedge, I guess.

She said she was going to take a nap.

You didn't tell me.
Why should I? What about it?

She was tired out,
she didn't get much sleep last night.
Yeah I know she didn't.

Damn foghorn kept me awake too.

She's been upstairs alone all morning...
you haven't seen her?

No, I was reading.
I wanted to give her a chance to sleep.

Is she coming down to lunch?

Of course.

No, no "of course" about it.

She might not want any lunch or she might
start having her meals alone upstairs.

Cut out the...
Well it's happened, hasn't it?
Can't you think of...

You're all wrong to suspect anything.

Cathleen saw her not long ago.
Mama didn't tell her she wouldn't be down
for lunch.

Then she wasn't taking a nap.

No, not right then.
But she was lying down, Cathleen said.

In the spare room?
Yes! For Pete's sake, what of it?

You damn fool!
Why did you leave her alone so long?
Why didn't you stick around?

Because she accused me and you and Papa
of spying on her all the time
and not trusting her.

She made me feel ashamed.

I know how rotten it must be for her.

And she promised
on her sacred word of honor.

Well you ought to know that doesn't mean...

It does this time.
That's what we though the other times.

Aw, look, kid, I know you think
I'm a cynical bastard

but remember I've seen more of this game
than you have.

You never knew what was really wrong
until you were in prep school.

Papa and I kept it from you.

I was wise ten years or more
before we had to tell you.

I know this game backward

and I've been thinking all morning of the way
she acted last night

when she thought we were asleep.

I haven't been able to think of anything else

and now you tell me she got you
to leave her alone upstairs all morning.

All right, kid.
Don't start a battle with me.

I hope as much as you do I'm crazy.

You know I've been happy as hell
because I'd really begun to believe
that this time...

She's coming downstairs. You win on that one.

I guess I was a damn suspicious louse.

Damn it, I wish I'd grabbed
another drink.

You mustn't cough like that.
It's bad for your throat.

You don't want to get a sore throat
on top of your cold do you?

But I seem always to be picking on you
telling you "don't do this",

"don't do that".
Forgive me, dear, it's just that I want
to take care of you.

Oh I know that.
What about you, do you feel rested?

Ever so much better.

I've been lying down ever since
you went out.

It's what I needed after such a restless night.
I don't feel nervous now.

That's fine.

Good heavens! How down in the mouth
you look you look, Jamie.
What's the matter now?

Nothing.

Oh, I'd forgotten.

You've been working on the front hedge.

that always accounts for your sinking
into the dumps, doesn't it?

If you wanna think so, Mama.

Well that's the effect it always has,
isn't it?

What a big baby you are.
Isn't he, Edmund?

He's certainly a fool to care
what anyone thinks.

Yes.

The only way is to make yourself not care.

Where's your father?

I heard Cathleen call him.

She's down there now,
interrupting the famous beautiful voice.

She should have more respect.

It's you who should have more respect.

You, who thanks to him
have never had to work hard in your life.

Remember, your father is getting old, Jamie.

You really ought to show more consideration.

I'm hungry, I wish that old man
would get a move on.

It's a rotten trick the way he keeps
meals waiting

and then beefs because they're spoiled.

Very trying, Jamie.
You don't know how trying.

You don�t have to keep house
with summer servants

who don't care because...

because they know it isn't
a permanent position.

Your father will never even pay the wages
the best summer help ask.

So every year I have stupid, lazy greenhorns
to deal with.

But you've heard me say this
a thousand times.

What makes you ramble on
like that, Mama?

I don't know, nothing in particular, dear.
It's foolish of me.

Lunch is ready, ma'am.
I went down to Mr Tyrone
like you ordered

and he said he'd come right away but...

All right Cathleen. Tell Bridget I'm sorry

but she'll have to wait a few minutes
until Mr Tyrone is here.

Yes. ma'am.

Goddamn it, why don't you go in
without him? He's told us to.

He doesn't mean it.

Don't you know your father yet?
He'd be so terribly hurt.

I'll...

I'll go make him get a move on.

Why do you stare like that?

You know.
I don't know.

For God's sake, Mama,

you think you can fool me?
I'm not blind.

I don't know what you're talking about.

No?

Take a look at your eyes, Mama.

I got Papa moving.

He'll be here in a minute.

What's the matter?

What happened, Mama?

Your brother ought to be ashamed of himself.
He's been insinuating I don't know what.

Goddamn you!
Stop it at once, do you hear?

He's a liar!

It's a lie isn't it, Mama?
What's a lie?

Edmund, don't.

Here comes your father up the steps.
I must warn Bridget.

Well?

Well... what?

You're a liar.

Sorry I'm late.

Captain Turner stopped to talk.

Once he starts gabbing
you can't get away from him.

You ought to say once he starts listening.

It's all right,
the level of the bottle hasn't changed.

I wasn't noticing that.

As if it proved anything with you about.
I'm on to your tricks.

Did I hear you say "let's all have a drink"?

Jamie's welcome after his hard
morning's work

but I won't invite you. Doctor Hardy...
To hell with Doc Hardy.

One isn't going to kill me.

I feel all in, Papa.
Well come along then, it's before a meal.

I've always found that good whiskey,
taken in moderation as an appetizer

is the best of tonics. I said "in moderation".

It'd be a waste of breath mentioning
moderation to you.

Well... here's to health and happiness.

That's a joke!

What is?

Nothing. Here's how

Well what's the matter here?

There's gloom in the air
you could cut with a knife.

You got the drink you were after,
didn't you?

Why are you wearing that gloomy look on your mug?

You won't be singing a song yourself soon.
Shut up, Jamie!

I thought lunch was ready.

I'm hungry as a hunter.
Where's your mother?

Here I am.
I had to calm down Bridget.

She's in a tantrum over you being late again
and I don't blame her.

If your lunch is dried up
from waiting in the oven

she said you could like it or leave
it for all she cared

I'm so sick and tired of pretending
this is a home!

You won't help me.
You won't put yourself out the least bit.

You don't know how to act in a home,
you don't even want one.

You've never have wanted one
not since we were married.

You should have remained a bachelor
and lived in second rate hotels.

Entertained your friends in barrooms
and nothing ever would've happened...
Mama!

Stop talking.

Why don't we go in to lunch?

Yes. Yes.

It is inconsiderate of me to dig up the past

when I know your father and Jamie
must be hungry.

I do hope you have an appetite, dear.
You really must eat more...

Why is that glass there?

Did you have a drink?
How can you be such a fool?

You're to blame James.

How could you let him?
Do you want to kill him?

Don't you remember my father?

He wouldn't stop after he was stricken.

he said doctors were fools,
he thought like you
that whiskey is a good tonic...

But of course, there... there's no comparison...

...at all, is there?

I don't know why I...

Forgive me for scolding you, James.

One small drink won't hurt Edmund.

Might be good for him.
If it gives him an appetite.

For God's sake, let's eat.

Come on, kid. Let's put on the feed bag.
Yes.

You go in with your mother, lads.
I'll join you in a second.

Why do you look at me like that?

Please stop staring, James.
One would think you're accusing me.

James...

you don't understand.

I understand that I've been
a goddamn fool to believe in you.

I don't know what you mean
by believing in me.

All I felt was distrust, and spying,
and suspicion.

Why are you having another drink?

You never have
more than one drink before lunch.

Well, I know what to expect.
You'll be drunk tonight.

And it won't be the first time, will it?
Or the thousandth.

James... please... please...

...you don't understand...

I've been so worried... so worried about Edmund.
I'm so afraid.

I don't want to listen to your excuses, Mary.
Excuses?

You... you mean... You couldn't believe
that of me.

You mustn't believe that, James. No.

Shall we now go in to lunch, dear?

I don't want anything,
but I know you must be hungry.

James...

I tried... so hard.

I tried so hard!

Please, believe me.
Yes, I suppose you did, Mary.

But for the love of God,
why couldn't you have the strength
to keep on?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Have the strength to keep on what?

Never mind.

It's no use now.

It's unreasonable to expect Bridget
and Cathleen to act as if this were home,

they know it isn't as well as we know it.

Never has been and never will be.

No, it never can be now,
but it was once before you...

Before I what?

No, no, dear.
Whatever you say, it isn't true.

It was never a home.

You've always prefered the club
or a barroom.

And for me, it's...

always been as lonely as a dirty room
in a one-night-stand hotel.

I'm worried about you, Edmund.

Edmund. You hardly touched anything.

It's alright for me not to have an appetite.
I've been growing too fat but...

...you must eat.

Promise me you will, dear,
for my sake.

Yes, Mama.
That's a good boy.

I'll answer. Maguire said he'd call.

Hello.

How are you, doctor?

I see.

Well, you'll explain all about it
when you see him this afternoon.

Yes, he'll be with you without fail
at 4 o'clock.

Yes.

Yes.

Goodbye. Goodbye, doctor.

Well, that didn't sound like glad tidings.

It was Doctor Hardy.

He wants you to be sure
and see him at 4 this afternoon.

What did he say?
Not that I give a damn.

Dr Hardy! I wouldn't believe him
if he swore on a stack of bibles.

Don't pay attention to a word
he says, Edmund.
Mary!

We all know why you like him, James.
Because he's cheap.

Please don't try to tell me,
I know all about Doctor Hardy.

Heaven knows I ought to
after all these years.

He's an ignorant fool.
Should be a law to keep man like him
from practicing.

He hasn't the slightest idea...

When you're in agony and half insane

he sits and holds your hand
and delivers sermons on willpower.

He deliberately humiliates you.

He makes you beg and plead.
He treats you like a criminal.

He understands nothing!

And yet it was exactly the same type
of cheap quack
who first gave you the medicine

and you never knew what it was until it was too late.

I hate doctors!
For Christ's sake, Mama! Stop talking.

Yes Mary, it's no time to...
You're... quite right dear, forgive me.

It's useless to be angry now.

I'm going upstairs... for a moment.

If you'll excuse me.

I have to fix my hair.

That is, if I can find my glasses.

I'll be right down.
Mary.

Yes dear, what is it?

Nothing.

You're welcome to come up
and watch me if you're so suspicious.

As if that could do any good.
You'd only postpone it.

I'm not your jailor, this isn't a prison.

No, I know you can't help thinking
it's a home.

I'm sorry, dear.

I don't mean to be bitter.

It's not your fault.

Another shot in the arm.
Cut out that kind of talk.

Yes, hold your foul tongue
and your rotten Broadway loafers lingo.

Have you no pity or decency?

You ought to be thrown out
into the gutter.

If I did it, you know damn well
who'd weep for you,

and plead for you, and excuse you,
and complain until I let you come back.

God! Don't I know that?

No pity?

I have all the pity in the world for her

because I understand what a
hard game to beat she's up against.

Which is more than you ever had.

All the cures are no damn good
except for a while.

The truth is there is no cure and
we've been saps to hope.

They never come back.
"They never come back"

Everything's in the bag,

it's all a frame up. We're all fall guys
and suckers and we can't beat the game.

God, if I felt the way you do...
I thought you did!

Your poetry isn't very cheery.
Nor the stuff you read and claim to admire.

Shut up, both of you!

There's little choice between the philosophy you
learn from Broadway loafers

and the one Edmund got from his books.

They're both rotten to the core.

You both flaunted the faith you were
born and brought up in.

The one true faith of the Catholic Church.

And your denial has brought nothing
but self-destruction.

That's the bunk, Papa.

We don't pretend at any rate.

I don't notice you've
worn any holes in the knees of your pants
going to mass.

It's true, I'm a bad Catholic
in the observance. God forgive me.

But I believe.

And you're a liar.

I may not go to church but every night
and morning of my life

I get on my knees and pray.

Did you pray for Mama?

I did.

I've prayed to God these many years
for her.

But what's the good of talk?

Only, I wish she hadn't led me
into hope this time.

By God! I never will again.

That's a rotten thing to say, Papa.

Well, I'll hope. She's only just started.

It can't have got a hold on her yet,
she can still stop.

You can't talk to her now.
She'll listen, but she won't listen.

Yes, every day from now on will be
the same drifting away from us

until at the end of each night...

Cut it out, Papa!

I'll go up and get dressed.

I'll make so much noise she can't suspect
I've come up to spy on her.

What did Doc Hardy say about the kid?

It's what you thought.
He's got consumption.

Damn it!
There's no possible doubt, he says.

Oh, well, he'll have to go to a sanatorium.

Yes. The sooner the better, Hardy says,
for him and everyone around him.

He claims, in six months to a year,
Edmund will be cured if he obeys orders.

Who would have thought a child of mine?

Doesn't come from my side of the family.

Wasn't one of us that didn't have lungs
as strong as an ox.

Who gives a damn about that part of it?

Where does Hardy want to send him?

That's what I have to see him about.

Well, for God's sake, pick out a good place
and not some cheap dump.

I'll send him wherever Hardy thinks best.

Well don't give Hardy your old over-the-hills-to-
the-poor-house song about taxes and mortgages.

I'm no millionaire that can throw money away.

Why shouldn't I tell Hardy the truth?

Because he'll think you want him
to pick a cheap dump.

And because he'll know it isn't the truth.

Especially if he hears afterwards
you've seen McGuire

and let that flannel-mouth, gold-brick merchant
sting you with another piece of bum property!

Keep your nose out of my business.
This is Edmund's business.

What I'm afraid of is,
with your Irish bogtrotter idea
that consumption is fatal

you'll figure it's a waste of money
to spend any more than you can help.

You liar!
All right, prove I'm a liar.

That's what I want, that's why I brought it up.

I have every hope Edmund will be cured

and keep your dirty tongue off Ireland.

You're a fine one to sneer
with a map of it on your face.

Not after I wash my face.

Well, I've said all I have to say.
It's up to you.

What do you want me to do this afternoon
now you're going uptown?

I've done all I can do on the hedge
until you cut more of it

and you don't want me to go ahead
with your clipping, I know that.

No, you'd get it crooked.
Like you get everything else.

Well I'd better go uptown
with Edmund then.

Bad news coming on top of what's happened
to Mama may hit him hard.

Yes, go with him, Jamie.

Keep up his spirits if you can.

If you can without making it an excuse
to get drunk.

What would I use for money?

The last I heard they were still
selling booze, not giving it away.

I'll get dressed.

You haven't seen my glasses anywhere,
have you, Jamie?

You haven't seen them, have you, James?
No, my dear.

What's the matter with Jamie?
Have you been nagging at him again?

You really shouldn't treat him
with such contempt all the time.

He's not to blame,
If he'd been brought up in a real home
I'm sure it would have been dif...

You're not much of a weather prophet, James.

See how hazy it's getting.

I can hardly see the other shore.

Yes, I spoke too soon.
We're in for another night of fog,
I'm afraid.

Well, I won't mind it tonight.

No, I don't imagine you will, Mary.

I don't... see Jamie

going down to the hedge.

Where did he go?

He's going with Edmund to the doctor's.
He went upstairs to change his clothes.

I have to do the same
or I'll be late for my appointment.
Please, wait a little while.

At least until one of the boys
comes down.

You'll all be leaving me so soon.

It's you who are leaving us, Mary.

Well that's a silly thing to say, James.
How could I leave?

There's nowhere I could go.
Who would I go to see?

I have no friends.
That's your own fault.

Surely there's something you could do this
afternoon that would be good for you, Mary.

Take a drive in the automobile.
Get away from the house.
Get a little sun and fresh air.

I bought the automobile for you.
You know I don't care for the damn things.
I'd rather walk any day or take the trolly.

I had it here waiting for you when
you came back from the sanatorium.

I thought it would give you pleasure
and distract your mind.

You used to ride in it every day.
You've hardly use it at all lately.

Paid more money than I can afford.

There's the chauffeur...

I've had to feed and board him, pay
high wages whether he drives you or not.

Waste!

Same old waste that will land me
in the poor house at my old age.

What good has it done you?

I might as well have thrown the money
out the window.

It was a waste of money, James.

You shouldn't have bought
a second-hand automobile.

You were swindled again.

As you always are because
you insist on second-hand bargains in everything.

It's one of the best makes.
You're as bad as Jamie. Suspecting everyone.

No, you mustn't be offended James.

I wasn't offended
when you gave me the automobile.

I knew that was the way you had
to do everything.

I was grateful and touched.
I knew that buying the car was a...

was a hard thing for you to do.

But it showed how much you love me...
in your way.

Especially as you couldn't really believe
it would do me any good.
Mary, dear Mary.

For the love of God. For the boys sake,
for my sake and for your own,
won't you stop, now?

Stop what? What are you talking about?

James...

James we've loved each other, we always will.

Let's remember only that and not try
to understand

what we cannot understand
or help things that cannot be helped.

The things life has done to us,
we cannot excuse or explain.

You won't even try?

Try... try to go for a drive?
This afternoon, dear?

Yes...yes, I will if you wish it.

Although it makes me feel lonelier
than if I stayed here.

There's no one I can invite to drive with me.
I never know where to tell Smythe to go.

If there was only some friend's house
where I could...

drop in, laugh and gossip for a while.
But, of course, there isn't.

Never has been.

At the convent, I had so many friends.

Naturally, after I married an actor,

well, you know how actors were considered
in those days. And then of course...

right after we were married
there was the scandal of...

of that... woman who...

had been your mistress suing you.

From then on all my old friends
either pitied me or cut me dead.

I hated the ones that cut me dead...

much less than the pitiers.

Mary, for God's sake,
don't dig up what's long forgotten.

If you're that far gone in the past
already

when it's only the beggining
of the afternoon, what will you be tonight?

Come to think of it,
I do have to drive uptown.

There's something I must get
at the drugstore.

Yes. Leave it to you
to have some of the stuff hidden
and prescriptions for more.

Well, I hope you'll lay in a good stock
ahead

so we'll never have another night like
the one when you screamed for it,

and ran out of the house in your nightdress

half crazy to try and throw yourself
off that dock.

I have to get tooth powder...

and toilet soap...

and cold cream.

You mustn't remember,
you mustn't humiliate me so!
Forgive me.

I'm sorry, Mary.

It doesn't matter, nothing like that
ever happened. You must've dreamed it.

I... I was so... so healthy

before Edmund was born.

Do you remember, James?

There wasn't a nerve in my body.

Even travelling with you,
season after season, bearing children
in hotel rooms,

I still kept healthy.

But bearing Edmund was the last straw.

I was so sick afterwards.

And that ignorant quack
of a cheap hotel doctor

all he knew was I was in pain.
It was easy for him to stop the pain.

Mary, for God's sake, forget the past.

How can I? The past is the present.
It's the future too, isn't it?

I blame only myself.

I swore after Eugene died
I would never have another baby.

I was to blame for his death.

If...

If I hadn't left him with my mother

to join you on the road
because you wrote telling me you missed me
and were so lonely,

Jamie would never have been allowed,
when he still had measels,
to go into the baby's room.

I always believed Jamie did it on purpose.
He was jealous of the baby, he hated him.

I know Jamie was only seven
but he was never stupid.

He'd been warned it might kill the baby.

He knew.

I've never been able to forgive him
for that.

Are you back to Eugene now?
Can't you let our dead baby rest in peace?

Above all... above all...

I should never have let you insist
that I have another baby
to take Eugene's place.

I was afraid.

All the time I carried Edmund

I knew something terrible would happen.

I knew I'd proved by the way I left Eugene
that I wasn't worthy to have another baby.

And that God would punish me if I did.

I should never have born Edmund.

Mary, be careful with your talk.
If he heard you he might think
you never wanted him.

For God's sake, try and be yourself.
You can do that much for him.

There you are.
You look spic-and-span.

I'm on my way up to change too.

Wait a minute, Papa.

I hate to bring up disagreeable topics,
but there's the matter of car fare.

I'm broke.
You'll always be broke until
you learn the value...

...but you've been learning, lad.

You worked hard before you took ill.

You've done splendidly.
I'm proud of you.

Thank you.

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to...

"...have a thankless child", I know.
Give me a chance, Papa. I'm knocked speechless.

This isn't a dollar, it's a ten spot.

But why all of a sudden? Did Doc Hardy
tell you I was going to die?

That's a rotten crack.
I was just kidding, Papa.

I'm very grateful. Honest, Papa.
You're welcome, lad.

I won't have it! Do you hear?
Such morbid nonsense.

Saying you're going to die.

You'd think you didn't want to live.
A boy of your age
with everything before him.

It's just a pose you get out of books.
You're not really sick at all.

Mary, hold your tongue!
But, James, it's absurd of Edmund
to be so gloomy

and to make such a great to-do
about nothing.

But never mind dear, I'm on to you.

You want to be petted and spoiled
and made a fuss over, isn't that it?

You're still such a baby.

But please, don't carry it too far, dear.

Don't say horrible things.

I know it's foolish to take them seriously

but I can't help it.
You've got me so frightened!

I believe you ought to ask your mother
now what you said you were going to.

My God! Look at the time.
I have to shake a leg.

How do you feel?

Your head's a little hot...
but that's just from going out in the sun.

You look ever so much better
than you did this morning.

Come and sit down.

Listen, Mama...
No, no, now, don't talk.

Sit down. Lean back.

And rest.

It's such a tiring trip uptown
in the dirty old trolley
on a hot day like this.

You'll be ever so much better off
here with me.

Listen, Mama...
You could telephone Hardy.

Tell him you don't feel well enough.

The old idiot, all he knows about medicine
is to look solemn and preach willpower.
Listen, Mama...

I want to ask you something.

You can still stop.

You've only just started,
you've got the willpower.

We'll all help you, I'll do anything.

Won't you, Mama?

Please don't talk about things
you don't understand.

All right I give up. I knew it was no use.

Anyway I don't know what you're referring to
but I do know you should be the last one...

Right after I returned from the sanatorium
you began to be ill.

But after they warned me I must have
peace at home
with nothing to upset me

all I've done is worry about you.

But that's no excuse.

I'm only trying to explain,
it's not an excuse.

Promise me dear you won't believe
I made you an excuse.

What else can I believe?

Nothing. I don't blame you.

How can you believe me
when I can't believe myself?

I've become such a liar.

I never lied about anything
once upon a time.

Now I have to lie, especially to myself.

But how can you understand...

when I can't understand myself?

I've never understood
anything about it, except that

one day, long ago...

I found I could no longer call my soul
my own.

But someday, dear...

I'll find it again.

Someday when you're all well.

And I see you healthy
and happy and sucessful.

And I don't have to feel guilty anymore.

Someday...

when the blessed Virgin Mary forgives me.

And gives me back

the faith in her love and pity
I used to have in my convent days.

And I can pray to her again.

When she sees...

no one can believe in me
even for a moment anymore,

then she will believe in me.

And with her help it will be so easy.

I will hear myself scream with agony
and at the same time I will laugh

because I'll be so sure of myself.

Well... But of course
you can't believe that either, can you?

Now I think of it

you might as well go uptown.

I forgot. I'm taking a drive.

I have to go to the drugstore

and you'd hardly want to go there
with me, would you?
You'd be so ashamed.

Mama, don't...

I suppose you'll divide that $10
your father gave you with Jamie.

You always divide with each other,
don't you? Like good sports.

I know what he'll do with his share.
Get drunk someplace

where he can be with the only kind
of woman he understands or likes.

Edmund...

promise me you won't drink.

It's so dangerous.

You know doctor Hardy...
I thought he was an old idiot...

Edmund...

Come on, kid. Let's beat it.

Go on, Edmund.
Jamie's calling.

There comes your father
down the stairs too.

Come on, Edmund.
Goodbye, Mary.

If you're coming home to dinner
try not to be late.

Tell your father.
You know how Bridget is.

Goodbye.
Goodbye, Mama.

So lonely here.

You're lying to yourself again.

You wanted to get rid of them.

Their contempt and disgust
aren't pleasant company.

You're glad they've gone.

Then mother of God...

why do I feel so lonely?

That foghorn...

Isn't it awful, Cathleen?

It is indeed, ma'am.

It wasn't the fog I minded.
I really love fog.

They say it's good for the complexion.

It hides you from the world
and the world from you.

You feel everything has changed,
nothing is what it seemed to be.

No one can find or touch you
anymore.

I was scared out of my wits
riding back from town.

You couldn't see your hand
in front of you.

It's the foghorn I hate.

It won't let you alone.

It keeps reminding you, calling...
and calling you back.

But it can't tonight,
it's just an ugly sound.

It's...

It doesn't remind me of anything,
except perhaps Mr Tyrone's snores.

I've had such fun teasing him about it.

He's always snored...

ever since I can remember,
especially when he's had too much to drink.

And yet he's like a child.
He doesn't like to admit it.

Well, I suppose I snore at times too
and I don't like to admit it.

So I've no right to make fun of him,
have I?

Sure everybody healthy snores.
It's a sign of sanity, they say.

What time is it, ma'am?
I ought to be getting back into the kitchen.

No, don't go, Cathleen.
I don't want to be alone...

...yet.
You won't be for long.

The master and the boys
will be home soon.

I doubt if they'll come home for dinner.

They have too good an excuse...

to remain in the barrooms where
they feel at home.

Have a drink yourself, Cathleen,
if you wish.

Well, I don't know if I'd better, ma'am.

Well, maybe one won't harm.

Here's to your good health, ma'am.

I really did have good health once,
Cathleen.

But that was long ago.

For God's sake, ma'am,
it'll be half water.

He'll know by the taste.

By the time he gets home

he'll be too drunk to tell the difference.

He has such a good an excuse,
he believes, to drown his sorrows.

Well, it's a good man's failing...

never mind his weakness.
I don't mind, I've loved him dearly
for thirty-six years.

That's right, ma'am. Love him dearly...

for any fool can see he worships
the ground you walk on.

Speaking of acting ma'am...
how is it you never went on the stage?

What... I?

What put that absurd idea in your head?

I was brought up in a respectable home

and educated in the best convent
in the Middle West before I met Mr Tyrone.

I hardly knew there was such a thing
as the theater.
I was a very pious girl.

I even dreamed of becoming a nun.

I never had the slightest desire
to be an actress.

But I'd never think of you being
a holy nun, ma'am.

Sure to God you'd never darken the door
of a church, God forgive me.

I never felt at home in the theater.

Even though Mr Tyrone
has made me go with him on all his tours.

I've had little to do with the people
in his company.

Not that I had anything against them.

They were always
very kind to to me and I to them but...

their life was not my life.

It's always stood between me and...

and...

But let's not talk about old things
that could not be helped.

How thick the fog is.

I can't see the road.

All the people in the world
could pass by...

and I would never know.

I wish it was always that way.

It's getting dark already.
It'll soon be night.

Thank goodness.

It was kind of you to keep me company
this afternoon, Cathleen.

I should have been lonely driving up...
driving uptown alone.

Shouldn't I rather ride
in a fine automobile than stay here?

It's like a vacation, ma'am.

There's only one thing I didn't like.
What was that, Cathleen?

The way the man in the drugstore acted
when I took in the prescription for you.

The impudence of him.

I don't know what you're talking about.

What drugstore? What prescrip...

Oh, yes...

Of course, I'd forgotten.

The medicine for the... rheumatism...

in my hands.

What did the man say?

Not that it matters,
so long as he filled the prescription.

Oh, it mattered to me, ma'am.
I'm not used to being treated like a thief.

He gave me a long look

and said insultingly:
"Where did you get hold of this?"

"Well", I says, "it's none of your damn business"

but if you must know,
it's for the lady I work for

Mrs. Tyrone, who's sitting out there
in the automobile."

That shut him up quick.

He gave a long look out
and said "Ohh"

and went to get the medicine.

Yes... he knows me.

I have to take it

because there is no other that can
stop the pain.

All the pain.
I mean in my hands.

Poor hands.

You'll never believe it but they...
they were once one of my good points

along with my hair... and eyes.

I had a fine figure too.

They were a musician's hands.

I used to love the piano.

I worked so hard at my music
at the convent.

Mother Elizabeth and my music teacher
both said

I had more talent than any student
they remembered.

My father payed for special lessons.

He spoiled me.
He would've sent me to Europe to study

after I'd graduated from the convent.

I might have gone if I hadn't fallen in love
with Mr. Tyrone or I might have become a nun.

I had two dreams.

To be a nun...

that was the more beautiful one.

To be a concert pianist.

That was the other.

I haven't touched the piano
in so many years.

I couldn't play now with such
crippled fingers even if I wanted to.

For a time after my marriage I tried
to keep up my music but it was hopeless.

One night stands,
cheap hotels,

dirty trains, leaving children,
never having a home.

See... Cathleen?

How ugly they are, so maimed
and crippled.

You'd think they've been through
some horrible accident.

So they have, come to think of it.

I won't look at them. They are worse
than the foghorn for reminding me.

But even they can't hurt me now.

They're far away.

I see them...

but the pain is gone.

You've taken some of that medicine?

If I didn't know better I'd think
you'd a drop taken.

It kills the pain.

You go back...

until at last you're beyond it's reach.

Only the parts when you were happy is real.

If you think Mr Tyrone is handsome now,
Cathleen,

you should have seen him when
I first met him.

He had a reputation of being
one of the handsomest men in the country.

Girls at the convent who'd seen him act or
seen his photographs used to rave about him.

He was a great matin�e idol then.

Women used to wait at the stage door
just to see him come out.

You can imagine how...

excited I was when my father wrote telling me
he and James Tyrone had become friends

and I was to meet him

when I went home for my Easter vacation.

I showed the letter to all the girls.

How envious they were.

My father took me to see him act first.
It was a play about the French Revolution

and the leading character was a nobleman.

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

I wept...

when he was thrown in prison and then was
so mad

because I was afraid my eyes
and nose would be red.

My father had said we would go backstage
to his dressing room
right after the play and so we did.

I guess my eyes and nose
couldn't have been red after all.

I was really very pretty then, actually

and he was handsomer than my wildest dreams.

He was different...

different from all ordinary men,
like someone from another world.

I fell in love right then.

So did he.

He told me afterwards.

I forgot all about becoming a nun.

Or a concert pianist.

All I wanted was to be his wife.

Thirty-six years ago...

but I can see it as clearly
as if it were tonight.

And...

we've loved each other ever since.

And in all those thirty-six years...

there's never been a breath of scandal
about him.
I mean, with another woman.

He made me very happy, Cathleen.

He's a fine gentleman.

You're a lucky woman.

Sentimental fool.

What's so wonderful about the first...

meeting between a silly romantic
schoolgirl...

and a matin�e?

You were much... happier before
you knew he existed.

In the convent...

when you could pray...

to the Blessed Virgin.

If only I could find the faith I lost.

So I could pray to her again.

Hail Mary full of grace...

Hail Mary full...

Hail Mary full of...

Expect the Blessed Virgin to be fooled...

by a lying dope fiend reciting words?

You can't fool her.

I haven't taken enough.
I have to go upstairs.

When you start again you never know...

You never know exactly
how much you need.

Why are they coming back?

Why are they coming back?

Are you there... Mary?

Yes. Yes, I'm here, dear.
In the sitting room.

I've been... I've been waiting for you.

I'm... I'm so happy you've come.

I'd given up hope.

I was afraid you wouldn't come home.

It's such a dismal, foggy evening.
It must be much more cheerful
in the barrooms uptown

where there are people you can laugh and...

Oh no don't deny it.
I know how you feel.
I don't blame you a bit.

I'm all the more grateful to you
for coming home.

I was sitting here so lonely and blue.

Come and sit down.

Dinner won't be ready for a few minutes.

Your actually a little early.
Will wonders never cease?

Here's the whiskey, dear.
Shall I pour you a drink?
And you, Edmund?

I don't want to encourage you.

But one small one before
dinner can't do you any harm.

Where's Jamie?

Oh, but of course... he'll never come home
so long as he has the price of a date left.

I'm afraid Jamie has been lost to us
for a long time, dear.

For the love of God,
I'm a fool for coming home.

Papa, shut up.

Who would've thought Jamie would
grow up to disgrace us?

Everyone liked him.
All his...

teachers told us what a fine brain he had.

They predicted a wonderful future for him
if only he'd learned to take life seriously.

Poor Jamie, such a pity!

It's hard to understand.

No, it isn't.

You brought him up to be a boozer.

Since he first opened his eyes
he's seen you drinking.

Always a bottle on the bureau
in the cheap hotel rooms.

If he had a nightmare when he was little
or a stomach ache

your remedy was to give him a teaspoon
full of whiskey.

To quiet him.

So I'm to blame because that lazy hulk's
made a drunken loafer of himself?

Is that what I came back to listen to?
I might have known.

When you have the poison in you,
you want to blame everyone but yourself!

Papa!

Are we going to have this drink
or aren't we?

You're right. I'm a fool to take notice.

Drink hearty, lad.

I'm sorry if I sounded bitter, James.
I'm not.

It's all so far away...

I was a little hurt when you wished
you hadn't come home.

I was so relieved and happy when you came.

And grateful to you.

It's very dreary and sad
to be here alone in the fog.

With night falling.

I'm glad I came, Mary,
when you act like your real self.

I was so lonesome.

I kept Cathleen with me just to have
someone to talk to.

Do you know what I was telling her,
James?

About that night my father
took me to your dressing room.

And I first fell in love with you,
do you remember?

Can you think I'll ever forget, Mary?

No.

I know you still love me, James.

In spite of everything.

Yes, as God is my judge,
always and forever, Mary.

And I... love you, dear.

In spite of everything.

But...

Although I couldn't help loving you
I would never

have married you if I'd known
you drank so much.

I remember the first time
your barroom friends had to help you...

to the door of our hotel room
and knocked and then ran away

before I opened the door.
We were still on our honeymoon, remember?

I don't remember.
It wasn't on our honeymoon.

I've never in my life had to be
helped to bed

or missed a performance.

I waited in that ugly hotel room
hour after hour.

I became terrified,
I imagined all sorts of horrible accidents.

I got down on my knees and prayed
that nothing had happened to you.

Then they brought you up
and left you outside the door.

God! No wonder.

I'm sorry I remembered out loud.

I don't want to be sad

or to make you sad.

I want to remember
only the happy part of the past.

Do you remember our wedding?

The wedding, dear?

I haven't made such a bad wife, have I?

I'm not complaining, Mary.

At least I've loved you dearly

and I've done the best I could
under the circumstances.

That wedding gown...

was nearly the death of me.

And the dressmaker too.

I was so particular,
it was never quite good enough.

At last she said she said she refused
to touch it anymore, she might spoil it

so I made her leave
so I could be alone to examine
myself in the mirror.

I was so pleased and vain.

I thought to myself,
"you're just as pretty as any actress
he's ever met

and you don't have to use paint".

Where is my wedding gown now,
I wonder?

I kept it wrapped up in tissue paper
in my trunk.

I hoped someday I'd have a daughter

and when it came time for her to marry
she couldn't afford a lovely gown.

And I knew, James,
you'd never tell her "never mind the cost".

You'd want her to pick up something
at a bargain.

It was made of soft, shimmering satin

trimmed with wonderful old duchess lace
around the neck and sleaves

worked in with the folds that were draped
around in a bustle effect at the back.

The bust was bound and very tight,
I remember...

I held my breath when it was fitted
so my waist would be as small as possible.

My... my father...

...my father...

even let me have lace
on my white satin slippers

and lace with
orange blossoms in my veil.

How I loved that gown!

It was so...

...beautiful.

Where is it now, I wonder?

I... I... I...

I used to take it out
from time to time when I was lonely.

But it always made me cry and so...

finally a long while ago...

I wonder where I hid it?

Probably in some old trunk in the attic.
Someday I must have a look.

Well, isn't it dinner time, dear?

You're ever scolding me for being late but now
I'm on time, for once it's dinner that's late.

Well, if I can't eat yet, I can drink.
I forgot I had this.

Who's been tampering with my whiskey?
The damn stuff is half water.

Any fool could tell.

Mary, answer me.

I hope to God you've not taken
to drink on top of...
Shut up, Papa!

You treated Cathleen and Bridget,
isn't that it, Mama?

Yes. Yes I wanted to treat Cathleen

because I had her drive uptown with me
and sent her to get my prescription filled.

For God's sake, Mama!
You can't trust her.

You want everyone on earth to know?
Know what?

That I suffer from rheumatism in my hands
and have to take medicine to kill the pain?

Why should I be ashamed of that?

I never knew what rheumatism was
before you were born.

Ask your father.

Don't mind her, lad.
It doesn't mean anything.

When she gets to the stage where she gives
the old crazy excuse about her hands

she's gone far away from us.

I'm glad you realize that, James.

Now perhaps you'll give up trying
to remind me.

You and...

Edmund.

Why don't you light the lights, James?

It's getting dark.

I know you hate to but Edmund has proved
to you that one bulb burning doesn't cost much.

It's too bad you let your fear
of the poor house make you too stingy.

I never claimed one bulb cost much.

It's having them on one here one there
makes the electric light company rich.

I'm a fool to talk sense to you.

I'll get a fresh bottle of whiskey, lad.
We'll have a real drink.

He'll sneak around....

in the outside cellar door so the...

servants won't see him.

He's really ashamed of keeping
his whiskey padlocked in the cellar.

Your father's a strange man.

Took many years before I understood him.

His father deserted his mother
and their six children

a year or so after they came
to America.

He told them he had a premonition
he would die soon.

He was homesick for Ireland
and wanted to go back there to die.

So he went and he did die.

He must have been a peculiar man too.

Your father had to go to work
in a machine shop
when he was only ten years...

For Pete's sake, Mama!

I've heard Papa tell that story
ten thousand times.

Yes, dear. You've had to listen.

But I don't think you've ever tried
to understand.

Listen, Mama.

You're not so far gone yet
that you've forgotten everything.

You haven't asked me
what I found out this afternoon.

Don't you care a damn?

Don't say that.
You hurt me, dear.

What I've got is serious, Mama.

Doc Hardy knows for sure.
That lying old quack!
I warned you he'd invent...

He called in a specialist to examine me...
Don't tell me about Doctor Hardy.

...so he'd be absolutely sure.

If you'd heard what the doctor
in the sanatorium who really knows something

said about how he treated me.
He said it was a wonder
I hadn't gone mad!

I told him I had once,
that time I ran down in my nightdress

to throw myself off the dock.
You remember that, don't you?

And you want me to pay attention
to what doctor Hardy says?

Oh, no.
Listen, Mama!

I'm gonna tell you
whether you want to hear it or not.

I've got to go away to a sanatorium.

No!

How dare your father allow him.

You're my baby.

I know why he wants to send you
to a sanitarium.

To take you away from me.
He's been jealous of every one of my babies,
of you most of all.

He knows I love you most because
you're my...

Stop talking crazy, can't you, Mama?

And stop trying to blame him.

And why are you so against
my going away now?

I've been away a lot
and I never noticed it broke your heart.

I'm afraid you're not very sensitive,
dear.

You ought to have guessed that...

after I knew you knew...

about me...

I had to be glad whenever
you were away you couldn't see me.

Don't, Mama.

All this talk about...

loving me the more I try to tell you
how sick I am.

You're so like your father, dear.

Love to be dramatic and tragic
so you can make a scene out of nothing.

If I gave you the slightest encouragement
you'd tell me next you're gonna die.

People do die of it. Your own father...

Why do you mention him?

No comparison at all.
With him he had consumption.

I hate it when you become morbid
and gloomy.

I forbid you to remind me
of my father's death, do you hear?

Yes, I hear you, Mama.
I wish to God I didn't.

It's hard to take at times,
having a dope fiend for a mother.

Forgive me, Mama.

I was angry...
and you hurt me.

Just listen to that... foghorn.

And the bells.

Why is it fog makes everything
sound so sad,

...lost?

I wonder.

I can't stay.

I don't want any dinner.

I haven't taken enough.
I have to go upstairs.

I hope sometime without...

...meaning to or...

...take an overdose.

Could never do it deliberately.

The Blessed Virgin would never forgive me.

The padlock's all scratched. That drunken loafer
has tried to pick the lock with a piece of wire

the way he's done before.
But I fooled him this time.

It's a special padlock
a professional burglar couldn't pick.

Where's Edmund?

He went out.

Perhaps he's gone uptown to find Jamie.

He still had some money left.

I suppose it's burning a hole in his pocket.

He said he didn't want any dinner.

Doesn't seem to have any appetite
these days.

But it's just a summer cold.

James!

I'm so frightened! I know he's gonna die.
Don't say that, it's not true.

They promised me in six months
he'd be cured.

You don't believe that.
I can tell when you're acting.
It'll be all my fault.

I should never have born him.

It would've been better for his sake.
I couldn't have hurt him then.

He wouldn't have had to know
his mother was a dope fiend.

Hush, Mary, for the love of God.

He loves you. He knows it was a curse
put upon you without your knowing or willing it.

He's proud you're his mother.

Hush now, here comes Cathleen.
You don't want her to see you crying.

Dinner is served, sir.
Dinner is served, ma'am.

Come along, dear.

Let's have our dinner.

I'm hungry as a hunter.

I couldn't possibly eat anything, James.
I think you'll have to excuse me.

My hands pain me dreadfully.

I think the best thing for me is to go to bed...

and rest.

Good night, dear.

Up to take more
of that Goddamn poison, is it?

You'll be like a mad ghost
before the night's over.

I don't know what you're talking about.

You say such mean bitter things
when you've had too much to drink.

You're as bad as Jamie or Edmund.

Who's that?

Is it you, Edmund?
Yes.

Godamn it.

Turn that light out before you come in.

Well I'm glad you've come, lad.
I've been damn lonely.

You're a fine one to run away and leave me
to sit alone here all night when you know...

I told you to turn out that light.
We're not giving a ball.

There's no reason to have the house ablaze
with electricity
at this time of night burning up money.

Ablaze with electricity, one bulb!

Hell, everyone leaves a light on
in the front porch until they go to bed.

Nearly busted my knee on the hatstand.

The light from here shows in the hall.

You could see your way well enough
if you were sober.

If "I" were sober, I like that.

I don't give a damn what other people do.
If they want to be wasteful fools

for the sake of show let them be.
One bulb. God, don't be such a cheapskate.

I've proved to you by figures

you can leave the light bulb all on all night
it wouldn't be as much as one drink.

To hell with your figures!
The proof is in the bills I have to pay.

Yes, facts don't mean a thing do they?

What you want to believe,
that's the only truth.

Shakespeare was an Irish Catholic, for example.
So he was. The proof is in his plays.

Well he wasn't. And there is no proof of it
in his plays, except to you.

The Duke of Wellington,
that was another good Irish Catholic.

I never said he was a good one.
He was a renegade, but a Catholic
just the same.

Well he wasn't.

You just want to believe that no one
but an Irish Catholic general could beat Napoleon.

Yes, now I'm not going to argue
with you.

I asked you to turn out that light in the hall.

I heard you.
And as far as I'm concerned it stays on.

None of your damned insolence.
Are you going to obey me or not?

Not!

You want to be a crazy miser,
put it out yourself.

Now listen to me.

I've put up with a lot from you because
from the mad things you've done at times

I thought you weren't quite right
in your head.

I've excused you and never lifted my hand to you
but there's a straw that breaks the camel's back.

You'll obey me and put out that light
or, big as you are,

I'll give you a thrashing
that will teach you...

I'm sorry, lad.
Forgive me, I forgot.

You shouldn't goad me into losing my temper.

Forget it, Papa, I apologize too.

I had no right being nasty about nothing.

I'm a bit soused, I guess.

I'll put out the damn light.
No, no, no. Stay where you are.

Let it burn.

We'll have them all on.

Let them burn.

To hell with them.

The poor house is the end of the road.
It might as well be sooner as later.

That's a grand curtain.
You're a wonder, Papa.

That's right, laugh at the poor old man.
The poor old ham.

But the final curtain
will be in the poor house just he same.

And that's not comedy.

Well, well let's not argue.

You'll live to learn the value of a dollar.

You're not like that damned tramp
of a brother.

I've given up hope he'll ever get sense.

Where is he, by the way?

How would I know?

I thought you went back uptown to meet him.

No, I walked down by the beach.

I haven't seen him since this afternoon.

Well, if you shared the money I gave you
with him like a fool...

Sure I did. He always staked me
when he had anything.

Well it doesn't take a soothsayer
to tell he's probably in the whorehouse.

For God's sake, Papa. If you're gonna
start that stuff again I'll beat it.

All right, all right. I'll stop.
God knows I don't like the subject either.

Will you join me in a drink?
Now you're talking!

I'm wrong to treat you.
You've had enough already...

but if you walked all the way
to the beach
you must be damp and chilled.

I dropped in at the inn
on the way out and back.

Not the night I'd pick for a long walk.
I love the fog.

It was what I needed.
You should have more sense than to risk...

The hell with sense!

The fog was where I wanted to be.

Halfway down the path
you can't see this house.

You'd never even know it was here.

Everything looked and sounded unreal.

It was like walking on the bottom
of the sea.

As if I'd drowned long ago.

As if I was a ghost, belonging to the fog.

And the fog was the ghost of the sea.

It felt damn peaceful to be nothing more
than a ghost within a ghost.

Don't look at me as if I'd gone nutty.

Who wants to see life as it is
if they can help it?

You've a poet in you
but it's a damned morbid one.

Devil take your pessimism!

I'm low-spirited enough.

Why can't you remember your
Shakespeare?

You'll find what you were trying to say
in him.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on

and our little life is rounded with a sleep"

Fine.

That's beautiful.
But I wasn't trying to say that.

We are such stuff as manure is made on

so let's drink up and forget it,
that's more my idea.

Keep such sentiments to yourself.
I shouldn't have given you that drink.

It did pack a wallop all right.

On you too?
Even if you never missed a performance?

What's wrong with being drunk?
It's what were after, isn't it?

"Be always drunken, nothing else matters.
That is the only question."

"If you would not feel
the horrible burden of time...

weighing on your shoulders
and crushing you to the earth...

be drunken continually."

"Drunken with what?"

"With wine,
with poetry or with virtue, as you will."

"But be drunken."

"And if sometimes,
on the stairs of a palace...

or in the green side of a ditch,
or in the dreary solitude of your own room...

you should awaken and the drunkenness
be half of wholly slipped away from you,

ask of the wind or of the wave
or of the star or of the bird
or of the clock

of whatever flies or sighs
or rocks or sings or speaks

ask what hour it is."

"And the wind, wave,
star, bird, clock will answer you."

"It is the hour to be drunken

Be drunken continually."

"With wine, with poetry
or with virtue, as you will."

Well, I wouldn't worry about the virtue
part of it if I were you.

But you recited it well, lad.

Who wrote it?
Baudelaire.

Never heard of him.

Where do you get your taste
in authors?

This damned library of yours...

Voltaire, and Rousseau, and Schopenhauer,
and Ibsen!

Atheists, fools, and madmen!
And your poet, this Baudelaire.

And Swinburne, and Oscar Wilde,
Whitman, and Poe!

Whore mongers and degenerates.

I have three good sets
of Shakespeare there you could read.

They say he was a souse too.

They lie.

I don't doubt he liked his glass,
it's a good man's failing.

But he knew how to drink
that it didn't poison his mind

with
morbidness and filth.

Don't compare him with the pack
you've got here.

Your dirty Zola!

And your Dante Gabriel Rossetti,
who was a dope fiend...

Perhaps it would be wise to change
the subject.

You can't accuse me of not knowing
Shakespeare.

Didn't I win five dollars from you once

when you bet me I couldn't learn
a leading part of his in a week

as you used to do in stock
in the old days?

I learned Macbeth and recited it
letter perfect

with you giving me the cues.

That's true, so you did.

And a terrible ordeal it was, I remember,
hearing you murder the lines.

I kept wishing I'd paid over the bet
without making you prove it.

Did you hear?

She's moving around.

I hope to God she doesn't come down.

Yes, she'd be nothing more than a ghost
haunting the past by this time.

Back before I was born.

Doesn't she do the same with me?

You must take her memories with
a grain of salt.

Her wonderful home was ordinary enough.

Her father wasn't the great noble
Irish gentleman she makes out.

Oh, he was a nice enough man,
good company, a good talker.

I liked him and he liked me.

He was prosperous enough too,
in his wholesale grocery business.
An able man.

But he had his weakness.

She condemns my drinking
but she forgets his.

It's true he never touched a drop
until he was forty

but after that he made up
for lost time.

He became a steady champagne drinker.

The worst kind. That was his grand pose.
To drink only champagne.

Well, it finished him quick.
That and the consumption.

We don't seem to be able to avoid
unpleasant topics, do we?

No.

Well what do you say to a game
or two of casino, lad?

All right.

We can't lock up and go to bed
until Jamie comes on the last trolley.

Which I hope he won't.

I don't want to go upstairs anyway.

Till she's gone to sleep.

Neither do I.

As I told you before...

you must take her tales of the past
with a grain of salt.

The piano playing and her dream
of becoming a concert pianist.

It was put in her head by the nuns
flattering her.

She was their pet.

They loved her for being so devout

And the idea
she might have become a nun,

that's the worst.

Your mother was one of the most beautiful
girls you ever could see.

She knew it too.

She was a bit of a rogue and a coquette,
God bless her,

behind all the shyness and blushes.

She was never made to renounce
the world.

She was bursting with health
and high spirits and the love of loving.

For God's sake, Papa, pick up your hand.

Yes, yes.

Let's see what I have here.

Listen.

She's coming downstairs.

Let's play our game,
pretend not to notice.

She'll soon go up again.

I don't see her.
She must have started down...

and turned back.
Thank God!

Yes.

It's pretty horrible to see her
the way she must be now.

She's been terribly frightened
about your illness for all her pretending.

Don't be too hard on her, lad.
Remember she's not responsible.

I know damn well she's not to blame.

And I know who is. You are.
Your damned stinginess.

If you'd spent money on a decent doctor
when she was so sick

after I was born she would never
have known morphine existed.

You must try to see my side
of it too, lad.

How was I to know
he was that kind of doctor?

He'd a good reputation.

Among the souses in the hotel bar,
I suppose.

You lie! I asked the hotel proprietor
to recomend the best...

And at the same time crying "poor house"
and making it plain you wanted a cheap one.

I know your system.

God, I ought to after this afternoon.
What about this afternoon?

Never mind now.
We're talking about Mama.

I'm saying no matter how you try
and excuse yourself,

you know damn well your stinginess
was to blame.

I say you're a liar.
Shut your mouth right now or...

After you found out
she'd been made a morphine addict,

why didn't you send her
to a cure then, at the start,

when she still had a chance?

What did I know about morphine?

It was years before I discovered
what was wrong.

Why didn't I send her to a cure,
you say?

I 've spent thousands on thousands
in cures. A waste!

What good have they done her?
She's always started again.

Yes , it's because you've never given her
anything that would help her want to stay off it.

No home except this summer dump
in a place she hates

and you've refused to spend money
even to make this look decent.

While you keep buying more property
and playing sucker for every con-man

with a gold mine or a silver mine
or any other get-rich-quick swindle.

You've dragged her around the road,
season after season,

on one night stands
with no one she could talk to.

Waiting night after night
in dirty hotel rooms

for you to come home with a bun on
after the bars closed.

It isn't any wonder
she didn't want to be cured.

God. God!
When I think of it I hate your guts.

Edmund, how dare you talk to your father
like that?

You insolent young cub!

After all I've done for you.

We'll come to that,
what you're doing for me.

Will you stop repeating your mother's
crazy accusations?

I never dragged her on the road
against her will.

Naturally I wanted her with me.
I loved her.

And she came because she loved
me and wanted to be with me.
That's the truth.

She needn't have been lonely.
She had her children.

And I insisted in spite of the expense
on having a nurse to travel with her.

Yes, your one generosity.

And that because you were jealous
of her spending too much time with us

and wanted us out of your way.

And that was another mistake too.

If she'd had to take care of me all by herself
and had that to occupy her mind

maybe she'd been able to stop.

Or, for that matter, since you insist
on judging things by what she says

when she's not in her right mind,

if you'd never been born
she'd never...

Sure.

I know that's how she feels, Papa.

She doesn't.

She loves you as dearly
as ever a mother loved a son.

I only said that because you put me
in such goddamned rage.

Making up the past, saying you hate me.

I didn't mean it, Papa.

I'm like Mama.

I can't help liking you in spite
of everything.

Well I might say the same of you.

You're no great shakes as a son.

It's a case of
"A poor thing but mine own".

Well, what's happened to our game?
Who's play is it?

Yours, I guess.

You mustn't let yourself get too downhearted,
lad, by the bad news you had today.

Both doctors promised me, if you obey orders,
at this place you're going,

you'll be cured in six months
or a year at most.

Don't kid me...
you think I'm gonna die.

That's a lie! You're crazy!

So why waste money?

That's why you're sending me
to a state farm.

What state farm?

It's the Hill Town Sanatorium,
that's all I know.

Both doctors told me it was
the best place for you.

For the money.
Or for nothing or practically nothing.

Don't lie Papa.

You know damn well Hill Town Sanatorium
is a state institution.

Jamie suspected you'd cry
"poor house" to Hardy

and wormed the truth out of him.

That drunken loafer!
I'll kick him out in the gutter!

He's poisoned your mind against me
ever since you were old enough to listen.

You can't deny it's the truth
about the state farm, can you?

It's not true the way you look at it.

What if it is run by the state?
That's nothing against it.

The state has money to make
a better place than any private sanatorium.

And why shouldn't I take advantage of it?

It's my right and yours
We're residents, I'm a property owner.

I help to support it. I'm taxed to death...

Yes, on property valued
at a quarter of a million.

Lies. That's all mortgaged.

Hardy and the specialist know what you're worth.

All I told them was I was no millionaire,
that could afford such a sanatorium

because I was land poor.
That's the truth.

Then you went to the club
and you met McGuire

and let him stick you with another
bum piece of property.

It's not true.
Don't worry about it.

We met McGuire in the hotel bar
after you left.

Jamie kidded him about hooking you
and he winked and laughed.

You liar.
Don't lie about it!

God, Papa!

Ever since I went to see him
was on my own

and found out what it felt like
to be broke and starved.

And I tried to be fair to you

because I knew what
you were up against as a kid.

I tried to make allowances.

You have to make allowances
in this damn family or you'll go nuts

But to think when it's a question
of your own son having consumption

you can show yourself before the whole
town as being such a stinking old tightwad.

Don't you know Hardy will talk
and the whole damn town will know?

God, Papa, haven't you any
pride or shame?

And don't think I'll let you
get away with it.

I won't go to any damn state farm
just to save you a few lousy dollars

to buy some more bum property with.

You stinking old miser.

Be quiet.

Don't say a thing.
You're drunk.

I won't mind you.

Stop coughing, lad.

Got so worked up over nothing.

Who said you had to go
to this Hill Town place?

You can go anywhere you like.
I don't care a damn what it costs

all I care about is having you
get well.

You call me a stinking miser.

Just because I don't want doctors to think

I'm a millionaire they can swindle?

You look weak, lad.

Here, take a bracer.

Thanks.

Well...

Who's play is it?

A stinking old miser.

Well maybe you're right.

Maybe I can't help being.

Although all my life, since I had anything,

I've thrown money over the bar
to buy drinks for everyone in the house

or loaned money to sponges
I knew would never pay back.

But of course that was in barrooms
when I was full of whiskey.

Can't feel that way about it
when I'm sober in my home.

It was at home I first learned the value
of a dollar and the fear of the poor house.

I've never been able to believe
in my luck since.

You said you realize
what I'd been up against as a boy.

The hell you do. How could you?

You had everything.

Nurses, schools...

I know you've had a spell of hard work
with your back and hands

and a bit of being homeless and penniless
in a foreign land and I respect you for it.

But it was a game of romance and adventure
to you. It was play.

Yes, particularly the time I tried
to commit suicide at Jimmy the Priest's

and almost did.

You weren't in your right mind.
No son of mine would ever...

You were drunk.

I was stone cold sober.
That was the trouble.

I stopped to think too long.

Don't start your damned atheist
morbidness again.

I don't care to listen.

I was trying to make it plain to you.

What do you know of the value
of a dollar?

When I was ten...

my father deserted my
mother and went back to Ireland to die.

Which he did, soon enough, and deserved to.
And I hope he's roasting in hell.

He mistook rat poison
for flour or sugar or something...

There was gossip it wasn't by mistake,
but that's a lie.

No one in my family would ever...
My bet is it wasn't by mistake.

More morbidness.
Your brother put that in your head.

The worst he can suspect is the only
truth for him.

But never mind.

My mother was left...

a stranger in a strange land
with four small children.

There was no damned romance
in our poverty.

Twice we were evicted from
the miserable hovel we called home.

My mother's few sticks of furniture
thrown out on the gutter.

My mother and sisters crying.

I cried too, though I tried hard not to.
But I was the man of the family.

At ten years old.

There was no more school for me.

I went to work twelve hours a day
in a machine shop.

Learning to make files.

Dirty barn of a place where rain
dripped through the roof.

You roasted in the summer,
there was no stove in winter.

Your hands were numb with cold.

The only light came through two small
filthy windows.

So on gray days I'd have to sit
bent over,

my eyes almost touching the files
in order to see.

You talk of work.

What do you think I got for it?

Fifty cents a week.
It's the truth. Fifty cents a week.

My poor mother washed and scrubbed
for the Yanks.

Well, I remember one Thanksgiving...

or maybe it was Christmas,

some Yank, in whose house mother
had been scrubbing,

gave her a dollar extra for a present.

On the way home she spent it all on food.

I can remember her hugging
and kissing us and saying,

tears of joy running down her tired face,

"Glory be to God! For once in our lives
there will be enough for each of us."

Fine, brave, sweet woman!

Never was a finer or a braver!

Yes, she must have been.

It was in those days I learned
to be a miser.

A dollar was worth so much then.

Once you've learned the lesson
it's hard to unlearn it.

You have to look for bargains.

If I took this state farm for a good bargain
you'll have to forgive me.

The doctors did tell me it was a good place,
you must believe that, Edmund.

But I swear I never meant
for you to go there
if you didn't want to.

You can go to any place you choose,
never mind what it costs.

Any place... I can afford.
Any place... within reason.

What about our game?
Whose play is it?

I don't know.

Mine, I guess.

No, it's yours.

Yes.

Maybe life overdid the lesson for me

and made a dollar worth too much.

And that mistake ruined my career
as a fine actor.

I've never admitted
this to anyone before, lad

but tonight I�m so heartsick
I feel at the end of everything.

Then what�s the use of fake,
pride and pretense?

That goddamned play I bought for a song
and made such a great success in,

a great money success,

it ruined me with its promise
of an easy fortune.

I didn't want to do anything else.

By the time I woke up to the fact
that I'd become a slave to the damn thing

and did try other plays it was too late.

They'd identified me with that one part
and didn't want me in anything else.

They were right too.

I'd lost the great talent I once had
through years of easy repetition,

never learning a new part, never really
working hard.

Thirty-five to forty thousand dollars
net profit a season!

Like snapping your fingers.

Yet before I bought the damn thing
I was considered one of the three or four

young actors with the greatest
artistic promise in America.

I'd work like hell!

I left a good job as a machinist
to take supers' parts because
I loved the theater.

I was wild with ambition.

I read all the plays ever written.

I studied Shakespeare as you'd study the Bible.

I got rid of an Irish brogue you could cut
with a knife.

I loved Shakespeare. I'd have acted
in any of his plays for nothing,

for the joy of being alive
in his great poetry.

I could have been a great Shakesperean actor
if I'd kept on.

In 1874 when Edwin Booth came to the
theater in Chicago where I was leading man.

I played Cassius to his Brutus one night.

Brutus to his Cassius the next.
Othello to his Iago and so on.

First night I played Othello he said
to our manager:

"That young man's playing Othello
better than I ever did."

That from Booth!

The greatest actor of his day
or any other.

As I look back on it now,

that night was the highest spot
of my career.

I had life where I wanted it.

But for a time after that I kept on
with ambition high,

married your mother.

Ask her what I was like in those days.

Her love was an added incentive
to ambition.

Then a few years later my good bad luck
made me find the big money maker.

And then life had me where
it wanted me.

At from thirty-five
to forty thousand net profit a season.

A fortune in those days.

Even in these.

What the hell was it I wanted to buy,
I wonder, that was worth...

Oh, well,

it's a late day for regrets.

My play, isn't it?

I'm glad you told me this, Papa.
I know you a lot better now.

Maybe I shouldn't have told you.

Maybe you'll only feel more contempt
for me.

It's a poor way to convince you
of the value of a dollar.

The glare from those extra lights
hurts my eyes.

You don't mind if I turn them out,
do you?

We don't need them.

There's no point in making
the electric light company rich.

No, sure not. Turn them out.

No, I don't know
what the hell it was I wanted to buy.

On my solemn oath, Edmund.

I'd gladly face not having an acre of
land to call my own, nor a penny in the bank.

I'd be willing to have no home
but the poor house in my old age

if I could look back now on having been
the fine artist I might have been.

What the devil are you laughing at?

Oh, not at you, Papa.

At life, it's so damned crazy.

More of your morbidness.
There's nothing wrong with life.

It's we who...

"The fault, dear Brutus,

is not in our stars
but in ourselves that we are underlings"

The praise Edwin Booth gave my Othello!

I made our manager write down
his exact words in writing.

I kept it in my wallet for years.
I used to read it every once in a while.

Until, finally, it made me feel so bad
I couldn't face it anymore.

Where is it now, I wonder?
Somewhere in this house.

I remember I put it away carefully.

Might be in an old trunk in the attic

along with Mama's wedding dress.

For Pete's sake, Papa.
If we're gonna play cards, let's play.

She's still moving around.

God knows when she'll go to sleep.

For God's sake, Papa, forget it!

You just told me some high spots
in your memories.

Want to hear mine?

They're all connected with the sea.

Here's one when I was on the Squarehead
square rigger, bound for Buenos Aires.

Full moon in the Trades,
the old hooker driving fourteen knots.

I lay on the bowsprit, facing astern

the water foaming into spume under me,

the masts with every sail white in the moonlight,
towering high above me.

I became drunk with the beauty
and singing rhythm of it.

And for a moment I lost myself,
actually lost my life. I was set free.

I dissolved in the sea,

became white sails and flying spray,
became beauty and rhythm,

became the ship, and the moonlight,
and the high dim-starred sky.

I belonged, without past or future,

within peace, and unity and a wild joy,

to something greater than my own life,
or the life of Man.

To Life itself.

To God, if you want to put it that way.

And several other times in my life,

when I was swimming far out,

or lying alone on a beach,
I've had the same experience.

Became the sun, the hot sand,

green seaweed
anchored to a rock, swaying in the tide.

Like a saint's vision of beatitude.

Like the veil of things
as the seems are drawn back
by an unseen hand.

For a second you see,

and, seeing the secret, are the secret.

For a second there is meaning!

Then the hand lets the veil fall

and you're alone,
lost in the fog again.

It's a great mistake my being born a man.

I'd have been much more successful
as a seagull or a fish.

As it is I'll always be a stranger
who can never really feel at home.

Who does not really want,
is not really wanted

who can never really belong, and who must
always be a little in love with death.

Yes, you've the makings of a poet
in you all right.

The makings of a poet?

No, I'm afraid I'm like the guy
who's always panhandling for a smoke.

He hasn't even got the makings,
he's only got the habit.

I couldn't touch what I was trying to tell
you just now. I only stammered.

It's the best I'll ever do,
I mean, if I live.

That's faithful realism at least.

Stammering is the native elequence of us
fog people.

Well, that sounds like absent brother.

He must have a peach of a bun on.

That loafer. He caught the last car
back. Bad luck to it.

Get him to bed, Edmund.

I'll go out on the back porch.

He has a tongue like an adder
when he's drunk.

I'd only lose my temper.

What ho! What...

Nix on the loud noise.

Hello, kid.

I'm as drunk as a fiddler's bitch.

Thanks for telling me your great secret.

Yeah. Unnecessary information number one.

I had a serious accident.

Front steps tried to trample on me.

Took advantage of the fog...

Ought to be another lighthouse out there.

It's dark in here too.

What the hell is this, the morgue?

"Ford, ford, ford o' Kabul river in the dark!"

"Keep the crossing-stakes beside you,

an' they will surely guide you

'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark."

There. That's more like it.

To hell with old Gaspard!

Where is that old tight wad?

He's out on the porch.

He expects us to live....
in a black hole in Calcutta!

Say...

Have I got the DTs?

My God!
It's real.

Hey what's the matter with the old man?
He must be ossified to forget he left this out.

Grab opportunity by the forelock!

It's the key to my success.

You're stinking now. That'll knock you stiff.

Wisdom from the mouth of babes.

Can the wise stuff, kid.
You're still wet behind the ears.

All right. Pass out if you want to.

I can't, that's the trouble.

I've had enough to sink a ship
but I can't sink.

Well... here's hoping.
I'll have one too.

No, no you don't. Not while I'm around.

Remember doctors orders.

Maybe no one else gives a damn
if you die.

But I do.

You're my kid brother.
I love your guts, kid.

Everything else is gone
and you're all I got left.

So no booze for you if I can gelp it.
Lay off.

You don't believe I care, eh?
Just drunken bull.

All right go ahead and kill yourself.

Sure I know you care, Jamie.

And I'm going on the wagon.
But tonight doesn't count.

Too many damned things have happened
today. Here's how.

I know, kid.
It's been a lousy day for you.

I bet old Gaspard hasn't tried to keep you
off the booze.

He'll probably give you a case to take
with you to the state farm for pauper patients.

The sooner you kick the bucket,
the less expense.

What a bastard to have for a father.

God, if you put him in a book
no one would believe it.

Papa's all right if you try and understand him
and keep your sense of humor.

He's been putting on the old sob act
for you?

He could always fool you but not me.

Never again.

Though I do feel sorry for him
in a way about one thing.

He even had that coming to him.
He's to blame.

To hell with that.

The last drink is really getting to me,
this one ought to put the lights out.

Hey did you tell old Gaspard
that I got it out of Doc Hardy

that the sanatorium was a charity dump?

Yes. I told him I wouldn't go there.

It's all settled now.
He said I can go anywhere I want.

Within reason, of course.

Yes, "of course, my boy, anything...
within reason",

That means another cheap dump!

Old Gaspard, the miser in "The Bells".

That's a part he can play without make-up.

I've heard that Gaspard stuff
a million times.

All right, if you're satisfied,
let him get away with it.

It's your funeral.

I mean...

I hope it won't be.

What did you do uptown tonight?
Go to Mamie Burns?

Sure thing.

Where else would I find suitable
feminine companionship?

And love?
Don't forget love.

What is man without a good woman
to love?

A goddamn hollow hole.

You're a nut.

Hey... guess which one of Mamie's charmers
I picked to bless me with her woman's love.

It'll hand you a laugh, kid.

I picked...

Fat Violet.

No, honest?
Yeah.

Some pick!

God! Oh, God.
She weighs a ton.

What the hell for, a joke?
Oh, no, no joke.

Very serious.

By the time I hit Mamie's dump
I was feeling very sorry for myself

and all the other poor bums in the world.

Ready for a weep on any old
womanly bosom.

You know how you get
when the Old John barley corn

turns on the soft music inside of you.

And the as soon as I hit the door,
Mamie began telling me her troubles.

She beefed how rotten business was.

She was going to give Fat Violet the gate.

The custumers didn't fall for Vi,

the only reason she kept her
was she could play the piano.

Well lately Violet has been going on drunks

and been getting to boiled to play
and was eating her out of house and home.

How old Vi was a good hearted dumbbell

and she felt sorry for her 'cause she
didn't know how in the hell she'd make a living.

Still... business was business.

She couldn't afford to run a home
for fat tarts.

Well it made me...
feel very sorry for Fat Violet.

So I squandered two bucks

of your dough

to escort her upstairs.

Now, with no dishonorable intentions whatever.

I like them fat but not that fat.

All I wanted was a little heart to heart
talk concerning the infinite sorrow of life.

Oh, poor Vi!

She stood it for a while,

then she got good and sore.

Got the idea I'd taken her upstairs
as a joke.

Gave me a grand bawling out.

Then she began to cry.

So I had to say I loved her
because she was fat.

And she wanted to believe that.

Then I stayed with her to prove it.

And that cheered her up.

She kissed me when I left.

Said she'd fallen hard for me.

And we both cried a little more
in the hallway

and everything was fine.

Except Mamie Burns thought
I'd gone bughouse.

Harlots and hunted have pleasures
of their own to give,

the vulgar herd can never understand.

Exactly!

And a hell of a good time at that.

This night has opened mine eyes
to a great career in store for me, my boy.

I shall give the art of acting back
to the performing seals,

which are it's most perfect expression,

by applying my natural God given talents

in their proper sphere.

I shall attain the pinnacle of success!

I�ll be the lover of the fat woman
in a Barnum and Bailey Circus.

Imagine me sunk to the fat girl
in a hick town hooker shop.

Me!

I've had some of the best lookers
on Broadway sit up and beg.

"Speakin' in general, I'ave tried 'em all.

The 'appy roads which take you
o'er the world."

It's not so apt.

Happy roads is bunk.

Weary roads is right.

They get you nowhere fast.

And that's where I got...

Nowhere.

Where everyone lands in the end.
Even if most of the suckers won't admit it.

Can it, you'll be crying in a minute.

Hey!

Don't get too damn fresh.

But you're right, the hell with repining.

Fat Violet is a good kid.

I'm glad I stayed with her.
It was a Christian act.

Cured her blues, a hell of a good time.

You should have stuck around
with me, kid.

Taken your mind off your troubles.

What's the use of coming home?

To get the blues over what
can't be helped.

It's all over.
Finished, you know.

Not a hope.

"If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o� mine,

O mother o� mine!

I know whose love would follow me still..."

Shut up!

Where's the hop head?
Gone to sleep?

You dirty bastard!

Thanks, kid.

I certainly had that coming.

I don't know what made me.

Booze talking, you know me, kid.
God, Jamie.

No matter how drunk you are,
there's no excuse.

I'm sorry I...

You and I never scrapped that bad.

Sorry, kid. Glad you did.

My dirty tongue, I'd like to cut it out.

It was because I feel so damn sunk.

Because this time Mama had me fooled.

I suppose I can't forgive her yet.

It meant so much...

I'd began to hope that if she'd
beaten the game...

maybe I could too.

God, don't I know how you feel.

Oh, God.

I've known about Mama so much
longer than you.

I'll never forget the first time
I got wise.

I caught her in the act with a hypo.

God!

I never believed before

that anyone but whores took dope.

Stop it, Jamie.

And then this stuff of your
getting consumption.

It's...it's got me licked.

We've been more than brothers.

You're the only pal I ever had.

I love your guts kid,
I'd do anything for you.

I know that, Jamie.

Yeah.

I bet you heard Mama and old Gaspard

spilling so much bunk about my
hoping for the worst

you suspect right now I'm thinking
to myself

that Papa is old, can't last much longer

and if you were to die,
Mama and I would get all he's got.

So I'm probably hoping...
Shut up you, damn fool!

What the hell put that in your nut?

That's what I'd like to know.

What put that in your mind?
Don't be a dumbbell. What I said.

I'm always suspected of hoping for
the worst I got, so I can't help it.

Hey!

What are you trying to do?
Accuse me?

Now don't you play the wise guy
with me!

I've learned more about life
than you'll ever know.

Just because you read a lot of high brow junk,
don't think you can fool me.

You're only an overgrown kid.

Mama's baby, Papa's pet,
the family white hope. The...

You're getting a swelled head
lately about nothing.

About a few poems in a hick town newspaper.

Hell, I used to write better stuff
for the lit magazine in college.

You better wake up.
You're setting no rivers on fire.

You let these hick town boobs
flatter you with bunk about your future...

Hell, kid... forget that.

That goes for Sweeney.
You know I didn't mean it.

No one is prouder
that you started to make good.

Why shouldn't I be proud?

You reflect credit on me.

I had more to do with bringing you up
than anybody.

I wised you up about women
so you'd never be the fall guy

and make any mistakes you didn't
want to make.

And who steered you on to reading
that poetry first, huh?

Swinburne, for example?

I did!

And because I once wanted to write,

I put it in your head that someday
you'd write.

Hell, you're more than my brother.

I made you!

You are my Frankenstein!

All right.

I'm your Frankenstein.

So...

let's have another drink?

You crazy nut.

No.

I'll have a drink...

not you.

I got to take care of you.

Listen, kid...

you'll be going away.

I may not get another chance to talk or I may
not be

drunk enough to tell you the truth.

So I got to tell you now

something I ought to have told you a
long time ago for your own good.

No drunken bull.

But in vino veritas.

You better take this seriously.

I wanna warn you...
against me.

Mama and Papa are right.
I've been a rotten bad influence.

but worst of all is...

I did it on purpose.

I don't want to hear anymore.

You listen...

I did it on purpose
to make a bum out of you.

Part of me did a big part.

The part that's been dead so long
that hates life.

My putting you wise
so you'd learn from my mistakes.

Well, I believed that myself at times,
but it's a fake.

It made my mistakes look good.

Made getting drunk romantic.

Made whores fascinating vampires

instead of poor, stupid, diseased slobs
they really are.

Made fun of work as a sucker's game.

I never wanted you to suceed

and make me look even worse
by comparison.

Wanted you to fail.
Always jealous of ya.

Mama's baby! Papa's pet!

And it was your being born that started
Mama on dope.

I know that's not your fault
but all the same goddamn you!

I can't help hating your guts.

Cut it out, Jamie.
Don't get me wrong, kid.

I love you more than I hate you.
My telling what I'm telling you now proves it.

Because I run the risk you'll hate me
and you're all I got left.

I didn't mean to tell you
all that last stuff

To go that far back,
I don't know what made me.

What I wanted to say is...

I'd like to see you become
the greatest sucess in the world.

But you better be on your guard,

because I'm gonna do my damndest
to make you fail.

I can't help it.

I hate myself.

I got to take revenge
on everyone else, especially you.

The dead part of me hopes
you won't get well.

Maybe he's even glad
the game's got Mama again.

He wants company!

He doesn't want to be
the only corpse around the house.

God, Jamie. You're crazy.

You think it over, you'll see I'm right.
Think it over

while you're away from me
in the sanatorium.

Make up your mind.
You gotta tie a can to me,

get me out of your life,
think of me as dead.

Tell people
"I had a brother, but he's dead".

And when you come back
you look out for me

because I'll be waiting to welcome you
here with that "My old pal" stuff

and give you the glad hand

and the first good chance I get
I'm gonna stab you in the back!

Shut up!
I'll be goddamned if I'll listen to...

Only don't you forget me.
Remember I warned you for your sake.

Come on! Give me credit!

"Greater love hath no man than this:
That he saveth his brother from himself."

That's all.

I'm finished now... I've gone to confession.

I know you absolve me,
don't you, kid?

You understand.

You're a damn fine kid.

You ought to be.
I made you.

So go
and get well.

Don't die on me, you're all I got left.

God bless, kid.

That last drink...

the old K.O.

Thank God he's asleep.

I thought he'd never stop talking.

Better let him stay where he is
and sleep it off.

I heard the last part of his talk.
It's what I warned you.

I hope you'll heed the warning
now it comes from his own mouth.

You mustn't take it
too much to heart though, lad.

He loves to exaggerate the worst in himself
when he's drunk.

He's devoted to you.

It's the one good thing left in him.

A sweet spectacle for me,
my firstborn,

who I hoped would bear my name
in honor and dignity,

who showed such brilliant promise.

Be quiet, can't you, Papa?

A waste. A wreck.
A drunken hulk.

Done with and finished.

"Clarence is come;

false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;

Seize on him, Furies,
and take him in to torment."

What the hell are you staring at?

"Look in my face;
my name is Might-have-been.

I am also called No-more, Too-late,
Farewell."

I'm well aware of that
and God knows I don't want to look at it.

Quit it!
You know, I got a great idea for you,
Papa.

Put on a revival of "The Bells" this season,

there's a great part in there
you can play without make-up.

Old Gaspard, the miser!
Shut up, Jamie.

I claim that Edwin Booth
never saw the day

when he could give as good a performance
as a trained seal.

Seals are inteligent and honest,

they don't put on any bluffs about
"the art of acting",

they admit they're just hams
earning their daily fish.

You loafer!

Papa! Do you wanna start a row
that'll bring Mama down?

Jamie, go to sleep.

You shot off your mouth
too much already.

All right, kid.

I'm not looking for an argument.

Too damn sick.
I wish to God she'd go to bed
so that I could too.

I'm dumb tired.

I can't stay up all night like I used to.
I'm getting old. Old and finished.

I can't keep my eyes open.

I think I'll catch a few winks.

Why don't you do the same, Edmund?

It'll pass the time until she...

"A mad scene."

"Enter Ophelia"

Good boy, Edmund! The dirty blaggard!
His own mother!

All right, kid. I had that coming.

But I told you how much I hoped.

I'll kick you out in the gutter tomorrow,
so help me God!

Papa.

Jamie.

For the love of God! Stop it.

I play so badly now.

I'm all out of practice. Sister Theresa
will give me a dreadful scolding.

She'll tell me it isn't fair to my father when
he spent so much money for extra lessons.

She's quite right. It isn't fair when he's so
good and generous and so proud of me.

I'll practice everyday from now on.

Something horrible has happened to my hands.

The fingers have gotten all stiff,
the knuckles are all swollen, they're so ugly.

I'll go to the infirmary and show
sister Martha.

She's old and a little crancky
but I love her just the same.

She has things in her medicine chest
that'll cure anything.

She'll give me something to rub on my hands
and tell me to pray to the Blessed Virgin.

I'll be well again in no time.

Let... let me see...

What did I...

come here...
to find?

It's terrible how absent-minded
I've become.
Always dreaming and forgetting.

Here, let me take it dear.

You'll only step on it
and then you'll be sorry afterwards.

Thank you. You're very kind.

It's a wedding gown, it's very lovely isn't it?

I remember now...

I found it...
in the attic hidden in a trunk.

I don't know what I wanted it for.
I'm going to be a nun.

That is...

if I can only...
find...

What is it I'm looking for?

I know it's something I lost.
Mary.

No good, Papa.

Something I miss...
terribly.

It can't be altogether lost.
Mama.

Something...
What's the use?

...I need terribly.

I remember,

when I had it I was never lonely
nor afraid.

I can't have lost it forever.

I'd die if I know that.

Because then there would be no hope.

Mama.

It's not just a summer cold.

I've got consumption.

No. No!

You must not try to hold me.

You must not try to touch me.

You damn fool, it's no good.

It's not right when I'm hoping to be a nun.

We're fools to pay any attention.

It's the damn poison.

I never knew her drown herself
in it as deep as this before.

Pass me that bottle, Jamie.

I had a talk with mother Elizabeth.

She's so sweet and good.

A saint on earth. I love her dearly.

It may be sinful of me,
but I love her better than my own mother

because she always understands
even before you say a word.

Her kind blue eyes look right
into your heart.

Can't keep any secrets from her.

You couldn't deceive her
even if you were mean enough to want to.

All the same...

I don't think she was so understanding
this time.

I told her I wanted to be a nun.

I explained how sure I was of my vocation.

That I'd prayed to the Blessed Virgin
to make me sure and to find me worthy.

I told mother I had had a true vision when
I was praying in the shrine of our Lady of Lords

on the little island in the lake.

I said I knew as surely
as I knew I was kneeling there

that the Blessed Virgin had smiled

and given me her consent.

But mother Elizabeth said I must be
more sure than that even,

that I must prove it wasn't simply
my imagination.

She said if I was so sure
then I wouldn't mind putting myself to a test

by going home after I'd graduated
and living as other girls live,

going out to parties and dances
and enjoy myself

and then

if after a year or two I still felt sure

I could come back to see her
and we would talk it over again.

I never dreamed Holy Mother
would give me such advice.

I was really shocked!

I said naturally I would do anything
she suggested but

I knew it was simply a waste of time.

After I left her I felt
all mixed up

so I went to the shrine

and I prayed to the Blessed Virgin

and found peace again

because I knew she heard my prayer

and would always love me

and see no harm ever came to me

so long...

so long
as I never lost my faith in her.

That was in the winter of senior year.

Then in the spring

something happened to me.

Yes, I remember.

I fell in love with James Tyrone

and was so happy...

for a time.

Subtitles: Lu�s Filipe Bernardes

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