What's the matter Mrs.James?
You better get some good rest tonight. It's these the hard shifts.
I had some bad news this morning, Miss. My Jim's missing.
Oh! Try not to worry. I'm sure he'll turn up. Oh! I do hope so, Miss.
I expect I'll feel better when I have cuppa tea. That's right. It's finishing time now.
A million bullets for dispatch by the morning!?
But I tell you the girls have done 10 hours today already. Yes. I hear myself urgently.
But you expect these girls to run 14 hours on stretch.
Alright! I'll ask them. She doesn't have to ask us.
A million bullets by the morning!
Alright! Come on girls, it's gotta be done!
Stop! Stop there. Stop right there.
Alright. Can't go no further. Passengers for Blue-3, you're on foot from here.
OK. Hm...hm. This way, Miss.
A million bullets by morning!? No wonder the audience booed or snored.
We learnt our mistake. That would have shorted their eyesight not the picture.
Authenticity. That's what they are after, you know. Authenticity informed by optimism.
You think I don't understand to give an audience optimism? I've three grandsons in the forces.
Your company reputation is founded primarily on comedy. Highest grossing British picture of the year was a comedy. Mine.
And Mr.Buckley here, wrote it. Yes, and very entertaining was too, but...
if we were to capture public imagination and their trust, we need more than...fat policeman toppling off ladders.
We need a story to inspire a nation.
Give me all in brief, Mr.Swain. This year, I'll bring you a picture to win the war.
You have your briefings today later...authenticity and optimism.
....Schmuck....
Right. I'll look for a story.
So sorry. Monstrous of us to have kept you waiting.
Welcome to the Ministry of Information, Film Division
Roger Swain. You must be Ms.Cole? Missus.
Ah! Splendid. Please take a seat.
Husband in forces? He volunteers as an air-raid warden.
But he wasn't fit for conscription. He fought in the war in Spain.
Splendid! That's splendid. Now, about the job. We need to cultivate a more convincing female angle in our output.
Mr.Buckley here, has been appointed to the department as a Special Advisor.
Not "Special" enough to get paid, obviously. He seems to think, you are what we need.
I said, "Might be". She can't be worse than the chaps you got. Did you write...this?
Hm..hmm. This rapta-rama chips?
I...I was the secretary at the copy-writing department. But...all the copywriters got called up.
"So-be-fee. It ain't beef, but it ain't bad!" Yes, sometimes, you have to make do of what you got.
Ah! Splendid. Ministry wages start at £3 and £10. And obviously we can't pay you as much as the chaps....
so shall we say £2 a week? Thank you.
You a cinema goer? Yes.
Then you will be familiar with informationals. We sandwich them between the support and the main features
for the public to be informed, don't have time to escape.
What to do in an air-raid? Get under-cover at once.
Don't stand staring at the sky. Take cover at once!
You will find a page of script equates to a minute of screen time, or roughly 80 yards or celluloid, or...
the word of directors who didn't squander the film stock as if it were lavatory paper.
Speaking of which, "ladies" is last door on the left. I wouldn't risk the other facilities if I were you.
I thought it was a Secretarial post. For God sake! Keep that to yourself.
This way! This way! This way!
What did they say!? The War Artist Committee?
They find my interpretations all together too brutal and dis-spirited.
You're so much better than the all the rest of them. All the rest of them, managed to put food on the table.
Ellis, I had a meeting today. About a new job.
They offered it to me. £2 a week.
You know Perry wants you to work for him. I told him only I'm allowed to blame you.
You are me for my perspective.
No. They are puttin' him, cause they want you there.
Right. I've to get to the warden's fast.
Is it alright then, Jon?
Well done Catrin.
When there's raid, I want you to go down the tube station.
I didn't bring you all the way from Wales to see you get hit by a bomb.
I saw April today. She and Tony have made up ever such clear code. So you can write to him about what she's doing.
'The Veg green' that means England. 'Onion Soup' is France. There's a word for regiment and one for troop...
Oh....
Do you really have to smoke that thing, Ambrose? Wouldn't you just mind?
I can mind smoking. I can't mind smoke.
That's a cut.
I wonder would it be possible to have something to do? My hands are aching for something to do. And it seems alright for the character.
Perhaps, try to find some knitting? Water or word. I fully understand the national importance
of what we are shooting, and obviously, there's no question of diluting the message.
I just...I wonder if it might impact a little more punch if Mr.Brown would express a little more.
For example, the mention of the clever code, I might say, "Well, that will be the first clever thing, April has ever done in her life"
Did you...do you see? Just a...just a dash of...of humor and then follow it on. Excuse me.
Hello?
Oh! Certainly.
Oh! No. No, no, no.
It's...it's just that the caption at the end's going to be, "He's not listening, but the enemy might be".
It's a joke for women who think their husbands never pay attention. So if you start answering, you know, the captions won't make sense.
I wrote it! The scenario? I'll be in my dressing room...
if anyone needs me.
Everybody take 10. Save the lights.
Banished from the set? What in God's name possessed you? The actor was ruining the script.
Of course he was! He is an actor. What's this? Penance?
Hello, Mable. How's baby? He's comin' along splendidly.
With more free time, I should like to do more work. I simply don't know what to do.
You good with your hands? I think so. Yes.
Have you thought about factory work?
And the version without the lines, please. Whatever we used footage for carrots.
Hello, Mable. How's baby? He's comin' along splendidly.
An appetite like his father! He's eatin' us out the house. I simply don't know what to do!
Yeah. You good in the garden?
I think so. Yes. Yes.
Have you thought about... Carrots?
Right! I'll get that recorded.
Thank you. How's it been anyway?
What the scenario didn't make you feel welcome? He can't see the point in me.
There's a dog in the script. We don't even employ Jack Russel to write woof woof, do we?
Just been readin' your work. Umm...them could be better.
We should get some lunch.
I don't accept charm. It's official business. I've a proposal for you.
When I'm not busy special advising, I work for a man called Gabriel Baker.
Remember him? The Hungarian. He's a producer.
Desperate to me. A film that will make a difference.
Hello, Tom. Hello.
Sorry. Excuse me.
Dunkirk, evacuation of troops, trapped by the German advance.
700 fishing boats and the world maybe on a mission to bring our boys home.
Twin sisters, took their father's cockaboat, and, joined the rescue and came back with a deck of soldiers.
It's everything the Ministry are after. Authenticity and optimism.
Contradiction in terms if you ask me, but, this could be a bloody good story.
Before they will give it a go ahead, they want someone to go down there and talk to the girls.
Me? Unless your artist object.
So, how did you meet? Came in to avail steelworks.
Ah! He's one of those artists. Older than you? Yes.
Fifty? No!
Sixty!?
Oh! That is tough. You can't afford to be an artist. Actually his family dis-inherited him.
Because of you? Because of his politics.
So what do you think? They there at the sea-side. And you never know, if there's a film at the end of it,
it might be a better job in it for you. I need somebody to run the slob.
Slob? Girl talk. Woman's dialog. Woof, woof.
Hello. I've come to see Rose and Lily Starling. I'm not to talk to papers.
I'm not to let no one in. I'm not from the papers.
I'm from the Ministry of Information.
The Film division.
Film?
And then you went to Dunkirk?
We meant to. But the engines stopped five miles out. Broken bearing. We never got there.
But in the paper...it said, you got home troops. This steam tug on it's way back gave us a tow.
Soldiers spillin' over the rails. So we pulled someone in, see.
Someone seen us dockin' and put it in the paper.
They got the wrong end of the stick. Didn't they? Dad said, we'd be a laughin' stock.
Said, "You mustn't tell the papers".
But you write in the papers. For the pictures?
Can Lily ask you somethin'? Yes.
Have you ever met Robert Donat? The famous actor? No. No, I haven't I'm afraid.
Dad!
Come quickly. Would you like soup kitchen? It's not him.
It's alright though. He don't like strangers, see. Don't like a lotta things.
But you took his boat without asking. Weren't you scared?
One of the soldier's had this kit bag and suddenly it woofed! It gave us such a fright.
It was a dog.
And one of them Frenches tried to kiss her.
I'm scared now of what your dad might do. No! He got himself a bottle.
He thought we'll be back before he woke up. Besides, Eric was in Dunkirk.
Eric? Dad's first-mate.
Got us photographs for our birthday. Yeah.
He got same birthday.
Robert Donat in "The 39 Steps"...
and John Clements in "The Four Feathers". Have you ever met John Clements?
No. I haven't.
Those ones are mum's. We don't know who he is.
Oh! I did meet him. Is there going to be a film?
Probably not.
Stupid, bloody engine, eh?
How can one little drink... I gotta get home or I'll be late.
How about a kiss?
Not thank you. I could be back in action tomorrow...
????
Bon a fee passengers come on! Bon a fee passengers to the right.
Catrin?
I got caught in the raid.
Ended up in the big street shelter. I didn't know where you were. I didn't know if you were safe.
I never know if you're safe. Oh God! Look at you.
I'll be alright after a cuppa tea. They've already ruptured the mains.
Look, Catrin...
I want you to go back to Ebbw Vale. Ellis!
It's the biggest steelworks in Europe. They are more likely to get bombed there, than here...
It's just not the bombing.
I can't afford for us to live here anymore.
I can't afford for us to live, anywhere. I earn.
If I want on my own, I can toss myself in a Paris studio.
I could keep painting. You don't have to keep me.
I earn! Your wages seem better off a husband's roof over your head.
Please don't turn me into one of those things that make it harder.
Mr.Cole? South from downstairs. I'm not the "War". I'm not the "Committee".
I would it better. Mrs.Cole?
Hello Alf. Heavy rescue. They want to know how many number in cellar 12.
Alright.
When the twins got to Dunkirk, they did whatever every other small boats did.
Ferry troops off the beach and onto the big ships waiting in the deeper water.
They were shellin' and drafin', but they honestly didn't talk about that.
What really seems to have stuck with them are the details. The little authentic details...
There's a soul Joe with the dog in his kit-bag. Umm, the Frenchman that tried to kiss Lilly.
I wish I could make you understand, how awfully brave they were...
Their father's a bully, I think. A bit of a drunk. They're terrified of him, but, they took his boat anyway.
"The Nancy". The Nancy?
"The Nancy Starling"...after their mother.
The nail on the head! Hm?
Wonderful.
Authenticity, optimism and a dog!
I imagine, call ups left quite a hole in the ranks. So, in the interests of a quick turn around,
we'll let you have some of our people. Mrs.Cole, Ms.Moore, hmm-umm,
Ye...yes.
If this is good to get this to cinemas, we'll have a few of them standing.
Well done.
Yeah. Yeah!
Do I have the job? Well why not? Twins after all, double the slob.
Temporary secondment to bake the productions. No screen credit. Ministry wages.
I need more. I could throw in less.
I need more than Ministry wages.
I'll talk to Baker.
Leslie Backs birthday mine. Still staggering around the studios giving his unhinged love to young ones back...
Oh! No, no, no Ceres. Too much glass.
You know if you'd paid your clients half as much attention as do that hyena, you might actually be an agent worth having.
Spitfires. Won't you help a bird? Ambrose Hilliard, a man with the glimpse.
Oh! I know him a celebrity. Would you do him for me? Would you?
Inspector Chamforth?
Someone has made a mistake. It's a simple mistake. And it's easy to him. I would have missed it myself.
Oh! Umm...Spitfires, Sammy? It's in the pocket. Pocket.
Ah!
Thank you.
Oh! When can we expect to see you back at the screen Mr.Hilliard?
When indeed.
Well, apparently Baker films have a done post-script in the works. Hm?
Apparently, you will be in here.
They want a title. We haven't started bloody writing it yet.
And they are asking about locations. Or start casting yet too?
Don't tempt me. About a beach twins. That's all you're getting.
Try Devon. Or Dunkirk.
You can go scam-tit. Personally. Hm?
Her. Seconded here to smile on us. You tell her nothing.
Understand? All the every government department and wives sticking their womb.
Desk. Parfitt, you met. Rising partner. Delighted to have you on-board.
Report!
So what do you think? Hm...father leaves a bad taste.
Dunkin says it's good though. Aa..make him an uncle? No. Uncle Frank.
Yes. Sassed in the hold. Waits up in Dunkirk.
Double takes when he sees the stooges.
Gives us the laughs and takes the bullet in act 3. Comic life. Tragic death.
Tears all around. Yeah.
First mate, bloke in France, needs to be her boyfriend. No, it's Eric.
Either. Girls, what are they like? Shy, quiet. Really hardly spoke.
One quite, one chatty. They both quite.
Not if they want them in our dialogue. How old are they?
Thirty. Ah! Marvelous. Working title "Old Maids of Margate"
It's Southend. Twenty one, Lily sweet Rose spunky.
Rose gets the boyfriend. My darling, I couldn't die without saying,
"The cornflower blow in your eyes the final time." You can have that on me.
What's his name? The boyfriend. Eric. Eric Lum.
Do you hear that noise?
That's 200 women in 1 in 9 never allowed to call their sons anything as bloody feeble as Eric.
Give me hero's name? Jon.
Dull. Johnnie.
Hm..hmm. They left him to make it back.
Injured. Oh! This. A rescue!
Don't be a fool, Johnnie. There's a sniper out there! Hear!
Saved a smiling Officer. Hm.
Fellow soldier...saves the dog. But he didn't!
In real life, he didn't. Films! Mrs.Cole.
Real life with the boring bits cut out. Don't confuse facts with truth and for Christ sake...
don't get either way in the story. Now...we know how it starts...
Johnnie in France. We know how it ends. Home safe.
And we know somewhere in between, we have... dog, Dunkirk, engine failure and uncle's death.
Now all we have to do is, fill-in-the-gaps.
I'm buyin' it.
Down payment.
Call it a trend. Call it what you like, but I'm not leaving London.
Hmmp... Sorry we're not...
Buckley, Parfitt. Meeting now. Ministry of War Transport.
Seems they had wind of your proposed filming scenario. Apparently they are concerned that,
"The Nancy Starling" engine failure may cost moral sapping doubt on the quality of British engineering.
It was her. Bloody Ministry spy!
What if it's not the engine? What if it's the propeller? It gets snarled up with blotsun and Uncle Frank goes in the water to free it,
gets shot and the girls have to finish the job. And the fire. Not the girls.
Not the girls? Aaa...Johnnie!
Johnnie? So is there an echo in here?
Why him? Because he's a hero!
So?
Well, how do you know he's a hero, if he doesn't do anything heroic?
Well, he's called Johnnie. Are you trying to put up a fight with me Mrs.Cole?
Johnnie can't go in the water! He's injured. Badly injured. Manly slash on the biceps for Christ sake!
He's...he's not gonna be leaking spleen through his trousers.
"Mrs.Rosen Lily story" and you won't let them do anything. Then go to Dunkirk.
And Johnnie pirates them home.
They are girls! Here girls don't want to be the hero. They want to have the hero. They want to have by him!
Huh? Tom? Cab.
And back in there if Viper just even gets her nose through the office door while we are out, you are sacked!
And don't think I won't know, I can smell her shaving cream on the wind.
Anything else?
Since you're so keen to flex your femininity, you can tidy up.
I heard furniture.
Angels of the sea, across the waves, two to Dunkirk, three to Dunkirk, Dunkirk O'bust, busts Dunkirk.
Somewhere in the world, there is bullet with that man's name on. Why hasn't he been called up?
Apart from Parfitt's too old. But, Buckley?
Baker persuaded someone that Buckley was more use to the war than the typewriter.
It won't last. He'll end up in a uniform, like every mother's son.
That is if he ever had a mother.
More likely, Parfitt found him in a pub spawning spontaneously in saw dust.
No. A lot of men are scared we won't go into our boxes, when this is all over.
Makes them belligerent.
Something's changed. I tidied it.
What happened at the meeting? I outlined our proposed changes. They accepted them.
What's this? Lunch.
Girls compile the boat at home, right? They compile it, the bloody boat...
they can lead the damn fleet for all I care! But Johnnie. Freeze the propeller.
You're late! I took the liberty of ordering. It's alright. We've guests, eh? Friends from Poland.
Things are very bad in Europe. It's not exactly a picnic here. If you haven't noticed.
You can't find a decent waiter in service since they joined the war. They all got rounded up in so called "Enemy of the State".
Apart from Jepetto over there. Rumor is that he is a spy.
Ceres.
Eh? Aw!
Christ! A dead sheep? Hm.
Not strictly Russian ???, but certainly can't live on crusts and straps.
So I'm going to roll it up and make him some bowl. Lucky fellow.
Well perhaps your sister would like to start feeding me too, unless of course you actually found me some work.
So. Baker's outlined for the Dunkirk film. You read it? It rattles along better rather than one might've expected.
Johnnie's escaped from the steel thrust of the German war machine. The rescue of the dog...
Here boy! Here!
No. No, no, no. Not you Ceres.
Because it all depends on who they are planning to cast as Rose.
Uncle Frank. A shipwreck of a man. Sad!
Six times looks older. Your role is not to be snared at, Ambrose.
Gratuitous, experience, maturity. We all have a part to play in defeating Hitler.
Not this part. It's a corpse role! He's dead before the end of act 3.
Mr.Smith. Mr.Hilliard.
Ambrose, you must see, you, me, the industry, we are all at the service of the war.
"The War"? "The War"? Damn bloody war.
The war has skimmed off the cream and we are left with the rancid curse.
I'm sorry I took so long. There was a bomb crater on the Millibar Road.
Oh! No one told me there was a meeting. No. We rather tried to keep this under wraps at present.
It seems that there's someone in this disdain department, who knows there's someone who says that the Starling sisters never got to Dunkirk.
That their engine broke down before they even were out of British waters.
Pity. Pity all around really. Your first draft bore it so well.
Actually, the Starking sisters lied. What difference does it really make?
God sake! Of course it makes a difference! It's not the truth! The truth is, they stole a boat from a man, who terrified them and...
set out to cross 50 miles of open sea into a war. They never got there!
Because their engine failed!
Now that's a truth we won't be telling. Moral sapping apparently.
We pick our truths. Isn't that the point? We are saying, this is based on a true story.
We don't! For Christ above man! You are supposed to be a propagandist.
700 ships went to Dunkirk! 338,000 men came back! Don't say, "It's based on a true story"!
Say, "It's based on a hundred true stories"! A thousand! Three hundred thirty eight thousand.
Dunkirk, the biggest retreat in military history, or, the miracle that put the fire back in all our bellies.
Very well. Carry on as you were. I've a car waiting.
Buckley? Buckley?
I don't care that you lied. I cared that you lied to us. There wasn't enough money. Ellis wanted me to back to Wales.
Do you want me to compare to Mr.Blitz? I'm sorry.
Well his partner would be relieved.
His wife, Mary, she's an invalid. He pays for a nurse in the day, but he has to sit with her himself at night.
When I told him, you wanted more than Ministry wages, he was worried you would find yourself in a similar position,
With your husband Spanish War and all.
Should I...do you want me to come in tomorrow? How would that help losing you?
Who the bloody hell do you think is going to be running the slob?
The work's good, Mrs.Cole. You do a good job.
Oh! Oh. Hello Catrin.
Hello. Hello.
Ellis?
You look so pale in corduroy. Your friends are they?
I got a letter...from the Commission document bombed down in the provinces.
An exhibition in London, straight after. And that's for gallery.
Ellis!
Would there be Sunday trains do you think? Only that I need to get back to London, Monday mornings.
What are you talking about? Coming to see you.
You will be with me, silly.
Yes, of course!
After the script is finished.
Umm..get out of that actually. I don't want to get out of it.
I don't want to let them down.
No. of course not. Now, I leave on Monday. Umm, I'll be back in London for the exhibition.
I suppose it's not very far off. No. It's not so very far off.
And I'll come and visit as often as I can.
Right, then.
Veal's off. I ordered cutlets, Millenezi. And Cimbalino pudding.
So...so you are Mr.Ambrose Hilliard? Ye..yes.
I...I'm Sophie Smith. Samuel's sister. Ah!
He was in office. Last night he was working late. It was bombed.
They have asked me to identify him.
I...I'm unable.
Mr.Hilliard?
I'm afraid my dear, someone has made a mistake. I almost did that myself. You see Sammy Smith, has two fingers missing from his left hand.
I'm sorry. We tried very hard to...to make a whole person. For the relatives.
Is it him?
Is it your friend?
My agent...Yes. That's him.
You can stay with us, if you like.
It's very peaceful. I'm sure we can make room.
To Mrs.Cole, Seasonal Greetings. With very best wishes - Lily and Rose Starling.
P.S. We hope the film is going well.
Happy New Year, Mr.Hilliard.
Sammy, liked the veal, I believe. Do you also recommend it? It's not veal in the pre-war sense.
Now that Samm...
Now that my brother has gone, I must find something with which to occupy myself.
I've responsibilities. Dependents. I've decided that to continue with the agency.
I understand, Sammy discussed with you Baker's Dunkirk film? The role of an inebriated uncle.
No!
You know, after conversations like this with my brother I would say, "What have you got to lose by being honest Sammy?"
Explain to the man, he's 63. Not 36. And that he's pre-flown to fame is "Inspector Chamfold".
Chamforth. Inspector Chamforth. Please be calm Mr.Hilliard.
I'm perfectly calm. What you're seeing is controlled anger tempered with ice headed detachment.
This is one of the many subtle emotions which a good actor is capable of.
Three weeks and location Devon. Followed by three in a London studio.
There are currently only nine films in pre-production with the studios. None of the others hold a role for you.
I hope I share some of my brother's qualities, Mr.Ambrose. I do not however share his sentimental attachments.
I'll not keep un-profitable clients on the books. Veal. Twice please.
Oh! And some veal pudding?
Excellent choice.
Too long. Lose half. Which half?
The half you don't need.
What's the matter? You look like you haven't slept in a month. I'm alright! I just found it easy when it was every night,
at least you know what's coming. Well, never having known the joys of married love myself.
The bombing! Ah!
I thought perhaps it was the long treks with the husband in the provinces.
Not really...it's difficult you know. The trains.
Oh! What is...? What's that? It's France, uncle Frank!
It's Hitler!
Bloody what!? Meeting now with Mr.Swain.
We were about to issue this shooting script. They want all of you.
Oh, no! Oh! Don't worry. With all that studded buried.
It will be some Rear Admiral than lather with the wind speed. Wrong for the day in question.
Ah...when did I mention. It's at Whitehall. The Ministry of War.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. For he today that sheds his blood with me, shall be my brother.
And gentlemen in England now abed, Shall think themselves accursed they were not here.
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
The power, what a dramatic art.
America! Firmly against any military involvement in a war they see as Europe's business.
I'm sure I need not tell you, how many people have turned up at the cinema every week in this country.
Thirteen... 13 million.
In America, that figure is closer to 90. Mr.Churchill is persuaded that film, in particular your film,
presents us with a unique opportunity to put our case to the American people.
They fear that we are already beaten. You show that we fight on.
They believe this country to be dominated by an upper class elite.
You present a vision of Britain... in which ordinary working people are the heroes.
But most crucially of all, your film, concerns itself directly with the feminine experience.
To show your American sisters that this is a war their sons and husbands and others should be fighting.
Of course we want America to listen, give them someone to listen to.
A character with whom they can really identify. You want us to put an American in it!?
Exactly so! Ideally of course from a cast of star with British connection.
Carry Grant over Erill Flynn. But the war will not wait on the convenience on a hollow schedule.
Besides...we rather think, down one letter.
Carl Lundbeck, American boy, Norwegian forefather. Before the war, he threw crop dusting over his parent's farm in Michigan.
When Germany invaded Norway, Carl made his way to England to join the RAF.
Where he's made himself very much at home.
Salmon are the only creatures that should stay out of flight lieutenant Lundbeck's way.
So far he shot down 24 German planes. For which Britain gives her gratitude.
A genuine hero.
An inspiration to all other Americans. And as I believe as you chaps say,
"The camera loves him"
Even more, if he was in Technicolor.
Color?
I think they can manage that.
Ah! There weren't any Americans in Dunkirk! Petant! Pack your bags Mrs.Cole. You're coming to Devon.
* Aha! Aha! Pretty cuppa kettle. Pretty cuppa kettle *
* Bright copper kettle. Bright copper kettle *
* I got you get you kettle, kettle. I got to get you kettle * * I got to get you kettle...doh... *
Ain't finished. I'm not finished. You're completely finished.
Fly in the fucking word "Kettle" one more fucking time...
I'm going to find one and shove it up your ass. Say it once?
Sorry.
I think your...hair... God! When was that....
I think your eyebrows are really woolly, so they stick out in all different directions...
Different directions!? What! What do you mean? I've...I've had...
I've four honest words. Fifty pages of bilge.
Now you play Rose? No I play Rose.
I play Lily. This script is the best thing I've read in a month in Sundays, don't you think?
Well...? Wyndham Best, I play Johnnie.
Johnnie? The soldier.
Ah! Or the hero. If you will.
Oh! I picked up an introduct. Just got here...see the point. Last year...
Ah! Harry. Mind if I join you?
Documentary makers and authenticity. It's a rancid curse.
Buckley! Just hide me. Hide me.
What? Uncle Frank is Mr.Hilliard.
You knew he's gonna be here. He's probably didn't expect me!
She alright? Avoiding Hilliard...unfortunate experience.
Carnal? What!? No!
Oh, that!? Oh! I shouldn't worry about that. He's an actor. Unless you review them, have intercourse with them or...
do both simultaneously. They don't remember you. Ah, ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce you now...
to a young man, to whom we all owe a great deal. Soon we hand him back to the RAF,
for a very different kind of shooting. Until then, he's our very own American.
Mr.Carl Lundbeck.
Hi...uh.. Alex Craig, Director.
Good to meet you.
Wyndham Best. I'll do my best playing Johnnie. Carl Lundbeck. Flight lieutenant.
Hi. Hello.
Mr.Hilliard? I've forgotten right...
Mr.Ambrose Hilliard. Yes.
Sir...I saw every Inspector Chamforth picture there ever was. Just used to go right back and watch them again.
Oh!
You see, someone has made a mistake. A simple mistake that could be easy to miss.
Yes! Oh! Sir, I need to wire my mom.
There's our secret weapon. Now you write him in. No excuses and no bar bills.
God bless America. God bless America.
Well, he's very handsome. Oh! Cmon!
So what's an American doing in Dunkirk? No. Scrub that. What isn't he doing?
Fighting. Yeah. So what does that make him?
Appeased?
Now we need a hero. I don't know, umm...travel writer...journalist?
Journalist! Hard boiled wise cracking Yankee hack who compile it to both heroically.
No. You're not pinching any more action from Rose and Lily. I'm...I'm picking entire bloody structure either.
Could you get from the high over there, please?
Of course the irony is...
they've given this to a bloody documentaries director. He won't want any dialog anyway.
It will all be fishing nets and local kids playing football. You wait. What if, it's not what the American does that makes us put our work?
It's what he doesn't do. He falls for those. He doesn't try to come between her and Johnnie.
Self sacrifice. That's noble.
Only if he stands a chance? Maybe he does. Maybe she likes him because
he is the sort who let her fix the propeller.
So give him a name "Margenes". Joe.
Hard boiled types only have last names. Buckley.
Taken.
Now what were you before you became Cole? Catrin Pule.
Kathrine? Catrin's the Welsh version.
It was his idea. A beautiful Welsh girl deserves a beautiful Welsh name. Where would you've drawn the line?
Cardiff Cole. Caffeine Cole. Coalmine Cole.
Hey!?
That's my chips! Alright. Catrin Pule, you're coming with me.
Try again, Johnnie. Positions.
No. No, no makeup. Quiet please. Quiet please everyone.
I'll give you a finger click for a sniper shot. Just a very quite click, please.
It's hard to explain to a non-actor but I want to react to the sniper up there and not the click down here, you see?
Is there a chance to find a real gunner up there? No.
Right. Up for take? Sounds.
Sound rolling.
Scene. Dunkirk film scene 17, take 1. Good luck Lieutenant Lundbeck.
Action. Here boy.
Here.
Cmon boy!
Don't be a fool Johnnie! There's a sniper out there! And he's got a friend. It's a Karabiner 98 kurz.
Best damn gun since the wor...that's the 73!
I...I'm awfully sorry. I...I've lost my line. Cut!
Twenty three takes! I mean he stopped because we ran out of film stock.
The War house wanted him. The distributors wanted him. None of them thought to give him a bloody screen test?
Will Johnnie replace him? This one has a significant part to play in putting
the national case to the American public. He is the tempered. If that empath young stays, the film fails, the national case with it.
He's a brave boy. With you, or I think so brave.
Is Mr.Baker alright? He lost one of his grandsons
Oh!
Hit by a tram on shore leave. Oh!
Must make it so much worse. If wasn't "for" anything. Promise to Baker.
This wasn't "for" anything.
Just think people like films.
Because story is a structure.
And...a shape. Purpose and meaning.
One thing's turned bad. It's still part of a plan, you know, it's...it's...there's a point to it.
I like life.
You don't believe in a match, do you? I believed this was gonna be a good picture.
How did you get to do this? Writing I mean.
Parfitt.
He's making comedies for Baker. Used to click gangs of heard into me sung in the pub.
Many a time. He'll think you were born into purpose.
Certainly spent enough time in 'em as a kid.
He was a soldier. In and in the last one.
The thing about men who get sent away to war, Mrs.Cole, is that some of them don't come back at all...
some come back as heroes...
and some of them come back drunk squalid bullies.
I was better off it this way.
In the pub? Or the pictures.
I liked the pictures best.
Once in a while you just need to make one that's worth it. Worth...the hour and a half of someones life that's gonna see it.
Ah! I really thought this one would be.
Bloody Yanks. Hm. Would be alright if all we had to do is look at him.
We strip him down to the essentials and use a voice-over.
I wasn't there at the beginning of the story, but it all began in a little fishing village in Englo...
Yes. Yes. Inarticulacy, authenticity.
He's too cut out. Nah! No. He really can't. But Hilliard can.
So we get Hilliard to coach him. Some sort of a...on the spot "dumb show" so that the Yank knows what he's supposed to be doing.
Gentlemen, I fear that there has been some sort of misapprehension.
I'm an actor. By somewhat derided calling but mine nonetheless.
Perhaps because we're engaged in an imitation of life, there's a common misconception,
that anything living can do what we do. You have found not to be so,
for which I offer my....sincerest consolations. I'm an actor, I know only my art.
Of teaching. Of coaching. Of "dumb show". These things, I'm afraid, I know nothing.
I'm so sorry to disappoint.
Mr.Hilliard. You're right. You're right. Everything you just said. It's about respect. For the art and for the artists.
And it makes me think, how wrong we've been, playing Uncle Frank for laughs.
Yes, he's a drunkard and a clown.
But he's also all those people who gave their sons to one war and now their grandsons to another.
If we served that truth. If we gave you an Uncle Frank really worth your time and your talent,
I wonder, if you would consider putting that same time and talent with helping Mr.Lundbeck...
and the picture.
Hm...I don't think we've been properly introduced.
I'm Catrin Cole. I'm one of the writers. Catrin. Between us, we'll have them weeping in the aisles.
I need to let Ellis know that I won't be there for his opening. I'll arrange a telegram.
Least we can do.
Time and talent is good. You think that beforehand? His exhibition only lasts two weeks.
We'll have you back in London before it closes.
Damn!
Here. Cheers.
Johnnie Lam. Kent, England. You? Branigan. Made in America. And not for export.
So what are you doin' in here? Tryin' to get back.
The propeller snarled. If I can just cut it free. Hurry uncle Frank.
Hey! Hey there!
Uncle Frank?
I d...drop...I dropped...I dropped the knife.
William? How old was she? My...my boys.
Such...such an age, you been gone. Why didn't you send word? You could've stayed in France. I could've fetched you home.
I...I...I could've carried you both. Oh!
Oh! You mustered these days. Haven't you?
Bye Buckley. Bye, Mrs.Cole
* Pretty cuppa kettle. Pretty cuppa kettle * * Pretty cuppa bright kettle... *
There it is! Dunkirk. Blimey!
There're so many of us! Down there they nev... Mrs.Cole?
They never get us all out. Ah! Where...where is she?
Thank you! Cut. Could someone please get Mr.Hilliard out of Dunkirk?
Find Mrs.Cole. Train ticket, Ration card, authorization to travel.
Oh! Don't be nervous. Mr.Hilliard won't notice you're gone. It's not Mr.Hilliard. It's Ellis.
He's going to be so disappointed in me. For missin' the opening. For not turnin' up to the last minute.
Nonsense! Your husband is a lucky man, Mrs.Cole. I'm sure he knows it.
He's not my husband. I mean he's not anyone else's either. It's just...we're not actually married.
I bought the ring myself in Woolworth's. I see..
In love to run away with him, just...to proper. Not to care what other people thought.
Uh...behind... Better get moving. Hilliard's looking for you.
Wants to discuss what you wrote about uncle Frank's death. What did you think?
Too long obviously. But apart from that...
His...his final moments, believing Branigan and Johnnie are the sons lost in the last war. Wooh!
Such an age. You been gone. Oh! It's all me!? I still think we need a little bit more in terms of...in terms of backseeding.
Oh! I'm...I'm awfully sorry Mr.Hilliard. But Mrs.Cole has a train to catch.
What!? She must go.
Whoo... It's a personal matter.
But will she be back tonight? Let's get you into makeup. Hm...
You do look handsome in your sowester.
Mr.Hilliard's going to be awfully angry. I'll blame War Transport.
He'll have to make a deal with me.
So?
Fishes! Fishes every....
Don't...stand under any thousand pounders.
Uh. The Director wants to speak to you. Let me guess. He's canceling my fitting for the dog costume.
He didn't say what it's 'bout.
Tell him, "he can find me".
But...I have found you. No you haven't.
You are a masseuse. Leaning the way of the ship.
With Johnnie cradled, cradled in your arms. Cradle.
Oh! No...no thank you.
You look up. And you see coming towards you...across the deck. A vision of loveliness.
And you say. Get up! "Kid's pretty messed up."
Girl, kid's pretty messed up. He kept talking about some broad called Nancy.
Kept talking about some broad called Nancy. I guess that must be you.
OK...Action!
Girl, the kid's pretty messed up. Kept talking about some broad called Nancy.
I guess that must be you. To which, she replies,
"I'm Rose. This is Nancy. The Nancy." To which you say...
Rose.
Did you know, if one were twenty years younger and differently inclined, one might be almost be tempted.
(RED SAILS IN THE SUNSET BY WILL GROSZ)
* Red sails in the sunset * * Way out on the sea *
* Oh, carry my loved one * * Home safely to me *
Cat...Catrin!
Catrin?
Cat...don't make me run.
They're always going to be like that, aren't they? Younger, in awe of you. Like I was?
Aw! Cmon Cat. You had a choice.
You didn't choose me.
I'll come back in a few days and we'll mend things. Oh! For God's sake. The flat's yours.
You are the one who pays the rent.
Anyway I'm going to Manchester tomorrow.
They decided to take the exhibition on tour. This is a success then?
It's success.
I'm glad.
You know the first time I painted you outside the steelworks?
Maybe I shouldn't have shown you walking away. Oh! I don't know Ellis.
Maybe you shouldn't have made me so bloody small.
One ticket madam. Safe journey. Next please.
War widows. War widows. There you are.
War widows.
(THEY CAN'T BLACK OUT THE MOON BY ART STRAUSS)
* I'm not afraid of the dark * * Are you? (Are you?) Are you? (Are you?) *
* Gee, but it's nice in the dark * * With the moon and you (and you) *
* When we go strolling in the park at night * * All the darkness is a boon *
* Who cares if we're without a light? * * They can't black out the moon *
* I see you smiling in the cigarette glow * * But the picture fades too soon *
Dunkirk in the can.
* But I see all I want to know * To Dunkirk in the can.
* You can't black out the moon *
* I see you smiling in the cigarette glow * * But the picture fades too soon *
* But I see all I want to know * * You can't black out the moon *
* We don't grumble * * We don't worry about alarms *
* And you stumble * * You stumble right into my arms *
Too young. * And when you kiss me, don't you realize *
Compared to what? Too young to write.
* And like a love light in your eyes * * They can't black out the moon *
Thank you. Oh! Well done.
Thank you.
You're up. Oh! No, no, no.
Oh! Shut up Ambrose. You know you want to. Alright. Well...oh! Wild mountain thyme...
(WILL YOU GO, LASSIE, GO BY FRANCIS McPEAKE)
Here it is!
* Oh, the summertime is comin' * * And the trees are softly blooming *
* And the wild mountain thyme * * Grows around the blooming heather *
* Will ye go, lassie * * And we'll all go to heaven to pull wild mountain thyme *
So how was London?
Quiet. No bombings Tuesdays apparently. I meant the exhibition.
Very successful.
* If my true love e'er come *
And your artist?
* I would surely find another *
Likewise.
* Where the wild mountain thyme *
So why didn't you stay?
* Grows around the blooming heather *
Would have covered for you.
* Will ye go... *
I was thinking about...what Mr.Hilliard said about, needing to backseat for death speech.
I am.
* I will build my love a tower * * From the pure and crystal mountain *
* And around I should... * * All the flowers of the mountain *
* Will ye go, lassie, will ye go? * * And we'll all go to heaven *
* To pull wild mountain thyme * * All around the blooming heather *
Bombers moon.
Someone would be copyin' it.
So...
You know, now a couple of days in Devon.
London for the studio shoot. Huh...then what?
Back to careless talk and carrots.
Don't know.
Swain's takin' about another feature. "Air Raid Wardens".
There'll be slob.
I don't know. Here.
Tell you this.
Marry you.
What!?
I'm already married. No. You're not.
That was private. It was a private conversation. Yeah you said you bought a ring yourself at Woolworth's.
When times got hard he tried to send you back to Wales. And he's disappointed in you?
He's a stupid bloody fool. But he's not as much a fool as you.
He changed a name for Christ sake!
Where's your fucking self respect? How dare you?
You have no one. You don't know. I know you deserve better.
You? You're the better! Catrin I...uh...
Look I think...you must. And I think...you're a drunk squalid bully.
Quiet! Hush.
You are speaking of flight lieutenant Lundbeck? Cha?
You know he didn't have any film roles under orders. They told me I would be good for "Eagle Squadron" recruitment, Sir.
He's desperate to get back in the air. Poor boy. Tea sir?
Thank you. Oh! Um...
???? please. Please.
For as long as you receive an article coaching fee, I don't see no objection your continuing to instruct him.
Fee!? Yes! Certainly a fee.
I should be raising the matter with Mr.Baker today. Is...is there anything else you wish me to discuss with him?
Uh... Dress-room articles? Or your intimate needs catered for?
Sammy, once mentioned you do not like to share studio facilities with crew.
Electricians in particular? Er..yes...ehuh...well one...one mustn't complain.
They do their best to make one comfortable. And as for the work...people seem to be responding rather well, so...
Uncle Frank, I look...look forward to your opinion.
Thank you.
Sometimes one simply has to be firm.
Did you miss me?
You left your jacket in the cabin.
Smelt of you for the longest time. Then one day, I went in there...
and all I could smell was Uncle Frank's pipe. Lily...I understand you know,
that things have changed. And that I would like to put my name on you. Oh! Johnnie.
I wouldn't blame you. Branigan is one in a million. And I'm not much to write on about. Am I?
I'm just an everyday sort of bloke.
Everyday!?
Everyday for the rest of my life.
Good work! Bloody good show! Two shots so far!
If this thing is being treated for color, it's going to look marvelous. God! The American's teeth. Can that be real?
If the studio shoot goes half as well, this picture is going to be a triumph!
There is however, one area of concern. Uh! Memo, please. From American distributors.
I'd ask you to absorb what's said without division, Buckley.
American picture goers liked to be knocked off their feet. Bangs, crashes, ambulances careeding around corners.
The same goes for romance. What you call understatement, translates as a lack of, uhmf...
Americans feel that the ending is presently written is too subtly too newses. Restrained.
Restrained? I mean it's practically a call to arms! Their concern is more, what one might crudely call...
"A love triangle"
I've to say as far as the home front goes, we can't let it look as if she rather have the American.
Oh! That will be the teat. Teat or no teat, what all parties need...
is a morally clean, romantically satisfying resolution.
Well perhaps if Mrs.Cole could carry on her good work with Hilliard on set. Buckley and I could tackle the new ending in the office.
You'll enjoy the studio. Change of scene. Excellent! Excellent!
Stick to the side...slowly forward.
Two steps. Look to the side. No. Left side's the camera. The good side.
Mr.Ducard. Thank you, please...if you don't mind Ducard.
And... Johnnie is hit!
Keep it in rear view please. Thank you. Could you move please?
Trying to get big boy up there. Sorry.
Tea. Anyone for a cup of tea? I played it rather convincing, don't you think?
Yeah! You did! Say, are...are those walkcakes?
Like to know when it's ready. It's very much on it's way.
Only that you keep saying you'll be sendin' over the endin'. It's almost ready.
Well...let me know when it is. Goodbye Parfitt. Mrs.Cole
Excuse me? I bet...you know! just this way...
Cigarette?
I've never seen much point in men. Still I do hate to see you plaining.
Oh! I'm not plaining. Ellis moved out weeks ago. I'm already used to it. It wasn't Ellis I was thinking of.
Forgive me. It's just the...when we were shooting in Devon, you always seemed so...
vivid.
Perhaps I'm in a sentimental mood. My landlady was killed yesterday,
I could hear her husband crying through the wall...all night long. It seems to me when life is so very precarious, it's an awful shame to waste it.
I was wondering on page 76, I say...
Getting worried.
About the ending.
Turned Ministry spy now?
Is that it?
Did I...
Sorry! I'm sorry.
I didn't mean... Pen perfect? It's not worth it.
What do you think? It's not very good.
It's very...Buckley. It's not your fault in there.
Really isn't.
I better go home. So...
Exterior train station.
A full moon, a clear sky. A man sits by the shore. There has been a quarrel. A woman is walking away from him.
Now she turns back.
I didn't mean what I just said.
And anyway...you said worse.
Hm. Declaration... Stupid bloody fool's good.
Did you think of that beforehand?
Are you trying to put a fight with me Mrs.Cole? No...what I'm trying to say is that, if all of this stopped.
The sparring and the jibing, and the insults and the arguments.
I'd miss it.
Even if I were dead. I'd still miss it.
The Catrin Cole school of dialog. On and on and on and on and on.
Lose half.
Which half? The half you don't need.
Alright.
I'd miss you.
I miss you more than I can say.
You've to take this.
Keep going.
Mrs.Cole!?
Watch yourself there.
Mrs.Cole? Hm?
I thought you was under it. I was in the office...hmm.
I might have to borrow clothes. Talk to the costumes mistress. But don't be surprised is she tetchy.
Parachute line took the roof off studio 4 last night. And have Panzer division uniforms ruined.
They are saying it was the worst night to air bombing yet. Nothing left of Wimbledon apparently.
The props master hasn't turned up and the best-boy is in the hospital and no one knows where the group is.
So we are having to make do with whatever we can get.
There'll be tears before bedtime. Mark my words.
Can we save that lamp till we roll, please? Sorry Mr.Hilliard.
More? Much more.
This man hasn't had a bath since last time we fell off the boat. Change of plans. Tool seat from Uncle Frank's meety to fetch Tony windy propeller.
Hurry up Rex! We need you over here. Yes sir! Coming as quick as I can.
Shouldn't you be at the office?
I was.
I read your ending.
You bagged it.
You were almost there. Nowhere near.
I've been useless for weeks. Hm?
I read the note too.
Oh?
What did you think? Hm...everything conclusive. Wasn't really sure where it's going next.
No.
I wasn't too sure of that either.
Crumbs.
Mrs.Cole? I need to talk to Mrs.Cole. Mrs.Cole? Has anyone seen Mrs.Cole?
Go! Before they find us. Where?
I don't know. Mrs.Cole?
The boss wants to try a take with our Uncle Franks lines. Because he says we are losing visual tension.
Mr.Hilliard is talking about the integrity of the story scene. He won't play the scene as you wrote it or not all.
Nobody is hard any sleeping... It's alright...I'm coming.
Once Hilliard gets his hands on you. Maybe he go for hours. And I rather you did...
Buckley! Nobody move. Stay exactly where you are!
Until we get the lights again! Stay where you are.
Almost dawn.
Johnnie has been doing his best to fix the engine. But he's getting weaker by the minute.
And we all know when the sun comes up, German planes will be back.
No one wants to be here. But we've a hole in this picture. A stranded boat. A broken propeller. No one to fix it.
And no Tom Buckley.
Umm...maybe we could re-shoot? Who with?
Ambrose Hilliard is still in plaster. Wind him best north Atlantic???
Carl Lundbeck is back with RAF.
Could one of the Frenches do it?
Come to our rescue, some way we came to theirs. It doesn't seem right, moral wise.
We could, uh, hand cross the faces of the soldiers. And work to see... The works good, Mrs.Cole.
None of them could have done any better.
You mustered these days.
Ross could do it.
Ross could free the propeller.
Ceres? Sit.
Hugalla and Hugarnogen ??? Hm.
To build you up entirely for the premier.
You'll be interested to learn I received several unexpected propositions this week.
How delightful for you.
Of course I did not speak of a lot of advances. These were professional inquiring regarding your availability.
If you will be kind enough to read. Get your opinion.
The doctors tell me you are to be discharged in a few days. I cannot see you be in a condition to look after yourself.
I...
I therefore propose that we should ready your room in your apartment for your use.
I believe a few weeks of proper care would be of great benefit.
To your career. You're still a very handsome man. Mr.Hilliard. Yes.
But your good looks have fallen prey to certain scornliness. Oh no! We can correct this, I believe...together.
Thank you, Mr.Hilliard. This way Mr.Hilliard.
Here, ladies. Thank you. Thank you very much.
I'm not concerned with how many lines I got. I have four honest words than fifty pages of filth.
Mr.Best? And lady?
Hello? Did you? Is this? Yes.
Congratulations. Well done. Thank you.
Good evening. Ms.Moore? Very ship shape.
Well thank you.
Mrs.Cole? She's coming? I tried.
Oh! Ms.Pule? Your uncle's here to see ya.
Forgive the deceit. Your landlady didn't look the sort to approve a gentleman caller.
To be perfectly fine, she's the first person I've met for weeks who didn't recognize me.
She doesn't hold with the pictures and Godly.
It's charming. It's from Rose and Lily.
The real Rose and Lily. They're on their way to join ATS.
Just thought if she could fix a propeller in a film she could learn to mend an engine in real life.
They both are mechanics now.
Ah..
Baker's planning a new film.
Everyone wants me in it. They've pretty much left the part upto me. So, I was thinking, newly retired, cat burglar, not quite reformed...
that's why I'm so good at the rescues. He knows the way in and out of any property.
Thing is, in the hands of the wrong writer...pfft!
So, I was wondering, if you would consider putting your time and talent... I don't do that anymore.
I'm sorry.
Just can't.
You'll...you'll get something alright. Your eyes...here.
Hm...my agent.
You and me. Given opportunities only because young men are gone...or dying.
But turn on back on those opportunities...
even when one has suffered such great loss, wouldn't that be giving death dominion over life?
Have you seen it yet? Our film. You sure?
It's very good. I'm...awfully good.
And so are you.
Morning all, small boats. All sea worthy vessels to report to your local level-master immediately.
Dunkirk? Oh! Lily... I repeat...all sea...
What if they are gonna get em out!
I think I know the boat they can get.
Aren't I? "The Nancy"!
Here boy. Here.
Don't be a fool, Johnnie. There's a sniper up there.
I don't care if he's got a bleedin' cannon. I'm not gonna sit by and watch him shoot a dog.
Wait! What is that? It's France, uncle Frank.
Dunkirk. Blimey! There are so many of us! They will never get us all out.
Hitler? Hitler? Who the bloody hell does he think he is?
Johnnie!
Cmon up! You deserve a medal, mate.
Johnnie?
Johnnie!? Careful. - Johnnie.
Kid's pretty messed up. He kept talkin' about some broad called Nancy. I guess that must be you.
I'm Rose. This is the "Nancy".
Rose.
The propeller snarled. If I can just...just cut it free.
Just pretend you are Erill Flynn. He can do anything.
I've cut it free.
She's moving!
Cmon! You beauty!
She did it!
I never had a chance to thank you Mr.Branigan for brinin' Johnnie back. There's no Mister. And back home they call me, Gene.
Thank you Gene.
Tell me one thing? In another time, another place... could it had been me?
Perhaps. But you are talking about a world without Johnnie.
That's not a world I care to live in.
Have you ever looked at somethin' and known you want it? Want than anything ever you wanted in your life before.
And know it can never be yours.
I have. And I tell you, it will either finish you or put a fire in your belly that will keep burning to the end of your days.
I wasn't there in the beginning of the story but you can bet your bottom dollar I'm not leaving even before the end.
Because I know it should be the right sort of ending.
The sort of ending that's worth fighting for.
Miss?
Oh! You wanna stay and watch it again?
You find more intimate laughs all around.
I seen it five times. Is that picture, isn't?
They are our girls.
Thanks. But I better get back to work. What's work?
Air raid wardens.
They want an outline. We haven't got a story yet.
And they are asking about characters apart from Hilliard as a cat burglar. Three girls, three different walks of life.
I need specifics. A nun, a showgirl and a lady wrestler.
Seriously, you push us now and that's what you will get. Men?
Well who else is the girl gonna fall in love with? The driver???
We got titles. Raid is over head. Fire is over head. Fire in the sky...
They are looking for the female angle again. A tin hat fort for lulla...
Girls like them. Girls like you.
Girls like us.
You need an ending. We are working on it.
Make it a happy one. It will be.