VICAR: Forasmuch as it has pleased Almighty God of his great mercy,
to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed...
...we therefore commit his body to the ground...
...earth to earth,
ashes to ashes...
...dust to dust.
So sorry, my dear Mrs Henderson.
Your husband was a great friend to my country.
That's so kind of you.
Please join us at the house for a small luncheon in his honour.
Thank you so much, Leslie... but I think I'll take my own car.
(sobs)
(wails)
(continues sobbing)
(she keeps silent)
Madam.
I know that Robert would want me to be available to help you in any way.
Thank you so much.
- He was an estimable man. - Yes. Yes.
And a very dangerous business competitor.
Yes.
Oh. Please.
Excuse me.
I am bored with widowhood.
My dear, you've just scratched the surface.
I have to smile at everybody. I've never had to do that.
In India, there were always people to look down on.
People are simply being sympathetic.
After all, you have lost your husband.
I didn't mislay him.
It was most inconsiderate of Robert to die.
What on earth am I supposed to do now?
The first rule of widowhood, my dear -
important conversations occur at lunch.
It's really not so bad.
Widows are allowed hobbies.
- Hobbies? - Yes.
- Embroidery. Things like that. - Are you mad?
I graduated to weaving.
- Would you care to see my tapestries? - I'd rather drink ink.
Committees are good, of course.
I serve on quite a few.
Charities.
Once your husband dies, it's quite permissible to help the poor.
And now there's no-one to stop you buying things.
Also, of course, there's a great deal of time for lovers.
- Margot, I'm nearly 70. - That's true.
But you're also very rich.
The one cancels out the other.
I don't know anything about embroidery.
Ow! Oh!
(sighs)
WOMAN: Now, I believe we may call it a refuge.
Certainly we do not want any term alluding to unwed mothers in the title.
Nor do we wish for the public to know the purpose of the house.
But I've told all my friends I'm helping to build a home for future bastards.
(man coughs nervously)
Sorry.
- Home, madam? - I need some fresh air. Let's drive.
Yes, madam.
I think I should see Alec.
Hello, Alec.
(inaudible)
Let's return to London, please.
I'd rather like to visit old Windmill Street again.
Good day, madam.
Oh.
- Mind your back. - Oh!
- Oh, Laura, what on earth? - Margo.
Renovations, dear.
- But it's a... - Theatre.
It's a theatre. Isn't it delicious?
- I own it. - Own it?
You told me now there was no-one to stop me from buying things,
so I bought a theatre.
I meant bracelets and earrings.
What on earth are you going to do with a theatre?
Well, I thought music hall, or - what do they call it in America - vaudeville?
Actually, I haven't thought about it.
Oh, dear. What am I going to do with it?
Clearly you need someone to run it for you.
Oh, you think?
Oh, I knew you'd give me sensible advice.
But who?
Well, that's an easy assignment. I know just the man.
He's out of work at the moment, but he's very good at running theatres.
I can't imagine where she is.
She was meant to be here 20 minutes ago.
Well... (clears throat)
...that's that, then.
I can't hang around here all morning. I've an important meeting to go to.
- I'm sorry, old chum... - Oh, he was terribly ill in the car.
Nerves, I imagine. Little sweet!
LAURA: Hello, Leslie. - Hello.
Who on earth are you?
- This is Vivian Van Damm. - Don't be silly.
That's not a British name.
In actual fact, my father's a lawyer in Bishopsgate.
Although some of his ancestors are from Holland.
- Oh, dear God, you're Jewish! - As it happens, I'm not.
Well, of course you are, dear. Just look at yourself.
The show business is filled with Jewish people, isn't it? One must make do.
We haven't met. I'm Laura Henderson.
Yes, I imagined you were.
You're 20 minutes late, and you're rude.
- Perhaps he's the wrong man. - No, I don't think so.
Where are you going?
Leslie, where is he off to? Do stop him.
I'm here to offer you a position!
You can't offer me a position if I'm walking out on you.
But that's why I'm offering it, dear.
You've got gumption.
Oh, don't you adore that word?
And you're smoking a cigar.
Anyone who runs my theatre must smoke a cigar.
It's so manly. And so...
What?
Jewish.
I have a theatre.
It's just sitting there, waiting for a brilliant manager
to come and turn it into a commercial proposition.
A manager who might bring some enjoyment and amusement
back into the West End.
A manager with vision and courage.
And if that isn't you, then my intuition has failed me.
So, by all means, hurry off, Mr Damm Van.
Van Damm.
Oh, if you insist, dear. If you insist.
Whose idea was it to gut the building?
- Mine. - Well, well.
There should be a sign saying Windmill Theatre. Up there. See?
You're going to retain the name?
Well, I find it helps your driver if the theatre is named after the street.
What do you know about the theatre business?
Almost nothing.
I have to have total control of the production side. Is that clear?
All artistic decisions are mine.
You may voice an opinion, if you must, but I have the final say.
- Understood? - Of course.
I think we'll make a splendid team.
Let's go and sit down in that charming little café.
I'm sure its business will improve when our musical revue opens.
Who said we were doing a musical revue?
Well, I assumed.
All those decisions are mine. Remember?
LAURA: That's perfect. Just there.
Higher.
No. No, no, no. Come back. Come back to the middle.
Higher.
Oh!
Higher.
VAN DAMM: Fine. I've had an idea. Let's go inside.
It is a radical idea.
Oh, jolly good. What is it?
Non-stop performances.
- Non-stop? - Yes.
Instead of two shows a day, we run our show all day long.
Five or six performances a day, one after another.
It's never been done in England before.
Every theatre here is exactly like every other theatre.
No-one is attempting anything new.
It's good to stir things up, don't you think?
We'd be a sensation.
I've no idea what you're on about, but I do admire passion.
Yes, well... what else is there?
How much will this experiment cost?
I mean, what do I stand to lose if it fails?
Well, anything up to er... £10,000.
What fun!
I'm in a sporting mood today, Mr Van Damm. It must be the weather.
- And what'll we do? - A musical revue.
What will we call it?
Well, I thought Revudeville.
Oh, yes!
That's lovely.
Ladies and gentlemen...
...I've invited you here this evening to sip a bit of sherry -
I'm told cocktail parties are out-of-date -
and to announce the most amusing news.
The Windmill Theatre will open on February 3rd,
with the most revolutionary programme ever seen in England.
(murmuring)
In this enterprise, I shall be carrying on the work of my late husband,
who spent a great deal of time and money helping stage people,
especially those in the field of variety.
- Is that true? - She's making it up.
Oh.
LAURA: As you well know, these are difficult times,
so many of our delightful variety performers
have been forced onto the milk line.
- Bread line. - Bread line. Bread line.
Revudeville is an attempt to create...
- Employment. ...employment.
Employment... for these delightful creatures.
Our productions will be guided and overseen by our resident genius,
our brilliant general manager, who comes to us from Central Europe,
Mr Vivian Van Damm.
We won't be able to work together, you know that.
You're a perfect match.
So, you found yourself a continental.
Nonsense. He's as English as you or I.
But he's terribly alive, don't you think? It's just something one can sense.
- Laura, you have an infatuation. - Oh, don't be ridiculous.
It's the show business I'm attracted to.
Tomorrow we have auditions! Isn't that exciting?
People come in and entertain us
and we say either "stick around" or "buzz off."
Oh! (laughs)
♫ He may not be an angel
♫ Cos angels are so few - Thank you. Next!
♫ But until the day that one comes along
♫ I'll string along - Next!
♫ But... (mumbles)... one came long
♫ I'll sing along with you
VAN DAMM: Next!
(out of tune): ♫ He may not be an angel
♫ Cos angels are so few
♫ But until the day that one comes along
♫ I'll string along with you
Good God!
- Thank you, that'll do. LAURA: Poor thing.
- Next! - My dear, would you wait over there?
Mr Van Damm, I spent many years in the Far East with my husband
witnessing what one might call pagan rituals,
but I've never seen anything as barbaric as this.
Welcome to the theatre.
VAN DAMM: Next! LAURA: Very nice, dear.
Buy yourself a decent meal.
♫ Cos angels are so few
Who's the young man at the back?
VAN DAMM: Ssh! Concentrate on the auditions.
♫... one comes along
♫ I'll string along with you - Next!
We'll have him.
We will?
We will.
Next!
Why do you keep looking at that boy?
That boy, as you call him, was the featured performer at the Pavilion.
VAN DAMM: We snatched him away.
He can be a big help to me. He's got excellent taste.
He seems to agree with all of my choices.
Including these demented pharaohs?
- Book them. - Right, VD.
Are you mad?
They're not in the least authentic.
Ssh!
CHOREOGRAPHER: And over, over, step, shuffle, change. Riff, pick up, toe.
Pick up and five, six, seven, eight.
Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up again.
Maxie Ford and heads up.
CHOREOGRAPHER: Thank you, ladies. Change over. Quickly, girls!
See what they're like from the back of the stalls.
Pay attention to their height.
And over. Step, shuffle and change.
Riff, pick up, toe.
Tap, tap, change, pick up, step, and round, two, three, four.
Pick up, step, pick up, step, pick up and change.
Maxie Ford and heads up.
Do you find these women attractive?
- Some of them are very pretty. - Oh, yes, I can certainly see that.
But... do they intrigue you as a man?
Ah.
- I have other inclinations. - Oh.
Oh! Oh, how delicious!
CHOREOGRAPHER: And use your backs.
Yes, girls. Next group.
And use your back, girls.
Yes! Last group.
But Mr Van Damm seems to have an intense appreciation, doesn't he?
CHOREOGRAPHER: Other girls, ready. And!
He's practically sniffing them.
CHOREOGRAPHER: And last group.
- Some of these girls are very good. - Indeed.
I'm going to call our chorus The Millerettes.
- Millerettes? - Mill, as in Windmill.
- What's the "er" for? - What?
Millerettes. It should be Millettes.
The "er" clogs it up.
- Millettes doesn't scan. - But it's accurate.
It doesn't sound right.
Millerettes sounds like a man named Miller has a chorus line.
We're doing a vaudeville, not a dictionary.
It isn't correct English!
Millerettes is a good name. And it's not your decision.
In fact, it's got nothing to do with you.
In fact, you shouldn't be in the theatre until dress rehearsal.
- In fact, I'm going to ban you! - Don't you dare!
- I'm banning you from all auditions. - You haven't the right.
- I can do anything I please. - I shall cancel the opening.
Fine!
- This show will not go on! - Indeed.
They're ready to start again, VD.
My dear, you must never interrupt a perfectly good argument.
- I've lost my train of thought. - So have I.
Come on. Mustn't keep The Millerettes waiting.
Oh, that name's intolerable.
It suggests midgets working in a factory.
Millettes sounds like a medical condition.
♫ Can't you see that all the dull days and grey skies are over?
♫ Can't you see that we'll be living from now on in clover?
♫ We're letting in the sunshine
♫ It's sunny everywhere
♫ We're letting in the sunshine
♫ For all of us to share
♫ We're letting in the sunshine
♫ For all of us to share
♫ All of us to share
(applause)
(mouths): Thank you, Mr Van Damm.
(mouths): Thank you, Mrs Henderson.
Stop thanking each other. Let's find some champagne.
Oh, what a wonderful hobby, my dear.
I wonder if there are any more theatres for sale.
I don't understand. We were such a success.
And then everyone copied us.
- You're telling me we're a disaster? - Here's the accounts.
You're losing a fortune.
You mean you can be a triumph one week and a disaster the next?
I'm not certain it's worth going on.
Oh, you people make me weary!
You've no courage.
What I say is, stick a thing out and it will come right.
I'm trying to save your finances.
I don't need your protection, thank you very much.
We've put on good shows, but they're obviously not daring enough.
Why don't we get rid of the clothes?
Pardon?
Let's have naked girls.
Don't you think?
Now, this has been on my mind for some time.
I never dared mention it. I too lack courage, it seems.
Now, what I propose is that we have nude women in Revudeville.
As they do in Paris.
At our namesake, the Moulin Rouge, for instance.
- (dog whimpers) - Oh, Baby, we'll find you some milk.
Paris, after all, is just filled with naked women wearing bananas,
and dare I say, making everyone else go bananas in return.
- Do keep up, Mr Van Damm. - (sighs) Yes.
It would be innovative and draw the crowds.
I would make back all of my money.
You, I imagine, would enjoy yourself, being surrounded by countless breasts,
and we'd all be happy.
What you're suggesting isn't possible.
That kind of thing isn't done here.
Nudity? In England?
You tend towards safety sometimes, Mr Van Damm.
You're rather bourgeois.
I do mean that in a kind way.
But I suspect it's not advisable in the show business.
What you're forgetting is we need a licence from the Lord Chamberlain
for whatever we put on the stage. He'll never approve it.
- The Lord Chamberlain? - Yes, The Lord Chamberlain.
What, Tommy? Little Tommy Baring? Oh, don't be silly!
I have, of course, taken that into account.
He's a very sweet man.
He and his rather dreary wife are on holiday in France,
but as soon as he returns, I'll throw a fly at him.
Pardon?
That's a fisherman's term, dear. It has to do with hooking a trout.
You do lead a narrow life.
Meanwhile, do begin work on our marvellous new idea.
Without permission?
Oh! We've found your milk!
Mrs Henderson's request is, of course, entirely out of order.
Of course. I'm well aware of that.
- Oh, Tommy! - Laura, how wonderful to see you.
- You don't look a day older. - What a touching little lie.
I do know a bit about why you're here, you know.
- Oh? - Hm.
I find that lines have to be drawn somewhere, my dear Laura,
and nudity is on the wrong side of the divide.
I have problems enough with the length of skirts.
I've had to have inches added to them for the new Offenbach production.
Well, we won't have that problem as we won't have skirts.
Sir? If I may?
We have very strict rules in these areas, Mrs Henderson.
Oh, this office is so stuffy.
Why don't we take a bit of a walk?
- Sir? - A walk. Yes. Lovely.
Why didn't you return to India?
I was only ever Robert's wife in India.
It seemed a bit absurd without a Robert.
Now I find it most amusing to run a variety show, and I'll tell you why.
Robert took me to music hall quite often - he was fond of them -
on condition that I stayed behind the curtain in a box and was never visible.
In those days, it was considered terribly improper
for a married woman to be seen at a music hall.
But times have moved on.
And we must move with them, mustn't we?
Oh, look! A tent!
TOMMY: It's unusual to see a tent in the park.
LAURA: Quite so.
I had it constructed this morning.
TOMMY: Did you obtain a licence?
LAURA: Oh, come inside, you old fogey.
I've prepared lunch.
But the be-all and end-all, finally, is that they are naked.
Like paintings. In a museum.
These sandwiches are particularly good.
It's an excellent season for salmon.
We haven't exactly reached salmon season yet.
Tommy, you're so literal.
You're thinking bosoms, but I'm thinking breasts.
- What is the difference? - The difference is in your soul.
- Cheese? - Thank you.
Of course, paintings in a museum are still, are they not?
Still?
The figures do not move. I suppose there's something in that.
Mm, this cheese is very good indeed.
If the girls did not move...
Tableaux?
Precisely.
Then one might make a direct corollary with an art gallery.
I can perhaps see the possibility of some artistic merit.
- They never move? - Never.
Yes, that would be like a museum.
Which was, my dear, your suggestion, so you must be very pleased.
I'm warming to the idea.
- My secretary would be appalled... - More wine?
Ah, yes, thank you.
Now, what about...
forgive me... the foliage?
Foliage?
You know... beneath the...
- Beneath what? Try the brie. - Thank you.
- Beneath... - Flown in from France.
- Excellent. The foliage beneath the... - My husband was very fond of it.
- Of what? - This particular cheese.
My dear, I am attempting to address
the disagreeable and somewhat sordid topic of the pudendum.
- What on earth is that? - Good heavens, woman!
- Have some more wine. - The female part.
Oh! The pussy!
Why didn't you say?
I had not expected you, of all people, to use such language.
That word was popular in the mid-nineteenth century.
Not everyone speaks Latin, you know.
Then I'd prefer you refer to it as... the midlands.
Oh, dear.
You men do get into such a state about the midlands, don't you?
Well, you needn't worry.
Our lighting will be so subtle, the disputed area will be barely visible.
Anyway, we'll have a barber.
You are the most exasperating woman! You always were.
I take that to mean you'll permit us to have a go.
As long as no-one moves, yes.
Perhaps.
I reserve final judgment... until opening night.
I'm delighted, dear ladies, that you all wish to be a part of our endeavour.
Thank you very much.
- Saliva. - Behave!
I've never realised how similar breasts are to shoes.
- What do you mean? - They come in so many sizes.
I've always found them rather overrated, myself.
Well, you're not a man.
Alas.
All right, ladies. Off you go.
What do you make of her?
- She's beautiful. - Yes.
VAN DAMM: But the nipples... BERTIE: Too large?
They're not British. Could be Italian.
We must have British nipples.
And how about her?
The right one's bigger than the left.
- (giggles) - Ssh!
Her.
Fried eggs. (chuckles)
Sorry.
Thank you very much. Could you all please wait in the wings? Thank you.
- What, basically, are you looking for? - Personality.
Something in their smile, their eyes.
Well, I suggest you start looking in their faces.
Yes, of course!
We're looking at the wrong kind of girl.
We shouldn't have theatricals.
- Maggie, make a note. - My dear?
Bertie and I are going to tour the countryside
and discover some English roses.
Oh, good! Now you're getting the hang of it.
(sighs)
It's been an unsuccessful trip, my friend.
What I'm looking for is... personality.
Youth. Beauty.
Certainly not talent.
Anyone can have talent.
And they must be well brought up.
I think many of the young women we've been seeing
come from rather awkward backgrounds.
(car hooter)
Shine the light on the water!
Don't panic! The young fellow's a dancer. Excellent coordination.
VAN DAMM: That's it. Pull her... That's it.
Come on. There we go. There you are.
- You're all right. - Let me see.
(gasps) Oh, my God!
I'm so sorry. I'm so embarrassed.
I didn't mean to cause any trouble.
No need to be embarrassed. You've found a knight.
Hm?
Two knights, in shining armour.
My God! What a beautiful smile!
Exquisite.
Have you ever considered going on the stage?
♫ Sweet inspiration
♫ So often out of reach
♫ Ta-da-da-da-da-da and everyone
♫ Sweet inspiration, we often... - Peggy moved.
You moved.
- She mustn't move! - I'm sorry, Mr Van Damm.
The law insists that you be absolutely still.
- Why don't we take a break? - Yes, good idea.
Rest your arms, girls. Get the circulation going.
(chattering)
- There's er... teacups and... - Tea.
...tea just downstairs.
Oh! Oh, it's so sweet!
You're perched in the orchestra pit like little birds.
It feels safe down here.
- Are you all right? - Yes, thank you. My arm went numb.
I would sometimes see people in India standing still for hours on end, my dear.
They were called fakirs. It was all rather spiritual.
Oh, I see.
You must think yourself onto a higher plane.
We'd all like to be on a higher plane now, Mrs Henderson.
- Preferably flying over the Channel. - (laughter)
- Oh, you're the one that was... - Drowning.
- Come on. - I like that girl you ran over.
Why don't you and the dog have a look at the programme proofs in the office?
- You're trying to get rid of us. - It's a delicate time.
All the more reason for a motherly presence.
Maggie! Take Mrs Henderson to the office.
- Out! - Well, of course.
You're in charge.
Right.
Time for you to disrobe.
Do we have to do it now, Mr Van Damm?
- Well, when else? - I was just asking.
- Should have left you in the water. - Come on, girls, let's do it.
I can't!
VAN DAMM: Where's she going? - She can't face it.
What's wrong with everybody?
I'm sorry, Mr Van Damm.
There's no work outside.
I just thought, well it's a job. All of my friends are starving.
I was... lucky to have employment. But...
You can't imagine what it feels like, just standing there.
Not even my boyfriend has seen me naked.
And we've been to bed and everything.
It's like it's... medical.
Do you think... I would ever subject you
to anything improper or tawdry?
I am enabling you to earn an honest salary in this most difficult of times.
After a hard week's work, you can take home enough to maintain your home,
help out your parents and even save a little bit for the future.
And all you have to do
is display certain blessings you received from the Lord.
Why do you think God gave you all your bits and pieces?
So that you might be ashamed of them?
So that you might hide them away?
Isn't great art, after all, a celebration of nature?
- That's what this is. - Art?
Absolutely.
You are the Venus de Milo, the Mona Lisa...
The Mona Lisa wore a dress.
Some do, some don't.
Tomorrow, we'll go to the museum and look at some paintings.
Botticelli.
Now, he was inspired.
Inspired by God.
If I'm placing a weighty burden on your shoulders,
then I know you have the moral strength to carry it.
Why don't we try it again?
All right?
I'll see you on the stage.
Come on, girls, let's give it a go.
I don't fancy working in my father's chemist.
Art. Art.
(sneezes)
Sorry.
Actually, there is a draught in here, Mr Van Damm.
You expect that in a theatre. You expect draughts.
- But what happens if we catch cold? - Bertie!
Get someone to close the doors and check all the windows, will you?
VAN DAMM: Thank you. All right? - Yes, thank you.
Does everyone have to watch us?
- Who? - Well, them.
You're going to have an entire audience watching you.
Yes, but they'll be strangers.
And they won't be standing so close... will they?
- We can hear them breathing. - A man has to breathe.
Heavy breathing.
After all, it doesn't seem fair for them to be dressed when we're not.
Okey-doke. I know what to do.
Come on, gentlemen. Come on. You too.
- What? - Fair is fair.
Let's make the ladies comfortable.
Come on.
Strip.
You too, Mr Van Damm.
Don't be ridiculous. Someone has to maintain authority here.
- Take your clothes off, please. - No.
Off! Off! Off!
Off! Off! Off! Off! Off! Off!
Off! Off! Off! Off!
All right! All right!
Bloody childish!
Mrs Henderson. Mrs Henderson!
(laughter)
Why, Mr Van Damm...
...you are Jewish!
(whimpers)
♫ Sweet inspiration
♫ So often out of reach
♫ You come sometime to each and everyone
♫ Sweet inspiration
♫ We often have to wait
♫ But still you're better late than never
♫ Everyone lives in expectation
♫ Sweet inspiration of you
- I think I saw a priest in the audience. - Oh, stop it! You're hallucinating!
- Everyone looked so rich. - Oh, I hope so.
When I take off my clothes,
I close my eyes and think, "This will bring me champagne."
I think, "One more day and it hasn't happened yet."
(door closes) - Oh, my God!
I've brought the Lord Chamberlain.
He felt he had to say a few words of encouragement to you.
Isn't that delicious?
Well done.
Well done. I...
May I be... permitted to say...
...that... Oh, good heavens!
Good heavens! I...
I...
What an artistic enterprise er...
you have um... (clears throat)
A testament, really, to the British p...
- It's a magical evening. - Hm?
I quite understand what you were feeling.
I myself have exhibited my breasts.
I was at a party in Antibes
with The Duchess of Denby and Countess Volpe,
and we took off our blouses - in private, of course -
and looked at each other's titties.
My, how we laughed!
The Lord Chamberlain was very taken with you, my dear.
(raucous laughter)
- Mrs Henderson. - Mr Van Damm. Quite an evening.
The Lord Chamberlain was very pleased.
I wanted you to meet Natalie.
- Natalie? - My wife.
Vivian's spoken about you so often, I just feel that I know you.
Well... I certainly don't know you!
Excuse me.
You can be rude to me, but not to my wife!
What wife? When did you acquire a wife?
- Why haven't you told us? - What do you mean?
You never mentioned her.
I believe a figure of authority must maintain a sense of privacy.
Good heavens! A wife!
What exactly is the problem?
Who on earth said there was a problem?
Fine. Have a wife, if you insist.
Just don't let her interfere with any of your duties.
- Why would she do that? - That's what wives do.
That's their purpose. I know. I was a wife.
I interfered all the time.
So sack me, then!
If you're unhappy with me, just say it and I'll leave!
But don't you dare ever, ever talk to my wife like that again!
Oh, don't you worry. I'll keep my eye on you.
You do that.
I hope you realise I will never, ever, ever set foot in this theatre again!
You two behave like an old married couple.
Well, it seems that would make him a bigamist.
Oh.
Champagne, then?
It is rather as I thought.
Your heart has stirred.
Then I must consult a physician.
This should have been such a pleasant night.
♫ You told me there wasn't a lesson in loving that you hadn't learned
♫ Oh, yeah
♫ So you met someone who set you back on your heels
♫ Goody, goody!
♫ So you met someone and now you know how it feels
♫ Goody, goody!
♫ So you gave her your heart too
♫ Just as I gave mine to you
♫ And you broke it in little pieces
♫ And now how do you do?
♫ So you lie awake just singing the blues all night
♫ Goody, goody!
♫ So you think that love's a barrel of dynamite...
- I want you to flank her. - Flank her?
- Stand either side of her. - Oh.
Aren't I in silhouette, like in the picture?
- Silhouette. - Silhouette, Harry!
- And the sun must rise behind you. - Orange.
We see the rays of the sun, like in the picture.
VAN DAMM: A new dawn over the New World.
(applause)
Goody, goody.
And now...
- How... ...do you do?
♫ So you lie awake just singing the blues all night
♫ Goody, goody!
(lively big band music)
(dreamy strings and harps)
(screams)
Do something!
How will I explain this to the Lord Chamberlain?
♫ So you lie awake just singing the blues all night
♫ Goody, Goody!
♫ So you think that love's a barrel of dynamite
♫ Hurray and hallelujah
♫ You had it coming to ya
♫ Goody goody for you!
♫ Goody goody for me!
♫ And I hope you're satisfied, you rascal, you
(applause and cheering)
Coming through! Excuse me, Mr Van Damm. Sorry.
I forgot my fin.
MAN: It'll have to be tighter than that.
- Good afternoon, Doris. - Afternoon.
- How's your mother? - She's fine, thank you.
Have you been writing to her every week?
Yes. She told me to tell you she's very disappointed I'm a starfish.
- She thinks I should be a mermaid. - Ah. I'll send her a note.
- And who have we here? - Catherine the Great.
Have you forgotten the tableau of the wars?
Come along, Mr Van Damm. Wakey-wakey.
You might show a bit more respect.
- I think I should have... ...left you in the water. (laughs)
- Afternoon, girls. How are you? - Better now, Mr Van Damm.
- Was something wrong? - My bum cheeks went numb.
She was leaning arse over backwards. In the Alaskan tableau, of course.
All that ice.
But Rupert soon got the blood flowing!
- Who's Rupert? - Well you might ask.
Behave yourself!
VAN DAMM: We must be cautious about too much frivolity.
The Windmill is a very serious business!
BOTH: Yes, Mr Van Damm.
(laughter)
- Do I give it to the students again, sir? - Mr Van Damm.
At your own discretion, dear boy.
It's beastly.
I can't walk into my own theatre.
I hear wonderful things about the new performances
and I'm missing all the fun.
You did say you would never set foot in the The Windmill again.
Quite right. The man's a monster.
I want nothing to do with him.
You're very much like my granddaughter
who moans about the boy she has her eye on.
Adolescents and women in their eighth decade are strikingly similar.
You obviously require a battle plan.
My second husband, the General,
always advocated attacking from the rear,
which, although it did nothing to enhance our marriage,
did bring him some success on the field.
Just slip in there, as it were,
and establish your beachhead.
Excuse us! This is a private dressing room.
- It's only me. - (laughter)
I'm sorry, but I did not want to be seen in the theatre.
Oh, I have missed your company.
I thought I'd just drop by to see if you needed anything.
Actually, if this may be our secret -
Mr um... Whatshisname doesn't know I'm here.
We're fine, thank you, Mrs Henderson.
My poor dear, I'm having some cheese sent up to you.
- Cheese? - I'm not convinced you eat enough.
Yes, it's terribly sad. She's just skin and bones.
Shut up! I weigh exactly what I weighed the day I started this job, no less.
Something's wrong. She won't eat chocolate truffles.
- She's so very, very head-girl. - So sensible!
You see, it's unanimous. You're positively scrawny!
You may laugh, but I know men.
Men look at bosoms, my dear, but I notice bones.
- (screams) - What?
Spots!
No-one will notice.
Now, you must promise to let me know
if you have any complaints or problems.
I mean, does Mr Van Damm treat... Oh, my dear!
I wore a similar wig to a ball in Delhi.
Didn't look nearly as becoming as it does on you.
Thank you, Mrs Henderson.
You remind me a bit of myself at that time.
- Not too thin? - Oh, you'd be surprised.
Now, remember not to tell anyone I've been here.
Of course not. It's just between us girls.
- You all get on rather well, don't you? - Yes, we're like a family.
There hasn't been any improper behaviour?
- From Mr Van Damm, that is. - He's very good to us, Mrs Henderson.
He's like a father. If fathers were nice.
- He treats us as what we are. - And what is that?
Artists.
I have seemingly handed him a kingdom.
Complete with harem.
Then, my dear, you must infiltrate.
Like a delicious, if overripe, Mata Hari.
Might I propose subterfuge?
Good afternoon.
- Good afternoon. - Good afternoon.
Good afternoon.
Amazing. We get all kinds.
I have a very odd feeling, VD.
(laughter)
MAN: What I really need is a rubber trumpet. Yes.
I've had an offer to join a rubber band!
LAURA: Please don't do this!
Mrs Henderson, you are a fraud!
Oh. Oh!
Don't you dare manhandle me!
- Make a fool of yourself, if you must... - Mr Van Damm!
...but not of me! - No! Argh!
What on earth do you think you were doing?
I simply want to make sure you are doing your job properly.
It was most unpleasant of you to grab my hairpiece.
That's made of authentic Chinese hair!
Well, now you'll have some time
to calm down and examine your behaviour.
My husband put me on top of a cupboard once.
- You have so much in common. - (chuckles)
I'd like you to behave.
No doubt your husband said that to you as well.
Oh, Mr Van Damm...
...I just can't help myself.
Hm.
Well... cheerio, then.
No! Don't you dare leave me here! No, don't you dare!
Don't you dare leave me!
♫ Teddy Bear's Picnic
This act's not half bad.
Thank you... very much.
Oh! (chuckles)
You can't have an animal on stage with naked women.
Yes, I see that.
It's a shame.
- I've got the new song. VAN DAMM: Let's hear it.
(jaunty piano intro)
♫ There's a lake in the park, there's a house by the lake
♫ There's a...
Slower.
(slower piano intro)
♫ There's a lake in the park
♫ There's a house by the lake
♫ There's a girl in the house by the lake in the park
♫ And the girl in the house in the park by the lake
♫ Is the girl in the little green hat
♫ And tonight after eight that's when I've got a date
♫ When the moon's riding high and the stars light the sky
♫ With the girl in the house by the lake in the park
- What? ♫ The girl in the little green hat
You better see for yourself.
♫ No treesies in the park at all
♫ But she'll wait beside the lake, I'll be welcome at the house
♫ I'll meet her by the garden wall
♫ There's a ship on the shore, there's a sailor on the shore
♫ There's a girl in his arms, she's the girl I adore
♫ So goodbye to the house by the lake in the park
♫ And the girl in the little green hat
Hi, Mrs Henderson!
Try the river. It's Tuesday.
- Get me a taxi. - Yes, VD.
- Tea? - Yes, please. To take away.
We need a lot of caffeine. We're exhausted.
You're exhausted?
All you girls do is just stand there.
And that, I am told, is the definition of a star.
This has got to stop!
VAN DAMM: We're running a serious theatre.
The entire West End is laughing at us.
I haven't worked for years to achieve a position of respect
only to be perceived as a joke!
If all you want to be is a dilettante, take your money and go someplace else!
I can't... hear you!
(quacking)
I'm not simply frivolous, you know.
And I don't ever, ever want to be taken for granted.
Actually, I wished to ascertain that artists who audition for us
are being treated with the proper respect.
It turns out they are. I am perfectly satisfied.
On another matter entirely, I was thinking about billing.
The programme says "Mrs Henderson Presents Revudeville."
It's absolutely charming, but perhaps unfair.
Shouldn't it be "Mrs Henderson Presents Revudeville -
a Vivian Van Damm production"?
I rather like that, don't you?
I'm going to have a joyride now. Isn't that exciting?
I am not a servant!
You can't buy me off with a piece of billing!
Do you hear? Bloody woman!
Is it well stocked with petrol?
What do you mean?
Do you think we might make it to France?
I don't think I'll be back for a while.
♫ The Marseillaise
- Mr Van Damm. MAGGIE: Mrs Henderson.
VAN DAMM: Welcome back. - Thank you.
♫ L'étendard sanglant est levé
♫ Entendez- vous dans nos campagnes
♫ Mugir ces féroces soldats?
♫ Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
♫ Egorger nos fils, nos compagnes
♫ Aux armes, citoyens!
♫ Formez vos bataillons!
♫ Marchons! Marchons!
♫ Qu'un sang impur
♫ Abreuve nos sillons!
Do you mind if I sit here for a while?
Suit yourself.
I'm so sorry, Mr Van Damm.
I imagine...
...you have family.
Yes.
I can't bear feeling helpless.
I always think there's something I can do.
But sometimes, of course... there's nothing.
(string quartet in background)
WAITER: Champagne, madam?
GUARDSMAN: Attention!
Don't you feel a bit over-safe?
Caution, my dear, caution.
You know, we're not certain what to do about the theatres.
- Whatever do you mean? - They're a frivolous distraction.
Exactly what young soldiers need. Wouldn't you say?
There are other considerations.
Our intelligence tells us the Luftwaffe will bomb London.
My dear, my intelligence tells me that.
Then it will be dangerous for people to congregate, won't it?
Oh, Tommy! Don't be silly!
Congregate underground?
Remember, my theatre is beneath street level.
It's the safest place to be.
Now, let's have no more of these foolish ideas.
Oh, Tommy!
(air-raid siren)
(drone of engines)
(artillery fire)
BERTIE: ♫ We stand in awe
♫ And ask what power divine
♫ Inspired the sculptor of such flawless art
♫ For there is life in every curve and line
♫ To charm the eye
♫ And satisfy the heart
♫ There is no time
♫ No space of endless years
♫ That can destroy... - (explosion)
(screaming)
(creaking)
(distant explosions)
(cheering)
Fires were started again last night in the East End.
Londoners awoke after the tenth consecutive night of bombardment
by the German air force.
We have a huge challenge before us.
It's up to us, Revudeville,
to fortify London in a way that sandbags and anti-aircraft cannot do.
They may bomb our city,
destroy our homes,
kill our friends and neighbours,
but through it all, our show will continue.
We will never stop performing, and we will never close!
(whispers): He thinks he's bloody Winston Churchill.
Some of our family are going.
Called up.
Yes.
Thank God our Bertie has a heart murmur.
It may be wise for some of you to move into the theatre.
We have room, and because we're underground, we're safe.
Of course, we'll all have our war duties as well as theatrical ones.
But...
we will pitch in and we will do our bit.
That was beautifully put, Mr Van Damm.
I'm sure we will all make the necessary sacrifices.
Yesterday I wanted to buy a new hat. I desisted.
I put the money in National Savings instead.
We shall come through.
♫ piano intro
♫ Poor old London town is falling down
♫ Lots of places going up in flames
♫ But if you're in the know
♫ And find out where to go
♫ You'll find the lovelies very much the same
(cheering and whistling)
♫ We're babies of the Blitz
♫ Our boudoir's blown to bits
♫ We're living underground and overdrawn and on our wits
♫ By day we're knitting mufflers
♫ Or cutting canteen cakes
♫ But nightfall doesn't ruffle us
♫ For we've got what it takes
♫ It's no longer safe to tarry at Café de Paris
♫ So we're ladies-in-waiting now to do our little bits
♫ Though we're in dungarees-es to hide our silken knees-es
♫ Keeping our flag flying
♫ We're the b-b-b-b-babies of the Blitz!
♫ Tin hats may hide our coiffures for a while
♫ And shelter-boots conceal our dainty feet
♫ But 'neath this tough external
♫ There's something that's eternal
♫ Ask the Air Force ♫ Or the Army
♫ Or the Fleet!
♫ We're babies of the Blitz
♫ And when their leave permits
♫ We welcome back the boys
♫ Who fly the Hurricanes and Spits
♫ Whilst bosses of munitions
♫ And tired businessmen
♫ Must park their inhibitions
♫ And make whoopee ♫ And make whoopee
♫ And make whoopee now and then
♫ We'll lend sophistication
♫ To well-earned recreation
♫ We're "what the doctor ordered"
♫ After chasing Messerschmitts!
♫ So long as there is rhythm
♫ And good meals, and we are with 'em
♫ They won't exterminate
♫ The babies ♫ The babies
♫ Babies
♫ Of the Blitz!
(cheering and whistling)
(explosions boom)
Ken said you were up here. I didn't believe him.
Why ever not?
It's bloody dangerous, that's why! Come on down.
Oh, dear. Oh, dear.
The aircraft have passed.
Look, you can see them over the East End.
You're ever so cautious, Mr Van Damm.
One shouldn't be overly so at times like these.
Everyone should be cautious.
(explosions continue)
You don't seem to take war too seriously, Mrs Henderson.
(sighs)
I wonder what you were like when you were young.
Rather dashing, I dare say.
And filled with hope.
My mind turns towards young men these days.
You see, Mr Van Damm,
I take war far more seriously than you can ever dare imagine.
(chatter)
(door opens)
(cheering and whistling)
(cheering and whistling continues)
♫ That's all blue nightfall above me
♫ Mm-mm-mm
♫ Bring me that someone to love me
No, you'll have to cover her faster than that.
- You need to be a lot faster. - Those things weigh a ton, Bertie.
Go on. Take five minutes.
BERTIE: No, no, no... get it up.
I just can't lift it higher.
Oh, my dear, how generous.
- My goodness! - Gin.
Help steel our nerves for the air raids.
It does seem they're no longer bombing during the tableaux.
Well, that's because Mr Van Damm sent Hitler our programme.
Professional courtesy between Führers.
You're all so energetic and courageous.
We're the only theatre still playing in the West End.
Then you all go out with the soldiers after the show. It's admirable.
Oh, but I don't. Well, I never go out.
My dear, why ever not?
Before I started stripping off for a living, I was always falling in love.
I was hopeless.
Never again.
So I've become a right little priss.
A naked spinster.
And that's the way I like it.
Who would have dreamed that standing on a stage
without any clothes on would be the safest place to be?
♫ Then deep in my arms, what can he say but yes
♫ That's all blue nightfall above me
(cheering)
♫ Bring me that someone to love me
♫ To love me
(cheering and whistling)
(lively chatter from soldiers)
Could you er... come this way, sir?
Mrs Henderson would like to speak to you.
Who's the flower for?
(softly): The girl inside the fan.
Speak up, dear.
The girl in the fan.
Oh. Yes.
- How old are you? - 21.
21?
Too young for her, I suppose.
Come back tomorrow night.
Sweet.
I was always afraid that someday I'd end up working in a florist shop.
- And now you are. - I'm getting hay fever.
And who is Paul?
I have no idea.
Are you girls decent?
Oh, good.
I've brought someone.
- This is Paul. - (giggling)
Oh. I see. Erm...
Girls, can you er...
(giggling)
- I was... Iooking forward to... - Speak up, dear.
Would you mind if I had a moment alone?
- (giggling) - Thank you.
- You've sent all these flowers. - Don't be foolish, my dear.
I recognised the name of your florist. He can't afford this sort of thing.
He comes from a very distinguished family.
- Mrs Henderson! - Well...
Truth is so prosaic.
He's young. That's all.
And rather well put together, wouldn't you say?
That face.
He's young.
And in five days he goes to the front.
And he may not come back.
- And it's so Ionely out there in the... - Trenches.
Yes, I know the word.
Books have been written about the last war,
and I have actually read some of them.
And I suppose he saw me on stage and fell in love.
Mrs Henderson, one night my bicycle went off the road
and the next thing I knew, I was an illusion.
Because that's all we are up there.
But the odd thing is I'm still in that river, and I want to be rescued.
But not by some drum roll or applause or a soldier's fantasy.
Oh, dear,
you're such a tiresome generation.
You all want love.
We got along very nicely without it, thank you very much.
I don't see why that boy's fantasy is any more foolish than yours.
Oh, damn.
She loved your flowers, dear.
What flowers?
BERTIE: ♫ You are the promised kiss of springtime
♫ That makes the Ionely winter seem long
♫ You are the breathless hush of evening
♫ That lingers on the brink of a lovely song
♫ You are the angel glow that lights a star
♫ The dearest things I know are what you are
♫ Someday
♫ My happy arms will hold you
♫ And someday
♫ I'll know that moment divine
♫ When all the things you are
♫ Are mine
♫ Time and again I've longed for adventure
♫ Something to make my heart beat the faster
♫ What did I long for?
♫ I never really knew
♫ Finding your love I've found my adventure
♫ Touching your hand, my heartbeats are faster
♫ All that I want in all of this world is you
♫ You are the angel glow that lights a star
♫ The dearest things I know are what you are
♫ Someday my happy arms will hold you
♫ And someday
♫ I'll know that moment divine
♫ When all the things you are
♫ Are
♫ Mine
Trouble, boss.
- Is it that bloody woman again? - No, not this time, VD.
Open up!
Do you want me to knock the door down?
You'll hurt your shoulder.
Get inside.
You can't do this.
- Why not? - You're part of our family.
A terrible choice of words.
- What are you talking about? - I don't want to discuss it.
But you have to tell me what's behind this. You owe it to me.
My concern for the aesthetics of Revudeville.
What?
I don't think you want a nude on stage who is pregnant!
- Oh, Christ! - 'Scuse me, Mr Van Damm.
We were having a private discussion.
- We have a quick change. - Yes.
(applause from theatre)
That was a particularly fine programme, Mr Van Damm.
- I am pleased I recognised your talent. - Go back into the theatre.
I do have a few notes about the comedy routine.
We don't have time for nonsense. We have a crisis.
Why? Whatever's wrong?
Maureen has just sent me a letter of resignation.
Don't be ridiculous. Why would she?
Because she's pregnant.
STAGE MANAGER: Two minutes, girls!
- Oh, my dear... - I need some air.
Look... You can work in the show as a singer for the next few months.
We'll keep you on salary, until you...
I can't think clearly. I need some air.
I'm so sorry. Was it?
Well, who else would it be?
He sent me a letter.
After he's demobbed, he's going back to his girlfriend.
His girlfriend! They all have girlfriends.
The crazy thing is, I fell for him.
Oh, it's not your fault. I'm a grown girl. I knew what I was doing.
But he had such a sweet face...
They all have sweet faces.
You live in your own world, Mrs Henderson.
I'm sorry. Excuse me.
I don't want to say something I shouldn't.
I need some tea. And some air.
She said, "It's not your fault."
That can only mean one thing.
- Which is? - That it is your fault!
- What have you been up to? - Nothing.
- Have you been giving advice? - I don't like these questions.
Excuse me, Mr Van Damm. I want to take some air as well.
You can't go out, Mrs Henderson. The sirens went.
We didn't hear anything.
- A few minutes ago. - Maureen's gone out.
- When? - Just now.
Why didn't you stop her?
Where's she going?
- For some air. - No, to tea, she said.
Agh!
(weeping in background)
You foolish, foolish woman. Look what you've done.
I thought, "Yes, well,
she's selfish and rude and eccentric,
but that goes with her class. I can live with that."
I was a fool.
You don't know anything about the real world, do you?
(gentle birdsong)
♫ Oh, tropical charms, lend us your loveliness
(some applause and whistling)
It's not the same.
Let's cut the number.
MAGGIE: The boys love it, boss.
- Mr Van Damm? - Yes?
I'm from the Lord Chamberlain's office. This is for you.
We have to close your theatre.
What?
It's causing too many people to congregate in front of it.
(whistling continues)
Telephone the newspapers. Get them down here.
Yes, boss.
Maggie...
I know where to find her.
Tell her to come to the theatre immediately.
Mrs Henderson would like to see Lord Cromer as soon as possible.
Here, at the theatre.
I don't think the Lord Chamberlain is available...
Nonsense.
Mrs Henderson wishes to see him.
Pray, pass the message.
(groaning)
There's nothing I can do. The theatre is closed.
Manners, manners. Clear a path, please.
Please, clear a path.
We need to see the girls.
We ain't moving until you open up the theatre.
- Open up! - There's nothing I can do.
CROMER: I see the press are here, Van Damm.
Yes. I don't know how they got hold of it, sir.
- Good afternoon, Mrs Henderson. - Maggie.
This way.
There seems to be a nationwide desire to keep this theatre open.
Nationwide?
Please don't be delusional.
I have learnt in these many years of dealing with artists
to detest imagination.
MAGGIE: Excuse me.
Sorry.
This street must be clear.
It presents a very clear public danger.
I may have to ask the police to interfere.
I'll talk to them.
What a commotion.
They think the theatre encourages what they call overcongregating.
It seems that we're too popular.
What, you mean we'd stay open if we were a failure? How ridiculous!
VAN DAMM: Listen, everybody.
We have no choice.
The government is forcing us to close.
One more light... dimming in the heart of London.
He's turning into Winston again.
What Herr Hitler
was unable to do,
our own leaders are determined to accomplish.
(shocked murmurs)
They are going to close the Windmill!
Oh, really.
Excuse me, excuse me, would you please let me through?
Excuse me.
Oh, that's so kind of you. Thank you.
Thank you. Oh, that's most kind, thank you.
Thank you.
MRS HENDERSON: Excuse me. Mr Van Damm.
Hello, everybody.
Um, may I intro... Oh, hello, Tom.
May I introduce myself?
I'm Mrs Henderson.
You might see my name on the billboard there.
"Mrs Henderson Presents."
Well, I am that Mrs Henderson,
and I have presented the Windmill for four years now.
Now, let me tell you why.
Oh, dear, are you able to see me?
No...
Oh.
Here you are, ma'am.
Oh, that's so sweet.
- Are you American? - Yes.
Strange people, lovely manners.
Thank you, dear.
Now...
...there was a war before this one.
It was meant to end all wars.
I lost my son in that war.
My only son. Alec.
He was 21.
He perished from poison gas, I believe,
on a field in France.
After - some time after - I went to his room to clear away his things
and I discovered the most amazing thing.
What I believe you call a French postcard.
(chuckling)
A photograph of a naked woman.
He'd been hiding it.
And I realised that Alec had probably gone to his death
without ever seeing... a woman naked in real life.
Well, I thought that was the most... awful thing.
When you lose a son in a war,
you do know, no matter what anyone might say,
that his death has been in vain.
It won't stop others from following. Other wars, other young men.
Years later, after my husband had died,
and I was on my own, I decided to buy a theatre...
and put on a nude revue,
so that boys like Alec...
...would never be in the same predicament.
As long as the Windmill exists,
there's no need for a sad little postcard stashed underneath a bed, is there?
(murmurs of agreement)
Sometimes... my feelings towards our young men in uniform...
...have led me to foolish actions,
which I do, in my very soul, regret.
But I do know this:
That my desire to present this gift to our young men has not been wrong.
If we are to ask our youth to surrender their lives,
then we should not ask them to surrender joy,
or the possibility of joy.
And if, along the way,
we cause too many people to congregate in the street,
who gives a fiddler's fuck?
(laughter and whistling)
There. I've said it.
(air-raid siren)
Oh, dear, another air raid.
Don't you think everyone would be so much safer inside?
SOLDIERS: Yes!
Oh, for Christ's sake, Van Damm,
take down that stupid sign and let your public in.
(applause and cheering)
(cheering)
♫ The sails of the Windmill were turning
♫ For years a'er the war had begun
♫ And we know they'll keep turning for many years more
BOTH: ♫ When the war will be over
♫ And won!
♫ Blow winds from the south
♫ Blow winds from the north
♫ Turn the sails of the windmill round
♫ Blow winds from the east
♫ Blow winds from the west
♫ Oh, the wind is a welcome sound
(trumpet takes up melody)
I thought so.
You're going to ask me to come down, aren't you?
I wouldn't dream of it.
Now you know my secrets.
Yes.
And I know none of yours.
No.
Well...
Actually, I think you do.
We have made rather a go of it, haven't we?
Yes.
You're a very irritating woman but I wouldn't have missed this for the world.
- I feel quite the same. - Mm.
Even though you're a very irritating man.
(chuckles)
So, we'll continue?
I'm game if you are.
Oh, yes.
It passes the time of day.
Yes.
Let's watch the rest of the show.
You go inside.
I'll stand here for a while.
As you wish.
♫ trumpet melody
Would you fancy a dance?
A dance? Where?
Here.
Won't it be dangerous?
You're quite right. I'm a very cautious man. But...
it won't be dangerous.
Not tonight.
Just one dance.
- Mr Van Damm. - Mrs Henderson.
♫ Blow winds from the south
♫ Blow winds from the north
♫ Turn the sails of the windmill round
♫ Blow winds from the east
♫ Blow winds from the west
♫ Oh, the wind is a welcome sound
♫ Blow winds from the south
♫ Blow winds from the north
♫ Turn the sails of the windmill round
♫ Blow winds from the east
♫ Blow winds from the west
♫ Oh, the wind is a welcome sound
(applause and whistling)
(laughs)
Ow! You've severed my toe.
- Nonsense. I didn't touch it. - You're rather clumsy.
That's not something you say to a dancing partner.
You should take lessons before issuing an invitation.
I'm a very good dancer, thank you very much.
In India only delicate men are good dancers.
The ungainly are not so.
Listen, you old battleaxe...
Don't you dare speak to me like that.
♫ There's a lake in the park, there's a house by the lake
♫ There's a girl in the house in the park by the lake
♫ And the girl in the house by the lake in the park
♫ Is the girl in the little green hat
♫ And tonight after eight, that's when I've got a date
♫ When the moon's riding high and the stars light the sky
♫ With the girl in the house by the lake in the park
♫ The girl in the little green hat
♫ There's no water in the lake, there's no roof upon the house
♫ No treesies in the park at all
♫ But she'll wait beside the lake, I'll be welcome at her house
♫ I'll meet her by the garden wall
♫ There's a ship on the lake, there's a sailor on the shore
♫ There's a girl in his arms, she's the girl I adore
♫ So goodbye to the house by the lake in the park
♫ And the girl in the little green hat
♫ There's a storm on the lake, there's a ship in the storm
♫ There's a girl on the ship in the storm on the lake
♫ And the girl in the lake on the ship in the storm
♫ Is the girl in the little green hat
♫ As the ship starts to dip she is losing her grip
♫ Every dip makes her tip, not the girl but the ship
♫ But the girl on the ship has the pip from the trip
♫ The girl in the little green hat
♫ She's been sailing quite enough, she's been clinging to the rail
♫ She's been dying to be home once more
♫ Cos the lake is rather rough and the girl is rather pale
♫ She's glad to get her feet on shore
♫ How she gave up the ship and the captain and his men
♫ For a round-ticket trip to my arms once again
♫ Now I'm back in the park with the house by the lake
♫ With the girl in the little green hat
♫ We're babies of the Blitz
♫ Our boudoir's blown to bits
♫ We're living underground and overdrawn and on our wits
♫ By day we're knitting mufflers
♫ Or cutting canteen cakes
♫ But nightfall doesn't ruffle us
♫ For we've got what it takes
♫ It's no longer safe to tarry at Café de Paris
♫ So we're ladies-in-waiting now to do our little bits
♫ Though we're in dungarees-es to hide our silken knees-es
♫ Keeping our flag flying
♫ We're the b-b-b-b-babies of the Blitz!
♫ Tin hats may hide our coiffures for a while
♫ And shelter-boots conceal our dainty feet
♫ But 'neath this tough external
♫ There's something that's eternal
♫ Ask the Air Force ♫ Or the Army
♫ Or the Fleet!
♫ We're babies of the Blitz
♫ And when their leave permits
♫ We welcome back the boys
♫ Who fly the Hurricanes and Spits
♫ Whilst bosses of munitions
♫ And tired businessmen
♫ Must park their inhibitions
♫ And make whoopee ♫ And make whoopee
♫ And make whoopee now and then
♫ We'll lend sophistication
♫ To well-earned recreation
♫ We're "what the doctor ordered"
♫ After chasing Messerschmitts!
♫ So long as there is rhythm
♫ And good meals, and we are with 'em
♫ They won't exterminate
♫ The babies ♫ The babies
♫ Babies
♫ Of the Blitz!
[ Skipped item nr. 1511 ]
♫ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye
♫ Cheerio, here l go on my way
♫ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye
♫ not a tear but a cheer, make it gay
♫ give me a smile l can keep for a while
♫ ln my heart while l'm away
♫ till we meet once again, you and l
♫ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye
The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds
in the knowledge and love of God and of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord,
and the blessing of God Almighty.
The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit
be upon you and remain with you, this day and always. Amen.
(♫ ''Blue Monday'' by new Order)
Will that do the trick, do you think?
We're about to find out.
Jimmy!
- Ready? - Ready.
Mum, please. Lads, wait.
Just get in the car. l'll be back in five minutes.
Let's get it over with.
(shouting) Fiona, Fiona!
Read out from the top. Fiona, just read it out. Let's see.
Three A's! l got three A's! Three A's!
- Chris, what did you get, man? - Full house!
Three A's! Three A's! (laughs)
- Told you you would. - Full house!
- Hey, what did you get? - Er, A and two B's.
- Hey, it's Dakin. - Stuuuuhoooo...
Stu, what happened?
- Are you not gonna look? - l got mine last night.
- l bet you did. - (laughs) You jammy sod.
- Lockwood. - Felix.
- Lockwood. - Sir.
Why are you dressed as a milkman?
- Working, sir. For the 'olidays. - As a milkman?
After the holidays you'll be coming back to try for Oxford and Cambridge.
Your A-level results are the best we've ever had,
and they demand that you return for an extra term
to work for the examination to our ancient universities.
One more term, boys. One more push.
ln the meantime, try and do something... fitting.
- l'm in a bookshop, sir. - Good, good.
- l'm on the bins. - l'm a bouncer, sir.
- Lavatory attendant, sir. - Gigolo.
- Congratulations, boys. - Mrs Lintott!
(shouts) Three A's! Three A's!
(cheering and yelling)
So, we shall be meeting again after all.
- (all) Yes, sir. - At school you don't get parole.
Good behaviour just brings a longer sentence.
- Ah, you poor boys. - See you next term, sir.
(buzz of conversation)
Thank you, Miss.
''The happiest youth, viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue,
Would shut the book and sitt him down and die.''
Congratulations, Dorothy. You must be very pleased.
(♫ ''this Charming Man'' by the Smiths)
Morning!
(Mrs Lintott) You are entitled, though only for five minutes, Dakin,
to feel pleased with yourselves.
No one has done as well. Not in English, not in science,
not even, dare l say it, in media studies.
And you alone are up for Oxford and Cambridge.
So, to work. First essay this term will be the Church on the eve of the Reformation.
- (groans) Not again, Miss. - This is Oxford and Cambridge.
You don'tjust need to know it, you need to know it backwards, Timms. Facts, facts, facts.
They're clever, but they're crass.
And were it Bristol or York, l'd have no worries.
But Oxford and Cambridge?
We need a strategy, Dorothy, a game plan.
- They know their stuff. - But they lack flair.
Culture they can get from Hector.
History from you, but...
l'm thinking aloud now.
ls there something else?
Think charm, think polish.
Think... Renaissance man.
Leave it with me, Dorothy, leave it with me.
Yes, Headmaster.
(knocking)
Wilkes.
Ah, yes. An innovation to the timetable.
- PE. - Yes, Headmaster.
For the Oxbridge set. ''Surely not'', you say. But why not?
This is the biggest hurdle of their lives and l want them... galvanised.
Galvanised. Yes, Headmaster.
ln the timetable, our esteemed headmaster
has given these periods the dubious title of ''general studies''.
l will let you into a little secret, boys.
There is no such thing as general studies.
General studies is a waste of time.
Knowledge is not general, it is specific.
And nothing to do with getting on.
But remember, open quotation marks, ''All knowledge is precious
whether or not it serves the slightest human use'', close quotation marks.
Who said, Akhtar? Timms?
Lockwood, Dakin? (sighs)
''Loveliest of trees, the cherry now...''
- A Housman, sir. - ''AE Housman, sir.''
Wasn't he a nancy, sir?
Foul, festering, grubby-minded little trollop.
- Do not use that word. - But you use it, sir.
l do, sir, l know. But l am far gone in age and decrepitude.
Er, you're not supposed to hit us, sir. We could report you.
l know, l know.
You should treat us with more respect. We're scholarship candidates now, sir.
- We're all going in for Oxford and Cambridge. - Oxford and Cambridge! What for?
Old, sir. Tried and tested.
No! lt's because other boys want to go there.
lt's the hot ticket, standing room only.
- Where did you go, sir? - l went to Sheffield.
- l was happy! - (sniggering)
''Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;
Enough her simple loveliness for me.'' Keats.
We won't be examined on that, will we, sir?
- Keats? - Happiness.
(approaching footsteps)
- You are? - lrwin.
- lrwin? - The temporary contract teacher.
Quite so.
The examinations are at the end of term,
which gives us, er... three months, at the outside.
- You were at Cambridge. You know the form. - Oxford. Jesus.
You see... l-l thought of going.
But this was the... the '50s.
Change was in the air, and a spirit of adventure.
So, where did you go?
l was a geographer. l went to Hull.
They're a likely lot, the boys. Erm, erm...
All keen. One oddity - Rudge.
Determined to try for Oxford. Christ Church, of all places.
(laughs) No hope. No.
Might get into Loughborough, in a bad year. (laughs)
Er... otherwise, all bright.
But they need polish.
Edge. Yourjob.
We're low in the league.
l want to see us up there with Manchester Grammar School, Haberdasher Askes,
Leighton Park.
Or is that an open prison?
No matter.
There is a vacancy, in history.
That's very true.
ln the school.
- Ah. - (both laugh nervously)
Get me scholarships, lrwin.
Pull us up the table and it's yours.
l-l'm corseted by the curriculum.
But l can find you, er... three lessons a week.
- Not enough. - (stammers) Yes, l agree. However...
l think l know where we can filch an hour.
♫ Elle écoute la java
♫ Mais elle ne la danse pas
♫ Elle ne regarde méme pas la piste
♫ Mais ses yeux amoureux
♫ Suivent le jeu nerveux et les doigts secs et longs de l'artiste
♫ Ça lui rentre dans la peau
♫ par le bas, par le haut
♫ Elle a envie de chanter C'est physique
♫ tout son étre est tendu
♫ Son soufflee est suspendu
♫ C'est une vraie tordue de la musique
(applause)
Où voudriez-vous travailler cet aprés-midi?
Je voudrais travailler dans une maison de passe.
- Oh là là! - Qu'est-ce que c'est?
- A brothel. - Ah!
He'd like to work in a brothel.
trés bien.
Mais une maison de passe
où tous les clients utilisent le subjonctif ou le conditionnel.
- (all sigh) - Bien.
- D'accord, monsieur. - Voilà.
- (knocking) - Voilà.
Déjà un client.
- Bonjour, monsieur. - (gruff voice) Bonjour, chérie.
(laughing)
Entrez, s'il vous plait. Voilà votre lit.
- Et voici votre prostituée. - Oh là là!
Je veux m'étendre sur le lit.
Je voudrais. ''l would like to stretch out on the bed,''
in the conditional or the subjunctive.
Continuez, mes enfants.
Mais les chaussures, monsieur. pas sur le lit.
Oh! Excusez-moi, mademoiselle, excusez-moi.
- Et votre pantalon, s'il vous plait. - (all moan)
- Come on! Sir... - Sir! Sir!
Oh! Quelles belles jambes!
Et maintenant- Claudine.
Oui. La prostituée, s'il vous plait.
- (giggles) - (whistling)
- (high-pitched) A quel prix? - Dix francs.
Dix francs. pour dix francs, je peux vous montrer ma prodigieuse poitrine.
(Timms) Ah, non, non, non...
(knocking)
- Un autre client. - (all gasp)
Ah! Cher monsieur le directeur.
Mr Hector, what on earth is happening?
L'anglais c'est interdit. lci, on ne parle que français.
En accordant une importance particuliére au subjonctif.
Oh... Erm...
Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé ici?
pourquoi ce garçon... Er... Dakin, isn't it?
..est sans... er... trousers?
Ah! Erm... Quelqu'un?
Oh! ne sois pas timide.
Dites à cher monsieur le directeur ce que nous faisons.
- Je suis un homme qui... - Vous n'étes pas un homme!
Vous étes un soldat. Un soldat blessé.
Vous comprenez, cher monsieur le directeur?
- Soldat blessé. - Wounded soldier, of course.
lci, c'est un höpital en Belgique.
Belgique? pourquoi Belgique?
- À Ypres. - Ypres?
- Ypres. - Ypres?
pendant la guerre mondiale numéro un.
- Ypres. - C'est ça!
Dakin est un soldat blessé.
Un mutilé de guerre.
Et les autres sont des médecins, infirmiéres,
et tout le personnel d'un grand établissement médical et thérapeutique.
Continuez, mes enfants.
(screaming)
ll appelle sa mére.
Mon pére! Mon pére!
ll appelle son pére!
ll est distrait, il est distrait.
ll est commotionné, peut-étre.
Comment?
Commotionné. Shell-shocked.
C'est possible. Commotionné. Oui, c'est le mot juste.
permettez-moi d'introduire Monsieur lrwin, notre nouveau professeur.
- Enchanté. - Enough of this silliness! No, not silliness!
Mr Hector, you are aware these pupils are Oxbridge candidates?
Nobody's told me.
Mr lrwin will be coaching them, but it's a question of time.
l've found him three lessons a week, but l was wondering... Purely on a temporary basis.
- The last time, l promise. - Last time was the last time.
- l'm thinking of the boys. - l am, too. No, absolutely not. No. No, no, no.
C'est hors de question, et puis, si vous voulez m'excuser,
je dois continuer ma leçon. À tout à l'heure.
- (bell rings) - Fuck.
(all laugh)
lt's true, though, sir. We don't have much time.
We don't even have to do French.
Now, who goes home?
Well, surely l can give somebody a lift.
- Who's on pillion duty? Dakin? - Not me, sir. l'm going into town.
- Crowther? - l'm off for a run, sir.
- Akhtar? - Er... computer club, sir.
- Ah. - l'll come, sir.
Oh, no, never mind.
l'll come, sir.
Ah! Scripps.
The things l do for Jesus.
- lt's never me. - You're too young still.
lt will happen. Now that you've achieved puberty.
lf rather late in the day.
Mr Hector is likely, at some point, to try and put his hand on your knee.
This is because Mr Hector is a homosexual and a sad fuck.
The drill is to look at the hand and go, ''And what does Mr Hector want?''
Well, he has no answer for this and so will desist.
Thrutch up.
- l just think l should have been told. - He comes highly recommended.
- So did Anne of Cleves. - Who?
He's up to the minute, Dorothy, more ''now''.
Now? l thought history was ''then''.
Felix.
Anne of Cleves. Remind me.
- Fourth wife of Henry vlll, sir. - Of course.
She was the one they told him was Miss Dish,
only, when she turned up, she had a face like the wrong end of a camel's turd.
Quite so.
- What's the matter with you, lad? - Oh, l've got a note, sir.
How much for? (laughs) l don't do notes. Get changed.
- Sir... - God doesn't do notes either.
Did Jesus say, ''Can l be excused the Crucifixion?'' No.
Actually, sir, l think he did.
Change! One day it will save your life.
Nothing saves anyone's life, sir. ltjust postpones their death.
Jesus Christ will save your life, lad,
if you only let him into your heart!
l'm Jewish, sir.
l'm Muslim, sir.
- very good. - (applause)
Most excellent.
(all) Ooooh!
Go on!
Lad, lad, lad!
You're letting yourself down, you're letting God down.
- What's God got to do with it? - Listen, boy, this isn't your body.
- No? - No!
This body is on loan to you from God.
- Fuck me. - l heard that! Give me 20.
20 what? Hail Marys?
Do it.
- You're late. Get your kit off. - l'm on the staff.
- (laughing) - Well, l've never seen you.
What's this?
- Do you need a hand with that, sir? - ls itjoined-up writing?
Mrs Lintott's given me a view of some of your latest essays.
The experience was interesting. The essays not. Dull.
Dull. Abysmally dull.
A triumph. The dullest of the lot.
- l got all the points. - l didn't say it was wrong. l said ''dull''.
- lts sheer competence was staggering. - You've got crap handwriting.
lt's your eyesight that's bad and we know what causes that.
Sir! ls that a coded reference to the mythical dangers of self-abuse?
- lt might even be ajoke! - (Dakin) Ajoke, sir?
Oh. Are jokes gonna be a feature? We need to know as it affects our mindset.
You don't object to our using the expression ''mindset'', do you, sir?
Mr Hector doesn't care for it.
At the... er... at the time of the Reformation, there were 14 foreskins of Christ preserved,
but it was thought the Church of St John Lateran in Rome had the authentic prepuce.
Don't think we're shocked by your mention of the word ''foreskin'', sir.
No, sir. Some of us even have them.
Not Posner, though, cos he's, well... Jewish. lt's one of several things he doesn't have.
- Fuck off. - That's not racist, though, sir.
- lsn't it? - lt's race-related. But not racist.
Has anybody been to Rome or venice?
Florence? No.
The other candidates will have been and have done courses on what they've seen.
So they'll know, when they do an essay on the Church at the time of the Reformation,
that, oh, look, some silly nonsense on the foreskins of Christ will come in handy,
so that their essays, unlike yours, will not be dull.
They're not even bad, they're just boring. You haven't got a hope.
- So, why are we bothering? - l don't know. You tell me.
You want it. Your parents want it. The headmaster, he certainly wants it.
Me? l wouldn't waste the money. l'd go to Newcastle and be happy.
- Of course, there is another way. - Oh! How?
- Cheat! - Possibly.
- Dakin. - Sir?
Don't take the piss. There isn't time.
- What a wanker. - They all have to do it, don't they?
- Do what? - Show you they're still in the game.
Foreskins and stuff. ''Oh, sir, you devil.''
Have a heart. He's only five minutes older than we are.
What happened with Hector, on the bike?
As per. Except l managed to get my bag down.
l think he thought he'd got me going,
but, in fact, it was my tudor Economic Documents, Volume two.
(laughs)
(♫ ''Mustapha Dance'' by the Clash)
So, let's summarise. The First World War, what points do we make?
- Trench warfare. - Mountains of dead.
- On both sides. - Generals stupid.
- On both sides. - Armistice. Germany humiliated.
- Keep it coming. - Mass unemployment. lnflation.
Collapse of the Weimar Republic, internal disorder, the rise of Hitler.
So our conclusion is that the origins of the second war
lie in the unsatisfactory outcome of the first.
- Yes. Yes. - First class.
Bristol welcomes you with open arms.
Manchester longs to have you. You can walk into Leeds!
But l'm the fellow of Magdalene College,
l've just read 70 papers saying the same, and l'm asleep.
- But it's all true. - What's truth got to do with it?
What's truth got to do with anything?
- (Mrs Lintott) The new man seems clever. - He does. Depressingly so.
- Didn't you try for Oxford? - Cambridge.
Cloisters. Ancient libraries.
l was confusing learning with the smell of cold stone.
lf l had gone l'd probably never have worked out the difference.
Durham was very good for history. lt's where l had my first pizza.
Other things too, of course, but it's the pizza that stands out.
Er, Dakin's a good-looking boy, though somehow sad.
You always think they're sad, Hector. Every, every time.
Actually, l wouldn't have said he was sad, l would have said he was cunt-struck.
Dorothy.
l'd have thought you'd have liked that. lt's a compound adjective.
- You like compound adjectives. - Yeah.
- Oh. Going walkabout. - Oh, yeah.
The truth was, in 1914, Germany doesn't want war.
Yeah, there's an arms race, but it's Britain who's leading it.
So, why does no one admit this?
That's why. The dead.
The body count.
We don't like to admit the war was even partly our fault cos so many of our people died.
And all the mourning's veiled the truth. lt's not ''lest we forget'', it's ''lest we remember''.
That's what all this is about - the memorials, the Cenotaph, the two minutes' silence.
Because there is no better way of forgetting something than by commemorating it.
As for the truth, Scripps, forget it.
ln an examination, truth's not an issue.
You really believe this, sir? Or are you just trying to make us think?
Can't explain away the poetry, sir.
- Art wins in the end. - What about this one, sir?
''Those long, uneven lines Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside The Oval or villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun On moustached archaic faces
Grinning as if it were all An August Bank Holiday lark.''
''Never such innocence, Never before or since,
As changed itself to past Without a word.''
''The men leaving the gardens tidy.''
''The thousands of marriages Lasting a little while longer.''
''Never such innocence again.''
How come you know all this by heart?
Not that it answers the question.
So much for our ''glorious dead''.
Quite.
Actually, Fiona's my Western front.
Well, last night, for instance.
l thought it might be the big push.
So, encountering only token resistance,
l reconnoitred the ground as far as the actual place.
- Shit! - No, l mean not onto it.
- Certainly not into it. Up to it. - Fuck.
And the metaphor really fits.
l mean, moving up to the front,
troops presumably had to pass the sites of previous battles.
Well, so it is with me.
Like particularly her tits, which only surrendered about three weeks ago.
And which were indeed the start line of a determined thrust southwards.
What's the matter?
- No-man's-land. - Ah, fuck.
So, what do l do with this?
Carry out a controlled explosion?
Still, at least l'm doing better than Felix.
- Felix? - No!
Tries to. Chases her around the desk.
No!
Actually, the metaphor isn't exact
because what Fiona is presumably carrying out is a planned withdrawal.
You're not forcing her, she's not being overwhelmed by superior forces.
- Does she like you? - Course she likes me.
Then you're not disputing the territory, just negotiating over the pace of the occupation.
Just let us know when you get to Berlin.
l'm beginning to like him more.
- Who, me? - lrwin. Though he hates me.
Jimmy!
(Scripps) Cheer up. At least he speaks to you.
Most guys wouldn't even speak to you.
- Love can be very irritating. - How do you know?
That's what l always think about God.
He must get so pissed off, everyone adoring him all the time.
Yes. Only you don't catch God poncing about in his underpants.
(♫ ''Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered'' by Hart and Rogers)
(posner) ♫ l'm wild again
♫ Beguiled again
♫ A simpering, whimpering child again
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep
♫ When love came and told me l shouldn't sleep
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ Lost my heart, but what of it?
♫ He is cold, l agree
♫ He can laugh but l love it
♫ Although the laugh's on me
♫ l'll sing to him
♫ Each spring to him
♫ And worship the trousers that cling to him
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
Well done, Posner.
And now for some poetry of a more traditional sort.
Oh, God!
Er, Timms, w-w-what is this?
Sir, l don't always understand poetry.
You don't always understand it? Timms, l never understand it.
But learn it now, know it now, and you will understand it, whenever.
l don't see how we can understand it.
Most of what poetry's about hasn't happened to us yet.
But it will, Timms, it will.
And when it does, you'll have the antidote ready.
Grief, happiness, even when you're dying.
We're making your deathbeds here, boys.
Er, we've got an ending, sir.
Oh! Goody! Yes, well... Be sharp. Where's the kitty?
(mumbling)
And we have to smoke, sir.
And l happen to have some, sir.
- very well. - (piano)
(as woman) Jerry, please help me.
Shall we just have a cigarette on it?
Yes!
May l sometimes come here?
Whenever you like. lt's your home too. There are people here who love you.
And will you be happy, Charlotte?
Oh, Jerry! Don't let's ask for the moon. We have the stars!
(piano crescendo)
Lovely.
Hm!
Could it be Paul Henreid and Bette Davis in now, Voyager?.
(all laugh)
lt is famous, you ignorant little tarts.
- But we never heard of it, sir. - Oh! Walt Whitman, ''Leaves of Grass''.
''The untold want, by life and land ne'er granted,
Now, voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.''
50p, please.
Ah, Rudge.
There's nothing on the Carrt On films.
- Why? Should there be? - The exam.
Mr lrwin said the Carrt Ons would be good films to talk about.
How peculiar. Does he like them, do you think?
Probably not. You never know with him.
l'm now wondering if there's something there that l've missed.
Well, Mr lrwin says that, ''Whilst they have no intrinsic artistic merit...''
Ahem!
(quietly) ''..they achieve some of the permanence of art simply by persisting
and acquire incremental significance if only as social history.''
Dear me. What fun you must all have.
Well, it's not like your stuff, Miss. lt's cutting edge, it really is.
- Where do you live, sir? - Horsforth.
Not far from Mr Hector, sir. He might even give you a lift.
lt's not a loft, is it, sir?
Do you exist on an unhealthy diet of takeaways
or do you whisk up gourmet meals for one?
- Or is it a lonely pizza, sir? - l manage!
No questions from you, Dakin?
What they want to know, sir, is do you have a life?
Or are we it? Are we your life?
lt's pretty dismal if you are, cos these are as dreary as ever.
You get a question, you know the answer. But then, so does everybody else.
So, say something different, say the opposite.
OK, look, er... take Stalin.
He's generally agreed to be a monster, and rightly so.
Dissent. Find something, anything, and say it in his defence.
A question is about what you know, it's not about what you don't know.
A question about Rembrandt, for instance, might prompt an answer on Degas.
- ls Degas an old master? - ''About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how it takes place while someone's eating or opening a window.''
- Have you done that with Mr Hector? - Done what?
The poem. You're quoting somebody. Auden, isn't it?
Was it, sir? Sometimes itjust flows out, you know, brims over.
Does he have a programme or is itjust at random?
- Knowledge. - The pursuit of it for its own sake.
Breaking bread with the dead, that's what we do.
- lt's higher than your stuff, sir, it's nobler. - Only not useful. Mr Hector's not as focused.
(Lockwood) Not focused at all. He's blurred, sir.
We know what we're doing with you.
Half the time with him, we don't know what we're doing.
We're poor little sheep that have lost our way.
- Where are we? Where are we, sir? - Sit down.
You're very young, sir. This isn't your gap year, is it, sir?
l wish it was.
(Lockwood) Why, sir? Do you not like teaching us?
We're notjust a hiccup between the end of university and the beginning of life,
like Auden, are we, sir?
- Do you like Auden's poetry, sir? - Some, yeah.
Mr Hector does. We know about Auden.
(all) Oh, yes, we do.
- He was a schoolmaster for a bit. - l believe he was.
Yeah, he was. Do you think he was more like you or more like Mr Hector?
l have no idea. Why should he be like either of us?
Oh, l think he was more like Mr Hector.
Bit of a shambles. He snogged his pupils.
Auden, sir, not Mr Hector.
So, you could answer a question on Auden, then?
No, sir! Mr Hector's stuff's not meant for the exam!
lt's to make us more rounded human beings.
Listen! This examination's gonna be about everything and anything you know and are,
and if there's a question on Auden or whoever and you know about it, answer it.
That would be a betrayal of trust.
Yeah! ls nothing sacred, sir? We're shocked.
l would, sir, and they would. They're taking the piss.
''England, you've been here too long,
And the songs you sing are the songs you sung
On a braver day, now they are wrong.''
- Who's that? - (all) Oh! Mr lrwin!
Sir! lt's Stevie Smith of ''Not Waving But Drowning'' fame.
Don't tell me that's useless knowledge.
lf you get an essay on post-imperial decline,
you're losing an empire, finding a role, all that kind of stuff.
A gobbet like that, it's the perfect way to end it.
A what, sir?
A gobbet. A quotation.
How much more have you up your sleeves?
We've got all sorts. Hey! The train, the train!
(all imitate train)
(as woman) l really meant to do it. l stood there trembling right on the edge.
But l couldn't. l wasn't brave enough.
l should like to able to say the thought of you and the children prevented me.
But it wasn't. l had no thoughts at all.
Only an overwhelming desire not to feel anything at all ever again.
Not to be unhappy any more.
l went back into the refreshment room. That's when l nearly fainted.
- What is all this? - (all) Shh!
- Laura. - Yes, dear?
Whatever your dream was, it wasn't a very happy one, was it?
No.
ls there anything l can do to help?
Fred, you always help.
You've been a long way away.
Thank you for coming back to me.
God knows why you've learned Brief Encounter.
l think you ought to know this lesson's been a complete waste of time.
A bit like Mr Hector's lessons then, sir. They're a complete waste of time too.
Smart arse. But he's not trying to get you through an exam.
(all) Ooooh!
- French Kiss? - l beg your pardon?
- Newmarket, three o'clock. - (chuckling)
- Dorothy. - Thank you, Stanley.
So, how are you finding them?
You've taught them too well. They can't see it's a game.
- History? ls it a game? - For an exam like this, yeah.
- Dorothy. - Ah, fuck.
- Dorothy. - Headmaster.
- l call him the awful warning. - Who? Felix?
lf you don't watch out, he's what you turn into.
lf this was a 1940s film, he'd be played by Raymond Huntley.
Who?
He made a speciality of sour-faced judges and vinegary schoolmasters.
- Who would l be played by? - Dirk Bogarde.
l'm not sure l like that.
- Dorothy. - Watch out.
Ah, Hector! The very man.
- Chin up, Rudge. - Hello!
Mrs Lintott.
Our lord and master having grudgingly conceded that art may have its uses,
l gather l'm supposed to give your Oxbridge boys a smattering of art history.
Not my bag, Hazel. lrwin's your man.
- lt's really just the icing on the cake. - ls art ever anything else?
Michelangelo.
Well... l suppose.
Who've you got?
- Both nancies. - Are they?
These aren't women. They're just men with tits.
And the tits look put on with an ice-cream scoop.
- Do you like Turner, then? - He's all right.
Well, choose someone you do like. Art's meant to be enjoyed.
ln the long term, maybe, but with us, enjoyment don't come into it.
We haven't time to read the books. We haven't time to look at the pictures.
We really need lessons in acting. That's what this whole scholarship thing is: an acting job.
So, have the boys given you a nickname?
- Not that l'm aware of. - A nickname is an achievement.
Both in the sense of something won and also in its armorial sense.
Of a badge, a blazon.
Unsurprisingly, l am Tott. Or Tottie.
Some irony there, one feels.
- Hector has no nickname. - Yes, he has. Hector.
- But he's called Hector. - That's his nickname too.
He isn't called Hector. His name's Douglas.
Though the only person l've ever heard address him as such
is his somewhat unexpected wife.
Posner came to see me yesterday. He has a problem.
No nickname, but at least you get their problems. l seldom do.
Sir, l think l may be homosexual.
- l love Dakin. - Does Dakin know?
Yes. He doesn't think it's surprising.
Though Dakin likes girls, basically.
l sympathised, though not so much as to suggest l might be in the same boat.
- With Dakin? - With anybody.
That's sensible.
One of the hardest things for boys to learn is that a teacher is human.
One of the hardest things for a teacher to learn is not to try and tell them.
- ls it a phase, sir? - Do you think it's a phase?
Some of the literature says it will pass.
l'm not sure l want it to pass.
But l want to get into Oxford. lf l do, Dakin might love me.
Or l might stop caring.
- Do you look at your life, sir? - l thought everybody did.
l'm a Jew, l'm small,
l'm homosexual, and l live in Sheffield.
l'm fucked.
So, all this religion. What do you do?
(sighs) Go to church. Pray.
Yes?
lt's so time-consuming. You have no idea.
Yeah? What else?
Well. Er... it's what you don't do.
You don't not wank?
- Jesus! You're headed for the bin. - lt's not forever.
Yeah, well, just tell me on the big day and l'll stand well back.
What bothers me is the more you read,
the more you see literature is actually about losers.
- Ugh, no. - Yeah.
lt's consolation. All literature is consolation.
l don't care what Hector says. l find literature really louring.
This is lrwin, isn't it? A line of stuff for the exam.
No.
Well, it isn't wholly my idea.
l've been reading this book by Nieshaw.
- Who? - Nieshaw. He's a philosopher.
Frederick Nieshaw.
l think that's pronounced Nietzsche.
Oh, shit. Shit!
- What's the matter? - l talked to lrwin about it.
He didn't correct me. He let me call him Nieeee-shaw!
- He'll think l'm a right fool. Shit! - What have l done?
Nothing. You've done nothing.
The world doesn't revolve around you, you know.
Ah! lrwin! How are our young men doing?
- Are they on stream? - l think so.
(stammers) You think so? Are they or aren't they?
Must always be something of a lottery.
A lottery? l don't like the sound of that, lrwin.
l don't want you to fuck up.
We've been down that road too many times before.
(rock music)
Oi!
He's coming.
(cheering)
They took the lead off the roofs, they used the timbers to melt it down,
and time did the rest, and all thanks to Henry vlll.
lf you want to learn about Stalin, study Henry vlll.
lf you want to learn about Mrs Thatcher, study Henry vlll.
While you and Dorothy are taking them through the history, l'll pitch camp.
Though, lrwin, l am constantly available
for the provision of useful quotations - sorry, gobbets - on request.
''Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.''
Remember, boys, festoon your answers with gobbets
and you won't go very far wrong.
(Irwin) Actually, singing was the least of it.
The monks were farmers, clothiers, tanners, tailors...
- (Akhtar) This was a toilet? - (Irwin) One of them.
- A bit draughty on the bum. - That was the drain down there.
And then they drank out of it? Fucking Christians.
What about the Ganges? You're just as bad.
- l'm Muslim, knob. - You all look alike to me anyway.
- So, what was this, then? Chapel? - No, it was a storeroom.
A barn. All the produce would come in here.
- You know it all, don't ya? - lt interests me.
No, that's good. That's good.
- All-male community, was it, sir? - Of course. They were monks.
- Bit of that, you think? - What?
- Same-sex stuff. - You blushed, sir.
- Have l fuck blushed. - Sir, this is consecrated ground!
(Akhtar) Not to me, sir. To me it's a pagan temple.
Only you did blush a bit, sir.
So, is that why Henry vlll put the boot in, then, sir - because of them bunking up?
lt's what he said.
Not much else for them to do, was there?
- l mean, in the time off. - Pray?
Posner would make a good monk, except he's Jewish.
- Do Jews have monks? - Yes. l'm one now.
ln your own time, sir.
Pass the parcel. That's sometimes all you can do.
Take it, feel it, and pass it on.
Not for me. Not for you.
But for someone, somewhere.
One day.
Pass it on, boys. That's the game l want you to learn.
Pass it on!
(click)
(buzz of conversation)
Hector. A word.
Er, this is not the first time, apparently.
But on this occasion, she managed to make a note of the number.
(stammers) For the moment, l propose to say nothing about this.
But, fortunately, it's not long before you're due to retire.
ln the circumstances, l propose that we bring that forward.
l think we should be looking at the end of term.
Have you nothing to say?
''The tree of man was never quiet;
Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis l.''
This is no time for poetry.
Erm, l'm assuming your wife doesn't know.
l've no idea.
What women know or don't know has always been a mystery to me.
And are you going to tell her?
l don't know. l'm not sure she'd be interested.
Well, erm... there's another thing.
Strange how even the most tragic turn of events
generally resolve themselves into questions about the timetable.
lrwin's been badgering me for more lessons.
ln the circumstances, a concession might be in order.
ln future, l think you and he might share.
- Share? - Share!
ln the meantime, you must consider your position.
l do not want to sack you.
People talk.
lt's so... untidy.
lt would be easier for all concerned if you retired early.
Look, nothing happened.
A hand on a boy's genitals at 50mph
and you call it nothing?
The transmission of knowledge is in itself an erotic act.
- ln the Renaissance... - Fuck the Renaissance!
And fuck literature and Plato and Michelangelo and Oscar Wilde
and all the other shrunken violets you people line up.
This is a school, and it isn't normal.
- Still here? - lt is Wednesday, sir.
l thought with the day trip to Fountains and...
Well, it's only half past four.
- Well, in that case, where's Dakin? - With Mr lrwin, sir.
Ah. Of course.
He's showing him some old exam questions.
Ah, with all the appropriate gobbets, no doubt.
Well, no matter. We must keep up the fight without him.
- What have you learned this week? - ''Drummer Hodge'', sir. Hardy.
Ah, nice.
''They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined -just as found:
His landmark is a kopje-crest Which breaks the veldt around;
And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound.''
''Young Hodge the Drummer never knew - Fresh from his Wessex home -
The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty loam,
And why uprose to nightly view Strange stars amid the gloam.''
''Yet portion of that unknown plain Will Hodge for ever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain Grow to some Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellations reign His stars eternally.''
Good. very good.
Any thoughts?
l wondered, sir, if this ''portion of that unknown plain will Hodge forever be''
is like Rupert Brooke, sir.
''There's some corner of foreign field,
ln that dust a richer dust concealed.''
lt is, it is. lt's the same thought. Though Hardy is better, l think.
lt's more... more, er... well, down-to-earth.
Quite literally down-to-earth.
- Anything about his name? - Hodge?
The important thing is, he has a name.
Say Hardy's writing about the Zulu Wars.
Or later, or... The Boer War, possibly.
And these were the first campaigns
when soldiers, common soldiers, were commemorated.
The names of the dead were recorded and inscribed on war memorials.
Before this, soldiers - private soldiers -
were all unknown soldiers.
And so far from being revered, there was a firm in the 19th century
in Yorkshire, of course, which swept up their bones
from the battlefields of Europe in order to grind them into fertiliser.
So, thrown into a common grave though he may be,
he's still Hodge, the Drummer.
Lost boy though he is, on the far side of the world...
he still has a name.
How old was he?
lf he was a drummer he'd be a boy soldier. Not even as old as you, probably.
- No, Hardy. - Oh, how old was Hardy?
Oh, erm. When he wrote this... about 60.
My age, l suppose.
A saddish life, though not unappreciated.
''Uncoffined'' is a typical Hardy usage.
lt's a compound adjective, formed by putting ''un'' in front of the noun.
Or verb, of course.
Unkissed,
unrejoicing,
unconfessed,
unembraced.
(stammers) lt's a turn of phrase
that brings with it a sense of not sharing.
Of being out of it, whether because of diffidence or shyness.
But a holding back.
Not being in the swim.
(stutters) Can you see that?
Yes, sir.
l felt that a bit.
The best moments in reading are when you come across something -
a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things -
that you'd thought special, particular to you,
and here it is, set down by someone else.
A person you've never met, maybe even someone long dead.
And... (stammers) it's as if a hand...
has come out... and taken yours.
Let's just have that last verse again and l'll let you go.
''Yet portion of that unknown plain Will Hodge forever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain Grow to some Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellations reign His stars eternally.''
(engine roars)
(Felix) Shall l tell you what is wrong with Hector as a teacher?
And it isn't that he doesn't produce results - he does.
But they're unpredictable and unquantifiable.
And in the current educational climate, that is of no use.
l mean, there's inspiration, certainly. But how do l quantify that?
And l heard one child singing yesterday morning,
and on inquiry l find that his pupils
know all the words of ''When l'm Cleaning Windows''.
George Formby, and Gracie Fields.
Dorothy, what has Gracie Fields got to do with anything?
So, the upshot is... l'm glad he handled his pupils' balls
because that at least l can categorise.
lt's a reason for his going no one can dispute.
You didn't know.
Not that, no.
(sighs) l assumed you knew.
- He handled the boys' balls? - l don't want to spell it out.
You've been married yourself. You know the form.
And, to be fair, l think it was more appreciative than investigatory.
But it's... inexcusable, nevertheless.
No. No, it's to everyone's benefit that he should go.
As soon as possible.
Sir? Can l say something, sir?
Well, we've got the most important exam of our lives coming up
and we're just sat here reading literature.
Leaving that aside for the moment, there's something l have to tell you.
We know all that, sir.
- How do you know? - About sharing classes with Mr lrwin, sir.
- No, no, not that. - Why is that, sir?
(sighs) lt's a question of timetabling, apparently.
No, no, this is... something else.
Does that mean your lessons will be more like Mr lrwin's?
- More use, sir? - Less farting about?
Hush, boys, hush.
Can't you see? l'm not in the mood.
What mood is that, sir? The subjunctive? The mood of possibility?
Get on with some work. Read.
That's what we're saying. There's no time for reading!
- Can't you just give us the gist, sir? - Precis it, sir. Like Mr lrwin does.
Just the outline, sir. Then we can pretend.
- Pretend? - No, no, no, sir! That's what exams are for!
Will you shut up about these exams!
Shut up, all of you!
What made me piss my life away in this godforsaken place?
There's nothing of me left.
Go away.
(sobbing) Go.
(wailing)
Sir...
(sobbing continues)
Sir...
(wailing)
(clears throat) Would you like to start?
l don't mind.
How do you normally start? lt is your lesson, general studies.
Well, the boys decide. Ask them.
Anybody? Floor's open.
Oh, come on, boys. Don't sulk.
We don't know where we are, sir. Your class or Mr lrwin's.
- Does it matter? - Well, yes, sir.
Depends if you want us thoughtful or... smart.
He wants you civil, you rancid little turd.
Hitting us. You're a witness. He could be sacked.
l thought we'd talk about the Holocaust.
Good gracious! How can you teach the Holocaust?
That would do as a question. Can you, should you, teach the Holocaust?
Anybody? Come on.
lt has origins, it has consequences. lt's a subject like any other.
Not like any other, surely. Not like any other at all.
No, but it's a topic.
They go on school trips there nowadays, don't they? Auschwitz, Dachau.
What's always concerned me is where do they have their sandwiches?
The visitors' centre. lt's like anywhere else.
Yeah, but do they take pictures of each other there?
Are they smiling?
Do they hold hands? Nothing is appropriate.
What if you were to write this was so far beyond one's experience,
silence is the only proper response?
Mr Hector's answer to lots of questions, isn't it, sir?
Er, yes. Yes, Dakin, it is.
''Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.''
That's right, isn't it, sir? Wittgenstein.
- Yes, that's good. - No, it's not good.
lt's flip, it's glib, it's journalism.
- lt's you that taught us it. - l didn't teach you.
And Wittgenstein did not screw it out of his very guts
(stutters) in order for you to turn it into a dinky formula.
Why can't we simply just condemn the camps outright as an unprecedented horror?
There's no point, sir. Everybody will do that.
''The camp's an event unlike any other.''
''The evil unprecedented.'' Et cetera, et cetera.
No! Can't you see that even to say ''et cetera''
is... monstrous?
''Et cetera'' is what the Nazis would have said.
The dead reduced to mere verbal abbreviation.
All right, not et cetera. But given that the death camps are thought of as unique,
wouldn't another approach be to show precedents?
- Put them, well, in proportion. - Proportion?
Not proportion, then, but putting them in context.
But to put something in context
is a step towards saying it can be understood and explained.
And if it can be explained, then it can be explained away.
tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.
- That's good, Posner. - lt isn't good. l mean it, sir.
When we talk about putting them in context,
it's the same as the dissolution of the monasteries.
Dozens of monasteries had been dissolved before Henry vlll.
The difference is l didn't lose any relatives in the dissolution of the monasteries.
Good point.
You keep saying, ''good point''. Not good point, sir. True!
To you, th-the Holocaust is just another topic on which we may or may not get a question.
No!
No! But this is history. Distance yourselves.
Our perspective on the past alters.
And looking back, immediately in front of us is dead ground - we don't see it.
And because we don't see it, this means there is no period so remote as the recent past.
And one of the historian's jobs
is to anticipate what our perspective of that period will be.
- Even on the Holocaust. - (bell rings)
- Won the argument there, sir. - What?
The Holocaust. Yep, you really showed him.
- You flirt! - l don't understand it.
l've never wanted to please anybody the way l do him.
Girls not excepted.
- He's going, you know. - The big man?
Yeah. Don't let on. Fiona says.
Sacked? Who complained?
That's why the lifts have stopped.
Poor sod. Though in some ways, l can't say l'm sorry.
No. No more genital massage as one speeds along leafy suburban roads!
No more of the bike's melancholy, long, withdrawing roar
as he dropped you at the corner, your honour still intact.
'Ey.
A lecher though one is, or one aspires to be,
it occurs to me that the lot of woman cannot be easy,
who must suffer such inexpert male fumblings virtually on a daily basis.
Are we scarred for life, do you think?
Well, we must hope so.
(♫ ''never Stop (Discotheque)'' by Echo and the Bunnymen)
Dad.
Never gives an inch, does he?
''Lucid and, up to a point, compelling, but if you reached a conclusion it escaped me.''
- Seen your handwriting recently? - Why?
- You're beginning to write like him. - l'm not trying to, honestly.
- You're writing like him and all. - No, l'm not!
Dakin writes like him. l write like Dakin.
lt's done wonders for the sex life.
Apparently l talk about him so much, Fiona gets really pissed off.
Doing it's about the only time l shut up.
- Would you do it with him? - Yeah, l wondered about that.
l might. Bring a little bit of sunshine into his life.
lt's only a wank, after all.
What makes you think he'd do it with you?
You complacent fuck!
The Archbishop of Canterbury know you talk like this?
l like him. Just wish l thought he liked me.
lrwin does like him. He seldom looks at anyone else.
- How do you know? - Because nor do l!
Our eyes meet looking at Dakin.
Oh, Pos. With your spaniel heart.
- lt will pass. - Yes, it's only a phase.
Who says l want it to pass?
But the pain. The pain!
Hector would say it's the only education worth having.
l just wish there were marks for it.
Mr Crowther, now, one of your interests is the theatre.
Tell us about that.
Erm, l'm keen on acting. l've done various parts.
Can l stop you? Don't mention the theatre.
Oh. Well, it's what l'm interested in.
Then soft-pedal it, the acting side, anyway.
Dons, most dons think the theatre is a waste of time.
Music is all right, though, isn't it? They don't frown on that.
No, you should just say what you enjoy.
- Mozart? - No.
Everybody likes Mozart. Somebody more off the beaten track. Tippett, or Broekman.
- But l don't know them. - May l make a silly suggestion?
Why can they not all just tell the truth?
(all groan)
l hesitate to mention this lest it occasion a sophisticated groan.
But it may not have crossed your minds,
but one of the dons who interviews you may be a woman.
l'm reluctant at this stage in the game to expose you to new ideas
but, having taught you all history on a strictly non-gender orientated basis,
l just wonder whether it occurs to any of you how... dispiriting this can be.
- Am l embarrassing you? - A bit, Miss.
lt's not our fault. lt's just the way it is.
''The world is everything that is the case.'' lt's Wittgenstein, Miss.
Yes, yes, l know it's Wittgenstein, thank you.
Can you for a moment imagine how depressing it is
to teach five centuries of masculine ineptitude?
(groans)
Why do you think there are no woman historians on Tv?
- No tits! - Hit that boy!
- Hit him! - Sir, you can't, sir.
l'll tell you why!
Because history's not such a frolic for women as it is for men.
Why should it be? They never get round the conference table.
ln 1919, for instance, they just... arranged the flowers,
then gracefully retired.
History is a commentary
on the various and continuing incapabilities of men.
What is history?
History is women following behind... with a bucket.
Erm... Rudge.
Now, how do you define history, Mr Rudge?
Can l speak freely, Miss?
- Without being hit? - l will protect you.
How do l define history?
lt's just one fucking thing after another.
(raucous laughter)
l see. And why do you want to come to Christ Church?
lt's the one l thought l might get into.
No other reason?
Do you like the architecture, for instance?
But they'll ask me about sport, won't they?
lf you're as uncommunicative as this, they may be forced to.
The point is, Rudge, even if they want to take you on the basis of your prowess on the field,
you have to help them, at least pretend there are other considerations.
Look, l'm shit at all this. Sorry.
lf they like me and they want to take me,
they'll take me because l'm dull and ordinary.
l'm no good in interviews, but l've got enough chat to take me round the golf course,
and maybe there'll be someone on the board who wants to go around the golf course.
l may not know much about Jean-Paul Sartre,
but l've got a handicap of four.
Where have you heard about Sartre?
- He was a good golfer. - Really?
l never knew that. lnteresting!
Peter, how did you know Sartre was a golfer?
l don't know that he was.
How could l? l don't even know who the fuck he is.
Well, they keep telling us you have to lie.
(Lockwood) l have a feeling Kafka was good at table tennis.
- l'll see you tomorrow. - Sir. l never gave you my essay.
What degree did you get, sir? You never said.
- Second. - Ha, boring.
- Didn't the old magic work? - l hadn't perfected the technique.
- No, come on. - lt's after four. l'm gonna.
- What college were you at? - Corpus.
- That's not one anyone's going in for. - No.
- You happy? - There? Yeah. Yeah, l was quite.
Do you think we'll be happy, say we get in?
- You'll be happy, anyway. - l'm not sure l like that.
Why? Uncomplicated - is that what you mean?
Outgoing? Straight?
They're none of them bad things to be, you know.
lt depends. Nice to be a bit more complicated.
Or to be thought so.
lt's Felix!
(Irwin) Oh, Christ!
- Shh! - (giggling)
- Not very bright, are you? - Am l not?
No, sir.
- How's Posner? - Why?
- He likes you, doesn't he? - Well, it's his age.
- He's growing up. - lt's hard for him.
Boring for me.
You're not suggesting that l do something about it?
lt happens. l wouldn't anyway. Too young.
- You still look quite young. - That's cos l am, l suppose.
- How do you think history happens? - What?
How does stuff happen, do you think?
People decide to do stuff. Make moves, alter things.
- l'm not sure what you're talking about. - No? Think about it.
Some do, make moves. l suppose.
Others react to events. ln 1939, for instance, Hitler made a move on Poland, Poland...
- Gave in. - ls that what you mean?
(both) No.
Not Poland, anyway.
- Was Poland taken by surprise? - To some extent.
Although they knew something was up.
- What was your essay about? - Turning points.
Ah, yeah. That's moments when history rattles over the points.
- Shall l tell you what you've written? Dunkirk. - Yep.
- Hitler turning on Russia. - Yeah.
- Alamein. - Yeah, all those.
More? That's good.
When Chamberlain resigned as prime minister,
Churchill wasn't the first thought. Halifax more generally acceptable.
But on the afternoon the decision was taken, Halifax chose to go to the dentist.
lf Halifax had had better teeth, we might have lost the war.
- That's terrific. - Well, it's subjunctive history.
Come again?
Subjunctive - the mood used when something might or might not have happened.
When it's imagined.
Hector's crazy about the subjunctive.
- Why are you smiling? - Nothing.
Good luck.
(Mrs Lintott) You may begin.
Shit.
- Yes? - Bit hit-and-miss, Miss.
l was so nice about Hitler, a much misunderstood man.
Queen Elizabeth, Miss.
Less remarkable for her abilities
than the fact that, unlike so many of her sisters, she got a chance to exercise them.
That's the stuff!
Hope they don't mind trainers. They're all l've got.
lt's not an exam in footwear.
Somebody told me it's four miles to the bogs.
Do you want somewhere with a shit degree but has toilets en suite?
l say if they don't like me, then fuck 'em.
Oh, Peter, l wish l had your philosophy.
- What'll you do? Flutter the eyelashes? - l think the half-smile with a hint of sadness.
Fuck off!
(Irwin) Get in, sit down.
Good luck.
(excited chattering)
♫ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye
(all) ♫ Cheerio, here l go on my way
♫ Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye
♫ Not a tear but a cheer, make it gay...
(♫ ''A Forest'' by the Cure)
- (knocking) - Come in.
Mr Lockwood?
No lrwin here.
- This is Corpus, isn't it? - Yeah.
They liked my Hitler answer, praised what they called my ''sense of detachment''.
They said it was the foundation of writing history.
- Ah, fucking hell! - (bell tolls)
(posner) lt's like a stately home. My parents would love it.
This is Mr Rudge, who, if he comes up, is hoping to read history.
- Who is he? - Rudge.
- What's he want us for? - No idea.
- Pep talk? - Bit late for that.
lt's probably about Hector.
- l sort of know. - l imagine everyone sort of knows.
- Does his wife? - He doesn't think so, apparently.
But l imagine she's another one who's sort of known all along.
The husband on a low light.
That's what they want, these supposedly unsuspecting wives.
The husband's lukewarm attentions. Just what they married them for.
Oh, he's a fool, but he was also unlucky.
For a start, the lollipop lady's only on duty a couple of hours.
Five minutes later, she'd have gone off.
And what if the lights had been green?
Or if there'd been no children coming?
The smallest of incidents, the junction of a dizzying range of...
alternatives.
Any one of which could have had a different outcome.
lf l was... a bold teacher - if l was you, even -
l could spend a lesson dissecting what the headmaster insists on calling
''this unfortunate incident''.
And it would teach the boys more about history
and the utter randomness of things than...
well, than l've ever managed to do, so far.
l wonder how they're going on.
- Don't you ever want to go back? - To Oxford?
l'm not clever enough.
- l'm not anything enough, really. - (door opens)
Dorothy, a word.
Trouble at t'mill.
(sniffs) That's the news he's aching to impart. My marching orders.
- l sort of knew. - Ah.
Dakin told me.
Did he tell you why?
(sighs) l've got this idea of buying a van,
filling it with books and taking it round to country markets.
Shropshire, Herefordshire.
''The open road, the dusty highway.''
''Travel, change, interest, excitement.'' Poop-poop!
See, what l didn't want was to turn out boys
who would claim in later life to have a deep love of ''literature''.
Or who would talk in their middle age
of the lure of language and their love of words.
''Words'' said in a reverential way that is somehow...
Welsh.
That's what the tosh was for - Gracie Fields, Brief Encounter.
lt's an antidote. Sheer, calculated silliness.
Has a boy ever made you unhappy?
They used to do.
See it as an inoculation, rather.
Briefly painful, but providing immunity for however long it takes.
Given the occasional booster, another face,
another reminder of the pain,
it can last you... half a lifetime.
- Love. - Who could love me?
- l talk too much. - Do they know?
They know... everything.
Don't touch him. He'll think you're a fool.
- lt's what they think of me. - (door opens)
You knew as well, l gather?
And the boys knew.
Well, of course the boys knew. They had it at first hand.
l didn't actually do anything.
l mean, it was a laying on of hands. l don't deny that.
But more my way of... benediction than gratification.
Hector, darling, love you as l do, that is the most colossal balls.
- ls it? - A grope is a grope.
lt is not the Annunciation.
(wails) You twerp!
Anyway, what Felix wanted to tell me is that when l finish next year,
he's hoping he can persuade you to step into my shoes.
(sighs) lrwin.
For your information, they're a size seven court shoe, broad fitting.
(♫ ''papa's got a Brand-new pigbag'' by pigbag)
Chris! Chris!
Adi!
(excited chattering)
David!
Evening. Lockwood, 4C.
- (noisy hubbub) - Ah, lrwin!
(shouts) Splendid news! Splendid news.
Posner, a scholarship. Dakin, an exhibition.
And places for everybody else!
(all cheer)
lt's more than one would ever have hoped for.
lrwin, you're to be congratulated on a remarkable achievement.
Oh, and you too. You too, Dorothy, of course, who laid the foundations.
- Not Rudge, Headmaster. - Not Rudge. Oh, dear.
- The others have all had letters. - lt was always an outside chance.
lt's a pity. lt would have been good to have a clean sweep.
Still, as l've said all along, you can't polish a turd.
Rudge!
You haven't heard from Oxford?
Perhaps you'll hear tomorrow.
Why should l? They told me when l was there.
l'm sorry.
What for? l got in.
How come?
What, how come they told me, or how come they took a thick sod like me?
l had family connections.
Somebody in your family went to Christ Church?
Well, in a manner of speaking. My dad.
Before he got married he was a college servant there.
This old... parson who'd just been sitting there most of the interview suddenly said
was l related to Bill Rudge who'd been a scout in staircase seven in the 1950s.
So, l said he's my dad,
and they said l was just the kind of candidate they were looking for.
Mind you, l did do the other stuff like...
Stalin was a sweetie and Wilfred Owen was a wuss.
They said l plainly thought for myself and was exactly what their rugger team needed.
- Are you not pleased? - lt's not like winning a match.
You see, Miss... l want to do the stuff l want to do.
l mean, this, l only wanted it cos the others did, and my dad.
Now l'm in, l just feel like telling the college to stuff it.
l think that's Mr Hector.
No, it isn't, Miss. lt's me.
(knocking)
- l went round to your college. - l'm surprised you're interested.
l was kind of lonely. l wanted to see where you'd been.
- Only no one had heard of you at Corpus. - l was at Jesus.
- You said Corpus. - Corpus, Jesus... What does it matter?
l never got in. l was at Bristol.
l did go to Oxford but it was just to do a teaching diploma.
- Does that make any difference? - To what? To me?
At least you lied, and lying's good, isn't it? We've established that. Lying works.
You ought to learn to do it properly.
Anybody else, l'd say we could have a drink.
ls that a euphemism - a drink?
Saying ''a drink'' when you actually mean something else?
- lt is, yeah. - Actually, forget the euphemism.
l'm just kicking the tyres on this one, but further to the drink...
What l was really wondering was, is there any chance of your sucking me off?
Or something similar.
Actually, that would please Hector.
- What? - ''Your sucking me off.''
lt's a gerund. He likes gerunds.
And ''your being scared shitless'', that's another gerund.
- l didn't know you were that way inclined. - l'm not.
But it's the end of term, l've got into Oxford. l thought we might push the boat out.
Anyway, l'll leave it on the table.
l don't understand this.
Reckless, impulsive, immoral.
How come there's such a difference between the way you teach and the way you live?
Why are you so bold in argument and talking, but when it comes to the point...
when it's something that's actually happening - l mean, now you're so fucking careful.
ls it because you're a teacher and l'm a boy?
- Obviously that. - Well, why? Who cares? l don't.
You've already had one master touch you up.
ls that what it is? lt's that you don't want to be like Hector?
Well, you won't be. You can't be. How could you be?
- Hector's ajoke. - He isn't, you see. He isn't.
- That side of him is. - Dakin.
- All right. Let's go for a drink. - Don't take out your sodding diary.
- Maybe next week... - Next week?
Get this, man - ''You can suck me off next week.''
l've heard of a crowded schedule, but this is ridiculous.
God, we've got a long way to go.
- Do you ever take your glasses off? - Why?
- lt's a start. - Not with me.
Taking off my glasses is the last thing l do.
Yeah? l'll look forward to it.
What do you do on Sunday afternoons?
What are you doing this Sunday afternoon?
l was going to go through the accounts of Roche Abbey.
lt's a... it's a Cistercian house. lt's just to the south of Doncaster.
Only, l think l've just had a better offer.
l think you have.
And we're not in the subjunctive any more, either.
lt's going to happen.
l just wanted to say thank you.
So? Give him a subscription to the Spectator or a box of Black Magic!
Just cos you got a scholarship
doesn't mean you've got to give him unfettered access to your dick!
- Well, how would you say thank you? - On my knees probably, same as you.
l shall want a full report.
- Are you jealous? - No!
- You're jealous, aren't you? - No, not of the sex.
Just... of your being up for it.
- Me, erm... - Oh, write it down.
- Wish me luck. - What for?
What for?
Dakin? Can l help you?
l've never known such impertinence! Your scholarship seems to have gone to your head.
- The point l'm making... - l know the point.
l'm just curious, sir. What's the difference between Mr Hector touching us up on the bike
and your feeling up Fiona?
A comparable situation historically
would be the dismissal of Cardinal Wolsey.
Don't give me that Cardinal Wolsey shit.
Who else knows about this?
Fiona. Erm... Miss Procter. Mr Hector to my study, please.
- l might try the army. - You? You're a shambles!
- They put you through college, pay your fees. - Provided you kill people afterwards.
We won't go to war again. Who's there to fight?
l don't know about a career. l've got to get fucking out of the way first!
- That goes on. - Or doesn't.
Now look, everybody. This is known as Posner's reward.
(laughing and cheering)
ls that it? The longed-for moment?
- Well, what's wrong with it? - lt's too fucking brief.
l was looking for something more... lingering.
(all shout) Go on, Stu, go on!
Come on, come on!
(cheering and laughing)
And what's this? Hector's reward?
lt's only polite. Just for old times' sake.
- Just don't let him go past the lollipop lady. - (laughing)
Ready, sir?
- Oh, Dakin. - Think of it as a gesture, sir.
But l'm not leaving. l'm coming back next year.
(shouting) That's brilliant!
A boy in a motorcycle helmet? Dakin!
No! No-no-no-no! Under no circumstances.
Hector, l thought l'd made this plain.
Take... somebody else.
Take... take lrwin.
- lrwin? - Sure. Why not?
(laughing and whooping)
Do you want my tudor Economic Documents?
Fuck off. Fuck right off!
(excited shouting)
(tyres squeal)
(Dakin) ''How does histort happen?'' l asked lrwin.
And he couldn't answer.
But now he knew. nothing special.
Skid on a corner. Ordinart stuff.
lrwin had never been on the back of a bike before, so...
maybe going around the corner he leaned out instead of in and so unbalanced Hector.
trust him to lean the opposite way to evertone else.
But he had no memort of what caused it.
l suppose the last thing he remembered was me asking him out for a drink.
Something we never did, incidentally.
Still, at least l asked him.
And, barring accidents, it would have happened.
Listen. There is no ''barring accidents''. lt's what l said.
History is just one fucking thing after another.
(♫ ''Bye Bye Blackbird'' by Dixon and Henderson)
♫ Pack up all my care and woe Here l go, singing low
- ♫ Bye bye blackbird - ♫ Blackbird
♫ Where somebody waits for me Sugar's sweet, so is she
- ♫ Bye bye blackbird - ♫ Blackbird
♫ No one here can love and understand me
♫ Oh, what hard-luck stories they all hand me
- ♫ Love and understand me - ♫ Make my bed and light the light
♫ l'll arrive late tonight
♫ Blackbird, bye bye
lf l speak of Hector,
it is of enthusiasm shared, passion conveyed
and seeds sown of future harvest.
He loved language. He loved words.
For each and every one of you, his pupils,
he opened a deposit account in the bank of literature
and made you all shareholders in that wonderful world of words.
Will they come to my funeral, l wonder?
And what will they be?
Akhtar, what are you?
A headmaster, Miss. ln Keighley, near Bradford.
One of you is a magistrate, l know.
- And, Timms, what are you? - Chain of dry-cleaners, Miss.
And l take drugs at the weekend.
- And are you all happy? - (murmurs of agreement)
Kids don't help, though, Miss.
Dakin, you're happy, l'm sure.
Of course l'm happy. l'm a tax lawyer. Money's incredible.
For fuck's sake!
Despite knowing, along with Wittgenstein,
that the world is everything that is the case,
Lieutenant James Lockwood of the First Battalion York and Lancaster Regiment,
is wounded by friendly fire
and dies on his way to hospital.
He is 28.
tout comprendre, c'est tout pardonner.
- Rudge, l'd forgotten you. - As usual, Miss.
You're a builder. Carpeting the Dales in handy homes.
Rudge homes are at least affordable homes for the first-time buyer.
l take wives around the showhouse.
l tell them l was at Oxford. l get fucks galore.
There is one journalist, though on a better class of paper -
a career he's always threatening to abandon in order, as he puts it, ''really to write''.
Hector always said l was ajournalist.
And so you were. School was just an apprenticeship for television.
l enjoy your programmes, but they're more... journalism than history.
(murmuring)
But of all Hector's boys,
there is only one who truly took everything to heart,
remembers everything he was ever taught.
The songs, the poems, the sayings, the endings.
The words of Hector never forgotten.
Slightly to my surprise, l've ended up, like you, a teacher.
l'm a bit of a stock figure. l do a wonderful school play, for instance.
And though l never touch the boys, it's always a struggle.
But maybe that's why l'm a good teacher.
l'm not happy, but l'm not unhappy about it.
He was a good man.
But l don't think there's time for his kind of teaching any more.
(Hector) no. Love apart, it is the only education worth having.
pass the parcel. that's sometimes all you can do.
take it, feel it, and pass it on.
Pass it on, boys - that's the game l want you to learn.
Pass it on.
♫ l'm wild again
♫ Beguiled again
♫ A simpering, whimpering child again
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ Couldn't sleep, and wouldn't sleep
♫ When love came and told me l shouldn't sleep
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ Lost my heart, but what of it?
♫ He is cold, l agree
♫ He can laugh, but l love it
♫ Although the laugh's on me
♫ l'll sing to him
♫ Each spring to him
♫ And long for the day when l'll cling to him
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ After one whole quart of brandy
♫ Like a daisy l'm awake
♫ With no Bromo-Seltzer handy
♫ l don't even shake
♫ Men are not a new sensation
♫ l've done pretty well, l think
♫ But this half-pint imitation
♫ put me on the blink
♫ l've sinned a lot
♫ l mean, a lot
♫ But l'm like sweet 17 a lot
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ l'll sing to him
♫ Each spring to him
♫ And worship the trousers that cling to him
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
♫ When he talks
♫ He is seeking
♫ Words to get off his chest
♫ Horizontally speaking
♫ He's at his vert best
♫ Vexed again
♫ perplexed again
♫ thank god l can be oversexed again
♫ Bewitched, bothered and bewildered
♫ Am l
ENGLlSH SUBTITLES BY NTJ