Father Brown (2013–…): Season 3, Episode 10 - The Judgement of Man - full transcript

Gestapo.
Open up!

Please,
we don't have anything.

Rein.

Where is it?

Where is it?

This is our home.

God protect us.

Search upstairs.

No, Ephraim.
They will kill you.

Give it to me.

Give me the key.



It's not yours to take.

"The Judgement of Man"

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd
Sync: Marocas62

Fathe Brown
Season 3 - Episode 10

I imagined it would have been
bigger.

Because of its value, I suppose.

A painting like this
exudes intimacy.

It invites the viewer in.

Delicate brushwork.

Consummate use
of light and shade.

The exquisite depth of field.

A timely reminder of the need
for redemption.

Yes.

The worthy few at the gates
of Heaven.



The lost souls, condemned to
damnation.

Really is one of the finest
examples

of a Doom painting ever put to canvas.

1452.

Yes, the artist left his mark.

You clumsy lummox!

Have you any idea
of the value of art?

Ted, that lighting in there is all
wrong.

I want theatre,
I want drama.

A celestial milieu to
stimulate the senses.

I'm surrounded by Philistines.

It was very trusting of the Vatican
to lend you the painting.

It was hidden away
in the Apostolic Archives.

I persuaded a Cardinal
to pull some strings.

As if I don't have enough to
contend with.

What a surprise.

And how did you get in?

Well, I persuaded Mr. Cadwaller to
give me a sneak preview.

I am very interested in this
exhibition.

Well, don't tell Felicia.
I'll never hear the end of it.

Yes, well, I've checked on
security arrangements.

Everything seems to be in order.

Well, the Belvedere is fully equipped
with a foolproof alarm system.

All the exhibits are perfectly safe.

I'll be allocating
PC Nyland to keep an eye on things.

Just to put our minds at rest.

I'm never going to
open on time, at this rate.

Perhaps I should leave you to it.

Yes, perhaps you should.

I have an appointment.
Pictura Magazine.

Now, there's the journalist
who's come to interview me,

so I shall see you both
at tomorrow's preview.

- Sir.
- It promises to be exclusive.

Binkie Cadwaller.

- Museum curator.
- I've been looking forward to meeting you.

Yes, well, I can only spare you
about 20 minutes, I'm afraid.

- Well, let's get on with it then.
- Right, well, why don't we do this in my office?

I imagine you'll want to take
a photograph of me.

It's certainly
arousing plenty of interest.

Yes, and a drain on police
resources.

I hear the painting was
insured for a million pounds.

So are Betty Grable's legs.

I know what I'd rather look at.

I don't suppose there's any
chance of a lift back...

to Kembleford?

A good exhibition takes
one on a journey,

stimulates the senses
and educates the mind.

It really is all about the
narrative.

We both know
the value of a good story.

Well, I was rather
hoping for a decent spread.

Last month's Pictura
piece on Poussin

could, at best, be
described as amateurish.

I like to have an angle.

In fact, I'm thinking that this
article

should be less about the
painting,

and more about the man
behind the masterpiece.

Binkie Cadwaller -
what makes him tick?

Well, clearly a woman with taste.

And the slightest hint of an accent?

I was brought up in Germany.

A country very close to my heart.

The simple pleasures of Baden-Baden.

The intimate bierkellers of Hamburg.

Leipzig. Do you know it?

That's a city that I'm not...

not, um, terribly familiar with, I'm
afraid.

Tinted by the grey
hues of Stalinist monotony.

I was hoping that I might have a
look at the painting.

No, no, I'm afraid you're going
to have to wait.

Security concerns.

It has such an intriguing history.

Rumoured to have fallen into private
hands before the war.

The painting belongs to the Vatican.

I am merely its custodian.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I really must get on.

Are you quite sure it was him?
Your eyesight isn't what it was.

I think I can still
manage to see across the street.

Someone has only gone
and nicked my sparkplugs.

I'm going to have to call
the railway station now,

because the Rolls is out of action
and Her Ladyship is turning up

up on the 3.15 train.

If I were you,
I would go to the police.

They'd only accuse me
of wasting their time.

He knew I was there.
He was taunting me.

If Flambeau's decided
to show his face,

that can only mean trouble.

Did you just say Flambeau?

The Father claims to have seen him.

Outside the Belvedere Museum.

Well, you know what that means.

Yes.

He wants to steal the painting.

It's awfully kind of you to
offer me a lift.

Pleasure's all mine.

I left His Lordship
up on the grouse moors.

He likes to shoot things.

In that case, I'm glad he's not here.

I'm all alone in this big empty
house.

I'd never leave a beautiful woman
to her own devices.

You're nearly as fast
as your driving.

I don't make a habit of picking
up strangers.

In my case, I'm glad you did.

So what brings you to Kembleford?

I'm over in England to paint
some landscapes.

- An artist?
- I dabble.

It makes a welcome
change from the oil business.

I'm attending a preview at the
Belvedere, tomorrow.

Curator's a friend of mine.

Religious art,
it's not your thing?

On the contrary,
religious art is my forte.

I'd be delighted
if you came as my guest.

Then I'd be delighted to escort you.

- Thank you, Hornby.
- My Lady.

Lounge suits and summer frocks.
We're very informal.

I'll swing by and pick you up.

Shall we say 2.30?

- I don't even know your name.
- Charles Coiner the Third.

Friends call me Chip.

And when exactly is Flambeau
planning to steal this painting?

Tomorrow afternoon. At the preview.

In front of all those guests?

Well,
Flambeau likes a challenge.

- Impossible.
- Implausible.

I'm expected to brief my men

over an impending art heist,

based on a half-baked hunch?

That just about sums it up, yes.

Why are you
sharing this information?

Because the church owns
the painting.

I have a vested interest.

I came this close to catching him
last time.

If I remember rightly,
you helped him get away.

That's not quite how I remember it.

I'd go as far as aiding and
abetting.

Sorry, sir.
Thought you should see this.

You've raised your concerns.
We'll take it from here.

Mirren McConnell - released
on licence from Winsome Green.

How is he my problem?

Failed to liaise
with his probation officer.

- Seems he's gone to ground, sir.
- Well, hand it down to uniform.

It's his past form, sir.

Sergeant, get some reinforcements
down to the Belvedere right away.

All weekend leave is cancelled.

I want a car posted outside
the Museum through the night.

Perhaps
if we were working together?

If Flambeau makes an appearance,
we'll be there to apprehend him,

and you won't be
anywhere in sight.

I'll have you
taken off the guest list.

He gives you information, you throw
it back in his face.

If either of you set foot in that
museum tomorrow, I'll have

you arrested for obstruction,
understood?

So we're just supposed to sit around

and let Flambeau run rings around
them, are we?

Mirren McConnell.
Name ring any bells?

They call him The Spark.
Wires, explosives, alarms -

he's your man.

Scar from his ear to his chin.

So, Flambeau may well have found
himself an accomplice.

Back in the morning.
Bright and early.

I'm on the press list.
Rebecca Himelbaum.

I don't know how I ever let you
talk me into this.

You didn't take much convincing.

Bishop Talbot.

And the Dowager...
Duchess of Worcester.

I'm afraid
I left my tickets in the car.

Your spectacles, ma'am.

Thank you, Carter.

I shall require these
to admire the paintings.

Until then, you carry them,
young man.

Are you quite sure
the bishop is indisposed?

Tied up at a synod in London.

That ring better come off.
It was Mother's.

She must have had big hands.

Oi-oi, look out.

Lies and deceit.

We have descended
to Flambeau's level already.

Mr. Coiner is in the petroleum
business.

- Crude oil?
- You make me sound so vulgar.

On the contrary, he's something
of an art connoisseur.

Yes, well, the Old Masters
have had their day.

Pop art is the future.

Bright young things like
Paolozzi and Rauschenberg.

Perhaps you should advise me
on a good investment.

Binkie's expert eye has proved
rather lucrative.

Champagne, madame, monsieur.

Thank you.

I hear your latest acquisition
is quite valuable.

No wonder security's tight.

Listen, perhaps I should go and
liaise with Inspector Sullivan.

Excuse me.

I'm in safe hands.

An exhibition to remember.

I'll drink to that.

I've got officers posted
throughout the museum.

Based on a spurious tip-off.

My openings have always been
fondly remembered.

We wouldn't want to lower
the tone, now, would we?

Yes, Jemima.

- Stake out the lobby, sergeant.
- Yes, sir.

Goodfellow,

- try and blend in.
- Yes, sir!

Certainly takes the breath away.

I've always found it
rather dark.

Trial and retribution.

The blinking of an eye
between time and eternity.

The moment a soul's fate
is sealed forever.

A consummate assessment.

I learned about art from my father.

Do you think the guilty
ever pay for their sins?

I think you know my answer
to that question.

I saw you arrive yesterday.

How is the article on
Mr. Cadwaller shaping up?

It will be enlightening,
I can promise you that.

A fitting obituary
to a colourful career.

No sign of him so far.
Maybe he got cold feet.

As I said to
Her Majesty only last Tuesday,

the monarchy is safe in your hands.

I am often called upon
to offer discreet advice,

as a redoubtable stalwart
of the peerage.

Are we perhaps getting
a bit carried away?

Listen, I'm going to go
and look for McConnell.

Well, I don't
think much of the paintings.

Far too much naked flesh.

I think we should concentrate
on the matter in hand.

Now, he strikes me
as a very likely suspect.

I think that's the mayor,
Mrs. McCarthy.

And I think you told me

Flambeau is a master
of disguise.

Don't you worry, Father.

Nothing gets past me.

Father Brown!
I wondered where you'd got to.

That's all we need.

Lady Felicia.

- How was Scotland?
- Rather weird.

You simply have to meet a new
friend of mine. He's American.

He was here a moment ago.

Excuse me.
Unfinished business.

Why are you wearing my tiara?

I'm working undercover

as the Dowager Duchess of Worcester.

Well, you are a loss
to the aristocracy.

Thank you so much.

Perhaps you'd care to tell me
what I've missed.

"Ladies and gentlemen,
I should like to...

- "congratulate you..."
- Zut alors!

- Pardonnez-moi!
- You imbecile!

Votre chemise!
Wet! Wet! Wet!

- Goh!
- Get on with your work!

I've got to go and get changed for
my welcoming speech, haven't I?!

I finished the article.

- You shouldn't be in here.
I wanted you to read it.

Yes, well, I have a speech to make.

I'd read it now...if I were you.

I've made you a copy.

A list of priceless artwork.

Matisse, Klimt, Egon Schiele...

Perhaps you're familiar with them.

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Paintings stolen by the Nazis
from Jewish families.

Abramsky.

Braunstein.

Himelbaum.

Perhaps you remember me now.

Well, I wish someone had warned me.

We don't even know
if Flambeau's here.

I might have known.

A bomb.

It's a bomb...
it's a bomb!

Sergeant!

There's no need to panic!

Speak for yourself!

Quick as you can, come on!

They need some help. A bomb!

Allez!
Allez!

Misdirection.

A classic diversionary tactic.

I'd love to stop and chat,

but there's a painting
I need to steal.

And if I tried to stop you?

That wouldn't be advisable.

Not while I've got
a knife in my hand.

A painting on the
theme of redemption.

A irresistible prize.

A welcome addition
to my private collection.

And will you be strolling out
of here in broad daylight?

That might be imprudent.

Perhaps I should narrow
the odds in my favour.

- Hercule?
- Rebecca?

Red...

in,
black in.

Red out.

He's got the painting.

No.

It's going to blow!
Get down!

Thank you, Inspector.

One of these days...

The painting!

no, you don't...

The painting's gone!
Seal the exits.

I want everyone searched.

Have you seen Father Brown?

He must be still inside.

That's him!
That's our man!

I need to get you out of here.

- I can't leave the others!
- It isn't safe.

Well, of all the nerve!

Get your greasy hands off me!

Himelbaum.

I've been looking
at your war record.

Distinguished service.

Military Medal.

Unexploded mortar shell.

Blew up in my face
when I was trying to defuse it.

I should be a hero.

But you fell victim
to a life of crime.

Written off.

In favour of men who
barely saw service.

You realise you'll get
ten more years for this?

Bomb wasn't real.

If we don't catch Flambeau,

you'll take the rap.

He paid me a visit in prison.

Hired me for the job.

- Half the money upfront...
- And now you're out of pocket.

The rest of the money's
in a safety deposit box.

Cheltenham Station.

I expect he'll try and pick it up,
with me indisposed.

Then we'll make sure
we're waiting for him.

In the meantime,

there's a cell in this station
with your name on it.

I want to talk to my solicitor.

Sergeant,
get on to Cheltenham.

All available units
to the railway station.

- Inspector...
- I'll meet them there.

Any news on Flambeau's whereabouts?

None that I'll be sharing with you.

It's just I'm concerned
about Mr. Cadwaller.

- No-one's seen him since the heist.
- Maybe he was in on it.

What do you mean by that?

Recently cautioned for
suspected "shilling",

pushing up the value of his paintings
through fake bids at auction.

Yes, the Met investigation
couldn't prove anything,

but your pal,
Cadwaller's got form.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I've a thief to apprehend.

He'll be halfway to France by now.

While the police waste
their time chasing shadows.

Any news on Binkie?

Ashamed to show his face, no doubt.

His reputation in tatters.

Binkie Cadwaller...

is hiding a grievous secret,

if the claims made in this
article can be verified.

Someone else is intent on destroying
him, someone with a vested interest.

Maybe Her Ladyship knows
where he's got to.

And she left with
the American gentleman.

Some people know no shame.

What did the American
gentleman look like?

Handsome, I suppose...
in a raffish sort of way.

Expensive suit...

..and French cologne.

Stolen from under our very noses.

Typical French audacity.

I didn't even get to set eyes on him.

At least they caught
Flambeau's accomplice.

McConnell was expendable.

Collateral damage.

Something's been troubling me.

Well?

Don't keep me in suspense.

You offered to pick me up at 2.30.

You knew what time
the preview started,

even before I invited you.

You're smarter than you look.

You're no oil man.

- Your hands are too soft.
- I've never been to Texas.

The climate doesn't suit me.

I had you down for a gentleman.

You're nothing but a common thief.

I needed a ticket.
You wanted attention.

How dare you presume
to know anything about me!

You're trapped in
a loveless marriage,

filling the void with
mundane distractions.

You see each other
briefly at breakfast

and His Lordship only ever
looks right through you.

If you don't leave this instant,
I'll ring for Hornby.

You gave the butler the evening off.

Cheltenham Picture House:
Singin' In The Rain.

Hello, police?

This is Lady Felicia Montague...

The police are busy
searching for a thief.

The last place they'll
look for him is here.

- Thank goodness!
- Well, if it isn't the bishop.

- I was expecting you earlier.
- Tell me you've brought reinforcements.

I'm afraid I came alone.

Not even armed with
your trusty umbrella?

In all the excitement, I must
have left it in the cloakroom.

Inept and forgetful -
you ARE losing your touch.

Rebecca Himelbaum.

You know her.

I knew her once.

In another life.

A wartime liaison
that ended abruptly.

Bitte! Bitte! Nein, nein, nein!

- Vater!
- Rebecca! Nein!

- Bitte, nehmen Sie sie nicht weg!
- Rebecca, nein!

Sie auch.
Jetzt.

No!
Lass die Finger von ihr!

Nicht bewegen!

Los! Rebecca!

Bewegen!

In den Wagen!

Halt dein Maul!

Los!

They took the Himelbaums
to Theresienstadt,

a camp near the Elbe.

- I never saw any of them again.
- Until today.

I was convinced
Rebecca had been murdered.

A victim of the Holocaust.

Binkie betrayed her.

Cadwaller knew the Himelbaums

owned priceless works of art.

He struck a deal with the SS.

He sent them to their deaths
in return for a cut of the loot.

You're lying.

It soon became a lucrative habit.

Binkie might be a rogue,
but he wouldn't stoop that low.

As soon as the war ended,
he sold on the art

for an exorbitant profit.

There were plenty of buyers.

The Vatican, for one.

You stole that painting
to settle a grudge.

This time it was personal.

- Where is it now?
- That would be telling.

Must be well hidden,

otherwise I would
have spotted it.

Rebecca is determined
to exact her own revenge.

Why do women always
complicate things?

The police will arrest her
for murder,

unless we find her.

Cadwaller deserves all he gets.

Do you want her to hang?

The past is history.

It's of no concern to me.

This is your chance to make amends.

This time you can save her.

We don't even know
where she's taken him.

Someone will have seen them
leaving the Belvedere.

Two office doors.

They never left the museum.

I've been compiling
a dossier since the war,

enough damning evidence
to lock you up for life.

Circumstantial evidence.

You'll never be able
to prove a thing.

First the Jews were forced
to hide their art.

Then they were forced
to hide themselves.

Now it is the Nazis who are hiding.

The Nazis and their collaborators.

I had no idea what
the SS were doing.

You won't be around
to refute the claims.

- I doubt you'll be missed.
- You're insane!

You were party to genocide.

I've presented the evidence.
This is your trial.

Ways to kill a war criminal...

I could leave you here to starve...

..untie you now and shoot you
while you escape.

They say gas is a quick way to die.

We can't ask the people
you sent to the camps.

Please...
this is madness.

Dangerously toxic
in confined spaces.

Thick steel walls.

No-one will hear you scream.

We've only got an hour before
Lady Felicia calls the police.

You keep him talking...
I'll break his neck.

I only meant to hit the bonnet.

Misdirection.

I'll make a thief of you yet.

A hoard of buried treasure,
safe from prying eyes.

- And thieving hands.
- There are worse sins than avarice.

- A sin is a sin.
- Sin requires guilt,

a cognitive emotion
I've never experienced.

Rebecca?
You loved her once.

Love is an indulgence

that leads only to weakness.

A trap, like religion.

I'll never make the
same mistake again.

It's a very lonely predicament.

You took a vow of celibacy.

Every night in an empty bed?

I can always talk to God.

Praying for some company?
Now, I'd say that was lonely.

I think we should split up.

I think so too.

Rebecca?

Cadwaller is mine.

I didn't come back for Cadwaller.

What did you turn into...

while I festered in that place?

I thought you were dead.

You're no better than
the man who betrayed us.

I stole the painting to ruin him.

I didn't need your help.

Vengeance is God's alone.

You brought me a priest?

He will face justice.

My mother died of typhoid
in Birkenau.

I held her in my arms...

and she didn't even know me.

- This is not the way.
- My father was killed in Auschwitz.

Betrayed and condemned,

deprived of his dignity,

- the people he loved.
- But you survived.

It took me eight long years

to find the proof
to damn Cadwaller.

And now I'm supposed to forgive?

If it helps you to find peace, yes.

It's a little too late for a homily,
Father.

If Cadwaller dies, you'll hang.

Bittersweet revenge.

I give you my word...

..he will face justice,

in return for his life.

I locked him in.

Help me!

Please, God!
Somebody!

If you ever really loved me,
you'd let him die.

If that man dies,
she will be a murderer.

- I'll see she gets away.
- To live like you?

A fugitive?
You owe her more than that.

Open it.

He unlocked the vault
with a gun to his head.

I don't even know the combination.

For once in your life, use your
dubious skills for good.

Drive camshaft.
Three-digit encryption.

14.

We're running out of time.

To crack a lock like this
could take hours.

I need tools.
Silence.

14?

The year in the painting.
1452.

14-5-2?

Try that?

An early death would be
too good for you.

The police will be arriving soon.

I wouldn't want them
to find you here.

Say a prayer for the Himelbaums,
Father.

After all,
we share the same God.

Go after her.

I went to the camp after liberation.

No names.

Only numbers.

So you consigned me to history?

- It was easier.
- Easier?

For whom?

I tortured myself for not
being able to save you.

It was only a memory
that kept me alive.

The memory of someone I loved.

So you see, you did save me.

Perhaps I could search
for the man I once was.

We've both changed.

We're strangers now.

I would never have been
enough for you.

You sent them to their deaths.

- It was just business.
- They were murdered...

- ..for a painting?
- If you expose me,

you'll implicate the church.

The guilty will answer
for what they have done.

And you will pay
with a proper trial.

The first time I held it...

..I was looking into heaven.

I saw the wicked...

..condemned to doom.

To damnation.

I saw my own fate.

God is a merciful judge.

There is always redemption

for those who truly seek it.

I still want you to return
that painting.

I thought I'd hang it
in my dressing room.

And what will it remind you of?

This is hardly the time
for a sermon.

You've exiled yourself
to a life of purgatory.

Surrounded by beautiful things.

Because your soul is dark.

You grew up without your father.

You couldn't help Rebecca.

Is it because you couldn't
save them?

You are a bereaved human being

who now chooses to feel nothing.

The choices are mine to make.

There's no going back.

My valet will be waiting.

Then you mustn't let me keep you.

The forecast is
for evening showers.

Why don't you take this?

At least let me protect
you from the rain.

A reckless offer
to make to a thief.

Well, I know that I will get it back
when I see you again.

A bientot, Father Brown.

- Where's Flambeau?
- I'm afraid...he gave me the slip.

He played me for a fool.

Beguiled and deceived
by easy flattery.

Yes, well, Flambeau
can be quite the charmer.

You let him off the hook. Again.

You're beginning to sound
like Inspector Sullivan.

On top of everything else, I've just
had the bishop on the telephone,

"anguished" and "outraged"
at the loss of the painting.

Wait till he reads about
Binkie's wartime exploits.

There'll be quite a few
sweaty palms in St Peter's.

I made a promise to Rebecca,

and we're all going to have
to live with the consequences.

While Flambeau gets away
with the stolen loot.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
How on earth did you find it?

He didn't have the painting
when he left the museum.

Events conspired against him.

He realised that I could help him
get it out of the Belvedere,

hidden in my brolly.

Some clever improvisation
to evade the police.'

That's him!
That's our man!

I need to get you out of here.

- I can't leave the others!
- It isn't safe.

He knew I'd work out
where he was hiding.

An unwitting accomplice.

Unfortunately for Flambeau...

..I can be absent-minded.

"For what shall it profit a man

"if he gain the whole world

"and suffer the loss of his soul."

So wait,

he didn't go back to save Rebecca?

Who knows?

But for Flambeau,

redemption is still...

..a long way off.

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