Shuttlecock (2020) - full transcript

During the
war, my dad was a spy.

He used to be dropped
into occupied France,

and liaise with
resistance fighters,

keep watch on German installations
and help to blow them up.

He wrote a book about
his exploits in the early '60s,

and for a few years
his name was well known.

He was one of the war heroes.

He isn't so well known now.

His book has been
long out of print.

But if you mention his name
to people of a certain age,

they know who you mean.



Dad was involved in a succession

of daring operations in France
which reached their height

in the intense period
between D-Day,

and the Allied invasion
of Germany.

It was during this time
he was captured...

tortured,

and subsequently
escaped from the Gestapo.

Today,

he takes his place
alongside others

laid to rest here
in this hallowed ground.

In this place of recognition
and remembrance.

Men, who like my father...

contributed so much
to the good of our country.

Mr. Prentis, my condolences.



Your father was a truly remarkable
man, and you were rightly proud of him.

Thank you,
that was a beautiful service, thank you.

Well, thank you for coming.

- You look well.
- Hmm. So do you.

Thank you.

Ah, Martin,
glad you could make it.

Of course.

Elanor.

Mother, I'm afraid
we've got to go.

Oh, no, Martin?

- I'm sorry.
- This is family.

- I know.
- Then make an effort, show your face.

Mrs. Prentis?

Thank you for coming, thank you.

Please, Martin,

your brother can't make it,
he's not even in the country.

Okay, Mom, okay.

Ah.

Hello, boss.

Major.

This is Allyse.

Oh, of course it is,
hello, Allyse.

Shall we?

- That was lovely to see you.
- Great to see you.

Thank you.

Oh, sorry.

Shall we?

Such a wonderful
service, didn't you think?

Oh, yes, lovely.

I haven't been here
since I was 12.

It gives me a funny feeling
to be back.

I used to see it
every day in my dreams.

Hello there, old boy,
glad to see you again.

- Martin.
- I know it is.

- And this is your father.
- Oh, Fizz, how are you?

I'm fine.

And his lovely wife?

Good to see you again.

And this is Eleanor.

- Most welcome.
- Thank you.

And...

this is Allyse, my girlfriend.

Bonjour.

Thank you.

So, uh, sad day,

but we mustn't be morbid,

the major wouldn't like that.

Right, there's a tab
behind the bar,

so don't be shy.

William, champagne all round,

Uh, courtesy of the club.

Quite right.

Ah. This is going to
be a lively day.

- The Major.
- The Major.

- The Major.
- The Major.

Um, Martin, can I have a word?

Look, I know this is difficult for both
of us, but it's important, can we talk?

- I really haven't got much time.
- Just half an hour, that's all,

in private?

Where are we going?

Just up here.

Where Grandpa kept his stuff.

I think your grandfather would
have wanted you to have this.

Father, I can't.

Of course you can.

He always used to say
you were the best of us,

it's yours, have it.

Thank you.

Is there anything else
you'd want?

Do you ever wonder about the
trip that I made to Portugal...

when you and your mother
came out to see me?

You were 12.

Sometimes.

Things haven't really been right

- between us ever since.
- I guess not.

Did your grandpa ever
talk to you about it?

No.

Now,

I know this
may seem a bit late but...

I never meant to hurt you, to...

- to shut you out.
- You did a pretty good job of both.

Our relationship suffered
because of something that I did,

something, not you...

Is that why you got me up here?
To clear your conscience.

- Listen, Martin...
- Our relationship suffered...

So I could protect
your grandfather.

He's dead now, he is loved
and he's missed, but he's dead,

and I could tell you
the truth if you'll allow me.

The truth?

Mm.

Here are my notes, I kept them for
you in case something happened to me,

and we never got
the chance to talk.

Do you remember Grandpa's book?

Hmm.

When it came out it
caused quite a stir...

VC hero and all that.

You see, Martin,

after the war your grandfather
moved to Portugal,

a fascist state
led by General Salazar.

None of us
quite understood why...

Salazar supported Mussolini
and he supported Franco.

Your grandpa obviously
had high-level connections.

What I didn't know then
is that your grandfather

was probably suffering
some kind of stress disorder.

When you live
through extreme danger

the adrenaline rush
can become addictive.

That's why I think
he went down there,

to feel alive again.

To be the man he was.

Not that he would ever admit it.

When the book came
out, he became quite a star,

a kind of real-life James Bond.

We were all summoned
to Lisbon for the party,

but I was the only one
who wanted to go.

John!

Hello, Dad.

Old chap.

Where's Marian?

She couldn't come.

I sent the tickets.

I know it's her work, she...

she couldn't help it.

Didn't she ring you?

- She was going to ring you.
- No, she didn't ring.

I got the money back
for the ticket.

It's not the money.

No, I know.

Oh.

You're here!

Yes.

Truth is it was
the last thing on Earth

your mother wanted to do,

they never got on.

How's that grandson of mine?

Uh, Martin's fine.

And Peter too,

- they both send their love.
- Uh-huh.

And so does Marian of course.

Everybody is talking
about the book.

If you lived in Portugal
at the time

you had to be invited,

and to be invited
meant privilege.

There were still curfews and you
couldn't move about freely on the roads.

That was before
the regime change

and everyone started buying
holiday homes in the Algarve.

Why would they invite him?

I don't know, he never said.

When your grandmother,
died he sold up

and packed everything off,

he said he couldn't stand
the weather any more.

Did he know any people
from the war?

Well, it was a major
escape route out of Europe,

so he must have done.

The point is, he deliberately

removed himself from the family.

The world he chose to live
and had nothing to do with us.

I hadn't fully realized it
until the party.

Hello.

- Ah, John.
- It's going well, isn't it?

- Yes, old chap, it is.
- Good.

The years at certain functions

and social gatherings I had worn

the grudging mask of idolatry.

But this was different...

this was no literary launch,

this was a display of power.

Everyone had their reasons
for being there

and they had nothing
to do with the book.

A nice party.

Thank you, thank you.
Your English is very good.

It was strange seeing
your grandfather like this.

His past exploits seem
to mean nothing to him,

as if once they were in print
they belonged to someone else.

Ah, Quinn.

Now an author too?

Very good of you to come.

I wouldn't have missed it
for the world.

- This is...
- Very, very good of you indeed.

The pen and the sword.

Shuttlecock.

Yes.

Just as I had
always imagined it.

Really?

Better. Oh!

Better.

Ah, this tasty bacalhau.

Cod's balls.

- General.
- Major.

How nice to see you
and your colleagues too,

we must find you a drink.

And we'll do
all the introductions later.

If you'll excuse us?

Oh, sorry, empty.

So...

you're the son?

Yes.

Quinn.

Old friend of your father's.

I was there when he got his...

comrades in arms.

Oh, really?

So what do you get up to?

Your father didn't
mention your job?

No, I don't suppose he has.

I'll get some more champagne.

Quinn was a doctor your
grandfather invited down to Portugal,

but I never liked him.

He was another expat comrades
living a bigger life,

but at what cost?

Even then I knew
everything had a price.

Hello?

Dad?

Dad?

Dad?

Hello, Dr. Quinn.

He shouldn't be here.

Your father
couldn't be in safer hands.

Oh, it's not what I meant,
I'm grateful for all your help.

You must remember...

we're his friends.

How did he come to be
sitting there like that?

What happened?

We'll find out everything here.

Not a word has he spoken
since, except...

Except?

He knew nothing.

Try and put your mind at rest.

You go back to England.

The moment there are
any developments

I shall get in touch with you.

What we didn't know
is whether he could understand

anything that was
being said to him,

even if he could
recognize people.

Why didn't you stay?

I had to get home.

Why?

For all of you.

Martin,

despite what you thought,
I did try.

I know, uh...

I was trying to figure it out
as it was happening.

Has Mom seen these?

Briefly at the beginning.

And then she wasn't interested.

Can you blame her?

"Marian never had
any sympathy for Dad...

they'd never been friends.

Dad has never shown
any affection for Marian,

not even the attentions
due to a daughter-in-law,

which I have always resented."

Hello, sweetheart.

Is it very bad?

I think I'd like
to go out somewhere.

Hi!

Hello there, we're back.

Hello.

Hello, Eddie, hi, Jenny.

Have they been devils?

No, no, they have
been quite sound,

they've been asleep
for, like, two hours now.

So, they've been perfect.

Everything was great.

"As a child
I made it pretty clear

I didn't give two hoots about
my father being a famous spy.

And I think I was 13 when
I decided to be unimpressed.

As a result, as time
wore on Dad gave me up...

he ceased to be interested in me

as I ceased to be
interested in him.

Dad gave me a copy of his book,

signed and everything."

I pretended I
hadn't time to read it.

Since his silence,
I've done little else.

It's odd...

he never writes
about his feelings,

as though detached
from the events,

and the more I read it

the more elusive
and remote he becomes.

But somehow I feel there are
clues to his silence there.

Some sort of trail, which if I
have the courage to follow,

will lead in the end to Dad.

Another thing I found
a little strange...

he dedicated the book to me.

Why not Martin?

After all, I was a bit
of a disappointment really,

some sort of archivist
in the police.

What did you actually do?

Nothing much.

We analyzed dead cases
that had never been solved.

My job was to extract
and collate

every scrap of information
worth preserving.

A kind of default detective.

- Morning, John.
- Morning, Adrian.

At first I thought
the work was thrilling.

It was tiresome.

Mr. Prentis,

one for you
if you would be so kind.

I was next in
line for the boss's job,

but none of it seemed
important any more.

And my mind was,
frankly, elsewhere.

All I could think about was Dad.

My father hated my job...

he had no interest
in what I did.

I was an errant son
who bore grudges.

My father's had a breakdown.

Oh, I'm sorry.

And I don't know why.

It's just him, of all people.

What do you know about Portugal?

Nothing.

Why should
a resistance fighter in the war

choose to live
in a fascist state?

Would you like a drink?

Why not?

Well, I don't get it.

Remember the last time
we saw your father?

Eh? We went to his club,

- your father's club.
- Oh, yes.

"And where do you
think you're going sir,

you can't come in here
dressed like this."

Excuse me, sir, but you're
improperly dressed.

Well, I could say
the same about you.

We're guests of my father,
Major Prentis.

Hello, boys! Martin.

Hello, Eddie,
good to see you again.

- Hello.
- Ah, um, get him some kit, Horace, tie, blazer.

- Certainly, sir. Okay.
- Pick something out will you?

We'll be in the bar.

Good man.

- Scotch?
- Mm-hm.

I miss this place,
you know, John.

Here we go.

Ah, uh, my grandson,
if nobody minds?

Good to see you again, Major.

Just a quick trip.

Run out of shirt collars, James?

Fizz, yes, something
like that, yes, yes.

Now, uh, champagne.

- Champagne, sir.
- I think so.

I bet you're
proud of your grandpa?

I bet he tells
a few good stories, eh?

- He's got the VC.
- I know he has.

We mustn't talk shop, old boy.

Conspicuous Valor, for saving
people in the minefield,

that was before he went
undercover in the SAS.

Chip off the old block.

Yes.

You ought to put it
all into a book, James.

Oh, who would buy it?

It wouldn't interest anyone.

Old hat now,
nobody would read it anyway,

would they, old chap?

Now let's talk about you.

Ah, Eddie, here you are.

They've got you up quite
well, club tie, eh?

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

- One more please.
- One more.

Can I drive?

No.

It's Eddie's car,
I can drive it.

- Can you?
- He's good, I taught him.

- Not here.
- Why not?

Right, you're on, kid.

- Thanks.
- Hey!

Come on, Grandpa.

Right, there's your ignition.

- That's my car!
- Woo-hoo!

I'm convinced now
that Dad is in the book,

not some other man with
the codename, "Shuttlecock."

The book is Dad.

It's more Dad than the empty
effigy at the hospital.

When I pick it up,
I still possess Dad,

I hold him, even though he's
gone away to unbreakable silence.

Time has passed since
I last recording anything.

I don't know where it's getting
me, but I feel I have to go on.

Something we do
at work sometimes.

Recording cases.

Today Marian showed
the first signs of resentment.

She says I'm becoming obsessed.

Last night she said I was
calling out in my sleep.

Do you really like this music?

Yes.

I don't.

Do you know how many
layers of skin we've got?

Seven.

Please, Martin,
I'm trying to work.

What's this?

Stop touching everything!

You better go out now, Martin,

come on, go on, come on, go on.

- But wait, I...
- Out you go!

- This is Dad's room.
- What are you doing?

What is all this?

What's going on?

- Dad's room?
- Look, I'm trying to read.

He never took the
slightest bit of notice in you.

He was bored by your job,

he was bored by me.

It's been hell for me
living in the shadow.

- Now you have to...
- Give that back to me.

He was tortured.

I've seen the scars.

May 2nd...

1944.

Six weeks before D-Day.

A warm night...

patchy clouds.

Faint moon.

Our target...

a munitions factory
of vital importance

to the forthcoming invasions.

My forebodings
about what lay ahead

were curiously like those
of a civilian lawbreaker,

as I feared
the discovery by the police

rather than the enemy.

I have sometimes wondered

whether this was a feeling

peculiar
to the undercover agent.

Without his absolving uniform...

the feeling of being
less a spy than a criminal.

In his role,
war and peacetime get confused.

Do civilized instincts
persist in war...

or does civilized life
veil the instincts of war?

I cannot say.

Beatrice!

"What was it like, Dad?

To blow up the railways,
to be in constant danger,

to see your comrades
butchered and burnt alive?

What was it really like?

It's odd that all the time

I could have asked
him these things...

I never did,

as if I had no interest
in knowing the truth."

That's why I went back.

To be with him.

To somehow let him know I cared.

Hello, Dad.

I thought I would come over
and see how you were getting on.

I've seen Dad already.

You decided to come out?

He doesn't seem
in any... distress.

If you'll bear
with me for a moment.

I would like to see his files.

His files?

His medical files.

His case notes.

Yes, of course, John.

Now.

I'm afraid that's not possible.

I'll have them ready
for your next visit.

When shall we expect you?

I'll be back tomorrow.

How long will you be
staying in Portugal?

I don't know.

Now you really must excuse me.

Hello, old boy.

Come on in.

I'm just going through
some of my...

bumf.

A spy's duty...

is to tell nothing.

Is this what was in here?

Pretty much.

I was never allowed near it,

no one touched Dad's things.

I bet you're
proud of your grandpa,

I bet he tells
a few good stories, eh?

And what did Dad tell you?

Nothing, just like he said.

Mustn't talk shop, old boy.

Did he ever
mention any of it to you,

did he ever talk about the war?

No.

What about the regiment?

Was anything ever
mentioned there?

He was good to me, we got along.

Oh, Martin, please.

You were never around, you left.

- I did not leave, I moved out.
- You left us,

you got a divorce
and you left us.

No, no, no, your mother left me,

- she ran off with someone else, you know that.
- Can you blame her?

- I was ill!
- How?

How were you ill?

You were sick in Portugal,

and you came back
and everything was fine.

Tell me, how,
how is it possible?

How can you feel
so much for your father

and nothing for your sons?

I know what you think of me.

But I know what we've
been to each other.

Haven't been to each other.

You chose your life,

that was your right.

You were never there
for me, fine...

he was.

He never spoke about the war.

He said it was all in that book.

It wasn't.

Something deeper.

Something darker was going on.

That's what you get
when you played

noughts and crosses
with the Gestapo.

No more scorn
for my police work...

no more cold shouldering
of Marian.

An empty stare.

I thought that perhaps
with the right words,

the right questions,

I could shock him out
of his condition.

That perhaps I could
say things to him

that I could never
have said before.

"I respect you, Dad.

I love you, Dad.

I looked up to you,
I always did,

though I never showed it."

Why did you come
to Portugal, Dad?

I never really understood that.

It just seemed rather
a long way from everything.

Something's getting through.

I mean...

well, don't you see?

Selective mutism.

An extreme choice, Mr. Prentis.

Total silence.

I think it was something
to do with the nakedness.

His files,

my father's files, I...
can I have them now?

- Mr. Prentis.
- Hello.

What are you doing here?

The boys aren't here, are they?

Well, just Martin,
I left Peter with Brian.

- Where is he?
- In the garden.

He said he had to come.

At this point my general's
all over the place.

I thought I understood it.

But I was wrong.

Are you all right, Mr. Prentis?

Only it crosses my mind

that these visits may put you
under considerable strain.

You mustn't feel under
any obligation

to visit us all the time.

Mom's coming soon.

Sit down.

Do you want a Coke?

Señor, a Coca-Cola and a...

What were you doing, Dad?

Doing?

Oh.

If you wanted to
doctorate a file.

What?

Well, you know
what I mean, uh...

alter something...

change it without
anyone knowing.

What would you use?

And what sort of file?

Any file.

Well, there's scissors,

snow paint correcting
fluid, invisible ink, um,

neg reductions,

microfilm blue pad.

Well, the file
mentions an experiment,

but there are no details.

There was nothing to report,

it was a failure.

A failure, I see.

Well, what sort
of an experiment?

Well. Hypnosis.

Hypnosis?

- And it didn't work?
- No.

- Nothing?
- No, why?

Well...

it's just that I thought there
might be some pages missing.

Oh, you mean the page numbers?

That's right,
they've been altered.

Oh, well that was just
a typing error, I noticed,

what a suspicious mind
you have, Mr. Prentis.

Well, yes.

It's my job.

Hush!

Summary of Q&A

when he was in
an hypnotic state of crisis.

Period of recall October 1962.

Death of Carnot.

Carnot.

Johnny?

Carnot.

- Johnny!
- Not now.

Tell me what's going on?

- Where's the book?
- What?

Dad's book, it's gone.

It's gone!

Martin!

Martin, have you seen my book?

What book?

- Don't play silly buggers with me, Grandpa's book?
- I haven't seen it.

- Stop it, darling, for God sake.
- Tell me.

I don't know anything about it.

- Liar!
- I'm not!

- Liar!
- I'm...

All right.

I'll tell you.

I threw it in the dustbin.

- You what?
- For Christ's sake, John, have you gone totally crazy?

Stop it!

Stop.

That's my son! Stop it!

I never threw it away.

I wanted to read it.

I wanted to see what
all the fuss was about.

That bloody book.

I know, Martin.

But it was all I had.

Dad had left some
clues in the book,

little hints, and I was
convinced they were all for me.

"Police working on the
case of a woman found dead

last Thursday
in the Graça area of Lisbon

have now identified the corpse.

Despite the severe mutilation
caused by the impact with the tram,

the dead woman's identity has
been established. Beatrice...

Carnot."

That was the night your
grandfather went silent.

When Beatrice Carnot
was killed by a tram.

It was the first real clue
I have ever had.

In the book, the Carnot's

were your grandfather's
closest friends.

Two brothers and a sister.

All Resistance fighters.

My mother always
believed he loved her.

He thought they'd all
been killed in the war.

Beatrice.

The sister.

I knew then I had
to get the file.

In my obsession, it was
crystal clear to me

that being inside Dad's head
was the only way to free him.

For the first time,
I felt like my father.

I had descended
into grandfathers hell,

saw his comrades killed...

and the rest dragged off
for interrogation.

The Chateau Martin was
no ordinary prison...

there were no towers,
no barbed wire...

it was here the SS held
priority captives.

The British agent was
for them, a real prize.

The first step towards
breaking the resistance of a spy

is to confuse
and disorientate him,

deprivation, isolation...

hunger.

As well as the spies own ignorance
of his captor's next move.

My recollection compresses
into a series of dreamlike,

constantly recurring
impressions.

And the silence
of the cell punctuated

by the tramping
of boots, shouts,

the rasping of locks
and bolts in the slammer doors.

The journey.

Of all the
humiliations and cruelties...

none was more demoralizing,

more appalling
than this nakedness.

In the book, he said he escaped

in a valiant heroic operation,

befitting a man of action.

That he made it on foot
to the Allied lines

sweeping to liberate Paris.

But what eventually transpired

was something
I couldn't even accept.

Were you followed?

What's happened?

Anyone else there when I called?

Of course not, please, John...

Anyone know where you are,
what you're doing?

Only Ana.

Ana.

What have you done to yourself?

To myself?

I'm behind
the lines now, Marian.

That's what you get when you...

It's Dad.

I think there's been
a horrible mistake,

and they're covering up.

I have evidence.

I have evidence,

I got too close.

- Been warned off.
- Oh, darling.

You don't believe me, huh?

Of course I believe you,

but please let's go back
to the house.

That's the first place
where they'll look.

I want you to go back
to the house,

collect all my papers
and put them in the bank.

Something ghastly
has happened to Dad.

Mrs. Prentis.

Dr. Quinn.

I hope you didn't
mind me calling.

I was glad you called.

I've been wanting
to talk to you.

But I didn't know
how much you knew.

John's ill...

I mean, he's under
terrible strain.

He's walked out on his job.

And he's become impossible,

he's hit Martin.

And now he's convinced there's a
conspiracy about his father's illness.

A conspiracy?

You've done something,
you made a mistake.

You're covering up.

Last night he broke
into the hospital.

I know.

I suppose he's just
torturing himself.

I mean, it's pretty much for anyone,
isn't it, something like this?

One minute everything is fine,
and then...

wham.

Can you help?

Yes.

I think I can.

The time.

The place.

She was beautiful.

She always was.

Who?

She loved me.

What was her name?

I couldn't believe it
when she called.

I thought she was dead.

Beatrice.

She loved me.

What happened next?

We agreed...

to meet someplace...

near the hotel...

secretly.

Like it was.

Everything about her...

was the same.

It was as though I'd been
given a second chance.

Beatrice.

Major James Prentis VC.

Beatrice!

Oh!

Ah!

Ah!

Old friend.

Old comrade.

She loved me.

What was it that she said?

What did she say to you?

It was an accident.

What did
Beatrice Carnot say to you,

Major Prentis?

She told me...

that she knew the truth.

What truth?

She said she traced me...

when the book was published.

What truth?

Go on.

She said that her brother...

Philippe Carnot...

had been shot because I talked.

Because I betrayed him.

Named him.

Because I'd...

broken.

She said that I never escaped.

They let me go...

in exchange for naming him.

And is it true?

What she said...

is it true?

Is it?

Well, is it?

Is it?

You were tortured,
I saw the scars.

Liar!

Liar!

Is it true?

Is it true? Huh?

Are you a liar?

Are you a traitor?

Are you a traitor?

Liar!

Let me go!

Let me go!

Ah!

Of all the
humiliations and cruelties...

none was more demoralizing,

more appalling,
than this nakedness.

Ah!

They say that you

only recall what is pleasant.

Perhaps the truth is that
certain things defy retelling.

Memory provides its own
thankful censorship.

If one dominant impression
stays with me it is that...

the everyday man
in everyday circumstances

does not know what it means...

of being absolutely
in the power of another.

You feel yourself
to be the mere pawn,

the mere dehumanized toy
that you are.

A spy's duty...

is to tell nothing.

Hello, John.

Feeling any better?

Have you ever noticed
my small handicap?

Let me tell you about it.

I saw a bit of action too.

I had to take a platoon
over a field and into a wood.

The Germans opened up and in ten
seconds half my men were dead.

Like everyone else
I ran like hell.

I did not perform any
of my functions as a leader.

I obeyed my instinct.

I ran for my life.

I didn't stop.

A few seconds later, something
knocked me in the air...

the next thing I knew I was
in a field dressing station.

It was a minefield.

And I'd lost half my foot.

It was your father
who rescued me.

No one can know what
it's like, John...

not even for ourselves.

How can we charge others,
how can we dare?

You see, John...

your father is something
of a hero to us all.

So he's never told you...

that entire book is a lie.

He...

- He cracked.
- But if he didn't have to escape,

and he just made a deal with the
Germans, why would he write that book?

He had to justify
how he got out of the chateau,

he couldn't just say,
"I got out, they let me out."

His war record,
until then was remarkable.

That's why he took so long
publishing his memoirs.

And you've not told anyone?

All this time?

That was the price
to get Dad back.

We never spoke of it again.

There we go.

Absolutely, yes.

- Are you ready?
- No, I think we'll have it like that.

Nice and straight.

- There it is.
- Fantastic.

- Major.
- Major.

There we are.

- John.
- Here we are again.

Just, uh, been going through
some of my father's things.

Oh!

Brave man.

Dr. Quinn would have been here
today to pay his respects...

sadly he's with the Major.

We were all very close.

Mm.

Your grandfather
was very fond of you.

Very, very fond of you.

Oman wasn't it, '71, SAS?

You're well informed.

The Major knew your CO.

Uh, may I propose a toast?

To the Major.

The Major.

Bye, Eleanor.

- Lovely to see you.
- Thank you.

Good to see you.

- Goodbye, my dear.
- Bye.

Pleasure.

- John.
- Oh, Fizz, take care.

Good man.

Goodbye, John.

Thank you for coming.

- See you later.
- Yeah, take care.