Brideshead Revisited (1981): Season 1, Episode 5 - A Blow Upon a Bruise - full transcript

In the winter of 1924,
I returned to England.

Lady Marchmain had written to me in Paris

to tell me that Sebastian would complete
his Levantine tour with Mr Samgrass

in time to spend Christmas with his family.

She invited me to Brideshead.

Christmas with my uncle, however,
was an engagement I could not break.

So it was two days later
that I travelled across country,

expecting to find Sebastian
already established.

Thank you, thank you.

And those two over there,
if you would be so kind.

No, no, no.
Those two over there.



Charles! Happy Christmas,
or should I say Happy New Year?

Happy New Year, Mr Samgrass.

Sebastian, what are you
doing on the train?

I thought you were going
to be home for Christmas.

There was a delay.
It was the luggage.

Mr Atkinson at Cooks promised
it would arrive by the 24th,

but unfortunately...
Yes, uhm, thank you.

How was Egypt?

I’ll tell you later.

This one is when we reached
the top of the pass.

We heard the galloping horses behind,

and two soldiers came to the head
of the caravan and turned us back.

There they are on the right.
They reached us only just in time.

There was a band not a mile ahead.



A band?
Goodness! A jazz band?

Dear Lady Julia, no.

I suppose the sort of folk-music you get
in those parts is very monotonous.

Dear Lady Marchmain,
a band of brigands.

The mountains are full of them.

Stragglers from Kemal’s army;
Greeks who got cut off in the retreat.

Very desperate follows, I assure you.

Charles, do pinch me.

So you never got to
wherever-it-was.

Weren’t you terribly
disappointed, Sebastian?

Me?

Me? Oh, I don’t think
I was there that day.

- Was I, Sammy?
- That was the day you were ill.

Yes, that was the day I was ill,

so I shouldn’t have got to
wherever-it-was,

should I, Sammy?

Sorry.

Now this, Lady Marchmain,
was our Turkish cook, Ali Torkut.

That’s him on the left.

That’s me at Damascus.

That’s me with a rather
tiresome Turkish youth.

This is a group taken
near Jericho, I think.

No, Jerusalem.

All ruins and mules and you.

- Where’s Sebastian?
- Ah...

He... he held the camera.

He became quite an expert
as soon as he learned

not to put his hand over the lens,
didn’t you, Sebastian?

This is us, taken by a street
photographer in Beirut.

There’s Sebastian.

Goodness, isn’t that
Anthony Blanche?

Yes, we saw quite a lot of him;
met him by chance at Constantinople.

A delightful companion.
I can’t think how I missed knowing him.

Here we are again, at Krak des Chevaliers.

There’s Anthony again!

Yes, he came with us
all the way to Beirut.

Well, that’s it, I’m afraid.

Thank you, Mr Samgrass.

It must have been a wonderful tour
for you both.

- May I have a word with you, Bridey?
- Of course, mother.

It must have been an extraordinary trip.

Yes.

Did you ride a camel?

I don’t know. Probably.

Will you tell me about Paris, Charles?

Well, it’s not very exciting in comparison,
but it’s going very well.

When are you going to come
and stay, Sebastian?

You’ll like it.

I suppose they all think
you’re wonderful over there?

Well, it’s amazing, but I don’t seem
to have put a foot wrong.

The teachers are very good.
I’m not sure about the students.

They never go near the Louvre.

Half of them are only interested
in making a popular splash like Picabia

and the other half just want
to do advertisements for Vogue

and decorate night clubs.

Charles,

Modern Art is all bosh, isn’t it?

Great bosh, Cordelia.

Oh, I am glad.

Cordelia, why don’t you run away
and leave us in peace?

Aren’t you at all pleased to be home?

Yes, of course I’m pleased.

Well, you might show it.

I’ve been looking forward to it so much.

How extraordinary,
your running into Anthony Blanche.

Yes, wasn’t it?

Dear old Antoine.

Quite like old times.

Excuse me, my Lord.

I say, where’s the cocktail tray?

- Isn’t it time they brought it in?
- It’s still a bit early.

Mr Wilcox is upstairs
with Her Ladyship, my Lord.

- Oh, never mind. Bring it in yourself.
- Uhm, Mr Wilcox has the keys, my Lord.

Well, send him in
the moment he comes down.

Very good, my Lord.

Yes, extraordinary
meeting Anthony like that.

He’s very changed.

You wouldn’t have recognised him.

He’d...
he’d grown a great beard in Istanbul.

Oh, where the hell is Wilcox?

Very unbecoming
and I made him shave it off.

Well, I don’t think
I want a cocktail, anyway.

I’ll go up and see Nanny
and then I’ll have my bath.

Ah, Charles. Can you give me a moment?
There’s something I’ve got to explain.

Of course.

Mother’s given orders that no drinks
are to be left in any of the rooms.

You’ll understand why.

If you want anything,
ring and ask Wilcox –

only best wait
until you’re on your own.

I’m sorry, but there it is.

- Is that really necessary?
- I gather very necessary.

You may or may not have heard,

Sebastian had another outbreak
when he got back to England.

He was lost over Christmas. Mr Samgrass
only found him yesterday evening.

I guessed something of the sort
must have happened.

Are you sure this is the best way
of dealing with it?

It’s my mother’s way.

Oh, do have a drink yourself if you want,
now he’s gone upstairs.

It would choke me.

Hello, Nanny.
I was looking for Sebastian.

I thought he might be here.

I told him he was looking peaky.

All that foreign food –
I don’t suppose it agreed with him.

He looked as though he’d been
having some late nights, too,

by the look of his eyes.
Dancing, I suppose.

And his shirt wanted darning.

I told him to bring it here to me,
before it goes to the wash.

Thank you, Nanny.

Oh, it’s you.

You gave me a fright.

So you got a drink.

I don’t know what you mean.

Oh, come on, you don’t
have to pretend with me.

You might offer me one.

It’s just a little something
I had in my flask. It’s empty now.

What’s going on?

Nothing.

A lot.

I’ll tell you some time.

Well, I’d better go and get changed.

It is certainly true, Lady Marchmain,
about the Levantine cuisine –

it can have the most alarming
aspects for the uninitiated.

When we were dining
with the Patriarch at Trebizond,

we were offered
that most special delicacy –

the eye of the sheep
in a bed of cous cous.

How very disgusting.

Indeed, I was struggling
to find my demotic Greek for

“I like sheep’s eye,
but sheep’s eye doesn’t like me.”

You seem to have borne
your hardships very well, Mr Samgrass.

Yes.

- Who’s hunting tomorrow?
- I am.

I’m taking that horse of yours,
Julia, if you don’t mind,

just to show him to the hounds.

That’s all right. I think Rex
is arriving sometime tomorrow.

I suppose I’d better stay and see him.

Sorry. Bit late.

I’ve promised an outing
on Mr Beelzebub tomorrow.

Really, Cordelia,
what an unfortunate name for a pony.

You don’t get the point, mummy.

Sister Bridget said that
if you can ride the devil,

you can ride anything.

- Where is this meet? Is it here?
- Yes, it is.

Well, if it’s here,
I’d like to hunt, please.

- That’s, if there’s something for me.
- Of course. Be delighted.

I would have asked you, Sebastian,

but you always used to complain
of being made to go out.

- Well, tomorrow I’d like to.
- Well, it’s perfectly simple, then.

You can have Tinkerbell.
She’s been going very nicely this season.

No, thank you.

I’ll have whisky, please.

I’m so glad you’re going out
tomorrow, Sebastian.

A day out will be so good for you.

Mr Samgrass was telling me
how you both stood up

to the hardships
of your journey together.

I’d no idea you had
to endure such discomfort.

Has he?

I was explaining about the time
we were held at the Turkish border

and had to share the guards’ supper.

Don’t you remember?

Oh yes, of course.

The guards’ supper.

Are we going to chapel tonight, Mummy?

No, no. I don’t think so.

I think an early night will do us all good.

Someone remind me to write out
a note for the stables.

I think Tinkerbell will suit you
very well, Sebastian.

You won’t let me down tomorrow,
promise?

You will try and look smart?

Of course.

I rather wish I was coming out
with you tomorrow.

You wouldn’t see much sport.

I can tell you exactly
what I’m going to do.

I shall leave Bridey
at the first covert,

hack across to the nearest pub,

and spend the entire day
quietly soaking in the bar parlour.

If they treat me like a dipsomaniac,
they can bloody well have a dipsomaniac.

I hate hunting, anyway.

Well, I can’t stop you.

You can, as a matter of fact –

by not giving me any money.

They stopped my banking account,
you know, in the summer.

It’s been one of my chief difficulties.

I pawned my watch and cigarette case
to ensure a happy Christmas.

So I shall have to come to you
tomorrow for my day’s expenses.

I won’t.

You know perfectly well I can’t.

Won’t you, Charles?

Oh well, I daresay
I shall manage on my own somehow.

I’ve got pretty clever at that
recently – managing on my own.

I’ve had to.

Sebastian, what have you
and Mr Samgrass been up to?

He told you at dinner –

ruins and guides...

and mules.

That’s what Sammy’s been up to.

And you?

I suppose I may as well tell you,

since he unfortunately seems to have been
very indiscreet about my happy Christmas.

I gave Sammy the slip.

I had begun to guess.

I got lucky at cards in Constantinople,

and I was just enjoying
a very happy hour in a bar

when who should walk in
but Anthony Blanche

with a beard
and a very pretty little Jew boy.

Anthony lent me a tenner
to help me escape

just before Sammy came
panting in to recapture me.

After that he wouldn’t
let me out of his sight.

But in Athens it was easy.
We stayed in the Legation.

One day after lunch
I simply walked out,

cashed the money at Cook’s

found a sailor
who spoke American,

lay up with him
until his ship sailed,

and popped back to Constantinople,
and that was that.

Didn’t Sammy mind?

He was a bit anxious at first.

I didn’t want him to get
the entire Mediterranean Fleet out,

so I cabled him saying
I’m quite well,

please send half the money to the Ottoman
Bank and keep the rest for yourself.

- Poor old Sammy.
- Poor old Sammy.

I almost feel sorry for him.

In the end I think
he quite enjoyed himself

in his own ghastly little way.

So here I am.

After Christmas.

Yes.

I was determined
to have a happy Christmas.

Did you?

I think so.

I don’t remember much about it.
That’s always a good sign, isn’t it?

Sebastian?

Sebastian?

You can’t go dressed like that.
Do go and change.

You look so lovely
in your hunting clothes.

They’re all locked away somewhere.
Gibbs couldn’t find them.

That’s a fib. I helped get them out myself
before you were called.

- You promised me.
- There are all sorts of bits missing.

Well, it just encourages
the Strickland Venables.

They’ve been behaving rottenly.

They’ve even taken
their grooms out of top hats.

You see, they won’t even trust me that far.

It’s they who are mad, not me.

Good morning.

Now you can’t refuse me money.

More.

Sebastian...

Lunch.

Morning, Sebastian.

So, Sebastian is in pursuit of the fox

and our little problem is shelved
for an hour or two.

I heard all about
your Grand Tour, last night.

Ah, I rather supposed you might have.

I did not harrow our hostess with all that.

After all, it turned out far better
than anyone had any right to expect.

I did feel, however, that some
explanation was due to her

for Sebastian’s Christmas festivities.

You may have observed last night
that there were certain precautions.

I did.

You thought them excessive?

I am with you.

Particularly as they tend to compromise
the comfort of our own little visit.

I have seen Lady Marchmain this morning.

You must not suppose
I am just out of bed.

I have had a little talk
upstairs with our hostess.

I think we may hope
for some relaxation tonight.

Yesterday was not an evening
that any of us would wish to have repeated.

I’m not sure that tonight is quite
the time to start the relaxation.

Sebastian can come to no mischief today.

For one thing, he has no money.

I happen to know, I saw to it.

I even have his watch
and cigarette case upstairs.

He will be quite harmless.

As long as no one is so wicked
as to give him any.

Don’t you get bored with the subject?

Why must everyone
make such a Thing about it?

Because we’re fond of him.

Well, I’m fond of him too,
in a way, I suppose,

only I wish he’d behave
like anyone else.

I grew up with one family skeleton,
you know – papa.

Not to be talked of
in front of the servants,

not to be talked of in front of us
when we were children.

If mummy is going to start making
a skeleton out of Sebastian, it’s too much.

If he wants to be always tight,
why doesn’t he go off to Kenya

or somewhere
where it doesn’t matter?

Why does it matter less
being unhappy in Kenya than anywhere else?

Don’t pretend to be stupid, Charles.

You understand perfectly.

You mean there won’t be so many
embarrassing situations for you?

When do you go to Paris, Charles?

In about a month.

I think I’m beginning to miss it.

Now I have got a new studio
on the Île Saint-Louis.

It’s up about six flights of stairs,
but there’s a wonderful view.

The light’s quite different in Paris.

I love that part, the river and Notre Dame.

You must be happy there.

I’m hoping Sebastian will come
and stay with me when I go back.

That would have been lovely, Charles.

I hope he will be coming to stay
with me in London.

You know that’s impossible.

London is the worst place.

Even Mr Samgrass
couldn’t find him there.

We have no secrets in this house.

He was lost, you know,
all through Christmas.

Mr Samgrass only found him because
he couldn’t pay the bill where he was,

so they had to telephone our house.

It’s too horrible.

No, London is impossible;

if he can’t behave himself
here, with us…

We shall have to keep him healthy
and happy here for a while,

and then send him abroad again
with Mr Samgrass.

You see, I’ve been through all this before.

I hope he’s having a good day.

The retort was there, unspoken,
well-understood by both of us –

"You couldn’t keep your husband,
he ran away. So will Sebastian.

Because they both hate you."

Thus with Julia and Lady Marchmain
I reached deadlock,

not because we failed
to understand one another,

but because we understood too well.

The subject was everywhere in the house
like a fire deep in the hold of a ship.

Mummy, do look
at Rex’s Christmas present.

Hello, Rex.

- Mr Mottram.
- Hello, Samgrass.

Dear me...

I wonder if it eats the same
sort of things as an ordinary tortoise.

What will you do when it’s dead?

Can you have another tortoise
fitted into the shell?

This slightly obscene object
became a memorable part of the evening,

one of those needle-hooks of experience
which catch the attention

when larger matters are at stake, and
remain in the mind when they are forgotten,

so that years later it is a bit of gilding,
or a certain smell,

or the tone of a clock ticking,
which recall one to a tragedy.

I hope it’s dipsomania.

That’s simply a great misfortune
we must all help him bear.

What I used to fear
was that he just got drunk deliberately

when he liked and because he liked.

But that’s exactly what he did –
that’s what we both did.

That’s what he does with me now.

I can keep him to that,
if only your mother would trust me.

If you worry him with keepers and cures
he’ll be a physical wreck in a few years.

There’s nothing wrong in being
a physical wreck, you know.

There’s no moral obligation to become
Master of Foxhounds or Postmaster-General

or to live to walk ten miles at eighty.

Wrong, moral obligation –
now you’re back on religion again.

I never left it.

D’you know, Bridey, if ever I thought
about becoming a Catholic,

I’d only have to talk to you
for five minutes to be cured.

You manage to reduce what seem quite
sensible propositions to stark nonsense.

It’s odd you should say that.
I’ve heard it before from other people.

It’s one of the reasons why I don’t think
I should have made a good priest.

It’s something in the way
my mind works, I suppose.

Send him to Borethus in Zürich.

Borethus is the man.

He performs miracles every day
at that sanatorium of his.

You know how Charlie Kilcartney
used to drink.

No. No, I’m afraid I don’t know
how Charlie Kilcartney drank.

Two wives despaired of him.

When he got engaged to Sylvia,
she made it a condition

that he go to Zürich and take the cure.
And it worked.

He came back three months later
a different man.

And he hasn’t touched a drop since,
even though Sylvia walked out on him.

Why did she do that?

Well...

Charlie got to be a bit of a bore
when he stopped drinking.

But that’s not the point of the story.

No, I suppose, really, it’s meant
to be an encouraging story.

He takes sex cases too, you know.

Oh dear, what very peculiar friends
poor Sebastian will make in Zürich.

He’s booked up for months ahead,

but I think he might find room
if I asked him.

I could telephone him from here tonight.

I’ll think about it.

Fine.

Hello.

- Hello, Rex.
- Hi, Cordelia.

Oh, Julia, what’s that?
How beastly.

It’s my Christmas present from Rex.

Oh, I’m sorry.
I’m always putting my foot in it.

But how cruel!
It must hurt frightfully.

They can’t feel.

How do you know?
I bet they can.

I’ve already had one tea
at Mrs Barney’s, but I’m still hungry.

It was a spiffing day.

You should have seen Jean Strickland-Venables
when she fell off in the mud.

Where’s Sebastian?

He’s in disgrace.

Coming out in that beastly
rat-catcher’s coat and that mean little tie

like something from
Captain Morvin’s Riding Academy.

I just didn’t recognise him in the meet,
and I hope nobody else did.

Why, isn’t he back yet?

I expect he got lost.

Poor little thing
and that horrible tortoise.

Did I hear Lord Sebastian
come back, Wilcox?

Yes, my Lady. He’s just arrived.

He rang up from South Twining
to be collected.

He must have stopped
for tea with someone.

South Twining? Who lives there?

He spoke from the hotel, my Lady.

South Twining?
Goodness, he did get lost!

Thank you, Wilcox.

Dear boy, how nice to see you
looking so well again.

Your day in the open has done you good.

The drinks are on the table;
do help yourself.

Thank you.

I will.

There was nothing unusual in her speech
but the fact of her saying it.

Six months ago
it would not have been said.

That horse of yours, Bridey...

It’s no damned use.

Couldn’t get it over a molehill.

How do you expect me to keep up
with the rests of the field,

even if I wanted to?

Don’t sit too long, Bridey.

- Shall I serve the port, my Lord?
- Yes, thank you.

Charles, you saw it.

You saw how pathetic it was.

You saw it.

A blow, expected, repeated,
falling on a bruise,

with no smart or shock of surprise,
only a dull and sickening pain

and the doubt whether
another like it could be borne –

that was how it felt, sitting opposite
Sebastian at dinner that night.

You’d best go to bed, Sebastian.

Have some port first.

Have some port if you want it.
But don’t come into the drawing room.

Too bloody drunk.

Like olden times.

Gentlemen always too drunk...

join ladies in olden times.

April 26.

Got some more red enamel paint,

(red, to my mind, being the best colour),

and painted the coal-scuttle,
and the backs of our Shakspeare,

the binding of which had almost worn out.

Sebastian’s gone to bed.

I think we should go too.
Cordelia? Julia?

Oh, not just yet, mummy.
I’m staying up for a little.

Come up and see me
before you go to bed.

I shan’t be asleep.

- Goodnight, Rex.
- Goodnight, Lady Marchmain.

- Goodnight, mother.
- Goodnight.

Ah, Lady Marchmain,
thank you for reading so delightfully.

Goodnight, Mr Samgrass.

- Goodnight, Charles.
- Goodnight, Lady Marchmain.

- Goodnight, Charles.
- Goodnight, Cordelia.

Mr Samgrass, are you coming?

Oh yes, indeed.
I’m more than ready.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight.

You’re packed, Charles.

What’s happening?

I’m going.

Tell me honestly,

you don’t want me to stay, do you?

No, Charles,
I don’t believe I do.

I’m no help, am I?

No help.

I’d better go
and say goodbye to your mother.

The problem is, I’ve got a tremendous
amount of work to get done

before I go back to Paris.

I’m sorry I’m not able
to stay as long as I’d hoped.

And I hope you’ll forgive me
rushing off like this.

Well, then it’s goodbye, Charles.

Goodbye, Lady Marchmain.

Thank you very much
for having me to stay.

Charles, there’s something
I must ask you.

Did you give Sebastian money yesterday?

Yes.

Knowing how he was likely to spend it?

Yes.

I don’t understand it.
I simply don’t understand

how anyone could do
something so callously wicked.

I’m not going to reproach you.

God knows it’s not for me
to reproach anyone.

Any failure in my children is my failure.

But I don’t understand it.

I don’t understand how you could have been
so nice in so many ways,

and then do something so wantonly cruel.

I don’t understand
how we all liked you so much.

Did you hate us all the time?

I don’t understand
how we deserved it.

Goodbye.

I remained unmoved;

there was no part of me
remotely touched by her distress.

It was as I had often imagined
being expelled from school.

I almost expected to hear her say:

"I have already written
to inform your unhappy father.”

But, as I drove away,

I felt that I was leaving
part of myself behind,

and that wherever I went afterwards
I should feel the lack of it,

and search for it hopelessly,

as ghosts are said to do.

"I shall never go back," I said to myself.

A door had shut,

the low door in the wall
I had sought and found at Oxford;

open it now and I should find
no enchanted garden.

I had come to the surface,
into the light of common day,

after a long captivity
in the sunless coral palaces

and waving forests of the ocean bed.

"I have left behind illusion,"
I said to myself,

"Henceforth I live in a world
of three dimensions –

with the aid of my five senses."

I have since learned
that there is no such world,

but then, as the car turned
out of sight of the house,

I thought it took no finding,

but lay all about me
at the end of the avenue.