#Brazil#
# Where hearts were entertained in June #
# We stood beneath an amber moon #
#And softly murmured someday soon #
- #Someday # - # We'd kiss #
# We'd kiss ##
# Central Services #
# We do the work You do the pleasure ##
Hi there. I want to talk to you about ducts.
Do your ducts seem old-fashioned, out-of-date?
Central Services's new duct designs...
are now available in hundreds of different colors...
to suit your individual taste.
Hurry now, while stocks last, to your nearest Central Services showroom.
Designer colors to suit your demanding taste.
Tonight we have with us, from the Ministry of Information...
Deputy Minister Eugene Helpmann.
Good evening, David.
What do you believe is behind this recent increase in terrorist bombings?
Bad sportsmanship.
A ruthless minority of people...
seems to have forgotten certain good old-fashioned virtues.
They just can't stand seeing the other fella win.
If these people would just play the game...
they'd get a lot more out of life.
Nevertheless, Mr. Helpmann, there are those who maintain...
that the Ministry of Information has become too large and unwieldy.
David, in a free society, information's the name of the game.
You can't win the game if you're a man short.
And the cost of it all, Deputy Minister. Seven percent of the gross national product.
I understand this concern on behalf of the taxpayer.
People want value for money.
That's why we always insist on the principle of information retrieval charges.
It's absolutely right and fair...
that those found guilty should pay for their periods of detention...
and for the information retrieval procedures used in their interrogation.
Do you believe that the government is winning the battle against terrorists?
Oh, yes. Our morale is much higher than theirs.
We're fielding all their strokes, running a lot of them out...
and pretty consistently knocking them for six.
I'd say they're nearly out of the game.
... law-abiding citizens to have to subsidize criminals?
But, Mr. Helpmann, the bombing campaign is now in its 13th year.
Beginner's luck.
Thank you very much, Deputy Minister.
Thank you, David.
And a very merry Christmas to you all.
"Scrooge was better than his word.
"He did it all, and infinitely more.
"And to Tiny Tim, who did not die...
"he became a second father.
"He became as good a friend in the good old worid.
"And so, as Tiny Tim observed...
God bless us, every one."
- Are you boys giving me the runaround? - Where are you?
Step right up. This way. Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Don't throw that. That's only for long distance.
All right.
- I'm sorry, boys, but we haven't got any vacancies. - Got no vacancies.
- We got plenty of rooms. - That's all right. We take a room.
- All right. - All right. We take a vacancy.
Boy, take the gentlemen's baggage.
Who's there?
Who is that?
Father Christmas can't come if we haven't got a chimney.
You'll see.
No!
What's going on?
No!
I hereby inform you, under powers entrusted to me...
under section 47, paragraph 7 of council order number 438476...
That Mr. Buttle, Archibald, residing at 412 North Tower, Shangrila Towers...
has been invited to assist the Ministry of Information with certain inquiries...
and that he is liable to certain financial obligations...
as specified in council order RB/CZ/907/X.
Sign here, please.
Where are you taking him?
There.
Thank you. Same again, please.
Just there. Press harder his time.
- Good. - What is this all about?
That is your receipt for your husband. Thank you.
And this is my receipt for your receipt.
Mrs. Buttle, are you okay?
- Ho! Ho! - We're Department of Works!
Department of Works up here.!
Careful with those bloody things.
Don't take any notice of them, love.
Don't touch me. Why don't you just get the hell out of here.
Don't you worry, love. We'll have everything shipshape in a jiffy.
- That's it. Nothing to worry about. - Right. It's Tuttle downstairs who can worry, eh?
Tuttle? His name's Buttle. There must be some mistake.
Mistake? We don't make mistakes.
That's bloody typical.
They've gone back to metric without telling us.
Mrs. Buttle, are you all right?
Yeah.
"Buttle."
Buttle, Archibald.
Ridiculous name.
On the twenty...
Oh, shit.
Mr...
Mr. Lowry, would you step in here, please?
Ah.
I say, h-has anybody seen Lowry?
Has anybody seen Sam Lowry?
Sam.
- Hello. - Hello? Sam. Where are you?
- Hello? - It's 11:00.
- What? - 11:00!
- Mr. Kurtzmann. - Yes.
You're up late.
- It's 11:00. - Is it?
Oh. The electrics here are up the spout.
- I know. Look... - Oh, yours too?
- Yes. - Oh, well, um, I'll be there as soon as I can.
- Yes. Thanks. Bye. - Hurry up.
Hello, Sammy.
What have you got to say?
Oh, very good, Sammy.
... famous statue pairing truth and freedom.
This is not the only statue... Shut up!
What's this gun for?
This one, Sister, is a nine-millimeter submachine gun...
used for close-quarter combat fighting.
Very effective weapon. Would you like to see it?
Sam!
Jack!
- Well... - Long time no see.
- Hey. - What are you doing here?
I don't expect to see you slumming it in Records.
- What's the problem? - Problem? No problem. Everything's fine. Wonderful. Marvelous.
Alison's in great shape. Kids are fine.
I'm on Security Level 5 now, so Mr. Helpmann relies on me more and more.
- It's been a great year. - You sound worried.
Worried? Me? If I'm worried about anyone, Sam, it's you.
I mean, look at you, Sam. Whatever happened to you?
Records?
Sam, you were one of the brightest...
Sam?
Uh, Jack, it's great to see you.
- I'm gonna be late. - Sam.
Let a friend tell you. Your life is going wrong.
Records is a dead-end department. No security level worth a damn.
- It's impossible to get noticed. - I know.
Wonderful. Marvelous.
Perfect. See you, Jack.
- Give my regards to Alison and the twins. - Triplets.
Triplets? God. How time flies.
A very clear delineation of picture this has. Adamant, mobile.
Next.
I want to report a wrongful arrest.
You want Information Adjustments. Different department.
I've been to Information Adjustments.
They sent me here. They said you have a form I need to fill out.
Have you got an arrest receipt?
Yeah.
- Is it stamped? - Stamped?
No, no. There's no stamp on it, you see.
I can't let you have the form until this is stamped.
- Where do I get it stamped? - Information Adjustments.
It's nothing. It's nothing.
It keeps picking up old films.
That can't be right, can it?
Perhaps the machine's on the blink.
No, it's not the machine. There's a mismatch on the personnel code numbers.
Tuttle should have had £31.06 debited against his account, not Buttle.
- My God! A mistake! - Well, at least it's not ours.
Isn't it? Whose is it?
- Information Retrieval. - Oh, good.
Yeah. See, Expediting has put in for electrical procedures...
in respect of Buttle, Archibald, shoe repair operative...
but Security has invoiced Admin for Tuttle, Archibald, heating engineer.
Oh, what a relief. Finish your tea, Sam.
What? Oh. Thanks.
I don't know what I would do if you ever got promoted.
- Oh, God, don't worry about that. - No, but if they did promote you, uh...
I've told you before. I'd turn it down.
- Would you? Really? - Really.
You've been promoted.
It's your mother, isn't it? Pulling strings again.
Sam, it's time for you to grow up and accept responsibility.
Your poor father would be appalled at your lack of promotion. Ooh!
Mother, I just wish you would stop interfering.
I don't want promotion. I'm happy where I am.
No, you're not. Jack Lint is a lesson to you.
He doesn't have your brains, but he's got the ambition.
You haven't got the ambition.
Luckily, you've got me and the deputy minister.
- Mr. Helpmann was very close to your father. - Now, please, Mrs. Lowry.
Don't get upset.
Mr. Lowry, please wait in reception. You're giving her wrinkles.
- You see? - God!
Just try and relax, Mrs. Lowry.
I'll make you 20 years younger.
- Ha! - Yoo-hoo, Dr. Jaffe. You are a genius.
Would you like to be surgeon general?
I know simply everybody.
Well, they won't know you when I've finished with you.
First...
we remove the excess derma.
So.
Now the flaccid tissues under the eyes and the forehead.
- Zip. - Oh.
Now, I lift...
the wrinkles and the worry lines...
right up into the wig, into the hairline.
Now the template.
- Mercy. - There. Now a bit of sticky.
Like so.
And already she's twice as beautiful as she was before. Voilà!
Mr. Helpmann was very close to your poor father.
He was very close to me.
Still is.
He'll take you under his wing when you get to Information Retrieval.
- Thank you, sir. - You'll like it there.
You're not listening to me, Mother.
What the hell is this, lady?
It's a present for my son. Really!
I hope you like it. It's very exclusive.
What on earth is it?
Something for an executive.
Ah, Madame Lowry.
You look exquisite today. Merry Christmas.
Hello, Spiro. Merry Christmas.
- Sorry. - Uh, you remember my son, Samuel.
- Of course. - We're joining Mrs. Terrain.
- Yes. The lady's waiting. - Are we? God.
This way.
Mother. Mother, I thought we were going to be able to talk.
- We will. We will. - Ida, Sam.
- Oh, God. She's got what's her name with her. - Yoo-hoo.!
Sam!
Well, Alma. How are you? You look wonderful.
Hello, Shirley.
Thank you, Spiro.
- Salt? - Not yet.
Sam, happy Christmas.
- So sorry we're late. - Thanks.
Now, Alma...
what are you going to have?
I can't make up my mind whether to have the number one or the number two.
- What do you recommend, Spiro? - Between you and me, madame...
today the number two.
Thank you, Spiro. Shirley. Shirley, what are you going to have?
Between you and me, mademoiselle, today the number one.
- Madame Lowry? - Oh, to hell with the diet.
I'm going to have a number eight, please.
- A most perceptive choice if I dare say so, madame. - Oh, Ida!
- Monsieur. - Steak, please. Rare. Mother...
- Monsieur, quel numéro? - I don't know which number. Mother, please...
- That one. There. - That's fine. Thanks.
- Mother, will you please listen to me. - Alma! You wicked girl.
- You've started your treatment. - Say the number, please.
- You noticed. - You have to say the number!
- Will you please go away! I'm trying to talk... - I must tell you all about it.
Number three.
Mother, will you listen to me. I haven't...
Numéro huit.
Braised veal in wine sauce.
It's too exciting. I've left Dr. Jaffe and gone to Dr. Chapman.
- Numéro deux. Duck à I'orange. - Dr. Chapman? Chapman?
Excusez-moi.
The acid man?
Really, Ida! Just because his techniques are revolutionary...
I don't go around calling Dr. Jaffe the knife man.
Numéro un, crevettes à la mayonnaise.
- I am sorry, Alma. I didn't mean to sound so... - It's all right, Ida. It's just...
Steak. Numéro trois.
Mesdames, monsieur...
bon appétit.
- Merci. - Merci.
Acid, on the other hand, can be used for such wonderfully subtle shading.
Such delicate nuances.
Like a Rembrandt etching.
- And it is so much quicker. - God!
If it wasn't for this complication... the doctor says it could have happened to anybody...
I'd have had this dressing off yesterday.
Shirley.
Salt?
What were we saying?
- This isn't rare. - Oh! By the by, Alma...
I saw the most wonderful idea for Christmas presents at the chemist's.
Gift tokens. Medical gift tokens.
Oh, that sounds marvelous!
It's good at any doctor's and most of the major hospitals.
It's also accepted for gynecological examinations...
including cesarean section.
- Spiro. - I'm sorry, madame. I don't know what to say.
It never really happens to us.
I'm going to do something about it straightaway.
Really, Sam! Why can't you do something about these terrorists?
It's my lunch hour.
Besides, it's not my department.
Actually, Alma, that was one of the little things I've been dying to tell you.
Look. Sam's been promoted to Information Retrieval.
Oh, that's wonderful! Congratulations, Sam!
Stop it! I'm not being promoted. I'm not going to Information Retrieval.
If I want you to stick your oar in, Mother, I'll tell you where to stick it.
Pepper?
I've gotta go.
- Sam, you haven't had your dessert. - I don't want dessert.
- I don't want promotion. I don't want anything. - Of course you want something.
You must have hopes, wishes, dreams!
No, nothing. Not even dreams.
Sam.
Sam!
Oh, God.
Hello. Central Services?
I'm at 579B, Block 19, Northwestern Section "D."
That's exit one on Green Pastures Highway at the Orange Blossom Flyover.
And I've got trouble with my air-conditioning. It's an emergency.
Thank you for calling Central Services.
I'm sorry. Due to temporary staff shortage...
Central Services cannot take service calls centrally between 2300 and 0900 hours.
- Have a nice day. This has not been a recording. - This is an emergency.
Thank you for calling Central Services. I'm sorry. Due to...
- No. I've got to have a heating engineer. - Thank you for calling Central Services.
Oh, shit.
Hello.
- Hello. - Hello.
Hello. Mr. Lowry.
Yes. Who is this?
Put the phone down and raise your hands.
What? Who is this?
Nice and easy now.
Nice and easy.
Just keep your hands where I can see them.
What... What are you doing?
Harry Tuttle. Heating engineer at your service.
Tuttle?
Are you from Central Services?
I called Central Services.
Well, they're a little overworked these days.
Luckily I intercepted your call.
You did...
Just a minute. What was that business with the gun?
It's just a precaution, sir.
Just a precaution.
I've had traps set for me before now.
And there are plenty of people in Central Services...
who'd love to get their hands on Harry Tuttle.
Are you telling me that this is illegal?
Well, yes and no. Officially, only Central Service operatives are supposed to touch this stuff.
- Would you hold this, please? - Uh...
But nowadays, with all the new rules and regulations...
they can't get decent staff anymore.
So they tend to turn a blind eye as long as I'm careful.
Mind you, if ever they could prove that I've been working on their equipment...
well, that's a pipe of a different color.
- Wouldn't it be simpler just to work... - Would you hold this for me?
Sorry. Yes. I was saying, wouldn't it be simpler to work with Central Services?
Nah! Nah. Couldn't stand the pa...
We're getting warm.
- You couldn't what? Couldn't stand the what? - Paperwork. Couldn't stand the paperwork.
Listen. This whole system of yours could be on fire...
and I couldn't even turn on a kitchen tap without filling out a 27 B/6.
Bloody paperwork.
I suppose one has to expect a certain amount.
Why? I came into this game for the action, the excitement.
Go anywhere, travel light, get in, get out, wherever there's trouble, a man alone.
Now they got the whole country sectioned off. You can't make a move without a form.
Found it.
There's your problem.
- Can you fix it? - No, I can't.
But I can bypass it with one of these.
Fine by me.
- Are you expecting anyone? - No.
- Get down! - Wait! Wait! Will you wait!
Shh.
The flashlight.
Central Services.
- Central Services. - Oh, yes.
- You rang, sir? - You rang, sir?
- Trouble with your air-conditioning? - Air-conditioning, sir?
No, it's... it's... it's, uh, all right.
It's, um... It's fixed.
- Fixed. - Fixed?
Yes, um...
I mean, it, um, fixed itself.
- Oh, it fixed itself! - Fixed itself?
Yes!
Machines don't fix themselves.
No, they don't fix themselves, sir.
- He's tampered with it, Dowser. - I think he's tampered with it, Mr. Spoor.
Sorry you've had a wasted journey.
Oh, that's all right.
- I think we'll go have a little look. - No, you can't.
I think we should. Yes, Mr. Spoor.
Have you got a 27 B/6?
27 B/6?
27...
Now look what you've done to him!
Well, have you got a 27 B/6?
Not... as such.
But we'll get one.
- It's all right. It's all right. It's all right. - It's all right, then?
Sorry. I'm a bit of a stickler for paperwork, you see.
I mean, where would we be if we didn't stick to the correct procedures?
We'll be back.
We'll be back!
It's all right.
Thanks for coming.
We'll be back, you bloody little bastard!
- Thank you. - We'll show you.!
Well...
Thanks, Lowry. You're a good man in a tight corner.
Thanks.
Listen, um... I, uh...
Well, I...
I just happen to work at the Ministry of Information.
- What? - And, uh...
Well, I just happen to know that Information Retrieval...
are looking for an Archibald Tuttle, heating engineer.
You, uh...
You wouldn't, by any chance...
Would you?
My good friends call me Harry.
Information Retrieval, huh?
The big boys.
What do they want you for?
- Time to go. - Sorry.
How's that?
Listen, you, um... you really must let me give you something.
How much will it be for the, uh... for the work?
Ah, come on.
You did me a favor. Just check the corridor.
Oh. Well, thanks.
Listen, kid, we're all in it together.
- Go on. - Right.
Okay.
All clear.
I think Kurtzmann is getting suspicious.
What's playing today?
Casablanca.
Mr. Lowry, will you step in here, please.
Lowry.!
Sam Lowry.!
Psst!
Thank God you're here. We're in terrible trouble.
Shh.
- Look at this. Look at this. - It's a check.
It's the refund for Tuttle.
- Tuttle? - Mm-hmm.
No, no. Buttle. I mean Buttle.
It's been confusion from the word go.
He's been overcharged for Information Retrieval procedures...
and someone somewhere is trying to make us carry the can.
Can I have a look? I've never seen a refund check before.
I'll bet it's Jeffries.
Yes.
He always believes that people should pay more for their interrogation.
And "B," he loathes me.
We've gotta get rid of it!
Well, send it to somebody else.
Better still, send it to Buttle. After all, it's his check.
I've tried that. But look. Look at this.
You see? The population census has gotten him down as "dormanted."
Uh, the Central Collective Storehouse computer has got him down as "deleted."
Hang on.
Information Retrieval has got him down as "inoperative."
Security has got him down as "excised."
- Administration has him down as "completed." - He's dead.
Le...
Dead?
Well, that's awful.
We'll never get rid of the damn thing now.
What we gonna do, Sam?
Could try next of kin.
Next of kin!
Yes!
There we go. Buttle. Veronica. Mrs.
Veronica?
What's the number on the check?
Uh, 27156789...
/074328K.
Right. Into memory.
Central Banking.
Veronica Buttle.
Mrs.
Deposit.
Thank God for that.
Uh, would you like some tea?
There's a problem. She doesn't have a bank account.
Well, that's it, then.
I might just as well go and hang myself now.
This sort of thing could never have happened before this stupid seventh-tier reorganization.
That's Simmons's doing. And he and Jeffries always sit together at lunch.
Bastards!
Sh... Shh. Shh.
Perhaps we could lose the thing behind a filing cabinet or something... burn it, eat it.
Look, there is one solution.
What?
Drive out to Mrs. Buttle, let her sign the back of the check.
She can cash it at the corner sweet shop.
That's brilliant, Sam.
I'll even do it for you.
Here, authorize the check. What's the address?
Everything's in here.
Uh, w-what should I do next?
Pink and blue receipts. Sign there, there and there.
- And sign the check there. - Yes.
I think I've broken a bone.
Look, my wrist is all limp.
What a pathetic creature I am!
Here.
I'll do it for you.
Right.
I'll be on my way.
Sam?
You are good to me, you know.
- Here's looking at you, kid. - Here's looking at you.
#Brazil #
# Where hearts were entertained in June #
# We stood beneath an amber moon #
We interrupt this program to bring you news of a terrorist bombing at the Blue Lagoon...
#And clung together #
# Then #
# Tomorrow was another day #
# The morning found me miles away #
# With still a million things to say #
#Now #
# When twilight dims the sky above #
#Recalling ##
Under Section 972/552.
Hello. I wonder if you could tell me where the...
Piss off!
Hello.
I'll never confess!
Hey, come on! You gotta interrogate me!
Mrs. Buttle?
Uh, Mrs. Buttle?
Ah. Um, are you Mrs. Buttle?
Um...
my name's Lowry.
Uh, Sam Lowry.
Um, I'm from the Ministry of Information.
I've come to give you a check.
Um, it's a refund, actually.
- There was a mistake. - Mistake?
Yes, yes. Not in my department, of course.
I'm only Records.
No, it, uh... I'll tell you what it is.
It seems that Mr. Buttle was overcharged by Information Retrieval.
Yes, they don't usually make mistakes, but, uh...
well, I suppose we're all human.
Oh!
What happened to the, um...
Actually, you know, my coming here is rather unorthodox, bringing you this check...
as any payments are normally made through Central Computer, but, um...
Well, as there were certain... difficulties...
we thought, well, rather than cause delay...
we'd let you have it now.
You know, it being Christmas and all.
My husband's dead, isn't he?
Um, I do assure you, Mrs. Buttle, the ministry is very scrupulous...
about following up and eradicating any error.
But if you do have any complaints you wish to make...
I'd be, well, only too happy to send you the appropriate forms.
What have you done with his body?
Oh! Gosh.
Um, I-I don't know anything about that, Mrs. Buttle.
I'm really just delivering the check.
So, if, um... Look, if you wouldn't mind just signing these two receipts...
I'd be only too happy to, uh... to leave you in peace.
He hadn't done anything.
He was good!
What have you done with his body?
It isn't being very helpful, Mrs. Buttle.
I didn't have to come here, you know, Mrs. Buttle.
I'll kill you!
I'll kill you, you bastard!
Hey!
Get off!
Are you all right?
Mrs. Buttle, are you all right?
It's you!
Wait! Stop! Don't go! Stop!
Oh, look.! He'll never get that out.!
Stop! I had nothing to do with it! Wait!
Stop!
He's coming back.!
Jesus Christ!
Jesus...
- Go away. - Her name's Jill.
What? Jill?
Jill who? Jill who?
Layton.
Jill Layton.
You're a very good little girl. What are you doing here?
Waiting for my daddy.
He will be pleased when he gets home.
Sam, I've just had the Transport Pool onto me.
You don't anything about a personnel transporter gone missing, do you?
Personnel transporter? What?
- Oh, the prannets. I had a personal transporter. - Huh.
I'll do the paperwork in the morning.
Um, is it all right about Mrs. Tuttl...
Uh, Buttle's check?
- Uh-huh. - Can I forget it?
- Yeah. - Oh, what a relief.
I'm gonna have nightmares, you know.
- Oh, damn and blast! - What's the matter?
I don't suppose you'd happen to know how I can get round an I RQ/3, do you?
Ooh, all information on third-level suspects is classified.
All inquiries through Information Retrieval, and that's hopeless. They never tell you anything.
Come the time they want something from us, oh, yes.
There is one way I could get round it. I could accept my mother's promotion.
Yes.
No!
You can't. You've just turned it down.
I didn't sign the form.
I did it for you.
- You didn't. - I did.
You didn't!
I did!
What did you do that for?
It's what you wanted, isn't it?
Oh, I don't know.
I don't know what I want.
Come on, before they turn the lights out.
There is one way round it.
I could always accept promotion to Information Retrieval.
Sam!
Oh, Christ.
What are you doing? What... My God! What's going on?
- Emergency procedures. - Emergency procedures.!
- I haven't got an emergency! - Yeah?
- This is an emergency! - Have a nice day. This has not been a recording.
Here. Sign that.
- What is it? - A 27 B/6.
What do you think it is? Where's he gone?
Spoor, come here.! Look.! I got it.! I found it.!
Spoor! Spoor! Come here, Spoor!
It's a bypass valve on this... on the transformer.
Tuttle!
Tuttle. It's Tuttle.
You've had that scab Tuttle here, ain't ya?
What are you talking about?
- Who fixed your ducts? Huh? - Fixed your ducts, all right.
I told you before... they fixed themselves.
Oh, yeah? Then where did this come from, eh?
Out of your nostril? Eh?
Nostrils, eh?
Central Services.
They don't take kindly to sabotage.
Sabotage, huh?
Jesus, this place is in a terrible state.
Just a minute.! You're not gonna leave it like this, are you?
Why not? All you gotta do is blow your nose and it's fixed, innit?
That's right!
Well...
Oh, my...
Jesus!
What have you done with his body?
# Mrs. Ida Lowry requests the pleasure of your company #
# At her apartment tonight #
# From 8:30 #
# To midnight #
# To celebrate the completion #
# Of her recent cosmetic #
#Surgery #
# Telegram ##
Um...
thanks.
- It's reply paid. - Is it?
Oh. Um...
Two, three...
# Mother, I'm sorry, but I'm unable to come to your party #
- You don't have to sing it. - I don't?
No.
Oh. Sorry.
Aren't you a bit late? I mean, the party started an hour ago.
Yeah. It's the backlog. Everybody complains.
- Oh. - Was it all right otherwise?
Mr. Helpmann, I'm keen to get into Information Retrieval.
Mr. Helpmann, I'm dying to get at this woman. No, no... Ohh!
Oh, God.
- Hold up. - What? Who are you?
- Hey! What's going on? - Where's your invitation?
Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Mother! Mother!
Sam.
I'm so glad you came.
Come in.
- Mother? - Come in.
Oh, God, Mother, is that you?
Of course. Isn't it wonderful?
The bandages came off just this afternoon.
Come on, darling. Join in the fun. Simply everybody's here.
Is Mr. Helpmann here?
- Would you stop shoving... - Yes, he is.
Mr. Helpmann is here, and he wants to talk to you.
Good. I want to talk to him.
He says that you're the first person ever to refuse a promotion.
- Ah, well... - He thinks you should see a doctor.
- Actually, Mother, I've decided... - Oh, Louis! Louis, you know Sam.
Can you believe it?
It's just me and my little knife.
- Snip, snip, slice, slice. - It's marvelous.
- Can you believe it? - Congratulations.
- But this is just the beginning. - Oh, really?
Oh, Christ, yes. You've seen her with her clothes off.
Faces are a doddle compared to tits and ass.
- No hairline. - Oh, really, Louis!
I've been looking for you everywhere, Ida.
Mother. Mother, I have to talk to Mr. Helpmann.
- Oh, you stupid sod. - Dear boy.
What do you think of your mother now?
It'll never last.
Excuse me.
Dr. Chapman, did you say something?
That technique... I've tried it.
Oh, nice effect, but highly unstable.
In six months she'll look like Grandma Moses.
Now, see here, Chapman, at least mine don't end up looking like they've been mugged.
Sam! Sam!
What have you done with his body?
Sam!
Sam?
- What on earth's happened to you? - There was a little complication.
Dr. Chapman says it often happens with a delicate skin like mine.
Nothing to worry about.
He's promised me these bandages will be off in a jiffy.
- Actually, there's someone I want to meet. - Oh, I know.
I know.
There we are.
I'm going to leave you two lovebirds in peace.
Hello, Shirley.
- Oh, God. - Come on!
Do you want a drink?
Oh. Hello.
Chase those years away!
Listen, Shirley...
your mother and my mother, they seem to have got the idea that...
Look, I'm very flattered and, uh, well...
I just don't want you to be under any false impressions.
It's all right.
I don't like you either.
Sam.!
Jack. Excuse me, Shirley.
I'm s... I'm sorry.
- Sam! You remember Alison? - Evening.
Alison. Sam Lowry. Old friend.
Alison, yes, of course.
- You look different. - Well, I'm two years older.
- And she's been to Dr. Jaffe. - Ah.
She doesn't like me telling people, but, in fact, she's really pleased.
- I knew there was something different. - Remember how they used to stick out?
What? Oh, yes. Uh, well, rather.
- Always used to wonder if they were real. - What, my ears?
Sorry?
Dr. Jaffe pinned her ears back.
Yes, that's what I...
Always used to wonder if she wore falsies.
Ah! Mr. Helpmann.
False ears... Mr. Helpmann!
- Hello, Jack. - You remember my wife, Alison?
Yes, of course. Barbara, isn't it?
- How are you? - Well, actuall...
Barbara's very well, thank you, sir. Very well indeed. How are you?
- Fine, thanks. - Good.
Hello, Sam. Ida said you might be here. Have you got a minute?
- Would you excuse us? - Oh, no, of course.
Of course. Come on, Alison... Barbara.
Sam.
I need your help.
Thanks very much, Sam.
Mr. Helpmann, I'm glad to be of help.
- If I can help you... - Ah, well, actually...
Oh.
Your father and I were very close.
Of course, Jeremiah was senior to me, but we were close friends.
Especially after the bombing.
And I keep his name alive at the office every day.
It's as though he's there still speaking to me.
"'Ere I am.
J.H."
The ghost in the machine.
I know he would have wanted me to help you.
And I promised your mother...
that I'd take you on to the team at Information Retrieval.
But I gather that, um...
Well, actually, Mr. Helpmann, I've, uh... I've changed my mind.
I've decided I'd accept the transfer...
if I'm not too late.
Too late?
That's for me to say.
Well... Well, then, I, uh...
Welcome to Information Retrieval.
Uh, my name's Lowry.
Sam Lowry.
I've been told to report to Mr. Warrenn.
Thirtieth floor, sir.
You're expected.
Um, don't you want to search me?
No, sir.
- Want to see my I.D.? - No need, sir.
- But I could be anybody. - No, you couldn't, sir.
This is Information Retrieval.
The lift's arrived, sir.
I want that order rescinded!
Half as terrorists, the rest as victims.
Yes. No.
Definitely no!
- My name's Lowry, Mr. Warrenn. Sam Lowry. - Ah, Lowry!
Yes. No. Cancel that. Okay.
- Glad to have you aboard. Yes. - These requisitions...
- Sir, I'd like to point this out... - No! Don't be ridiculous, Jenkins.
- About these invoices... - Yes. Yes. Yes.
You'll like it up here. Send that back.
We've got a crack team of... Are they kidding? Decision makers.
No, in triplicate.
I'm expecting big things... Two copies to Financial!
No. No. Don't let Progress see those.
Between you and me, Lowry, this... No, no! Department... Tell Records to get stuffed!
Is about to be upgraded and...
Ah! Here we are.
Your very own number on your very own door.
And behind that door, your very own office.
Congratulations, DZ/015.
Welcome to the team.
Yes! No! Cancel that!
Send two copies to Financial.!