All language subtitles for Moments.1974.1080p.BluRay.REMUX.AVC.FLAC.2.0-EPSiLON

(WIND HOWLING)

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

(PANTING)

(PANTING GETTING LOUDER)

(SUDDEN SHOUT)

(TRAIN WHEELS CLATTERING)

(TRAIN HORN BLOWING)

(TRAIN HORN BLOWING)

WOMAN ON P.A.: The train
now arriving at Platform Three

is the 14:14 from London Victoria.

MAN:
Hello, Jack!

JACK: I dunno.
Late again, mate?

INSPECTOR:
Tickets. Tickets, please.

WOMAN ON P.A.: The train
now standing at Platform One

- is the 15:55 to London Victoria...
- Thank you. Thank you.

...calling at Lewes, Haywards Heath,
East Croydon, and London Victoria.

Thank you, sir.

Tickets, please.

(CHATTERING)

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

(CLOCK CHIMING THE HOUR)

CHILD:
Hey, Mum, come here.

Come and give it a try.
Come on.

(FAIRGROUND MUSIC PLAYING)

BARKER: Here you are.
Two players. Two more players, please.

Two more players.
Thank you, sir.

Thank you. Two for 10p.

Don't forget the old coconut shy.

All here in your hand...

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

- Oh!
- Oh, so sorry! You okay?

- Yes.
- Sure?

(REGULAR TAPPING)

(TAPPING STOPS)

(BELL PINGING)

(TAPPING RESUMES)

Oh, good afternoon, sir.

It's turned right cold,
hasn't it, sir?

(TAPPING STOPS)

Buildings are like people.

- They change.
- Mmm!

(TAPPING RESUMES)

Mr Fleming.

Sorry, sir, I don't quite...

place you at the minute.

I'd be surprised if you could.

When I first came here,
I was no taller than this...

counter-top.

When was that, then?

- 19...
- (TAPPING STOPS)

37, 1938, 1939.

Three years running,
my mother brought me here.

We always stayed at the Grand.

I remember you used to carry
our bags upstairs, Mr Fleming.

You seemed...

much taller to me.

I used to want to be like you,
and live on the sea front, and...

carry people's bags upstairs,

- and collect huge tips.
- Oh...

You used to be junior porter then.

I'm head porter now, sir.

You've been here a long time.

Yes.

Never wanted to leave.

Not in thirty-four years, sir.

Well, it's home for me, sir.

See, every season,
the regulars, they come back,

and I... I know them all
by name, or by sight, sir.

'Course, in the off-season,
it does get a bit dull, but...

well, there's always somebody
arriving or leaving, sir.

See a bit of life from here.

Passing you by.

I found me niche, sir.

Do you, um...

have a room for me?

Oh, certainly, sir.

Don't have many people staying here
at this time of the year.

Just the old residents
and a bit of weekend trade.

As a matter of fact, sir,
we've only got one other new guest.

Young lady, sir.
Arrived about an hour ago.

A right proper little darling, she...

If you know what I mean, sir.

Yes, I know what you mean.

She nearly knocked me over
coming out of here just now.

What a way to go, eh, sir?
(CHUCKLING)

Yes.

I expect you'll see her
at supper, sir.

Six to nine-thirty, sir.

A nice roast lamb, sir.

Would... Would you care
to register, sir?

There it is.

(TAPPING RESUMES)

Well, Mr Samuelson.
Very nice to meet you again.

Do you really remember me
in 1937?

Oh, yes.

Have I changed very much?

I recognised you at once.

I'll get you a nice room
overlooking the sea, sir.

(PIANO TRIO PLAYING)

Darling, I'm not awfully keen about
going to Farnborough in the spring.

Do you think it'd be all right
if it was here?

MAN:
I don't see why we shouldn't...

MOTHER:
Peter, come here at once.

Peter, stop this nonsense!

- WOMAN: What do you mean?
- MAN: Well, I... I think...

FATHER:
That's enough, Peter!

Come back here,
there's a good lad.

(CHATTERING CONTINUES)

MAN: ...and he says it's all
just a temporary political situation.

WOMAN:
Yes. Yes.

(PIANO TRIO FADING)

FLEMING:
Sir?

332, sir.

- (REGULAR TAPPING)
- What?

Sir?

Thank you.

332, sir.
It's on the third floor.

- Take your bag, sir?
- No!

Let me fulfil
a childhood dream.

I'll take it up.

WORKMAN: Okay, Charlie.
Take 'em up.

Will you be staying with us long,
Mr Samuelson?

No.

Not long.

- (PIANO TRIO RESUMES)
- (CHATTERING RESUMES)

(SHUDDERING BREATHS)

(BRASS BAND PLAYING)

(SHRIEKING)

MOTHER: That poor little thing.
He's teasing her terribly.

Oh dear. Oh, no!

Oh, well, she doesn't
seem to mind.

They've had a lot of fun together
this summer, haven't they?

GIRL: I'll get you, you beast!
Oh, I'll get you!

MOTHER:
She's really very sweet, isn't she?

(CHILDREN LAUGHING)

FATHER:
I'll teach him a lesson.

Oh. No! Oh! Oh!

Thank you, Mr Samuelson!

Throw him in!

Go on!

That'll teach the little chap.

That'll teach you!

Come on, then.

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

- Hello.
- Hello, madam.

WOMAN:
Can I go for a swim?

Well, normally, madam,
but we're about to empty it.

- It's the season.
- Oh, what a shame.

- Yes.
- I fancy a swim.

Oh well, never mind.

(WAVES LAPPING OUTSIDE)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(CLOCK CHIMING THE HOUR)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(RAPID FOOTSTEPS OUTSIDE)

(KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

- What is it?
- WOMAN: Hello?

- (KNOCKING)
- Go away! I'm tired.

- Please!
- (KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

There's nothing I want.

Everything's all right.

(KNOCKING)

Please leave me alone!

(KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

(KNOCKING)

Have you got any matches?

- What?
- Oh, I went for a walk along the beach.

Jesus, it's cold out there!

And how those fishermen
can stay out all night.

I mean, even the fishes
are staying inside.

So, when I got
back to my room...

Oh, I'm one floor up,
and sort of around.

I went to light the gas fire,
and found I'd run out.

Of matches.

It's like a fridge in there.

I mean, I've been
walking down this corridor,

knocking on every door,
trying to find some.

After you, I was
gonna give up.

Have you got any?

Um...

Wait a minute.

Just a moment.

(MATCHES RATTLING)

Here you are.
Keep them.

Would you be an angel
and light it for me?

I'm always afraid
it'll explode in my face.

Don't worry, darling.
I won't rape you.

- All right.
- God, hurry!

I think I've left the gas on.

Panic over!
I turned it off.

Oh, thanks.

(SUDDEN WHOMP)

Oh! See what I mean?

You haven't singed
your eyebrows, have you?

- No.
- Good, 'cause they're lovely.

They're like two horns.

You're not Mephistopheles
in drag, are you?

Here.

In case it goes out.

Thanks.

Sorry the room's
in such a mess.

I always unpack
in two minutes flat.

And if anything drops, it just
stays there for about a fortnight.

Not the posters, of course.
I always hang those.

Do you like it?

I don't understand
what it means.

- Oh.
- Do you like it?

Yes. Yes.

- It's yours.
- Don't be silly.

- Go on, I want to give you something.
- Why?

- Oh, no reason. Take it.
- No!

There's no point in giving me
anything. It would only be wasted.

Thank you, all the same.

Oh, it's a pleasure.

I'll hang it up anyway,
in your honour.

And if ever you want it,
you just come and take it, okay?

Okay.

We've met before.

We've met before,
outside the hotel.

Oh, yes.

You were in
something of a hurry.

Yes, I was late.
Like the White Rabbit.

If I'd known,
I would have stopped.

Known what?

You.

- I must get back to my room.
- Oh, don't go yet.

Listen, I've got
some fish and chips.

Masses of them. Why don't you
stop and eat some with me?

Now, where did I put...?
There they are!

Have you eaten yet?

When was the last time you ate?
I bet you can't remember.

Some time yesterday.

Yesterday?
You must be famished!

Now, sit down.

We'll dig in.

No forks, I'm afraid.

I'm not hungry.

Oh, fish and chips,
finger-type food.

...I don't want
anything to eat.

- Good night, Miss, er...
- Chrissy.

- Chrissy Hunter.
- Miss Hunter.

Goodbye.

But we've started a relationship.
You can't go now.

You come into a girl's room,
and you light the gas fire.

That's starting a relationship.

I mean, you can't go until you
know how it's going to turn out.

I mean, what if Romeo and Juliet
had said "to hell with it!"

How would they have
finished up?

Alive, probably.

Ah, but they'd never have known
what happiness and tragedy was.

They found out.

- Have you got something to go back to?
- No.

Nothing.

(QUIETLY)
Nothing at all.

Then, don't make me eat alone.

Look, someone might break in,

and molest me
in the middle of a chip.

I'm very molestable, you know.

What makes you think
I won't molest you?

Well, you've had
plenty of time, darling.

'Kay?

That's settled, then.
Now...

Well, we can't eat here,
because we've got no plates.

We don't want to be slobs,
now, do we?

But I know just the place
where we can get some.

Hugest cod I've ever seen.

If they'd weighed it
when they caught it,

they probably would have
run aground.

It's soaked in vinegar, though.
I hope you don't mind.

But if you don't like vinegar,
you could always

pretend it's tomato ketchup.

That's what I do
if I don't like something.

I pretend it's something else.
Much better.

It's the same with pain,
or unhappiness, or anything.

You just pretend it isn't there,
never was, never will be,

and you begin to wonder
whether it was or not.

Isn't that disguising the truth?

Only looking at it
in a different way.

Now, let's avail ourselves
of Chrissy's motto.

"Help yourself."

(VOICES CHATTERING)

MAN #1: As far as I remember,
we raised £250.

I think we shall
top that this year...

WOMAN #1: I'm in despair.
My game's gone completely to pieces.

- MAN #2: Really?
- WOMAN #1: I'm from Swansea.

- MAN: Well, I come from New York, actually.
- WOMAN: Oh, New York! I wish I...

(CONVERSATIONS CONTINUE)

MAN #3: Jonathan's riding
the double this year.

WOMAN #2: We're having
an awfully difficult time this year...

(CONVERSATIONS FADE)

Do sit down.

Mr Fleming isn't going to like this.

Don't worry.

You can pour the wine.

Here you are.

Aren't you glad you came?

This is super!

- Is it good?
- Mmm. Very.

You are hungry! Look at the way
you're tearing at that fish.

It's cannibalism.

You don't look after yourself.
I can tell by your eyes.

I'm all right.

You can tell a lot about
people from their eyes.

Have you noticed that?

They're like mirrors
that you look into.

That's why people close them
or avert them,

because they don't want
you to see in.

Do you believe in
first impressions?

Well, they can be misleading.

Oh yes, but they're very good
for establishing character.

Do you know what
my first impression of you was?

No. What?

- A spy.
- Hmm.

(COUGHING)

No, really!

You've got that unkempt
come-in-from-the-cold look.

I think you've been sent here

on one final assassination,
in the line of duty,

and you're so sickened by it

that you can't eat or sleep.

You've become a disillusioned
and embittered man.

Pretty close, aren't I?

Pretty close.

But not about my profession.

Oh, I could guess that
from your name.

- Peter Samuelson.
- Samuelson?

Well, that's an executive name.

Samuelson Enterprises.

Peter Marcus Samuelson,
Managing Director.

That's a super name
for a businessman.

It's a bit long, though.

I couldn't possibly keep
calling you "Mr Samuelson".

Well...

Call me Peter.

Bit formal.

I think I'll call you Sam.

What is your profession?

Well, if you want
your first impressions

completely shattered,
I'll tell you.

I'm... was...

an accountant at the Ichor
Engineering Company in London. They...

make ventilation systems.

You mean they
manufacture hot air?

(CHUCKLING)
They certainly do.

Well, what do you do?

- My job?
- Mmm.

I check, look up,
add, subtract,

assemble rows and rows and rows
of figures, names, and dates.

Darling, I'm so sorry.
Have a chip.

Oh, really, no, thank you.

How long have you
been doing that?

- Twenty-three years.
- Twenty-three years?!

I couldn't stick a job like that
for twenty-three minutes.

How do you stand it?

You become...

trapped in familiarity.

All the days
merge into one another.

They become weeks,
and then months, and then years.

People around you
are always the same.

You don't even notice
they're getting older.

You find you've become
part of the office machinery.

One of them.

You don't advance.

You don't retreat.

You merely exist.

So, you locked up your desk,

closed those big books
full of figures, names, and dates,

and walked out,
never to return.

They don't even realise
I'm not coming back.

I said "good night" to
Hastings, Snow, and Mr Cartwright,

just like any other Friday night.

"Have a good weekend,
see you Monday morning,"

they moaned with their usual
perfunctory acknowledgements.

Mr Cartwright always looked surprised
to see me at the end of the day.

(CHUCKLING) I'd give anything
to see their faces when they... hear.

When they hear what?

It'll probably only cause
a ripple of conversation.

What was your first
impression of me, Sam?

Someone full of life.

Oh, that's only because
I'm an atheist.

Oh, Chrissy.

I can't believe in a
marvellous ethereal afterlife,

full of harmony and peace forever.

So, I live this life
to the full.

Do you realise we will never have
these moments together again?

How shall we spend them?

Any way you like.

Oh, what a lovely room!

Let's have some music!
Do you like music?

- Oh, very much.
- What sort of music do you like?

- Classical?
- Yes.

You look like a
classical man to me.

I bet you loathe
pop music, don't you?

...
I like the sound effects.

As long as it means
something to you.

Doesn't matter what.

I love music.

I've got my cassette upstairs.

I never travel anywhere
without it.

Music fills my whole life.

I'm always listening to it
at work.

Where is that?

I manage a boutique
in Kensington High Street.

Oh, you must know it.
It's called Dollies.

There's a painting of a
huge dolly face on the front.

- I'll go and get it.
- What?

- My cassette!
- Oh.

Now, don't go away.
I'll be two ticks.

(LIGHT DANCE MUSIC
FAINTLY AUDIBLE)

(LAUGHING AND CHATTERING)

They refuse to go to bed.

Well, it's a special occasion.

- You look lovely tonight.
- Thank you.

Thank you for
the lovely flowers.

As it's our anniversary, may I
have the first dance with you?

Certainly, sir.

(INAUDIBLE)

- (CORK POPPING)
- (LAUGHTER)

(INAUDIBLE)

- (MUSIC ENDS)
- (APPLAUSE)

Here we are.

What shall we have?

We could have the Cream,
Marmalade...

Sounds like we're ordering
breakfast, doesn't it?

Oh! Have you heard
Joni Mitchell's Blue?

Have you?

No.

Fantastic!
We could have a little Beatles.

I think they really had
something to say in their songs.

So much so that
I sometimes wonder

if they knew what it was
themselves at the time.

- Oh, I know.
- (SOFT JAZZ PLAYING)

Oh, I've got a lovely dress
to go dancing in.

It's in here somewhere.

Do you like it?

- It's lovely.
- I'll put it on.

Should I, er...
turn my back?

Oh, it's okay. I'll turn mine.

You certainly have
an extensive wardrobe.

Oh, it's not mine.
I pinched it from the shop.

Well, it's my shop.

I can pinch what I like, can't I?

If anyone asks,
I'll say that I'm trying them on

to see what reaction I get.

Oh, would you?

If I'm whistled at,
they go on the rack,

and only if I'm molested
do they go in the window.

Thanks.

- Do you dance, Mr Samuelson?
- No.

'Course you can dance!
Everybody can dance.

All you have to do is put
your arms around your partner...

like that, and move
gently to the music.

We can hardly waltz to this.

'Course you can.

We'll probably start a trend
that'll sweep the country.

You must have gone dancing
when you were courting.

Every Wednesday
and Friday night.

Not the sort of dancing you do,

where you stand
as far apart as possible

and try and out-shake each other.

I like it better like this.

Do you know something,
Mr Samuelson?

What?

We're dancing.

I've never been more aware of
anything in my whole life.

- (MUSIC ENDS)
- Oh!

Put on another one.

(CASSETTES RATTLING)

Oh, you'll love this.

Gotta hear this one.

(SOFT ROCK INSTRUMENTAL)

What's the matter?
It's not that bad, is it?

If you'd run out of matches,

why didn't you use your lighter?

I was hoping you
wouldn't find that.

Obviously.

Why did you want me
to come to your room?

What?

Why did you want me
to come to your room?

I needed a man.

Not just any old man.
Not a pick-up.

I could get one of those
if I walked along the front.

One of the local Romeos
would oblige.

They always do if you
look at them where they live.

But I took a chance on you,

and it paid off.

You listen.

Even when I talk rubbish,
you listen.

You make it seem
as though it's...

not.

Sam, I need your help.

You need my help?

CHRISSY:
Desperately.

See, we're both running away
from the same thing.

A feeling of being trapped.

We're contemporaries
in a common grief.

I can't help you, Chrissy.

I wouldn't know where to start.

I wonder why
we both came here?

This place must be
full of refugees.

I can't help you, Chrissy.

- Oh, but you can.
- How?

By staying with me
this evening.

I don't want to be found alone.

Who's going to find you?

John.

John?

Who's John?

Oh, he's the artist
and the bastard I live with.

Oh. I see.

I woke up this morning,

and looked round that
filthy little studio,

easels, brushes,

bottles or junk
all over the floor,

the whole place
reeking of paint.

I mean, I just can't
live in that kind of chaos.

- What did you do then?
- I got up.

- Yes, but after that?
- Oh...

Well...

John was yelling for
a pair of socks, as usual,

and I was cooking breakfast.

And, when I'd made it,
he said he couldn't eat it

because he still had a hangover
from the party the night before.

Or, rather, that morning.
He'd only finished at five.

And that was only because
I threw out his drunken friends.

So, that started things off.

It progressed from
breakfast to the party,

to his friends,
to his paintings,

then to our usual row about

why doesn't he do illustrations
to pay the rent,

and not paintings for an
exhibition that'll never open?

I mean, how can you
open an exhibition

when you've recently
starved to death?

And me along with him.

What about your boutique?

Oh, that only recently opened,
and every penny of profit

goes to the two men
that backed me in it.

I only take home a salary,

and that's not enough
to support us both.

Anyway, why the hell
should I support him?

Because you love him.

Could you give me a light?

Thanks.

What happened then?

Well, John went out
for some fags.

I was so mad,
I was screaming.

I picked up a bread knife,
and started to look for

a painting of his to slash.

I couldn't find one good enough.

So I packed my suitcase,

and wrote him an
absolutely pornographic letter,

and told him what he could
do with himself

whilst I was away.

Did you tell him
where you were going?

Mmm.

Then you wanted him
to come after you.

- No, I didn't!
- Then why tell him?

Because...

Because...

Because!

I wanted him to remember.

We spent the summer
here, together,

two years ago.

It was dawn.

The sun was...

like a huge, orange heart.

It was beautiful.

John used to
sit on the beach,

somewhere there, I think.

And I used to sit on
the sea wall, there,

sketching him.

He tried every morning,
for a week,

to put that...

that sunrise on canvas.

And when he'd finished,

it was the most gorgeous
painting I've ever seen.

It was our creation.
We did it together.

And I could sketch him
without even looking at him.

We were lovers by then,
of course.

A very romantic beginning.

Oh, wildly.

That's why I wanted him
to remember...

how it was in the beginning.

That's why I came back here.

Didn't last for long, though.

Chrissy?

Chrissy?

(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

- Five twos, please.
- (COINS CLATTERING)

- PETER: Was that the only reason for your row?
- Thanks.

What?

Was that the only reason for
your row? The party?

- (DRIVING SOUNDS)
- (HORN HONKING)

Oh, damn!

No.

What, then?

I miss him.

I don't see him
from morning till night.

(PINGING)

When I come home at night,
he's always locked in that...

studio.

I just sit alone
watching telly,

reading poetry, or...

walking round touching the furniture
till I could scream.

I want to see him,
touch him,

not just know he's there,

illustrating those
stupid adventure books.

You started off

waking up in a filthy
little studio, stinking of paint.

You couldn't afford
to support you both,

and you'd had
your usual row about

why he doesn't do illustrations
to pay the rent.

Now, you're at a party
in your flat,

a flat in which you can walk around
and touch all the furniture,

with another woman trying to
gain John's affections for his money.

And you're sick and tired
of being left alone

while he does his illustrations
for his crappy adventure books.

Which is it, Chrissy?

I was talking about
when we were first together.

When we were in that
little room in Hampstead.

He had to do illustrations then,
so that we could eat.

Only he became so successful
that he made a career out of it.

Now we've moved
into the big flat,

we have all the luxury
and high living we can stand.

Isn't that what
you'd worked for?

He takes all that
for granted now.

Including me.

That's why I break out.
Rebel.

Cling to something else.
Something real.

Someone real.

I must say, you're not
the usual type I get involved with.

No, I don't suppose I am.

I'm glad.
You got any change?

Thanks.

Now, walk away.

Then, you won't be
expecting a jackpot,

and, if something nice comes up,
it'll be a nice surprise.

(MACHINE CLICKS TWICE)

Oh.

I've got that picture.
The one I was talking to you about.

- Would you like to see it?
- Yes, all right.

Then, take me home.

This is mine.

It's beautiful.

The birth of a day.

Of life.

You're very poetic
for an accountant.

Only to myself.

Isn't it funny? We're all made
of the same flesh and blood,

we all feel the same emotions,

we can see the beauty
around us, but...

I could never
express it like that.

Not with paint,

or with words,
or in any other way.

I can't compete with that.

Oh, don't try.

This is his artistic level.

His human level's
about as high as the gutter.

I've got a picture of him somewhere.
Now, where did I put it?

Oh, I'd love to see his face

when he reads
that letter I left him.

I left it with my landlady.

I told her not to give it to him
till very late.

He should be hurtling
down here at some point.

When he does...

He'll find you in a compromising
position with another man.

What happens then?
What do you want him to do? Hit me?

Or are you giving him an excuse
for walking out on you,

so that the
responsibility isn't yours?

I'm sorry, Chrissy.

I won't be used.

I don't want him to find us
half naked in each other's arms.

He wouldn't blink an eyelid
at that. He'd expect that.

Well...

How... How do you
want him to find us?

Just together.

I want him to see
that he's not the only man

that can make me happy
when he chooses to.

Besides, I want you to stay
'cause I want you to stay.

Not that I wouldn't
seduce you, of course.

I think you're lovely.

Chrissy!

I'm simply asking you

for the pleasure of your
company this evening.

What do you say, Sam?

I'll stay as long as I can.

Good! Throwing those
matches into the sea

was the best decision
I ever made.

What happens when John comes?

This is our party.

Besides, he won't be here
until tomorrow.

God, I'm hungry.
Are you?

We could have some
roast lamb sandwiches.

- The dining room's closed.
- Mr Fleming will make them for us.

He used to be the
head porter, you know.

Oh.

You've made the acquaintance
of Mr Fleming, have you?

Mmm. He raped me with
his eyes when he first saw me.

He's got lovely eyes.

I can't compete with that, either.

Now, you sit here
and make yourself comfy,

and I'll be back in two minutes.

Cheese, pickle, and biscuits?

Bottle of plonk?

And a room full of underwear.

What more could we need
for an orgy?

Whoops!

Oh, you will be here when
I get back, now, won't you?

- I'll be here.
- Good!

(DOOR OPENING)

- Look at this room.
- (DOOR CLOSING)

The girl must enjoy
falling over.

I ask you!

If old Snow saw a room like this,
he'd have a fit.

He likes every pencil in place.

He thinks someone's going to shout...
(SUDDEN ROAR)

Bad influence on me, Chrissy.

(WAVES BREAKING OUTSIDE)

- (BELL TOLLING FAINTLY)
- (DISTANT FOGHORN)

(RAPID KNOCKING)

CHRISSY:
Oh, there you are.

I thought you'd gone
for a minute.

There we are!

Just the three of us.

You, me, and the sandwiches
by courtesy of Mr Fleming.

When I told him they were
for us, for you and me,

he said, "Mr Samuelson?
Why, I've known him for thirty years."

You're a dark horse, Sam.

You never told me
you'd been here before.

So, we've both returned
to our beginnings.

What's the matter?

He hasn't arrived, has he?

- Who?
- John.

How can he
when he doesn't exist?

What?

Look out of that window,
and tell me what you see.

Darkness, oblivion.
What do you want me to see?

The window across the way.
Below you. The lighted one.

Go on.

Look.

It's empty.

But it wasn't when
you first looked into it.

You saw a pathetic figure,
huddled at that table,

holding a revolver.

Very still.

"What's he going to do with that?"
you thought.

"The bloody fool!
He's going to Kill himself."

And you couldn't
let that happen, could you,

because you're so full of life,

you couldn't believe that
anyone could be tired of it,

that life is a burden,
something to be endured.

Sam...

So you ran down the stairs,
and you banged at my door

at that psychological moment.

Oh, I should have known.
I might have believed.

It was too...
miraculous to be true.

Someone who cared coming into
my life when I was ready to end it.

That was the marvellous thing.
I really thought that you cared

about me and
my little world, that...

that ceased to be significant
even to myself.

But I do care.

Don't. Don't.
Stop lying.

I'm not lying.
When have I lied?

Every time you've opened
your mouth, I should imagine.

All your warmth and interest
was to one end, to stop me.

Even to making up that story
about your artist boyfriend

you were trying to escape from,
and the parties, and the...

and the fights,
and notes you left...

You didn't have to go to
such lengths to stop me.

I would have stayed here, just...

for your company!

Look, he does exist.

I showed you his painting.

Bought it, or stole it,
or painted it yourself.

I don't know.
It doesn't matter.

It was all a lie.

You saw me down there,
and that's why you s...

why you came
to my room, isn't it?

- Yes.
- Isn't it?!

- Yes!
- Well, thank you!

But you haven't let me
get on with it!

- No, Sam, listen to me...
- Don't call me that.

- My name isn't Sam.
- It is to me.

- Now, I couldn't stand there...
- Why not?!

I had nothing!

Nothing at all!

Tell me.

Please.

Jean, my wife...

and I had been to a New Year's
party just outside London.

Our two daughters had come
with us, aged six and seven.

I didn't marry till
quite late in life, you see.

Of course, it was late
for the girls to be up.

We had to wait till midnight
to sing "Auld Lang Syne".

But it only happens
once a year, doesn't it?

Jean was against it. I mean,
we had the babysitter already.

The girls were so disappointed
at being left out of it, that...

in the end, I...
I relented. I...

insisted they come.

What happened?

I was driving back
along the main road.

I'd only had
one glass of champagne,

just to toast the New Year.
I don't really like the stuff.

Suddenly, this sports car

shot out of a side road
straight in front of me.

Right in front of me!

Straight across the main road
without stopping. I...

I didn't have time to brake.
I crashed straight into him.

They say that he didn't
see the Give Way sign.

The light above it had gone out.

A little thing like that,
a blown-out bulb.

I can remember
the car turning over,

and the girls screaming,
and nothing else.

When I woke up in hospital,

they told me that
my wife and children were dead.

All I could think of was "why?"

Why?

Why should they be killed?

I mean, why couldn't it have
been me, or the other man? He...

He escaped.

Why him?

There were only forty-three people
killed on the road that New Year's Eve,

compared to fifty-nine
the year before.

That's what the newscaster said.

The Ministry was pleased
with the figures.

Only forty-three
compared to fifty-nine.

But my wife,

and my children,

were three of those
forty-three.

(SOBBING)
And that's what they became.

A statistic the Ministry
was pleased with.

I'm so sorry.

My family was
my whole life!

When their lives ended,
so did mine.

Oh...

I carried on.

When I left the hospital,

I took a few days off from work
to arrange the funeral.

Mr Cartwright was
very good about it.

He said he didn't mind,
as long as I came

straight back to work afterwards.

For eight months, I carried on,

compiling those
meaningless figures.

Then, at night,

I returned home to the flat.

But it wasn't empty, you see.

Their memories were
all around me.

I'd open a drawer, and I'd think,
"She used that for her make-up."

Or I'd find one of
the girls' toys,

that I'd missed when I'd
cleared the place of their things.

In the end, there just seemed
no point in going on.

It wasn't a melodramatic decision,

it was just the only thing to do.

My work meant nothing to me.
I didn't want to rot in it.

I had no friends.
There was only Jean and the girls.

And I'm too old
to start again.

So...

last night,
I packed a bag,

and stayed at a hotel.

I couldn't sleep
in that bedroom again.

And, this morning,
I took a train down here.

Seemed as good a place as any.

Oh, darling.

Don't.

Don't.

It took me a long time
to reach the point

- where I could pull that trigger.
- I know.

You had no right to stop me.

It'll be much harder now
to do it.

You mustn't.

Yes, I must finish something,
for once in my life.

I'm sorry, I don't usually...

(SOBBING)

I really did believe
that you needed me.

But I do.

No, you don't need me.

You've got all you need.

I'm not your responsibility.

You haven't eaten
your sandwiches.

Mr Fleming made them
specially for you.

He'll be very hurt
if you don't eat them.

I'll be all right tonight.
I promise.

Look, I won't let you go.
I can't.

Good night, Chrissy.

I'm frightened.

Frightened of what?

I don't know.

That's why I'm frightened.

Please stay with me tonight.

MOTHER:
Peter!

Peter!
Come along, we must go.

Goodbye.

(ALL TALKING AT ONCE)

Goodbye. Nice to meet you.

- Come along.
- Goodbye.

Bye!

(CHILDREN LAUGHING)

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

(WAVES BREAKING OUTSIDE)

CHRISSY:
Good morning, sir.

PETER:
Morning.

I didn't hear you leave.

I...

didn't want to disturb you.

It's a bit late for that.

I told you I was very molestable.

Mmm.

You were right.

How does breakfast grab you?

(QUIET CHATTERING)

Thanks.

So, what are you going to do?

Well...

I'm going to wait
till Mr Fleming retires,

then I'm going to
turn this hotel

into the most expensive
brothel on the South Coast.

John will be here soon.

If he exists.

'Course he exists!

Look.

That's him.

Could be anyone.
Your brother.

I haven't got a brother.
I'm an only child.

That's why I'm so independent.

I think brothers and sisters
should be put down at birth.

They stunt your growth.
How's your egg?

Oh, it's fine.

What about John?

What about him?
Look, forget about him,

until we have to remember.

All right.

This should be our day.

- How shall we spend it?
- Any way you like.

- Shall we go for a walk?
- Mm-hmm. Where to?

Anywhere. Doesn't matter.

As long as you're walking,
you're happy.

It doesn't matter
where you're walking to.

And after that?

Well, I have to
get back to work soon.

Miss Feltham will be
after my blood.

I'll get the sack
if I'm not careful.

- Who's Miss Feltham?
- Manageress.

But you said
you were the manageress.

- Oh, yeah.
- Well, then.

That was a slight exaggeration.
I'm one of the sales girls.

- A Dolly girl.
- Might have known.

- You mean you don't own the place?
- Don't laugh at me.

- I'd never do that.
- (BOTH LAUGHING)

Let's go.

(WIND HOWLING)

(WAVES CRASHING)

(SEA BIRDS CRYING)

Don't let the children
go too close!

You're too close!

(SEAGULL CRYING LOUDLY)

This is like a scene
from that Hitchcock film.

You know the one, with Cary Grant
and some ice-cool bird.

"Will he, or will he not,
throw her over the cliff?"

I mean, you might be
like that for all I know.

A psycho.

Well, I'm not.

So come away.

That's what you say,

but he didn't look like
a murderer either.

She had to walk along the edge
and flirt with death to find out.

- Chrissy, stop!
- No, don't!

- Stop it! Stop it!
- Don't push me. I didn't mean to.

I didn't mean to. Don't!

(CHRISSY GIGGLING)

Oh...

Darling!

All right, then.
Come on.

Sam, I'm cold.

Let's go home.

All right.

- (BOTH LAUGHING)
- There's someone there, look.

I can't help it. I'm a Taurus.
We take life by storm, you know.

What sign are you?
I bet you're a wonky old Libra.

Oh, there you are.

Miss Hunter, a gentleman
called here for you a while ago.

Afternoon, sir.

Turned cold, hasn't it?
Single room for you, sir?

Is there a Christine Hunter
staying here?

- She'd have checked in yesterday.
- Yeah.

I don't have to look up the register
for that young lady.

Well, could you tell me
what room she's in, please?

441, sir.
Fourth floor.

She expecting you, sir?

Yeah.
Yeah, she's expecting me.

She may have gone out, sir.

Oh, did he leave his name?

Er... No, Miss. He just said
he'd be back in an hour.

- Did you find her, sir?
- I usually do.

I'll be back in
about an hour.

Well, when was that?

Only a few minutes ago.
You've only just missed him.

Thank you.

- Go away and leave me alone!
- Chrissy, wait.

- Keep calm.
- I'm not going back with him!

But don't run away from him.
Talk to him.

Have it out once and for all.

Then you can decide
what you want to do.

But running away's
not the answer.

- You don't...
- We both know that.

You know nothing!

He has come all the way
down here to see you.

You wanted him to!

If he wasn't concerned,
he wouldn't have come!

If you...
If you talk to him,

you may decide that
you want to go back with him.

That it's the best thing.

Oh, how do you know
what's best for me?

You don't even know
what's best for yourself!

- (KNOCKING)
- PETER: Chrissy?

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

- (ARCADE MACHINES PINGING)
- Excuse me.

Have you seen a young girl,
medium height, fair hair,

within the last
quarter of an hour?

See a lotta girls, squire.

They all look the same to me.

Oh. Thanks.

- (ROCK MUSIC STARTS PLAYING)
- (MACHINES START PINGING)

(WIND HOWLING)

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

Chrissy!

Chrissy!

(ECHOING)

Chrissy!

(ECHOING)

Hello, Sam.

Hello, Chrissy.

Isn't it amazing,
the way the sea changes colour?

Sometimes, it's
incredibly blue,

all clear and beautiful.

Then you come back,
and it's sort of muddy green.

Now, it's all...

shimmering and silver.

Cold?

Mmm.

Can you help me down?

Thanks.

Oh, put your arms
around me.

Sorry about those things I said.

...I didn't mean them.
I was... I was upset.

I Know.

Oh, this is lovely. Isn't it?

Mmm.

It's funny, I was walking
along the front just now,

thinking,
"What a miserable seaside town."

Two years ago,
it was so beautiful.

He was beautiful then.

And now his soul's been
corroded by commercial art.

Sam, don't talk down to me.

What do I know about his soul?

I've never been that close to him.

Well, maybe once.
Not any more.

That's why I had to leave him.

Because I had to get away.

I wonder what he'll say
when I tell him about you?

(SIGHING) All right, Chris.
Who is it this time?

Some bum you picked
off the beach?

He's not a bum.

Who is he, then?
What's he do?

He's an accountant, actually.

What? An accountant?

Checks ventilation systems.

Well, that sounds exciting.

He's not exciting,
or clever, or brilliant.

And he wouldn't last
two minutes at one of your parties

in the hands of
your so-called friends.

They'd rip him apart faster
than they do me,

but he's got an inner quality
that none of you would understand.

And don't ever hit me again.

Maybe we ought to keep this
just between ourselves.

Whatcha doing?

Looking for the mark
where he hit you.

Must have left a bruise.

Oh, you were right.

About what?

Well, every time I open my mouth,
I seem to be lying.

Why did you tell me
he hit you?

I don't know.
Made a better story.

Made my leaving him
more acceptable.

Why did you leave him?

Because I hate being
left in the background.

Well, perhaps
he doesn't realise...

I mean, he must love you.

Only next to himself.

His human level's
about as high as the gutter.

- You've used that line before.
- Have I?

- Yes.
- Well, it's a good one.

Anyway, he's a
selfish, egotistical bastard.

- And you love him.
- Yes.

Then you should go back to him.
I mean, after all, you are his girl.

I'm his wife.

(SEAGULLS CRYING)

I didn't realise.

Do you know what
I'd like to do now?

What?

Just walk down the beach,
straight into the sea.

Let the blackness enclose me,
till it surrounds me altogether.

Don't be ridiculous.

Your life is far too precious
to throw away like that.

Look who's talking! You're the one
who wanted to kill himself.

That's completely different.

What's different about it?
You have your reasons, I have mine.

- The result's the same.
- You have everything to live for!

This is the girl who lives
every moment of this life to the full

because that's the
only one she'll get. Remember?

Your life is the most important thing
you possess, because... because...

- Because what?
- Because it is you!

I'm glad you feel
that way about it.

Anyway, John wouldn't know
what to do without you.

Like hell.

I mean it. I mean, why do you
think he jumped into his car

and came tearing down here?

- He needs you, Chrissy.
- He never has before.

Do you know what I think
he'll say when he sees you?

- He'll say, "Chrissy, I..."
- I'm not interested.

All right.

What, then?

He'll say, "Chrissy,
in spite of your moods,

"and tantrums, and fantasies,
I love you."

Sounds like him.

Do you think
he'll really say that?

There's only one way
to find out.

He said he'd be
back in an hour.

An hour?
An hour's nearly up!

Now, do you really want
to go back with him?

Oh, do you think
we can make it?

Come on.

CHRISSY:
Come on!

Oh, my God.

Hurricane Chrissy strikes again!

Oh, Sam,
just look at the place.

Looks as though I've moved in
for months, not a couple of days.

'Course, I didn't know
when John would be down.

Oh, by the way, I didn't
leave a note with our landlady,

"cause we haven't got one.

That was in our Hampstead days.

I wrote to him at the office.
He must have got it this morning.

Must have been frantic with worry
all night, poor darling.

He probably went to Dollies,
and then to the police station,

then, finally, the fire brigade,

and then gone home exhausted.

Oh, pass me those tights,
will you, darling?

'Cause I didn't know
if he'd be down at all,

and if I hadn't come here,
I wouldn't have met you, would I?

And meeting you is the nicest thing
that's ever happened to me.

Well, since I threw that hot punch
over John's fleshy lover.

Oh, look at the suitcase.
I'll never get everything in.

Oh, I mustn't forget the painting.

And my cassette.
Ooh, I'd be lost without my music.

- (WHISPERING) Goodbye, Chrissy.
- I hope John doesn't cause a scene

when he sees me, and throw
his arms passionately round me

in the middle of the lobby.

We wouldn't want to embarrass
Mr Fleming, now, would we?

On the other hand, he might
shout and scream at me.

He did the last time
he collected me.

I suggested we went on
a third honeymoon.

We'd had a second.

I don't think he trusts me.

Of course,
he may just say nothing.

He doesn't say a lot, anyway.
It's all in his eyes,

like a painting...

(BAG RATTLING)

Sam?

Sam, don't!

Give me those bullets.

Go on.

What?

You can take the gun,
and I'll have the bullets.

Then you can't kill yourself
till we meet again.

You won't try it again,
will you?

I said before,

my first impression of you
was simple.

Full of life.

Perhaps a little bit of it
rubs off on everyone you touch.

What are you
going to do now?

I've got to go back
to the office on Monday.

Can't you change your job?

What else can I do?

If ever you feel that lonely again,
just come to Dollies.

I'm always there.

I own it, you know.

Goodbye, Sam.
Must dash.

Oh, I almost forgot.

This is for you.
Be good. Ta-ra!

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

(WAVES LAPPING OUTSIDE)

(DISTANT FOGHORN)

- (CHURCH BELLS TOLLING)
- (DISTANT FOGHORN)

(CHURCH CLOCK
STRIKING THE HOUR)

(FOOTSTEPS RUNNING OUTSIDE)

(SIGHING)

(FOOTSTEPS GETTING LOUDER)

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(GUNSHOT)

SUBTITLES BY POWERHOUSE FILMS LTD