Portrait of a Marriage (1990–…): Season 1, Episode 2 - Episode #1.2 - full transcript
All aboard!
Yes?
Evenin', ma'am.
Have you got a room for the night?
Me and the missus,
we've just come down from London.
Oh, come on in, then.
Artie's been gone five years now.
Pneumonia it was.
And I haven't any sons.
Thank God.
We always wanted a son but...
now I say "Thank God."
Funny, isn't it?
Well, here we are, then.
It's, um...
It's my best room.
Ooh, that looks quite bad.
Bit of shrapnel.
Honeymooning, are you?
Well...
yes.
That'll be five shillings,
with breakfast,
and that's in the dining room at eight sharp.
Right?
Well, I'll say good night, then.
Thank you.
We did it!
We did it!
We did it! We did it! We did it!
- Shh. Shh.
- We did it! We did it!
Was the best thing I've ever done.
Nobody looked twice!
They'd look twice now.
Yes, I suppose they would.
God, Medea.
You're beautiful.
So are you.
Though much like a tea cosy.
Oh, I hate you!
- Nice and warm.
- Stop!
Mmm.
Why did you marry him?
I don't know.
Yes, I do.
I loved him.
If I had been a man and he had been a girl
I would have married him just the same.
But we weren't.
So I did.
He's a friend.
More than me?
Oh, much more than you.
You're a lover.
One of many, I suppose.
The only one.
When's he coming back?
Tomorrow.
- We're going to stay with his parents.
- God, I can't bear it.
You'll be sitting there,
listening to a lot of boring stories,
complaining about the nanny...
calling each other Haji and Mar.
While I'm suff...
Enjoying yourself with Denys Trefusis.
No.
I'd give him up today,
this minute, if I could be with you.
Please.
Please, Medea.
Mm?
I don't feel like any breakfast.
- Do you?
- No.
We'll just go.
You put my things on top, didn't you?
Yes.
They're all there.
How's old James?
Still writing that interminable book,
I suppose?
Ambassadors don't
open their hearts to me, Father.
At least, not many.
He seemed very fit.
Can't recall what it's about.
Memoirs, is it?
Homer's Ithaca, I think.
Ahh, interesting.
You saw young Berners, I suppose?
Oh, constantly.
I can't tell you what his new house is like.
- Extraordinary.
- Really?
It overlooks the Forum.
On a moonlit night, it's pure magic.
How I wish you'd been there.
Newt sends you his dearest love, by the way.
His dearest love?
He's still writing that
so-called music, I suppose?
Terrible din.
Can't think what he wants to do all that for.
Honorary attach?, plenty of money...
There are more important things
than being an honorary attach?.
Ooh, she's got an eye to your future, my boy.
Paris, is it?
- Or Washington?
- No. He's going to give it up.
People who can write lovely books like Harold
shouldn't waste themselves
on a lot of humbug and fubsiness.
What? What's all this?
Give it up?
- No, dear, I'm sure Vita didn't mean th...
- Yes I did.
Anyone can write memorandums,
hardly anyone can be an artist, and...
and be free.
And bankrupt.
She's teasing you, Father,
I know it's hard to tell.
There's no question
of giving up the FO at the moment.
At the moment?
Well, I should think not indeed!
Shall we?
Mar, what's wrong? What's the matter?
It's this house! I hate it!
I didn't know, I'm sorry.
Every time I breathe,
I feel I'm going to knock something over.
Nobody ever says anything real,
nobody ever says anything.
It's like...drowning in porridge.
Oh, Mar, I know how you feel.
I often wake up thinking
I want to write books,
spend the winter in Tahiti and...
learn how to fish.
Visit the Greek islands
with you and the boys.
But I want to go on being a diplomat too.
So...
it's a conundrum, isn't it?
You can't expect people like my father
to understand that,
the Foreign Office has been his whole life.
You know, they're both very fond of you.
Tahiti?
Oh, yes, we might build a house
in the Lebanon too.
I'm sorry, Haji.
When you go away...
I forget how truly wonderful you are.
It's lovely to see you.
It's lovely to see you too.
So...
what have you been doing?
Writing?
No, not much.
Seen anything of Violet?
She stayed on for a few days.
Oh. Good.
I hear she's actually
going to marry Trefusis.
Is she?
She didn't mention it.
Mar?
Please.
Please?
Go to sleep, Haji.
I can't.
It's all right, now.
Oh, Mar, I've been so lonely.
I'm sorry.
Haji...
there can't be any of that now.
I mean just now.
Of course, that's why you're so upset.
Why didn't you say?
Oh...
Oh, darling.
Don't ever think I don't love you.
I do.
I'm so sorry.
That's all right, Mar, it's all right.
It doesn't matter.
Tr?s bien, your party is waiting.
Would you like to follow me, please?
Captain Trefusis.
Vita Sackville-West.
- How do you do?
- How do you do?
I mean, Mrs Nicolson.
I never know what to call you, Vita.
Whatever I call her,
it's bound to be wrong.
So, I meet you at last.
Violet's always talking about you.
Oh, dear. Must be very boring.
Not in the least.
After all, a daughter of Knole.
You've been to Knole?
All too briefly, I'm afraid.
I know it sounds very impertinent,
but, you know, I felt at home there.
Really?
I seemed to know my way.
Almost as though...
Almost as though what?
Ha.
Bonjour, mesdames. Monsieur.
Alors, aujourd'hui, comme specialit?,
il y a mouton ? l'aromatique.
You've eaten practically nothing.
It was delicious but I'm not hungry.
Are you going to marry her?
Yes.
That's a very interesting ring.
Does it have a history?
Belonged to a Venetian doge.
Well...
how about afters?
They've signed!
Five o'clock this morning.
It's over!
It's over! It's all over!
Thank God!
It's all over! They've finished!
Oh, thank God!
Thank God it's all over.
They've signed!
Hello?
Anybody there?
Harold Nicolson.
Yes. Isn't it splendid?
Look, get me Weald one, four, will you?
It's urgent.
Try anyway.
Thank you.
How wonderful.
Oh, Haji. How good, how good!
Thank you. Oh, thank you for telling me.
Will we be able to go abroad now?
No, I know. I thought I might go away
with Violet for a couple of weeks.
Make what arrangements you like, Mar.
I'm going to be up to my eyes anyway.
Yes. Yes, of course I will.
Just let me know what you want.
Bless you, my darling.
I'll try for next weekend,
but I can't promise.
And, Mar. Are you there?
New life.
I love you, Haji.
Bye, darling.
- Mummy, they've stopped the war!
- Yes, I know.
Isn't it marvellous?
I've got to go to London.
Erm, I shall ask Nanny
whether you've been good, remember.
Thank you.
Thank you very much, sir.
Give my love to Eddie.
- I do envy you.
- Why don't you desert and come too?
I wish I could.
You'll be seeing Denys in Paris, of course.
Oh, yes.
Write to me.
Constantly.
You too.
Well, I know when I'm de trop.
Goodbye, Harold dear.
Don't worry, I'll look after her for you.
Mar, what am I going to do?
It's only for three weeks.
I'll be back by Christmas.
Nobody seems to understand why you're going
away now instead of waiting for me.
Haji, we've been through all of this.
You understand. That's all that matters.
You do, don't you?
I suppose so.
Yes, of course I do.
Don't let Violet start talking to you about
Borgias and gypsies and all that rubbish.
It will only make her sillier.
- And Mar...
- What?
I know I'm an unconvincing...
unromantic husband,
but I love you so terribly much.
You're the best.
The best.
I love you more than everything.
I'll write to you at Eddie's.
- What about Monte Carlo?
- I don't know yet.
Write poste restante and I'll tell you.
- Be careful.
- I love you.
- Good evening.
- Evening.
Blow me down. Harold.
- Reggie.
- What are you doing here?
Just having a short rest
before flinging myself under a bus.
- Are you dining?
- I hadn't planned to.
Then for pity's sake, dine with me.
Or are you off somewhere?
No. Well, yes.
But it's not important.
People like you, Reggie,
make me believe in God.
So what's wrong? Heart trouble?
Much worse. I'll tell you later.
Even so, I've always envied
people like you and Freddie.
My war was pretty futile.
Oh, we did the easy bit.
A lot of nonsense, really.
Thank you.
What maddens me is that now I'll never know
whether I'm a hero or a coward.
Which do you think?
Somewhere in the middle, probably.
No, I...
suspect I'm a coward.
Let's go up.
Whisky? Cognac? What?
Er...whisky.
Thanks.
So...
why do I find you alone at the club
threatening to throw yourself under a bus?
Vita?
I think that was one of
the most disgusting meals I've ever had.
- The salmon had clearly died a natural death.
- I asked is it Vita?
Yes, of course it's Vita.
- She went off today.
- With Violet?
Yes.
God, I hate that woman.
Why can't Trefusis marry her
and lock her up?
Would that solve anything?
I don't know.
Vita's changed.
She's always had a wild streak,
that's part of her charm.
But over the last months...
it's all gone wrong.
She won't touch me.
Why do you mind so much?
Because...
I don't know.
She's unique.
I...
lust after her.
More than anybody else
because there's much more involved.
Do you understand?
Yes, I think so.
I wasn't well, you remember?
That put the kibosh on everything for a bit.
Maybe I handled it badly. I don't know.
But I'm not much of a ladies' man, I'm afraid.
No.
But Vita's very much what they call
"a man's woman."
God, it's all so confusing.
Why?
All one needs is a little fun and a quiet life.
People like Violet Keppel
need endless misery and uproar.
- Hm.
- No, I mean it.
I know Vita needs a bit of that too,
but I can't provide it.
I simply can't.
I'm too...
fin-de-si?cle.
Too bloody cultured.
Anyway, what does it mean, "a man's woman"?
Hm?
Oh, well, a woman who's tough.
And honourable.
Female rather than feminine, I suppose.
That's Vita.
At least I thought it was.
She didn't mind at all
when I told her about my...
little vices.
Are you sure?
Oh, absolutely.
She knows perfectly well they're unimportant.
But necessary.
Yes.
Shitting is necessary.
Breathing is necessary.
Eating, in moderation, is necessary.
But they don't provide a motive for one's life.
And Vita does?
Exactly.
Isn't it possible that she has the same attitude?
What?
Oh, I see what you mean.
No.
No. Everything's important to Vita.
She has no sense of proportion whatever.
So if she's got it into her head that
the Keppel girl provides some sort of answer,
there's no point in trying to compete.
It's as simple as that.
In other words, hellishly complicated.
I'm terrifically grateful to you, you know.
Oh, don't be so damn silly.
I hope it all works out.
- Any idea when you'll be in Paris?
- Soon, I hope.
Meanwhile we struggle on
trying to sort out Romania.
God, what a mess it all is.
Europe, I mean.
Tu n'est pas fatigu?, mon cher.
Lushka.
Lushka.
Medea.
- Yah!
"Don't smile, darling Mar.
"I've been reading such a wonderful book.
"It's called Married Love by Marie Stopes.
"It goes into every detail.
"There's a whole chapter which explains
why Haji goes to sleep and Mar doesn't.
"And, oh, my darling,
I'm appalled at my ignorance.
"This book and my new feelings for you
"are going to make our future life glorious
"and real. "
- What would you like?
- What can you offer me?
Well, I can make you a Manhattan.
Dry Martini, white lady, sidecar.
Any hope of a Plazo?
No.
But you can have a stinger, if you like.
All right. A stinger.
- Shall I do that?
- Certainly not.
It's my only domestic accomplishment.
Do you think I'd make a good barmaid?
I do. If all else fails.
I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your skills.
You shall always mix the drinks.
I promise.
It's very good.
At last.
You look superb.
Indeed superb.
- We're having stingers.
- Gin, please.
You've been here before, I expect.
You know Eddie ??
Slightly, but no I haven't.
It's charming.
Yes.
He's away, I imagine.
Yes.
And you're off to Monte Carlo when? Tomorrow?
Yes. Tomorrow.
- Sant?.
- Sant?.
Do you really want to go out tonight, Lushka?
- Well, don't you?
- No, not very much.
What did you say it was, Denys? Tosca?
Yes.
Tosca.
Are you passionate to see Tosca?
Well...
I don't know.
If you don't...
but Denys has made the arrangements.
What a relief.
To tell you the truth, the last thing in the world
I feel like doing tonight is seeing Tosca.
Perhaps the Folies would be more to your taste?
No.
No, really, I honestly don't mind.
Do what you like, of course.
I shall just have a quiet dinner downstairs.
All right.
I'm terribly sorry.
But you see, we are leaving tomorrow and...
I absolutely understand.
A quiet dinner would suit me admirably.
Run along now, Denys.
Why do we have to stay here?
Why can't we go home?
Well, when Mummy's away, it's better, you see.
- Why?
- Because...
Anyway, you're gonna go stay
with Granny Carnock if Mummy...
If Mummy's what?
If Mummy's not back.
What about those pictures you were gonna
show me? Let's find them, shall we?
- I don't know where they are.
- Oh, of course you know where they are.
Don't. Don't know where anything is.
You mean you've heard nothing?
Well.
If she isn't back when you go to Paris...
That's not until the new year.
Of course she'll be back.
I very much hope so.
If she isn't, I shall simply send the boys
to your mother.
Ned and I will be up to our eyes
finishing the Brighton house after Christmas.
But she'll be home for Christmas,
I know she will.
Why don't you telephone her hotel?
Surely that's possible from the Foreign Office.
I don't know where they're staying.
My dear boy,
you write to her every day.
Post restante at Monte Carlo.
But I don't know where they're staying.
You must be more forceful, Harold!
Vita is like me.
Of passionate nature, hot-blooded.
She needs a little authoritarism.
A little management!
My poor little Mar.
No wonder.
You're not helping very much, you know.
Helping? Ha!
"You really are hopeless
"and I put it all down to that swine Violet,
"who seems to addle your brain.
"You just go mooning on from day to day
with the future in a sort of sloppy fog,
"quite regardless of the inconvenience
you're causing to others. "
Bonjour.
You shouldn't collect them.
You should just leave them to moulder
at the post.
I ought to go back home, Lushka.
Apart from anything else, the children.
The children.
I don't understand you.
One minute you've got
all the colours of the jungle,
burning and flashing like a jewel,
then suddenly you jump onto some dead,
old twig called Harold and the children
and die too.
You grow old and dusty.
And shrivel.
Medea, can't you see?
I promised I'd be back.
Well?
Well, in case you didn't know,
it will be Christmas soon. I should be there.
Please don't go, my darling.
I know we can't stay forever,
but just a little while.
This is the happiest time of my life.
You said it was for you too.
It is.
Well, then.
This is so precious, Medea.
Let's keep it a little longer.
What about money?
If you keep losing
as much as you did last night...
I won't, I promise. I won't even play.
A likely tale.
I'll just sit by you and will it to stop.
It works, you know.
?130.
Yes.
That's a great relief. I'm enormously grateful.
Oh. And Miss Willoughby,
see that it's sent to Sackville-West.
She prefers it as you know.
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
And to you.
# Comfort and joy
- # Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# From God our heavenly father,
a blessed angel came
# And unto certain shepherds,
brought tidings of the same
# How that in Bethlehem was born
the son of God by name
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# Comfort and joy
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# Fear not, then, said the angel,
let nothing you afright
# This day is born a saviour
of virtue, power and might
# So frequently to vanquish
all the friends of Satan quite
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# Comfort and joy
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# The shepherds at those tidings,
rejoic?d much in mind
# And left their flocks a-feeding in tempest,
storm and wind
# And went to Bethlehem straightaway,
this blessed babe to find
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy,
comfort and joy
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy #
Salut.
Well, I have only one rule in life...
To avoid unhappiness.
Very wise.
I'm sure the secret of any relationship...
is to treat disasters as if they were incidents.
But not the other way round, I hope?
Certainly not.
Take my wife, for instance.
A highly intelligent woman.
But never really happy unless she's magnifying
some incident into a major drama.
Strange, isn't it?
Don't you think women
must get tremendously bored?
Probably.
I must say, I can't be doing with them.
On the whole.
When does the peace conference start?
January?
I might drift over to Paris for a few days.
Yes.
Yes. Why don't you?
Excuse me, please. Thank you.
- Yes, sir. What name?
- Nicolson, Harold.
Yes, Mr Nicolson. Room 102.
It's the second floor, sir.
The porter will bring your luggage.
- Thank you. Are there any messages for me?
- They will be left in your room, sir.
- Your key.
- Ah. Thank you.
- Ah.
- What number, sir?
It's that confusing,
I can't find me way round meself.
- 102.
- Ah, that's this way.
You'd think it would be next to 101,
wouldn't you, but it isn't.
Is my wife here? They didn't tell me.
Your wife, sir? No, sir. Not that I know of.
Those got sent over this morning.
Mr Knoblock's valet brought them.
He said they'd been left in Mr Knoblock's
apartment, sir, and there's...
All right. Thank you.
Thank you, sir.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Yes, sir.
Six o'clock.
I've got the documents with me, sir.
I'll bring them, of course.
Six o'clock.
Yes?
Evenin', ma'am.
Have you got a room for the night?
Me and the missus,
we've just come down from London.
Oh, come on in, then.
Artie's been gone five years now.
Pneumonia it was.
And I haven't any sons.
Thank God.
We always wanted a son but...
now I say "Thank God."
Funny, isn't it?
Well, here we are, then.
It's, um...
It's my best room.
Ooh, that looks quite bad.
Bit of shrapnel.
Honeymooning, are you?
Well...
yes.
That'll be five shillings,
with breakfast,
and that's in the dining room at eight sharp.
Right?
Well, I'll say good night, then.
Thank you.
We did it!
We did it!
We did it! We did it! We did it!
- Shh. Shh.
- We did it! We did it!
Was the best thing I've ever done.
Nobody looked twice!
They'd look twice now.
Yes, I suppose they would.
God, Medea.
You're beautiful.
So are you.
Though much like a tea cosy.
Oh, I hate you!
- Nice and warm.
- Stop!
Mmm.
Why did you marry him?
I don't know.
Yes, I do.
I loved him.
If I had been a man and he had been a girl
I would have married him just the same.
But we weren't.
So I did.
He's a friend.
More than me?
Oh, much more than you.
You're a lover.
One of many, I suppose.
The only one.
When's he coming back?
Tomorrow.
- We're going to stay with his parents.
- God, I can't bear it.
You'll be sitting there,
listening to a lot of boring stories,
complaining about the nanny...
calling each other Haji and Mar.
While I'm suff...
Enjoying yourself with Denys Trefusis.
No.
I'd give him up today,
this minute, if I could be with you.
Please.
Please, Medea.
Mm?
I don't feel like any breakfast.
- Do you?
- No.
We'll just go.
You put my things on top, didn't you?
Yes.
They're all there.
How's old James?
Still writing that interminable book,
I suppose?
Ambassadors don't
open their hearts to me, Father.
At least, not many.
He seemed very fit.
Can't recall what it's about.
Memoirs, is it?
Homer's Ithaca, I think.
Ahh, interesting.
You saw young Berners, I suppose?
Oh, constantly.
I can't tell you what his new house is like.
- Extraordinary.
- Really?
It overlooks the Forum.
On a moonlit night, it's pure magic.
How I wish you'd been there.
Newt sends you his dearest love, by the way.
His dearest love?
He's still writing that
so-called music, I suppose?
Terrible din.
Can't think what he wants to do all that for.
Honorary attach?, plenty of money...
There are more important things
than being an honorary attach?.
Ooh, she's got an eye to your future, my boy.
Paris, is it?
- Or Washington?
- No. He's going to give it up.
People who can write lovely books like Harold
shouldn't waste themselves
on a lot of humbug and fubsiness.
What? What's all this?
Give it up?
- No, dear, I'm sure Vita didn't mean th...
- Yes I did.
Anyone can write memorandums,
hardly anyone can be an artist, and...
and be free.
And bankrupt.
She's teasing you, Father,
I know it's hard to tell.
There's no question
of giving up the FO at the moment.
At the moment?
Well, I should think not indeed!
Shall we?
Mar, what's wrong? What's the matter?
It's this house! I hate it!
I didn't know, I'm sorry.
Every time I breathe,
I feel I'm going to knock something over.
Nobody ever says anything real,
nobody ever says anything.
It's like...drowning in porridge.
Oh, Mar, I know how you feel.
I often wake up thinking
I want to write books,
spend the winter in Tahiti and...
learn how to fish.
Visit the Greek islands
with you and the boys.
But I want to go on being a diplomat too.
So...
it's a conundrum, isn't it?
You can't expect people like my father
to understand that,
the Foreign Office has been his whole life.
You know, they're both very fond of you.
Tahiti?
Oh, yes, we might build a house
in the Lebanon too.
I'm sorry, Haji.
When you go away...
I forget how truly wonderful you are.
It's lovely to see you.
It's lovely to see you too.
So...
what have you been doing?
Writing?
No, not much.
Seen anything of Violet?
She stayed on for a few days.
Oh. Good.
I hear she's actually
going to marry Trefusis.
Is she?
She didn't mention it.
Mar?
Please.
Please?
Go to sleep, Haji.
I can't.
It's all right, now.
Oh, Mar, I've been so lonely.
I'm sorry.
Haji...
there can't be any of that now.
I mean just now.
Of course, that's why you're so upset.
Why didn't you say?
Oh...
Oh, darling.
Don't ever think I don't love you.
I do.
I'm so sorry.
That's all right, Mar, it's all right.
It doesn't matter.
Tr?s bien, your party is waiting.
Would you like to follow me, please?
Captain Trefusis.
Vita Sackville-West.
- How do you do?
- How do you do?
I mean, Mrs Nicolson.
I never know what to call you, Vita.
Whatever I call her,
it's bound to be wrong.
So, I meet you at last.
Violet's always talking about you.
Oh, dear. Must be very boring.
Not in the least.
After all, a daughter of Knole.
You've been to Knole?
All too briefly, I'm afraid.
I know it sounds very impertinent,
but, you know, I felt at home there.
Really?
I seemed to know my way.
Almost as though...
Almost as though what?
Ha.
Bonjour, mesdames. Monsieur.
Alors, aujourd'hui, comme specialit?,
il y a mouton ? l'aromatique.
You've eaten practically nothing.
It was delicious but I'm not hungry.
Are you going to marry her?
Yes.
That's a very interesting ring.
Does it have a history?
Belonged to a Venetian doge.
Well...
how about afters?
They've signed!
Five o'clock this morning.
It's over!
It's over! It's all over!
Thank God!
It's all over! They've finished!
Oh, thank God!
Thank God it's all over.
They've signed!
Hello?
Anybody there?
Harold Nicolson.
Yes. Isn't it splendid?
Look, get me Weald one, four, will you?
It's urgent.
Try anyway.
Thank you.
How wonderful.
Oh, Haji. How good, how good!
Thank you. Oh, thank you for telling me.
Will we be able to go abroad now?
No, I know. I thought I might go away
with Violet for a couple of weeks.
Make what arrangements you like, Mar.
I'm going to be up to my eyes anyway.
Yes. Yes, of course I will.
Just let me know what you want.
Bless you, my darling.
I'll try for next weekend,
but I can't promise.
And, Mar. Are you there?
New life.
I love you, Haji.
Bye, darling.
- Mummy, they've stopped the war!
- Yes, I know.
Isn't it marvellous?
I've got to go to London.
Erm, I shall ask Nanny
whether you've been good, remember.
Thank you.
Thank you very much, sir.
Give my love to Eddie.
- I do envy you.
- Why don't you desert and come too?
I wish I could.
You'll be seeing Denys in Paris, of course.
Oh, yes.
Write to me.
Constantly.
You too.
Well, I know when I'm de trop.
Goodbye, Harold dear.
Don't worry, I'll look after her for you.
Mar, what am I going to do?
It's only for three weeks.
I'll be back by Christmas.
Nobody seems to understand why you're going
away now instead of waiting for me.
Haji, we've been through all of this.
You understand. That's all that matters.
You do, don't you?
I suppose so.
Yes, of course I do.
Don't let Violet start talking to you about
Borgias and gypsies and all that rubbish.
It will only make her sillier.
- And Mar...
- What?
I know I'm an unconvincing...
unromantic husband,
but I love you so terribly much.
You're the best.
The best.
I love you more than everything.
I'll write to you at Eddie's.
- What about Monte Carlo?
- I don't know yet.
Write poste restante and I'll tell you.
- Be careful.
- I love you.
- Good evening.
- Evening.
Blow me down. Harold.
- Reggie.
- What are you doing here?
Just having a short rest
before flinging myself under a bus.
- Are you dining?
- I hadn't planned to.
Then for pity's sake, dine with me.
Or are you off somewhere?
No. Well, yes.
But it's not important.
People like you, Reggie,
make me believe in God.
So what's wrong? Heart trouble?
Much worse. I'll tell you later.
Even so, I've always envied
people like you and Freddie.
My war was pretty futile.
Oh, we did the easy bit.
A lot of nonsense, really.
Thank you.
What maddens me is that now I'll never know
whether I'm a hero or a coward.
Which do you think?
Somewhere in the middle, probably.
No, I...
suspect I'm a coward.
Let's go up.
Whisky? Cognac? What?
Er...whisky.
Thanks.
So...
why do I find you alone at the club
threatening to throw yourself under a bus?
Vita?
I think that was one of
the most disgusting meals I've ever had.
- The salmon had clearly died a natural death.
- I asked is it Vita?
Yes, of course it's Vita.
- She went off today.
- With Violet?
Yes.
God, I hate that woman.
Why can't Trefusis marry her
and lock her up?
Would that solve anything?
I don't know.
Vita's changed.
She's always had a wild streak,
that's part of her charm.
But over the last months...
it's all gone wrong.
She won't touch me.
Why do you mind so much?
Because...
I don't know.
She's unique.
I...
lust after her.
More than anybody else
because there's much more involved.
Do you understand?
Yes, I think so.
I wasn't well, you remember?
That put the kibosh on everything for a bit.
Maybe I handled it badly. I don't know.
But I'm not much of a ladies' man, I'm afraid.
No.
But Vita's very much what they call
"a man's woman."
God, it's all so confusing.
Why?
All one needs is a little fun and a quiet life.
People like Violet Keppel
need endless misery and uproar.
- Hm.
- No, I mean it.
I know Vita needs a bit of that too,
but I can't provide it.
I simply can't.
I'm too...
fin-de-si?cle.
Too bloody cultured.
Anyway, what does it mean, "a man's woman"?
Hm?
Oh, well, a woman who's tough.
And honourable.
Female rather than feminine, I suppose.
That's Vita.
At least I thought it was.
She didn't mind at all
when I told her about my...
little vices.
Are you sure?
Oh, absolutely.
She knows perfectly well they're unimportant.
But necessary.
Yes.
Shitting is necessary.
Breathing is necessary.
Eating, in moderation, is necessary.
But they don't provide a motive for one's life.
And Vita does?
Exactly.
Isn't it possible that she has the same attitude?
What?
Oh, I see what you mean.
No.
No. Everything's important to Vita.
She has no sense of proportion whatever.
So if she's got it into her head that
the Keppel girl provides some sort of answer,
there's no point in trying to compete.
It's as simple as that.
In other words, hellishly complicated.
I'm terrifically grateful to you, you know.
Oh, don't be so damn silly.
I hope it all works out.
- Any idea when you'll be in Paris?
- Soon, I hope.
Meanwhile we struggle on
trying to sort out Romania.
God, what a mess it all is.
Europe, I mean.
Tu n'est pas fatigu?, mon cher.
Lushka.
Lushka.
Medea.
- Yah!
"Don't smile, darling Mar.
"I've been reading such a wonderful book.
"It's called Married Love by Marie Stopes.
"It goes into every detail.
"There's a whole chapter which explains
why Haji goes to sleep and Mar doesn't.
"And, oh, my darling,
I'm appalled at my ignorance.
"This book and my new feelings for you
"are going to make our future life glorious
"and real. "
- What would you like?
- What can you offer me?
Well, I can make you a Manhattan.
Dry Martini, white lady, sidecar.
Any hope of a Plazo?
No.
But you can have a stinger, if you like.
All right. A stinger.
- Shall I do that?
- Certainly not.
It's my only domestic accomplishment.
Do you think I'd make a good barmaid?
I do. If all else fails.
I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your skills.
You shall always mix the drinks.
I promise.
It's very good.
At last.
You look superb.
Indeed superb.
- We're having stingers.
- Gin, please.
You've been here before, I expect.
You know Eddie ??
Slightly, but no I haven't.
It's charming.
Yes.
He's away, I imagine.
Yes.
And you're off to Monte Carlo when? Tomorrow?
Yes. Tomorrow.
- Sant?.
- Sant?.
Do you really want to go out tonight, Lushka?
- Well, don't you?
- No, not very much.
What did you say it was, Denys? Tosca?
Yes.
Tosca.
Are you passionate to see Tosca?
Well...
I don't know.
If you don't...
but Denys has made the arrangements.
What a relief.
To tell you the truth, the last thing in the world
I feel like doing tonight is seeing Tosca.
Perhaps the Folies would be more to your taste?
No.
No, really, I honestly don't mind.
Do what you like, of course.
I shall just have a quiet dinner downstairs.
All right.
I'm terribly sorry.
But you see, we are leaving tomorrow and...
I absolutely understand.
A quiet dinner would suit me admirably.
Run along now, Denys.
Why do we have to stay here?
Why can't we go home?
Well, when Mummy's away, it's better, you see.
- Why?
- Because...
Anyway, you're gonna go stay
with Granny Carnock if Mummy...
If Mummy's what?
If Mummy's not back.
What about those pictures you were gonna
show me? Let's find them, shall we?
- I don't know where they are.
- Oh, of course you know where they are.
Don't. Don't know where anything is.
You mean you've heard nothing?
Well.
If she isn't back when you go to Paris...
That's not until the new year.
Of course she'll be back.
I very much hope so.
If she isn't, I shall simply send the boys
to your mother.
Ned and I will be up to our eyes
finishing the Brighton house after Christmas.
But she'll be home for Christmas,
I know she will.
Why don't you telephone her hotel?
Surely that's possible from the Foreign Office.
I don't know where they're staying.
My dear boy,
you write to her every day.
Post restante at Monte Carlo.
But I don't know where they're staying.
You must be more forceful, Harold!
Vita is like me.
Of passionate nature, hot-blooded.
She needs a little authoritarism.
A little management!
My poor little Mar.
No wonder.
You're not helping very much, you know.
Helping? Ha!
"You really are hopeless
"and I put it all down to that swine Violet,
"who seems to addle your brain.
"You just go mooning on from day to day
with the future in a sort of sloppy fog,
"quite regardless of the inconvenience
you're causing to others. "
Bonjour.
You shouldn't collect them.
You should just leave them to moulder
at the post.
I ought to go back home, Lushka.
Apart from anything else, the children.
The children.
I don't understand you.
One minute you've got
all the colours of the jungle,
burning and flashing like a jewel,
then suddenly you jump onto some dead,
old twig called Harold and the children
and die too.
You grow old and dusty.
And shrivel.
Medea, can't you see?
I promised I'd be back.
Well?
Well, in case you didn't know,
it will be Christmas soon. I should be there.
Please don't go, my darling.
I know we can't stay forever,
but just a little while.
This is the happiest time of my life.
You said it was for you too.
It is.
Well, then.
This is so precious, Medea.
Let's keep it a little longer.
What about money?
If you keep losing
as much as you did last night...
I won't, I promise. I won't even play.
A likely tale.
I'll just sit by you and will it to stop.
It works, you know.
?130.
Yes.
That's a great relief. I'm enormously grateful.
Oh. And Miss Willoughby,
see that it's sent to Sackville-West.
She prefers it as you know.
Thank you so much.
Thank you.
And to you.
# Comfort and joy
- # Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# From God our heavenly father,
a blessed angel came
# And unto certain shepherds,
brought tidings of the same
# How that in Bethlehem was born
the son of God by name
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# Comfort and joy
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# Fear not, then, said the angel,
let nothing you afright
# This day is born a saviour
of virtue, power and might
# So frequently to vanquish
all the friends of Satan quite
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# Comfort and joy
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy
# The shepherds at those tidings,
rejoic?d much in mind
# And left their flocks a-feeding in tempest,
storm and wind
# And went to Bethlehem straightaway,
this blessed babe to find
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy,
comfort and joy
# Oh, tidings of comfort and joy #
Salut.
Well, I have only one rule in life...
To avoid unhappiness.
Very wise.
I'm sure the secret of any relationship...
is to treat disasters as if they were incidents.
But not the other way round, I hope?
Certainly not.
Take my wife, for instance.
A highly intelligent woman.
But never really happy unless she's magnifying
some incident into a major drama.
Strange, isn't it?
Don't you think women
must get tremendously bored?
Probably.
I must say, I can't be doing with them.
On the whole.
When does the peace conference start?
January?
I might drift over to Paris for a few days.
Yes.
Yes. Why don't you?
Excuse me, please. Thank you.
- Yes, sir. What name?
- Nicolson, Harold.
Yes, Mr Nicolson. Room 102.
It's the second floor, sir.
The porter will bring your luggage.
- Thank you. Are there any messages for me?
- They will be left in your room, sir.
- Your key.
- Ah. Thank you.
- Ah.
- What number, sir?
It's that confusing,
I can't find me way round meself.
- 102.
- Ah, that's this way.
You'd think it would be next to 101,
wouldn't you, but it isn't.
Is my wife here? They didn't tell me.
Your wife, sir? No, sir. Not that I know of.
Those got sent over this morning.
Mr Knoblock's valet brought them.
He said they'd been left in Mr Knoblock's
apartment, sir, and there's...
All right. Thank you.
Thank you, sir.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Yes, sir.
Six o'clock.
I've got the documents with me, sir.
I'll bring them, of course.
Six o'clock.