故园风雨后2008

Julian Jarrold的古典风格，我是极为喜欢的。我这里引用的“古典风格”并非特指一个时间上的古典，而是影像的细腻。如此细腻使得影像和小说达成某种节奏上的一致，就像铺了水的大理石台上自由滑动的玻璃茶杯，顺然得由此及彼，毫无障碍。影像里人物的动作、表情都不多不少，恰到好处。比如Charles第一次受邀去见Sebastian，Sebastian坐在那里剥鹌鹑蛋，直到Charles进来，Sebastian把自己剥好的鹌鹑蛋给他，仿佛是事先就预备好的食物。其实，我很难说清楚，到底这里所谓的“古典风格”究竟是什么？或许正像克尔凯郭尔在《恐惧与战栗》的序言中说的，“我们时代的人们都不在信念之处止步，而是径直前行”。而古典影像，恰恰在“径直前行”之处多多少少的有所止步、有所悬疑。古典影像，似乎就是在这里、这些个悬疑之处，开始了对人物内心情感的不尽探索。Julian Jarrold导演的这部“Brideshead Revisited”，为人诟病的反倒不是对原著小说的肆意改编，从电影本身来说，而是Julian Jarrold似乎从影片一开始就设置了某种不完整性。什么意思呢？问题就出在Charles身上。一方面我们觉得导演对Charles这个角色的塑造不够深入，正如有些人提到的，Charles始终没有在电影中展开自己的内心挣扎，包括在他以军官的身份重访布赖兹赫德庄园之时，导演也只是轻描淡写般掠过。另一方面，败笔之处，又恰恰是Julian Jarrold自己有意在这么做。比如影片一开始，Charles的独白里有说到，“我再也无法辨别这些情感，到底是我自己的，还是从那些我曾经无限的渴望中窃取的”。经历了那么多之后，对于Charles来说，竟然只剩下了唯一的，也是他认为属于自己的、纯粹的，内疚（guilt）（不安、悔恨）。也许这是导演有意设置的一个位置呢，让Charles像夏日午后的一阵暖风，吹进布赖兹赫德庄园里面的晦暗角落，待其觉察自己要离开之时，已然阴冷，这是他始料未及的。（不得不说，Julian Jarrold电影的符号性非常强，并不是我有意牵强，比如Charles和Julia第一次碰面，是车辆彼此掠过之时的短暂一瞥，而在影片末尾，同样又是车辆彼此掠过之后的短暂一瞥，只不过，这一次，把原先还执意着要逃离布赖兹赫德庄园的Julia，彻底的留在了布赖兹赫德庄园。）

假如Charles果真就是一阵夏日午后的暖风，那么我们又能对一阵暖风追问什么呢？但是偏偏的，Julian Jarrold把电影里的人物推到了这么一个位置，推到一个绝境之中。那么这究竟是如何的一个绝境呢？Charles和Sebastian之间的英伦式友谊，对于两个人各自的分量是不一样的，到后来Charles去摩洛哥找到Sebastian时候，Sebastian说，我要的太多了。这孩子实在聪明的很，也许他早就觉察了Charles并不会最终陪伴他，但是没想到的是，这个事实来的那么直接那么突然。威尼斯之夜，彻底改变了这部戏的重心。Charles和Julia之间的感情以一种突袭般的冲动，豁然荡开，这个决口只听得风声，不见洪水。而经由威尼斯之夜，Sebastian则被离弃到一个无人照看之地，剩下的似乎也只有决绝的离弃。假如说，Sebastian的位置是离弃的位置，对于布赖兹赫德庄园的离弃（以自我离弃的方式离弃母亲）；Julia的位置还在浮动，在一个属于布赖兹赫德庄园的围墙的位置；那么，Charles的位置又是在哪里呢？Charles和Sebastian之间那若有若无的同志之恋，始终没有明晰，如此不明晰，导致了最终的，Charles对Sebastian的拒绝（在Julia的生日/订婚宴会上）。

起初我还以为Charles在周旋。就像Sebastian父亲的情妇叮嘱他的，必须小心处理他和Sebastian之间的友谊，因为Sebastian很难回头了，但是Charles呢？他的后知后觉，或者是他的隐秘欲望，使他始终面临一个绝境之中的疑问：你难道不在是利用Sebastian的感情吗？利用Sebastian以接近Julia？而你接近Julia又何尝不是在企图布赖兹赫德庄园（如影片中Rex所说的）？也就是说，在影片中，因为Charles的“无知”，使得我们很难判断Charles的真诚，很难明确他的一个交付给爱的真诚位置。我想，在Charles和Rex“交易”之时，躺在门首的Julia大约是深深体会了这样绝境的。以至在后来，Julia不禁反问Charles，难道我就值你的两幅画吗？我为什么要相信你？这难道仅仅是一个女人的矫情之语吗？恐怕不是。

对于Julia这个人物的塑造上，导演Julian Jarrold似乎再一次使用了他在2007年拍摄《成为简·奥斯丁》时用在奥斯丁身上的手法，就是在逃离和返家之间的折回。当然了，这是一个很大的问题，就像Julia的母亲和Charles之间的谈话，一个无神论者活着到底有什么意义。起码从Charles和Julia身上，我们也可以看出，他们彼此所面临的绝境是不一样的。当Julia在将死的父亲床边祈祷之时，她在祈求主的宽恕，影片很直接的暴露了她的心语，她一边祈祷一边抽泣着说：“求你，主，求你。如果你在，请宽恕他。”接着话锋一转，她祈祷说：“宽恕我，哦主啊，宽恕我，让他划个十字吧。”对于Julia来说，布赖兹赫德庄园突然之间不是需要逃离的，而是需要去直面的罪、去直面的宽恕。老父亲在将死之时，领受自己的罪孽，在牧师的颂祷中，得到宽恕。这不是单单他一人的宽恕，也是对Julia本人的宽恕。（在刚到威尼斯那天，Julia曾和父亲拌嘴，说她父亲才是不要家庭不要家人的人，而不是她母亲；其实暗地里表示了Julia对父亲的怨恨，如此怨恨对于天主教而言，是一种罪孽。）在天主对父亲以及对自己的双重宽恕之仪式中，Julia告别了她的父亲，也告别了她自己。连带着她的绝境也一起告别。Julia的绝境，从抱怨、怨恨（这些都促使她决定要逃离布赖兹赫德庄园）之中解脱出来，重新交付出来的，不是别的，正是信仰。

再接着说Charles的绝境。当他和Julia站在那幅巨大的圣母像前，镜头仿佛给了Charles前面一段悬崖、一段深的空。他不知道能从这空的里面获取什么，他只是知道他已经失去了Julia，不是因为阴谋、不是因为经济、也不是因为爱情，而是信仰。当Julia对他说，我不能拒绝主的宽恕，问Charles能不能理解？Charles说：“我不想让你好过，我希望你的心，伤透。”接着他又说：“但是我真的能理解。我不得不放你走。”于是，Julia就真的走了。还在Julia为父亲祈祷之时，Charles就已经觉察了这一点，他表情战栗，却又无可奈何。因为信仰要拿走的，正是他无法给出的。假如说之前的时候，在Sebastian和Julia之间，Charles还是处在后知后觉中承受着绝境般悬疑的话，那么在与Julia的最终告别之中，Charles则完全处在了绝境之外。像是在一个瞬间，他之前忧伤、同情、感怀、爱、友谊的从来之地，一个“无知无觉”的绝境，被突然攫走，替换为一个有知有觉的绝境，那么试问，他还能如何面对呢？

也许对于Charles来说，战争充当了一个多面手。一方面战争召唤了原始的、古老的摧毁力量，将那些信誓旦旦的、规规矩矩的天主教破坏以及摧毁，哪怕只是表面看起来那样；另一方面，战争推迟了那个最终到来的绝境对他的质问，或者说，战争填补了绝境的空口袋。但是无论如何，Charles已然无法释怀，这或许也是他一开始就有的心理准备。也就是说，他不去恳求宽恕，而是把“Gulit”交给时间。所以在开头，他才说，“Guilt”如同他逝去的信念一样纯粹。这份纯粹也只有时间能够保藏。对于导演来说，何尝不也是如此呢？时过境迁，唯有时间充当了重新开启它们的通道。

我喜欢这部电影。
 
讲到底这部电影是关于拯救与被拯救的问题。尽管对原著致命的改编让整部电影常常被人诟病为将深刻的主题浅化为bisexual love story。查尔斯想把塞巴斯蒂安从酗酒与糜烂的生活中拯救出来，但最终他还是将喝酒的钱给了塞巴斯蒂安；他想把茱莉亚从失败的婚姻和宗教的禁锢中拯救出来，但最终他还是失败告终；他甚至想在侯爵弥留之际为他争取不受洗礼的权利，但最终侯爵还是用颤巍巍的手划了十字。查尔斯就是活得太过明白，他有笃定的人生宗旨，想要将所有人都纳入自己认可的生活轨迹中去。他明明是布赖兹赫德庄园的客人，在入驻的一刹那开始就把自己作为救世主自居，在无神论的他看来，家庭里的每一个人都是受着宗教的束缚，都等待着他来拯救。
 
在电影里查尔斯和侯爵夫人闹翻的酒会上，侯爵夫人用一种痛苦的、难以言说的费解神态望着查尔斯，她念叨着你是那么好的孩子，为什么这样对我的塞巴斯蒂安呢。而查尔斯也用无可理解的眼神回视着他，似乎不明白这个母亲为什么还不知道是自己将塞巴斯蒂安推入自我毁灭的深渊。然而其实他们两个又是互相理解的，在原著里说，“就这样，我和茱莉亚和马奇梅因夫人都僵持住了，这倒不是因为我们之间互不理解，而是因为我们理解得太充分了。”
 
查尔斯太喜欢他们家了，喜欢塞巴斯蒂安，喜欢茱莉亚，喜欢幺妹克迪莉娅，（就像塞巴斯蒂安之前担心的一样，“我不愿意你和我的家人在一起。我们家里的人漂亮得叫人神魂颠倒，在我的一生中，我家的人把我的东西都拿走了。一旦他们的迷人力量抓住了你，他们就会把你变成他们的朋友，不再是我的朋友了，我不允许他们这样做。”一语成谶。）他想将他们纳入自己的生活范畴里去。然而拉扯的力量是侯爵夫人。他们互相了解，侯爵夫人清楚这个年轻的无神论者分明是想将她的几个儿女从宗教中抽离解放出来，她对他一直怀着敌意，只不过从未显露出来。电影中，查尔斯和侯爵夫人的博弈一直在潜伏着剑拔弩张。查尔斯在门缝里看到侯爵夫人与塞巴斯蒂安的对话，塞一直颤抖着流泪，最后低下头去，似乎是被一种羞愧和悔恨击中了的表情。查尔斯诧异地看着这样的画面，应该是被母子之间掌控与被掌控、欲逃脱又不能的关系震惊到。还有一次，查尔斯又是在门外看见侯爵夫人在帮茱莉亚整理华服，侯爵夫人先望向他，随即茱莉亚也望向他，他在前者灼灼的盯视下收回了目光。
 
查尔斯应该一直以为自己是可以战胜侯爵夫人的，直到她过世后，他亲眼目睹那个一生放荡不羁、拒绝与夫人同居一室的侯爵，在死前最后一刻还是做出了妥协。那个时候电影来到了高潮，他也第一次真正意识到，他永远无可战胜这一家人，他想拯救的是幻觉，是虚空，没有人愿意被他拯救。此时电影里给了他一个特写，难以置信的表情，随即是席卷而来的痛心，失望，最终不得不放弃。
 
他与茱莉亚站在圣母像前，他说，我要你的心碎掉，然而他又立即接上一句，“但我能理解。” 他花费那么多年，终于能够“理解”。他站着，场景迅速变换到二战期间，庄园被军队驻扎占领，圣母像被盖上，他变得苍老，穿着军装，再一次在同一个地方反省。“我到底要什么？” 这是茱莉亚曾经大声质问他的问题，“到底什么是查尔斯莱德要的？” 他犹豫地想着，“是不是我要的太多？” 他恍恍惚惚地往门外走着，看着曾经和塞巴斯蒂安嬉戏过的阳光水池变成废墟一片。他似乎已经确定了心中的答案。他确实要的太多，有人说电影将他改编成一心向上爬的凤凰男了，其实电影里没有说他对荣华富贵是多么渴望，对于布赖兹赫德庄园的迷恋，也最多只反映在他无数次用画笔画下它的景色。对于物质的描写实则极少，在他作为画家成名后，他依旧是对自己的事业打理毫无头绪，都倚靠他的妻子。所以说他要的太多，如果是要钱财地位，未免有失公允。他要的是更加虚幻的渺远的对人的掌控罢了。他一开始对塞巴斯蒂安是羡慕，羡慕他放荡不羁的生活和人生哲学，但是当他被带入庄园后，他发现的是华美袍子下的虱子，他便开始想要改造这一家人，拯救这一家人了，作为这一群漂亮的人的主人翁，刷存在感。这才是他想要的太多的部分。
 
 
要的太多，这也是塞巴斯蒂安在电影里最后一次出现时的台词。他在摩洛哥，骨瘦如柴，剃光了头发，穿着如苦行僧一般。查尔斯来见他，对他说，我想你。他看破红尘地勉强牵动嘴角，“It's nice of you to say that”，但是，他早就明白了，看穿了这只不过是他想带他回去，再次与其他人干涉他人生的美妙说辞而已，他直戳重点，“可能是我对你要的太多了吧。” 其实要的不多，他只要他的爱，然而没有，那就无须再费心费神地假装关心想念我了罢。
 
 
-----------------------------------------正经影评到此结束，接下来全部夸小本，节操全无------------------------------------------------
 
Ben Whishaw，我男神，我心中偶像，我梦中情人，我的所有旧爱与新欢，我的全部初恋与末恋，我精神上的未婚夫（某外国专栏作家云），我肉体上的导师【滚。
 
有中国女粉丝在伦敦剧场外见到小本，送他一份画着他演出过所有角色的卡通漫画，问他最喜欢哪个，他毫不犹豫地点了塞巴斯蒂安。
 
即使这部电影不能算作杰出的作品（因为对原著糟糕的改编），但是塞巴斯蒂安应该能算得上他演艺生涯里值得停顿的一个好角色（可能是因为这是电影对原著改动最少的，还原度最高的角色），有时候我甚至会把他本人和塞巴斯蒂安联系在一起。脆弱的，敏感的，美丽的，杰作。
 
塞巴斯蒂安是一个怎么样的人呢，在电影开头，他的出场让查尔斯看直了眼，穿着蓝色的西服，戴着礼帽，一手搂着阿洛伊修斯，一手举着酒杯，仰着头，从河上缓缓滑过。张扬的，又沉浸在自己的世界里，窄小的脸，刀削的下颚。查尔斯被吸引住了，站在桥上，忍不住微笑地凝视着他。换作谁都会觉得这是一场一见钟情的邂逅吧，为什么导演把查尔斯又逻辑不通地给改成了异性恋呢？！烧死异性恋啊混蛋！
 
在小说里，塞巴斯蒂安的初次登场是一个侧写，查尔斯在理发室偶遇他和他的大玩具熊。理发师评价道，“塞巴斯蒂安弗莱特少爷，一位非常有趣的青年绅士。”而查尔斯的回应则是冷冷的“显然是的。” 理发师又道，“你猜塞巴斯蒂安来干什么？来给他的玩具熊要一把发刷，鬃毛要很硬的，不是用来梳熊毛，而是在他生气时用发刷打熊的屁股以吓唬它。”
 
此时脑海中瞬间出现了本猫猫一手提起泰迪熊的腿，一手用鬃毛发刷抽打它的屁股的样子。嘤，这是萌的极致，萌的巅峰，萌的无可超越。
 
查尔斯和塞巴斯蒂安的第二次见面，是塞巴斯蒂安直接吐在了查尔斯的窗台上。尽管是这样放肆的不可思议的行为，小说里的查尔斯还是觉得“塞巴斯蒂安在无路可走的时候选择了一扇开着的窗户，这样做带有一种疯狂和可爱的有条不紊的风度”。这是什么样的情怀，这是忠犬攻的情怀，这是痴汉的情怀。为什么导演你最后又把查尔斯给弄成了一个忘恩负义的渣攻呢？昂？昂？人性呢？！尊重原著的精髓在哪里呢？
 
有人会诟病小本的塞巴斯蒂安太过女性化（甚至娘娘腔），不如1981年版的电视剧里AA演的童真，像个真正的孩子气小少爷。这可真的是太冤，原著里明确的给塞巴斯蒂安一句定性般的描述，“他是迷人的，带着女性美，这是一种极端年轻的美，高唱着情歌，遇到头一阵寒风就凋谢了”，女性美直接被点了出来，在小说里他最后一次登场于摩洛哥的时候，那个德国人很明显就是他的男友（尽管查尔斯在塞的哥哥面前矢口否认了），他的同性恋倾向呼之欲出，只差没点明。加之他是一直处于被母亲掌控的小儿子，脆弱又敏感，一种柔美的气质，我觉得小本展现得恰到好处。这段对他的外貌描写，出现在查尔斯第一次赴宴的时候，他进了房间，塞巴斯蒂安在剥鸟蛋，他没有起身欢迎他，也没有向他打招呼问好之类的，而是在剥鸟蛋，对他讲的第一句话也令人摸不着头脑极了，根本就不应该是初次见面或赔礼道歉场合应该讲的开场白，他说，“我刚刚数了一下，每人五个蛋，还多两个，因此我正在吃多出的两个。今天我饿极了。昨晚我拼命喝着两种名牌酒，酩酊大醉，醉得使我觉得昨晚的一切仿佛是个梦。请别弄醒我。”
 
就像是自言自语，没头没脑的一句话。然而最后一句却又像是贯穿整部小说的呓语，“请别弄醒我”。查尔斯这个渣渣最后还是弄醒了他，弄醒了一个养尊处优、敏感纤细的贵公子绮丽美妙的酣梦。
 
塞巴斯蒂安给查尔斯的第一封信多么有趣啊，“我很后悔。阿洛伊修斯要看见我被你饶恕了才会理我。因此，今天我请你吃午饭。” 还是没头没脑的，他默认了对方知道阿洛伊修斯是他的泰迪熊，默认了对方知道他的地址，他是何方神圣。他就是活在自己世界里的小孩子，被全家人保护得太完好，又觉得束缚禁锢极了，和安东尼这类放浪形骸的公子们混迹在一起。然而小说里写，当他认识查尔斯之后，他就再也不怎么理其他的朋友了。看到这个描述的时候，我心里难受起来，塞巴斯蒂安一定以为自己是找到了真正对的人，才会放弃了其他那些泛泛之交，然而其实对他来说，查尔斯并不是对的人。
 
查尔斯在赴宴前听到心里有一种声音让他不要去，显然是作者埋下的伏笔，因为在未来的日子里查尔斯会发现，就因为一次赴宴，他终身都被塞巴斯蒂安身后的庄园牵引控制。其实塞巴斯蒂安何尝不会后悔这一次见面。他们两个都有点一见彼此误终身的意思。
 
电影里唯一一处改编是特别好的是查尔斯去摩洛哥见塞巴斯蒂安，后者已经疾病缠身，落魄如此，然而还是不忘缓缓转过头，对他此生最爱的人说一句忠告，“Run,run far away。” 那时候，人生无法摆脱的诡谲飘渺的宿命感油然而生，每个人明明都是自由的，但是却又受到无形的羁绊，就像小说里那个关于风筝的隐喻。
 
小本真是瘦，瘦出了风格，瘦出了气质。每次他坐在浴缸里，下棋也好，抽烟也好，什么也不做就是红着眼圈颓唐地摇摇晃晃地从里面站起来也好，就是好看，就是优雅，就是萌。看见他和查尔斯在黄昏的草坪上，查尔斯坐着画画，他就这么斜斜地靠在他身边，一个漂亮的侧影，那个时候才真的叫“岁月静好”。在夕阳台阶下，他吻了查尔斯一下，随即收回，眼睛紧紧地盯着前方，不敢侧视旁边的人，举着酒杯的手有点僵，他低头，抿嘴，微笑，整个动作就像一帧优美的舞蹈动作。那时候多么美好，一想到查尔斯之后就渣化，就想冲进电影里给他一千六百八十多个大嘴巴。
 
在威尼斯，他穿着喧嚣豪华的锦服，最后落寞归去，在查尔斯还试图解释的时候，他湮没在黑暗中的脸转过来，侧脸隐隐约约的，失望与悲怆淅淅沥沥地从他眼神里流淌出来。他用一根手指轻轻地盖住了查尔斯的嘴唇，然后用一种我至今无法用语言形容的欲说还休的眼神最后充满爱意与恨意地看了查尔斯一眼，黯然离开。一个简单的场景，被小本演出了百转愁肠出来，那一场戏里他眼睛里分明有雾，这还不算厉害——人们能辨别出是一种悲伤的雾气，那才叫厉害。
 
总之我真的爱死小本了。尽管这不是他演技最爆发的电影，但是通过这部片子爱上他也太容易了吧。尤其是看幕后花絮和接受访问，他自带猫耳的发型，他迷迷糊糊的回答，他一脸没睡醒的傲娇表情，他热得用手扇了扇风的动作——啊，此时我的节操已经溺死在他的一举一动一颦一笑间，请不要打捞了！
 

 
 
 

   这几天成了一个“故园控”，脑袋里晃动的影子老是离不开《故园风雨后》里的塞巴斯蒂安。

   Evelyn Waugh的同名小说，（又名《故地重游》）改编的英国电影，典型的上世纪初的英伦情调。布来赫尔德庄园无比美丽，有的人想进入，有的人想离开，有的人本想逃离，知道一回到故园，所有的记忆和枷锁将一并不自觉地拾起，但还是回归了。结果，到了故园后，她重投天主怀抱，成为她母亲的代言人，她远离了爱情，重新爱上上帝。

    塞巴斯蒂安是脆弱精美的清代鼻烟壶，是名贵的酒和华丽的丝绸，是忧郁敏锐纯净的眼睛，是牛津校园里的贾宝玉，越是贵，越是脆。因此我独偏爱这一个，他爱上的男人赖德，虽是画家，其实只是一俗人，他对塞巴斯蒂安家的庄园的向往，迷恋，爱情，对这庞大的物的爱情，已经远远高于他对人的爱情，不管是对男人，还是女人。

    塞巴斯蒂安是英国的贾宝玉，必须以一种毁灭的方式与生硬顽冥的家族对话。于是他酗酒。当他明白已失去短暂的一个假期的“疑似爱情”时，在威尼斯，他深爱的赖德吻了他的妹妹朱丽亚，塞巴斯蒂安的眼睛里射出极其忧郁的子弹，但那眼神依然清澈，高贵静美。对爱的失望，并没有让他歇斯底里，他只是自己以酒销愁，从此，他与他保持了距离。

    几年后，他失踪于非洲摩洛哥。他穷困潦倒在一家医院，昔日所爱赖德奉庄园女主人之托去摩洛哥找他，想劝他回家，对他说，你母亲快要死了。此时的小塞，身穿着黄色的袍子，像一名东方苦行僧，形容枯槁，安静柔弱地坐在一张椅子上。赖德对小塞说，我想你，但洞察秋毫的小塞知道这话有些言不由衷。总之，他对赖德的爱情，在那年夏天的威尼斯已经悲壮死去。

    他没有回去，他宁可放逐自己，与天主教的家庭决裂。他留给赖德一个苍凉但坚定的转身。临别时，赖德摸了摸小塞的光头，带着一丝怜惜，一丝歉疚，还有无奈。

    他，赖德，在从中产到上流的时代大浪中随波逐流，他，塞巴斯蒂安，痛眼自己的身世，想要自由。他曾对他说，我不该带你到布莱赫尔德庄园。

     后来，他在摩洛哥当了一名医院看门人。也许他觉得，这样也挺好。

     记得他对前来找他的赖德说的话，这也许是一个转折，从前都是别人照顾我，现在，我可以照顾别人。

     这个灵魂，脆弱的，娇贵的，坎坷的灵魂，让人深度着迷。

     在树前，在门廊，在风中，你很想为他倒一杯葡萄酒，轻轻碰一碰杯。

 

塞巴斯出现的时候，脑子里面只闪过一个词叫glass。
他真的是很像，笑起来也带着非常容易断裂的表情。

我想起一首歌叫一个爱上浪漫的人。
歌词里有一句叫，空留自作的多情余恨

这部剧让人失望的地方就是，查理真的一点都不爱塞巴斯。
甚至一点都不懂得塞巴斯的爱。
他像个象牙的雕塑，只有暖黄的微笑，却没有任何反应。自认高贵聪明其实什么都不懂。

这就连回旋的余地都没有。旁观者都看得灰心难过。

塞巴斯，在没有爱上查理之前是多么的耀眼美丽，潇洒不羁。
爱上查理之后，你就看着他的光泽，在他身上一点点得褪尽。

直到油尽灯枯，直到凋零成秋天枯黄的叶子。折断的时候发出千篇一律的清脆声响。
查理去找他的时候，他眼里全是认命和放弃。

刚开始我确实没有非常喜欢他，我不喜欢他一脸吃不了苦的任性轻浮。
直到他在威尼斯，被现实打了耳光。他穿得再喧嚣华丽但是表情沉默，他选择放弃，选择独自吞下这后果。这后果他根本难以承担。他曾得到过虚假的幸福，为此他付出真实惨重的代价。

塞巴斯终究是个善良的人，但谁来拥抱你的天真。



————————————————————————————
我本来不晓得这片啥内容，看海报也没什么兴趣，是冲着马修古迪去补的。
他演的非常好，毁我塞巴斯毁得一点自觉都没有，好感全灭。


——————————2013年12月重刷———————————

其中有一段，马修和塞巴斯妈妈相互指责的部分：“你才是他喝酒的原因，我不过是想给他一点自由。”
“你只是希望他喜欢你。你竭尽全力得讨别人的喜欢。”

这两句我觉得都对。

Charles (Matthew Goode): If you asked me now, who I am the only answer I could give for certain would be my name, Charles Ryder. For the rest, my loves, my hates, down even to my deepest desires I can no longer say whether these emotions are my own or stolen from those I once so desperately wished to be. On second thought, one emotion remains my own, alone among the borrowed and the second hand, as pure as that faith as which I am still in flight-guilt. Did I want too much? Did my own hunger blind me to the ties which bound them to their faith? Why only now shadowed by war. All warnings gone. Alone enough to see the light.



Brideshead Revisited Script - Dialogue Transcript
Voila! Finally, the Brideshead Revisited script is here for all you fans of the 2008 Matthew Goode movie, also featuring Ben Whishaw. This puppy is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of the movie to get the dialogue. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and all that jazz, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. At least you'll have some Brideshead Revisited quotes (or even a monologue or two) to annoy your coworkers with in the meantime, right?

And swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards -- because reading is good for your noodle. Better than Farmville, anyway.

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Brideshead Revisited Script
  

  
If you asked me now who I am,

  
the only answer I could give
with any certainty

  
would be my name,
Charles Ryder.

  
For the rest,
my loves, my hates,

  
down even to my deepest desires,

  
I can no longer say whether
these emotions are my own

  
or stolen from those
I once so desperately wished to be.

  
On second thoughts,
one emotion remains my own,

  
alone among the borrowed
and the second-hand,

  
as pure as that faith
from which I am still in flight.

  
Guilt.

  
Been away, sir? Anywhere interesting?

  
- Jungle.
- Jungle.

  
Explorer, are we?

  
- Painter.
- Painter?

  
So, bye-bye beardy, hello smooth.

  
Famous for his impressive
architectural portraits,

  
British artist Charles Ryder
has taken New York by storm

  
with a series of gripping jungle studies.

  
To own a Ryder is currently the dream

  
of every self-respecting
East Coast millionaire.

  
You must be so proud of him.

  
- Was he away long?
- Two years,

  
- and it doesn't feel like a day.
- You must feel positively bridal.

  
I can't paint
to save my life.

  
Thank you.

  
I can't even hold a buggering brush!

  
But I know what I like. Lots of color.
Nice and bright.

  
I see the jungle in your work
as a metaphor.

  
Not least, the metaphysical semblance
of the chaos at the heart of civilization.

  
Make an effort, Charles.

  
You're not in South America now.
You're amongst civilized people.

  
- Mr. Ryder, I wonder if I could...
- I'm so sorry. Excuse me.

  
- Excuse me. Thank you very much.
...just have a conversation...

  
Hello, Charles.

  
- You're wearing a coat!
- Yes, Father, I am.

  
Why?

  
- I'm going up to Oxford.
- Ah. Yes.

  
- Remind me. What are you taking?
- History.

  
- And what allowance have I given you?
- A hundred pounds.

  
How very indulgent of me.
Mind you, it all comes out of capital.

  
Oh, I suppose this is the time
I should give you advice.

  
Your mother was always
so good at that.

  
Who's meeting you?

  
Cousin Jasper offered
to show me around.

  
Cousin Jasper!

  
Most entertaining.

  
Out of the way,
you silly fool.

  
There you are, Charles.

  
This way, please.

  
Come along. As an only child,
you will, of course, have much to learn.

  
Though I am only your cousin, Charles,
you must look upon me as a brother.

  
Older, wiser,
but a brother nevertheless.

  
Now, it is no secret that our families
are not rich in material wealth.

  
Keep off the grass.

  
But I like to think that we Ryders are,
all of us, rich in the striving of minds.

  
Now, then... Not that way.

  
Clothes. Dress as you do
in a country house.

  
Never wear a tweed coat
and a flannel trousers, always a suit.

  
And go to a London tailor.
You'll get a better cut.

  
Protocol. First and foremost,
behaving with restraint...

  
Nine adulteries, 12 liaisons,
64 fornications,

  
and something approaching a rape

  
rest nightly upon the soul
of our delicate friend Florialis,

  
and yet the man is so
quiet and reserved in demeanor

  
that he passes
for both bloodless and sexless.

  
Sodomites, all of them. Steer well clear.

  
Treat all dons
as you would the local vicar.

  
With indifference.

  
Oh, dear, oh, dear. This won't do at all.
You must change your rooms.

  
I've seen many a man ruined

  
through having ground floor rooms
in the front quad.

  
People start dropping in.

  
They leave their gowns here
and come and collect them before hall.

  
You start giving them sherry
and before you know it they're...

  
Sebastian, come along.
Look at the state of him.

  
Come on, you're nearly clean.

  
Oh, no, no, no, sir, stop.

  
You don't clear up after yourself.
That's my job.

  
Sorry, Lunt. What's all this?

  
From the gentleman last night, sir.
He just called. Left a note for you.

  
"I am very contrite.

  
"Please come to luncheon today.
Sebastian Flyte."

  
The Lord Sebastian Flyte,
don't you know?

  
I'm sure it's quite a pleasure
to clear up after him.

  
I take it
you'll be out to lunch today, then, sir.

  
Yes, Lunt. I think I shall be.

  
I've just counted them.

  
There's five each and two over,
so I'm having the two.

  
I'm unaccountably hungry today.

  
I put myself unreservedly
in the hands of Dolbear and Goodall

  
and feel so drugged
I've begun to believe

  
the whole of yesterday evening
was a dream.

  
Please don't wake me.

  
- Do try one.
- Thank you.

  
- What are they?
- Plover's eggs. The first this year.

  
Mummy sends them from Brideshead.
They always lay early for her.

  
You would, too, if you knew my mother.

  
Are you terribly angry with me
about last night?

  
No, not at all.
Thank you for the flowers.

  
Aloysius, you can't go there.
Do sit down.

  
- Tell me about you.
- Me?

  
I'm in my first year, reading history,

  
but really what I most want to be
is a painter.

  
Would you like to paint me?

  
Well, yes. Yes, if you like.

  
It's so clever of you,
knowing what you want.

  
I've no idea what I want.

  
Except to be happy.

  
If I can.

  
Let's have some champagne.

  
A glass each before the rowdies arrive.

  
You don't want to join the Old Boys.

  
They're all bloody drugged bogs
or collegers.

  
Top me up,
will you, old man?

  
- I don't remember you from Eton.
- I didn't go to Eton.

  
Oh, really. Where then?
Harrow or Winchester?

  
Rugby? Oh, not Charterhouse, I hope?

  
You wouldn't have heard of it.

  
There are other schools,
you know, Boy.

  
Yes, I suppose there must be.

  
- My dears.
- Hello, Blanche.

  
Hello, Blanche.

  
I couldn't get away before.

  
I was lunching
with my preposterous tutor.

  
I told him I had to change for footer.

  
Anthony, you remember Charles.
From last night?

  
Charles is reading history,
but he wants to be an artist.

  
- No!
- Why ever not?

  
- Either you are an artist or you are not.
- Hear, hear.

  
- Then I am.
- Interesting.

  
You have about you
a distinct hint of the pragmatic.

  
What do you want to be an artist for?
I mean, what's the point of it?

  
Why don't you just
buy a bloody camera

  
and take a bloody photograph
and stop giving yourself airs?

  
- That's what I want to know!
- That's it, go it, Boy!

  
- I don't give myself airs.
- Yes, you do.

  
And, anyway,
you haven't answered my question.

  
Come on! Answer!

  
- Answer, answer, answer, answer...
- Yes.

  
Answer, answer, answer, answer...

  
Because a camera
is a mechanical device

  
which records a moment in time,

  
but not what that moment means
or the emotions that it evokes.

  
Whereas a painting,
however imperfect it may be,

  
is an expression of feeling.

  
An expression of love.

  
Not just a copy of something.

  
And who on earth do you think
cares about your feelings?

  
I do.

  
Boy, you're an oaf. Behave yourself.

  
To art and love.

  
To art and love!

  
We'd just arrived in his rooms, then,
without even a, "By your leave,"

  
the Lord Flyte pokes his head
through the window and vomits.

  
Ground floor rooms, you see.
Poor Charles may never recover.

  
- Morning, Jasper.
- Morning.

  
Two tries out of you today...

  
Charles. You're to come away at once!

  
I've got a basket of strawberries
and a bottle of Chateau Peyraguey,

  
which isn't a wine you've ever tasted,
so don't pretend.

  
It's heaven with strawberries.

  
Just the place to bury a crock of gold.

  
I should like to bury
something precious

  
in every place where I've been happy.

  
And, then,
when I was old and ugly and miserable,

  
I could come back
and dig it up and remember.

  
Come along, Charles.
There's someone I want you to meet.

  
- Is this where you live?
- It's where my family live.

  
Don't worry,
you won't have to meet them.

  
- Oh, but I should like to.
- You can't. They're away.

  
Everything's shut up.
We better go this way.

  
Keep up.

  
Charles. Charles.

  
Well, this is a surprise!
How lovely to see you.

  
Meet my new chum, Charles.

  
Charles, this is Nanny Hawkins.
This is who I wanted you to meet.

  
- I don't think I know you, do I?
- How do you do?

  
Your friend has charming manners.
What family are you from, Charles?

  
- No family. I mean, no one important.
- Charles is an artist.

  
- He's going to paint me.
- How jolly.

  
You've come at just the right time.

  
Lady Marchmain's
on her way up from London.

  
It's the Conservative Women's Tea.

  
They always turn out for Brideshead.

  
I'm afraid we may have
to miss them, Nanny.

  
Your mother will be disappointed.

  
I'm sure Her Ladyship
would want to meet...

  
Can't be done, I'm afraid.
Got to get back or we'll be gated.

  
I pray for my dear Sebastian every day.

  
- Charles!
- It was very nice to meet you.

  
- Come along, Charles.
- Couldn't we just have a quick look?

  
We've seen who we came for.
We can go.

  
Just a little look.

  
Don't be such a tourist, Charles.

  
If you're that keen,

  
you can see it all for a shilling
on Queen Alexandra's Day.

  
God, I loathe that painting!

  
I could show you the chapel, I suppose,
if we're quick.

  
What did you do that for?

  
- You're not Catholic, are you?
- No.

  
- I was just trying to fit in.
- Well, don't.

  
Come on, come on!

  
Sorry, I'm afraid I don't have the knack.

  
Charles, what are you doing?

  
Car. Now.

  
Who was that in the car
with your mother?

  
- My sister.
- What's she like?

  
For goodness sake, Charles,

  
I don't keep asking you questions
about your family.

  
But I've never
asked you anything before.

  
You're so inquisitive.

  
Well, you're so mysterious about them.

  
I hoped I was mysterious
about everything.

  
Why don't you want me
to meet your family?

  
Who are you ashamed of, them or me?

  
Don't be so vulgar, Charles.

  
I'm not having you mixed up
with my family. You're my friend.

  
I don't have a family.

  
You have me.

  
Sebastian and Charles,
contra mundum.

  
Contra mundum.

  
Father?

  
Father?

  
- Back already?
- Term's over.

  
So soon?

  
Thank you.

  
- Father, I have to leave at once!
- Oh, yes?

  
A great friend of mine
has had a terrible accident.

  
- I must go to him.
- May I?

  
"Gravely injured.
Come at once. Sebastian."

  
I'm sorry you're upset.

  
Reading this message,

  
I would say that the accident was not
as serious as you seem to suggest

  
or it would not have been signed
by the victim himself.

  
Still, of course, he may well be
fully conscious, but horribly paralyzed.

  
Remind me.
Why is your presence necessary?

  
I told you, he's a great friend.

  
Well, I shall miss you, my boy,
but don't hurry back on my account.

  
Take your bag, sir?

  
Excuse me!

  
Are you Charles Ryder?

  
Yes. Sorry. Hello.

  
I'm Julia, Sebastian's sister.
I've been sent to pick you up.

  
Hop in, Mr. Ryder.

  
- Case in the back.
- Sorry, yes.

  
How's Sebastian?

  
- He's fine.
- Fine?

  
Did he tell you he was dying?

  
Well, I thought... His message said...

  
I expect he thought
you wouldn't come if you knew.

  
He's not badly hurt, then?

  
He cracked a bone in his foot
so small it hasn't even got a name.

  
- How did it happen?
- Playing croquet.

  
I must admit,
I did think it was a little queer,

  
you traveling all this way
for a croquet injury.

  
I don't mind.
It's wonderful to be here again.

  
Is it? Why?

  
Well, it's such a beautiful house,
for one thing.

  
I can't stand the place.

  
Be an angel and light me one.

  
There you are, at last!

  
- I thought you were dying.
- I thought I was, too.

  
The pain was excruciating.

  
Julia, ask Wilcox
to fetch us some champagne.

  
- I hate champagne.
- For our guest.

  
Well, take your coat off. You'll boil.

  
Come along, Charles.

  
I thought you hated champagne.

  
I do.

  
I suppose Sebastian's told you
all about us?

  
No. No, nothing at all,
as a matter of fact.

  
And nor should I.

  
What?

  
- I take it you're not one of us?
- Don't answer.

  
I don't live like this,
if that's what you mean.

  
She means you're not a Catholic.

  
Sorry, no. No, nothing at all.

  
- You mean you're an atheist?
- Well, yes, I suppose.

  
Strictly speaking, we're C of E,

  
but Father only ever goes
for Christmas and funerals.

  
He likes those.

  
- What about your mother?
- She's dead.

  
I was very young.

  
She died working for the Red Cross.

  
Which, given her devotion to good,

  
does rather point up
the arbitrariness of it all.

  
I see. So, you're here arbitrarily?

  
He's here as my friend.

  
Given Mr. Ryder's
staunch position on religion,

  
don't you think he ought to know
what he's getting into?

  
Leave Charles out of it.

  
- Tell me.
- Oh, God.

  
Mummy takes her faith
very seriously, indeed.

  
So seriously, in fact,
that our fat little priest, Father Mackay,

  
called her a living saint.

  
Mind you, he drinks.

  
Sebastian and I
are a couple of heathens.

  
I'm not a heathen, I'm a sinner.
Cast out from God's love.

  
As for you,
you're not a heathen at all, not really.

  
Why do we always end up
talking about family?

  
It's time for my bath.

  
Good evening, Mr. Ryder.
Look after my brother.

  
I don't think your sister
likes me very much.

  
I don't think
she cares for anyone much.

  
I love her.

  
She's like me.

  
Drink in remembrance of me.

  
Hang on.

  
In fact, I know that that's checkmate.

  
Come here.

  
If only it could be
like this always.

  
Always summer.

  
Always alone.

  
Fruit always ripe.

  
Cheers.

  
Now,

  
try this.

  
- No?
- It's a shy little wine. Like a gazelle.

  
- Like a leprechaun.
- Dappled in a tapestry meadow.

  
A flute by still water.

  
This is a wise old wine.

  
A prophet in a cave.

  
And this

  
is a string of pearls on a white neck.

  
- A swan.
- The last unicorn.

  
Who's that?

  
- Is that your brother?
- Yes, that's Bridey.

  
- He seems all right to me.
- Wait till you meet him.

  
Mother.

  
Hello, there.

  
Go away,
we're not decent!

  
- Mummy's here.
- We know.

  
She's invited Charles to dinner.

  
It's not what we
agreed upon, Sebastian,

  
when we talked about this
at Christmas, when you came down.

  
It's no use crying, darling.
That's just childish.

  
That's not going to help, is it?

  
You see, darling,
whatever yesterday's sins,

  
we must all pray for God's forgiveness.

  
So now, you try and try again now.

  
Be a good boy.
For God and for Mummy.

  
Now, just put your shirt on now.

  
Dining room's this way.

  
Is Sebastian all right?
He seemed upset.

  
Oh.

  
He and Mummy often have these talks.

  
Flannels for dinner?
Very bold, Mr. Ryder.

  
- Will your mother mind?
- Yes, she'll be appalled.

  
No, don't worry.
She'll be understanding.

  
- Do you often do that?
- What?

  
- Say one thing, mean another?
- Yes and no.

  
Thank you.

  
- Amen.
- Amen.

  
Welcome to Brideshead, Mr. Ryder.
I've been hearing all about you.

  
I do hope you didn't let Sebastian
call you away in too much of a rush.

  
I'm afraid I didn't quite have time
to pack the right things.

  
Sebastian must lend you some clothes
while you're here.

  
Or perhaps Bridey's a better fit.

  
Are you a Bridey
or a Sebastian, Mr. Ryder?

  
He can't borrow Bridey's clothes.
Bridey dresses like a bank clerk.

  
Don't be vulgar, Cordelia.
Vulgar is not the same as funny.

  
I hope you've been
looked after properly, Ryder.

  
Has Sebastian
been seeing to the wine?

  
Yes. Sebastian's been
seeing to the wine.

  
Delighted to hear it.

  
- You're fond of wine?
- Yes, very.

  
I wish I were.
It's such a bond with other men.

  
At Christ Church, I tried to get drunk
more than once, but I didn't enjoy it.

  
What do you enjoy, Bridey?

  
Hunting, shooting,

  
fishing.

  
And what form do your pleasures take,
Mr. Ryder?

  
- Sorry, pleasures?
- Your hobbies.

  
- What do you do to relax?
- He drinks.

  
Drinking is not a hobby, Sebastian.

  
- You live in London, is that correct?
- Yes.

  
- Whereabouts?
- Paddington.

  
You live in a railway station?

  
No, no. Sorry. No, I live nearby.

  
I see.

  
And has this led
to an interest in trains?

  
No.

  
So, are you close
with Sebastian's crowd?

  
Not really.

  
- With Anthony Blanche?
- We're acquainted.

  
Charles is a painter, Mummy.

  
How charming.

  
We must get you
to paint something for us.

  
- Would you do that, Mr. Ryder?
- I'd be delighted.

  
I think Brideshead's the most
beautiful house I've ever seen.

  
- It's utterly magical.
- How kind you are.

  
Summer at Brideshead.

  
Mr. Ryder must stay with us
for the rest of the vacation.

  
As a matter of fact,
I've just heard from Papa.

  
He wants me to go and see him
in Venice. And Julia.

  
I see.

  
And do you intend
to accept this invitation?

  
Yes. Why not?

  
What about you, Julia?
Will you be going?

  
I'd like to.

  
Wouldn't you rather
stay at Brideshead?

  
Well, yes, if you want me to.

  
- You must not neglect your duty.
- No, Mother.

  
I think we might spend a little time
in the chapel after dinner.

  
- Would you join us, Mr. Ryder?
- Thank you.

  
You do know Charles is an atheist?

  
An agnostic, surely.

  
Actually, no.

  
But you'll join us, anyway,
out of curiosity.

  
Thank you.

  
- No Sebastian?
- No, Mummy.

  
Charles, are you really an atheist?

  
- Yes, I am.
- How awful for you.

  
I'll put you on my prayer list.

  
I have a long list of people I pray for,
including six black Cordelias in Africa.

  
It's a new thing. You send five bob
to some nuns in Africa,

  
and they christen a baby after you.

  
Right.

  
Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.

  
Give us this day our daily bread,

  
and forgive us our trespasses

  
as we forgive
those who trespass against us.

  
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

  
Amen.

  
Have you ever
been to Venice, Mr. Ryder?

  
No. No, I haven't.

  
Every ambitious young man
should visit Venice.

  
It makes one sound more complete.

  
I was thinking, if Sebastian were to go,

  
it might be a good thing
if you were to accompany him.

  
He needs someone plausible
by his side.

  
I gather last time he was there, he was
befriending some very odd types.

  
It's youthful high spirits, I understand,

  
but in the end,
we must all accept God's limits.

  
Atheist, or no.

  
I know I can rely on you.

  
You seem to me
a very reliable young man.

  
- San Giovanni e Paolo.
- Oh, dear.

  
I can see
you're going to be impossibly curious.

  
By the way, I should warn you.
Our lovely father is rather a scoundrel.

  
He lives
in one of the palazzos with Cara.

  
- Who's Cara?
- His mistress.

  
Poor Papa's rather shunned by society.

  
Not the Italians, of course.
They adore him.

  
- Santa Maria dei Miracoli.
- I know. I've seen the postcard.

  
- My dear boy!
- Darling, Papa.

  
- You look so young!
- Do you think so?

  
I've taken to playing tennis
at the Lido with a professional.

  
Cara thinks I'm getting far too fat.

  
Julia, come here.

  
- Father.
- My child.

  
- I wasn't sure if you'd come.
- Mummy gave me her blessing.

  
Blessed by your mother.
What a saint that woman is.

  
You know, I used to try everything
to please her.

  
Julia, this is your friend, Mr. Ryder?

  
- Charles is my friend, Papa.
- I see.

  
- Delighted.
- How do you do, sir?

  
- Welcome to Venice.
- Here's Cara. Now we can eat.

  
Come along now. This way.

  
Don't look so greedy. It won't go away.

  
Sorry.

  
I wasn't sure you'd come to Venice.

  
Your father seemed
pleased to see you.

  
I'm not sure Father
cares much if I come.

  
He'd probably be just as happy
if it was only Sebastian.

  
They adore each other.
They're alike in so many ways.

  
- Who are you like?
- Me?

  
Oh.

  
Nobody.

  
I'm the family shadow.

  
Drinks.

  
- Julia.
- Cara.

  
Mr. Ryder, Sebastian tells me
you are a painter.

  
- Charles is an artist.
- Good.

  
Well, then I will show you all the
great art of Canaletto and Veronese.

  
He never goes anywhere.
Such a philistine.

  
I don't mind the art.
It's religion I can't stand.

  
The Italians seem unable
to paint anything half decent

  
without putting Christ dying in it.

  
Of course, your mother loved Italy.

  
- A piet?on every street corner.
- Don't be cruel.

  
On the contrary, she'd be flattered.
God was always her first love.

  
- Mummy loves all of us equally.
- Come now, Julia.

  
You were the one who walked away!

  
What must you think of us, Mr. Ryder?

  
- A family of monsters, are we not?
- No, not at all.

  
I lost my mother when I was young.

  
Tell me, Mr. Ryder, as an artist,
what did you make of Brideshead?

  
I thought it was magnificent.

  
You think that? Really?

  
And now, here you are in Venice.

  
What a lot of temptations.

  
He walks for two hours
every day. He wants to be immortal.

  
But he's quite fragile, you know, inside.

  
That woman nearly suffocated him.

  
- She's been very kind to me.
- Oh, yes. I'm sure. But you will see.

  
Well, just look at her children.

  
Even when they were tiny,
in the nursery,

  
they must do
what she want them to do,

  
be what she want them to be.

  
Only then, would she love them.

  
It's not Lady Marchmain's fault.
Her God has done that to her.

  
But surely you're Catholic, too?

  
Yes, but a different sort.

  
It's different in Italy. Not so much guilt.

  
We do what the heart tell us,
and then we go to confession.

  
Sebastian loves you very much, I think.

  
There you are.

  
They're very good,
these romantic English friendships,

  
if they don't go on too long.

  
For you, it's just a,
how do you say, "a phase"?

  
But I think it's more than that
for poor Sebastian.

  
Tread carefully, Mr. Ryder.

  
Come on.

  
- Hello.
- No! No!

  
Come on.

  
Got you.

  
- Can't sleep.
- Try pajamas.

  
I enjoyed the beach today.
I hope I wasn't too rough.

  
You were very sweet.

  
Charles?

  
There you are.

  
Sorry.

  
Lots to drink.

  
I'm so glad you're here.

  
- I'm glad you're here.
- I'm glad I came.

  
- Did I say I'm glad you're here?
- You're really glad I'm here?

  
Let's get plastered.
- If you want.

  
Oh, yes, I do. I want. I want.

  
There's a wonderful chapel
near here!

  
You will see a masterpiece, I tell you.

  
The devil's got his eye on you!

  
Well, then you must protect me.

  
Julia!

  
Julia.

  
I got lost. All those people.

  
What are you doing?

  
What's the matter?

  
No!

  
Funny old religion, isn't it?

  
Sebastian,

  
what happened just now...
I never meant you to...

  
If I'd known it was going to happen,

  
I'd never have...

  
I don't know what I'm supposed to...

  
Checkmate.

  
I'm boring you.
Perhaps it is dull for you here.

  
You've been enjoying yourself?

  
- I've been in Venice.
- Oh, yes, yes, I suppose so.

  
The friend you were
so much concerned about, did he die?

  
- No.
- I'm very thankful.

  
You should have written to tell me.
I worried about him so much.

  
Watch out, Flyte!
- Sebastian!

  
- Sebastian!
- Leave me alone!

  
- Damn. Where is he? The bastard.
- Who?

  
- Mr. Samgrass.
- Who's Mr. Samgrass?

  
One of Mummy's gang.
Fat little Catholic from All Souls.

  
Bastard's been set up to follow me.

  
I wouldn't mind
if he wasn't so infernally ugly.

  
God, I feel a hundred years old.

  
Why haven't you called round?
I've been worried.

  
I was beginning to think
they hadn't sent you up.

  
- Since Venice.
- Yes.

  
- Damn! There he is again.
- Who? What are you talking about?

  
- Mr. Samgrass! There!
- Do you mind?

  
Mummy's hired him to watch me.

  
- What does he want?
- My head on a plate.

  
Look, if he's bothering you,
I can stop him.

  
Dear Charles, always so certain.

  
- I'm not certain of anything.
- Aren't you?

  
By the way, Mummy's here.

  
She has to talk to you.

  
Probably wants you
to spy on me as well.

  
Don't be like that.

  
Why don't I come round
to your rooms later?

  
I'm not sure I want to see you anymore.

  
I'm so sorry.

  
So, Charles,

  
- how was Venice?
- Venice was fine.

  
- A strange way to put it.
- It was beautiful.

  
Speaking as an artist or a man?

  
I want a word with you
about Sebastian.

  
I'm concerned about him.

  
- Tea?
- No, thank you.

  
- Why? Should I be?
- He's drinking too much.

  
You must have noticed.
After all, I sent you to look after him.

  
Yes, I suppose
we both drink too much, really.

  
No, not at all. You drink to get drunk,

  
Sebastian drinks to escape
the claims of his conscience.

  
I do wish I could understand
why he's so particularly upset.

  
Ever since he came back from Venice,
he's been unreachable.

  
- Did something happen there?
- No.

  
- You all had a good time?
- Yes.

  
I wonder what it could have been.

  
I hope you didn't let Julia mislead you.

  
- I don't understand.
- I think you do.

  
Please understand,

  
I would not want you
to make yourself look foolish, Charles.

  
Her future is not a question of choice.
It is a matter of faith.

  
Were it simply
a difference in upbringing,

  
this I might overlook.

  
But you are a self-proclaimed atheist,

  
and my daughter
is destined to marry a Catholic.

  
God commands and we obey.

  
However, we're forgetting ourselves.

  
We're here to talk
about your friendship with my son.

  
I'm not sure Sebastian
wants to be my friend anymore.

  
Because of Julia?

  
But that is all cleared up now.

  
We're giving a ball for Julia's 21 st.

  
I'd like you
to keep Sebastian company.

  
You came to Brideshead
as my son's friend.

  
If you have
unaccountably offended him,

  
it is surely not too much to ask
that you revisit your responsibilities.

  
- To him or to you?
- To the family.

  
And, of course,

  
Brideshead does look particularly
beautiful at this time of year.

  
Tell me, I'm curious.

  
Since, as you claim,
you have no religion,

  
what do you imagine
you are doing on this earth?

  
Living my life, the same as you.

  
But without faith,
what could your purpose possibly be?

  
I want to look back and say that I was

  
alive.

  
That I didn't turn my back. That I tried.

  
That I was happy.

  
Happiness in this life is irrelevant.

  
All that matters,

  
the only thing of consequence,
is the life hereafter.

  
Ready for the off.

  
A beautiful day for it, isn't it? Come on.

  
Funny, isn't it?
It's my little present to the family.

  
- Rex Mottram. How do you do?
- Charles Ryder.

  
Good to meet you, Charles.
Heard all about you.

  
We should compare notes some time.

  
- Going on the hunt?
- I don't think so.

  
Wise man. Load of English
blue bloods on horseback.

  
Got to fit in, though!

  
Who is it?

  
It's me.

  
You could have knocked.
I nearly spilt my drink.

  
I did.

  
Sit down.

  
If only it could be like this always.

  
- Always summer.
- Ancient history.

  
Pass me a towel.

  
Where's that damn shirt?

  
You're shaking. What is it?
What's the matter?

  
Don't you know, Charles?

  
"Why this is hell, nor am I out of it."

  
- Sebastian, if I've ever done anything...
- It's not you.

  
It's me.

  
For God's sake, do stop mooning at me
like a great big cow!

  
I'm fine.

  
I'm fine so long
as I've got plenty of this.

  
I want you to know that
whatever happened in Venice,

  
I'm not in your mother's gang,
if that's what you think.

  
I'm on your side.

  
Contra mundum.

  
Dear Charles,

  
you're not in anybody's gang.

  
That's always been your problem.

  
Why are you going on the hunt?
I thought you detested hunting.

  
I do.

  
I'm going to leave Bridey
at the first covert,

  
hack over to the nearest pub,
and spend the whole day drinking.

  
If they treat me like a dipsomaniac,

  
they can bloody well
have a dipsomaniac.

  
Well, they can't stop you.

  
They can, as a matter of fact,

  
by not giving me any money.
They've stopped my bank account.

  
I've pawned my watch
and cigarette case.

  
That lasted for a bit,

  
but that's all gone now.

  
So, regretfully...

  
Sebastian, I can't do that.

  
- I thought you were on my side.
- I am.

  
Well, then.

  
Look, why don't I come with you?

  
It's miserable drinking alone.

  
We could get drunk together,
like we used to.

  
No.

  
I'm past all that.

  
Thanks for the offer.

  
Well?

  
Are you with me or against me?

  
Little bit further up
on the shoulder, though.

  
Sarah, look.

  
Sort of up here.

  
Ladies and gentlemen,
it gives me great pleasure to announce,

  
on top of the birthday festivities,

  
the engagement of my eldest daughter,
the Lady Julia Flyte

  
to Mr. Rex Mottram.

  
Yes, it's marvelous, isn't it.

  
- Thank you, Charles. I'd love to dance.
- Cordelia.

  
- Cordelia, I'm...
- Come along!

  
- Charles?
- Hmm?

  
I hope you don't mind me asking,
but modern art,

  
- it is all bosh, isn't it?
- Yes, it's all bosh.

  
Good. I thought so.

  
Get a grip, Charles!

  
Rex! Rex, I need a better dancer.

  
Yours for five minutes and no more.

  
- Come along.
- Okay.

  
You're rather tall, aren't you?

  
Is that a handicap?

  
Why didn't you tell me?

  
It's not Sebastian. I don't believe that.

  
Charles, I can't do this.

  
- When we kissed...
- Please, stop!

  
Why? It was wonderful.

  
I know.

  
I think about it all the time.

  
I have no choice.

  
- Oh, Sebastian.
- Never mind.

  
- Oh, Charles.
- Don't!

  
- Come along, old boy.
- I don't want your help.

  
You're in tweed, Sebastian.
This is a ball.

  
Bugger off, Bridey.
You're worse than wet.

  
You see... What it is...

  
I hate you all so very much!

  
- Sebastian.
- Get off me!

  
You don't care about me!

  
All you ever wanted
was to sleep with my sister!

  
Okay, Sebastian, that's enough.

  
All right. I'm going.

  
Charles,

  
did you give Sebastian money today?

  
Yes, I did.

  
Knowing how he was likely to spend it?

  
Yes.

  
I don't understand.

  
How could you be so nice
in so many ways,

  
and then do something
so wantonly cruel?

  
We all liked you so much.
I don't understand how we deserved it.

  
Do you think it's better
to make him feel like a criminal?

  
Having him watched
every second of the day?

  
But you deliberately
helped him to drink.

  
You're the reason he drinks,

  
not me.

  
All I did was

  
try to give him a little freedom.

  
No, you just wanted him to like you.
You're so desperate to be liked.

  
I think you should leave now, Charles.

  
Hello, there.
Would you like me to hold the ladder?

  
Yes, thanks.

  
I'm Celia Mulcaster, by the way.

  
Charles Ryder.

  
I saw your paintings in the brochure
and thought how charming they looked.

  
No need to look so gloomy.

  
If I had half your talent, I'd be delirious.

  
You can thank me, if you want.

  
Thank you.

  
Would you like me
to buy something now?

  
Silent and grave,
and then "pop," mouse is dead.

  
- Charles.
- Lady Marchmain.

  
Thank you, Father.

  
I'm so glad your son
didn't die of his injuries.

  
Please, sit down.

  
I'm fine, thank you.

  
How did you know where I lived?

  
My driver found you.

  
The Ryders of Paddington
are limited in number.

  
I hear you have your first exhibition
at the Royal Academy.

  
Congratulations.

  
I'm sure you're not here
to ask me how I am.

  
No. The last time we saw each other,
it's true I spoke rather harshly.

  
I'm not here to apologize.
What I said, I meant.

  
I took you into my confidence,
and you betrayed me.

  
I do hope you're not asking me
to agree with you.

  
- I act only as God directs.
- Rubbish.

  
God's your best invention.
Whatever you want, he does.

  
- I am not here to argue with you.
- Good. I'm glad to hear it.

  
The reason I called
was to ask you a favor.

  
A favor?

  
Sebastian's gone missing.
He's in a house in Morocco.

  
I'm worried about him.
I need you to bring him back.

  
You banish me from your house,

  
you poison my friendship
with both your children

  
and now you expect me
to go begging on your behalf?

  
There's no one else I can ask.

  
Even if I were to agree,

  
what makes you think Sebastian
would take any notice of me?

  
Because he cared for you more
than he ever cared for anyone else.

  
All I ever wanted was to see them safe.

  
And all they do is hate me.

  
I'll be at Brideshead.

  
You may send word to me there.

  
Driver!

  
Driver!

  
I'm looking for Sebastian Flyte.

  
This is his house.

  
- Who are you?
- I'm his friend.

  
In the local hospital.

  
When you see him,

  
tell him I'm still here.

  
Your friend
has got the grippe.

  
One of his lungs is full of fluid.

  
He will recover. But travel with you?
Not a chance.

  
He's very weak. No resistance.

  
What do you expect?
He is an alcoholic.

  
Here is your friend.

  
What the hell are you doing here?

  
Your mother asked me to come.

  
She wants me to bring you back home,

  
but the doctor said
it's out of the question for you to travel.

  
I wouldn't, even if I could.

  
I think...

  
I think she's dying.

  
Walk with me. I'm meant to exercise.

  
Did you go to my house?

  
Did you meet Kurt?

  
Yes.

  
He wanted you to know
he was waiting for you.

  
It's rather a pleasant change,

  
when all your life
you've had people looking after you,

  
to have someone to look after, yourself.

  
I thought you'd want to go back
to Brideshead one day.

  
Brideshead?

  
Are you mad?

  
The place would still be full of her.

  
I wouldn't go within
a hundred miles of the place.

  
I need to sit.

  
I'm sorry.

  
Whatever for?

  
Everything.

  
It's all right.

  
Truly.

  
I asked too much of you.

  
I knew it all along, really.

  
Only God can give you that sort of love.

  
Come home, Sebastian.

  
When you're well enough.

  
Don't finish it like this.

  
This is my life now.

  
I'm happy here.

  
I miss you.

  
How sweet of you to say that.

  
Dear Charles,

  
it was my fault for
bringing you to Brideshead.

  
Run away.

  
Run far away and don't ever look back.

  
I'm sorry.

  
You must be so proud of him.

  
- Was he away long?
- Two years,

  
and it doesn't feel like a day.

  
Hello, Charles.

  
Did you know I was on the boat?

  
If I said no, you wouldn't believe me.

  
You're married now.

  
Yes.

  
- You haven't changed at all.
- Neither have you.

  
- How ridiculous.
- Yes, isn't it?

  
Tell me this is fate.

  
- What?
- Nothing.

  
Tell me.

  
I was thinking about Sebastian.

  
Mummy died without
ever seeing him again.

  
I know.

  
Let's go up on deck.

  
- Are you sure?
- They're all asleep! Come on!

  
Come on!

  
Sorry.

  
- So where's Rex?
- I drowned him.

  
Forgive me, Rex!

  
Lady Julia, fancy meeting you here.

  
- Mr. Ryder.
- Could I possibly get you a drink?

  
Dry martini, please.

  
One dry Martini,
one whiskey with water.

  
Please, allow me.

  
So, why did you marry Rex?

  
I don't know. Because he wasn't you.

  
- Because he was rich.
- Because he was Catholic.

  
Because Mummy approved,
God rest her soul.

  
I thought he was my painted savage.

  
It turns out he was
thoroughly up to date.

  
Thank you.

  
Now, no more talk about Rex.
He's in England.

  
- Do you have children?
- No.

  
No.

  
- What will you tell your wife?
- Wait until London.

  
I have a viewing to arrange.
I'll sort it out. It'll be fine.

  
- Where shall we go?
- Somewhere abroad, like Daddy.

  
- What about Italy? Capri?
- Antibes.

  
- Seville.
- Verona.

  
- Paris.
- Brideshead.

  
- No!
- Why not?

  
- It's the loveliest place on earth.
- I can't go back there.

  
- Not after this.
- Nonsense.

  
- We've nothing to apologize for.
- No.

  
Besides, Rex is there.

  
Leave it to me.
I'll settle things with Rex.

  
I'll settle everything.

  
Trust me.

  
I do.

  
- And stop worrying!
- I will.

  
Good afternoon, ma'am.
- Lovely day.

  
Mr. and Mrs. Ryder.

  
Look, that's the Duke
and Duchess of Clarence.

  
- They want to buy one!
- How very gracious of them.

  
Make an effort, Charles.
I've got you the cream of Mayfair.

  
Mrs. Ryder, good day.

  
Charles, how charming you look.

  
Anthony.

  
I heard, quite by chance, at a luncheon,
that you were having an exhibition.

  
So, of course, I dashed impetuously
to the shrine to pay homage.

  
Where are the pictures?

  
Let me explain them to you.

  
This is simply charm.

  
Simple, creamy, English charm,
playing tigers.

  
But enough of art.

  
They tell me you are happy in love
and that is everything, isn't it?

  
Or nearly everything.

  
Everyone's talking about it.

  
So, it's Julia now.
And it used to be Sebastian.

  
Do you think I should warn her?

  
Warn her about what?

  
How apropos that you'd have
chosen jungles for your canvas.

  
I always thought you
were the lamb to be slaughtered,

  
when all along it is they
who are hunted.

  
There really is no end to your hunger,
is there, Charles?

  
Why do I feel so nervous?
- Don't be.

  
- Who are all these people?
- Politicians, money men.

  
Rex thinks there's a war
coming with Hitler.

  
He wants to do well out of it.

  
- It's all he talks about.
- Hello, Julia.

  
- Hello, Rex.
- Good evening, Rex.

  
Mr. Ryder,
welcome back to Brideshead.

  
I hear you're making
quite a name for yourself.

  
- Could I have a word with you?
- Later, I have guests.

  
It's cold.

  
Not here!

  
- Sorry.
- Let's go back to London.

  
- Let me settle everything with Rex.
- And then we'll leave?

  
- Yes? Charles?
- Yes.

  
If that's what you want.

  
Hello, Bridey.

  
- Hello, Julia. Just up from London?
- Yes.

  
Welcome back to Brideshead, Charles.

  
- How's your family?
- Fine, thank you.

  
- Rex still entertaining?
- He's got business.

  
I'm sorry he's not here.
I have a little announcement to make.

  
Well, come on. Out with it.

  
- I'm engaged to be married.
- Congratulations, Bridey.

  
Well, who is she?

  
- No one you know.
- Is she pretty?

  
I don't think you could
exactly call her pretty.

  
"Comely" is the word
I think of in her connection.

  
She is a big woman.

  
- Fat?
- No, big.

  
She's called Mrs. Muspratt.
Her Christian name is Beryl.

  
But, Bridey, where did you find her?

  
Her late husband, Admiral Muspratt,
collected matchboxes.

  
You're not marrying her
for her matchboxes, are you, Bridey?

  
No, no.

  
Matchboxes were left
to Falmouth Town Library.

  
I'm just holding them for collection.
Why are you laughing?

  
- I hope you'll be very happy.
- Thank you.

  
- I think I'm very fortunate.
- You sly, old thing.

  
When are we going to meet her?
You must bring her here.

  
- I couldn't do that.
- Why not?

  
Well, you must understand,

  
Beryl is a woman
of strict Catholic principle,

  
fortified by the prejudices
of the middle classes.

  
I couldn't possibly bring her here.

  
I don't understand.

  
It may be a matter of indifference
to you,

  
whether or not you choose
to live in sin with Charles,

  
but on no account would Beryl
consent to be your guest.

  
How dare you talk to her like that?

  
Bloody offensive thing to say!

  
Really, there was nothing
she could object to.

  
I was merely stating
a fact well known to her.

  
Take no notice of him, my darling.

  
So,

  
got you. Sorry about the delay.

  
I'll be outside.

  
The door? Door's made
from all the works of Dickens.

  
I had it installed especially. Want one?

  
No, thank you.

  
I know what you're thinking.

  
How vulgar can it get?
You wanna know the secret?

  
I do it on purpose.

  
It amuses me to offend
their delicate sensibilities.

  
So, you wanna take my wife off me?

  
You know she can't marry
a divorc? right?

  
- Against the rules.
- Well, at least she'll be free of you.

  
She'll never be free.

  
Don't pretend
you've been faithful to her.

  
Who said anything about faith?

  
I bet you'd love to get your hands
on the house, though, wouldn't you?

  
All those pretty paintings.
All those pretty views.

  
Let her go, Rex. You never loved her.

  
The only thing you ever had
in common was religion.

  
Wrong. When I decided to marry Julia,
I wasn't a Catholic.

  
I converted before the wedding.

  
Bet she didn't tell you that.

  
- I guessed.
- Oh, yeah?

  
You're the type.

  
You people,

  
you never learn.

  
You could have had it all
if you'd been a little more flexible.

  
I did what I had to do.

  
They want a Catholic,
I'll convert to Catholicism.

  
It's a great religion.

  
You sin all you want, then you confess.
Problem solved.

  
You gotta woo these people.

  
This family don't live in the real world.

  
- They're mortgaged up to the hilt.
- Get to the point.

  
You want my wife? Make me an offer.

  
- I'm not just giving her away.
- Don't do this. It's demeaning.

  
Try a little harder.

  
You're a rich man, Rex,
you've already got what you wanted.

  
You can never have enough
of what you want.

  
No, you're right.

  
You're taking her off my hands.
That's a favor.

  
I'll tell you what I'll do.

  
You give me a couple of your jungle
pics, and I'll give you an annulment.

  
I hear you're worth collecting.

  
Come on, Charlie boy, say yes.
You know you want to.

  
You don't have to speak.

  
Just nod.

  
I'll have my driver take me to London.

  
He can pick up the paintings
in the morning.

  
You know she's mad.
Can't even give you children.

  
Lost the only one we had.

  
Julia?

  
I'm so sorry. I didn't know.

  
- It's just a shock.
- Shh.

  
Shh. Don't.

  
I've always known, ever since nursery.

  
I tried to be good, I really did.
I tried. I married Rex.

  
All through the backgammon
and cigars, I tried.

  
But it's not enough. It's never enough.

  
God had to punish me.

  
So he took my little stillborn...

  
My child. My girl.

  
With you, I thought I could
really and truly be free.

  
But coming back here, it's like a thread,

  
an invisible thread drawing you back,
inch by inch,

  
until all of a sudden,
you're a child again.

  
And that voice inside your head,

  
the one that Mummy planted
all those years ago in the nursery,

  
every night in the nursery,
filling your head with it.

  
And the voice is telling you,
whispering,

  
"Wicked little Julia,

If you asked me now who I am, the only answer I could give with any certainty would be my name.For the rest,my hates,my loves,down even to my deepsest desires,I can no longer say whether this emotions are my own,or stolen from those I once so desperately wished to be.
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