故园风雨后2008

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



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

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

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Brideshead Revisited Script
  

  
If you asked me now who I am,

  
the only answer I could give
with any certainty

  
would be my name,
Charles Ryder.

  
For the rest,
my loves, my hates,

  
down even to my deepest desires,

  
I can no longer say whether
these emotions are my own

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

  
On second thoughts,
one emotion remains my own,

  
alone among the borrowed
and the second-hand,

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

  
Guilt.

  
Been away, sir? Anywhere interesting?

  
- Jungle.
- Jungle.

  
Explorer, are we?

  
- Painter.
- Painter?

  
So, bye-bye beardy, hello smooth.

  
Famous for his impressive
architectural portraits,

  
British artist Charles Ryder
has taken New York by storm

  
with a series of gripping jungle studies.

  
To own a Ryder is currently the dream

  
of every self-respecting
East Coast millionaire.

  
You must be so proud of him.

  
- Was he away long?
- Two years,

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

  
I can't paint
to save my life.

  
Thank you.

  
I can't even hold a buggering brush!

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

  
I see the jungle in your work
as a metaphor.

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

  
Make an effort, Charles.

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

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

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

  
Hello, Charles.

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

  
Why?

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

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

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

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

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

  
Your mother was always
so good at that.

  
Who's meeting you?

  
Cousin Jasper offered
to show me around.

  
Cousin Jasper!

  
Most entertaining.

  
Out of the way,
you silly fool.

  
There you are, Charles.

  
This way, please.

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

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

  
Older, wiser,
but a brother nevertheless.

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

  
Keep off the grass.

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

  
Now, then... Not that way.

  
Clothes. Dress as you do
in a country house.

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

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

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

  
Nine adulteries, 12 liaisons,
64 fornications,

  
and something approaching a rape

  
rest nightly upon the soul
of our delicate friend Florialis,

  
and yet the man is so
quiet and reserved in demeanor

  
that he passes
for both bloodless and sexless.

  
Sodomites, all of them. Steer well clear.

  
Treat all dons
as you would the local vicar.

  
With indifference.

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

  
I've seen many a man ruined

  
through having ground floor rooms
in the front quad.

  
People start dropping in.

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

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

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

  
Come on, you're nearly clean.

  
Oh, no, no, no, sir, stop.

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

  
Sorry, Lunt. What's all this?

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

  
"I am very contrite.

  
"Please come to luncheon today.
Sebastian Flyte."

  
The Lord Sebastian Flyte,
don't you know?

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

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

  
Yes, Lunt. I think I shall be.

  
I've just counted them.

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

  
I'm unaccountably hungry today.

  
I put myself unreservedly
in the hands of Dolbear and Goodall

  
and feel so drugged
I've begun to believe

  
the whole of yesterday evening
was a dream.

  
Please don't wake me.

  
- Do try one.
- Thank you.

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

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

  
You would, too, if you knew my mother.

  
Are you terribly angry with me
about last night?

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

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

  
- Tell me about you.
- Me?

  
I'm in my first year, reading history,

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

  
Would you like to paint me?

  
Well, yes. Yes, if you like.

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

  
I've no idea what I want.

  
Except to be happy.

  
If I can.

  
Let's have some champagne.

  
A glass each before the rowdies arrive.

  
You don't want to join the Old Boys.

  
They're all bloody drugged bogs
or collegers.

  
Top me up,
will you, old man?

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

  
Oh, really. Where then?
Harrow or Winchester?

  
Rugby? Oh, not Charterhouse, I hope?

  
You wouldn't have heard of it.

  
There are other schools,
you know, Boy.

  
Yes, I suppose there must be.

  
- My dears.
- Hello, Blanche.

  
Hello, Blanche.

  
I couldn't get away before.

  
I was lunching
with my preposterous tutor.

  
I told him I had to change for footer.

  
Anthony, you remember Charles.
From last night?

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

  
- No!
- Why ever not?

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

  
- Then I am.
- Interesting.

  
You have about you
a distinct hint of the pragmatic.

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

  
Why don't you just
buy a bloody camera

  
and take a bloody photograph
and stop giving yourself airs?

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

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

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

  
Come on! Answer!

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

  
Answer, answer, answer, answer...

  
Because a camera
is a mechanical device

  
which records a moment in time,

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

  
Whereas a painting,
however imperfect it may be,

  
is an expression of feeling.

  
An expression of love.

  
Not just a copy of something.

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

  
I do.

  
Boy, you're an oaf. Behave yourself.

  
To art and love.

  
To art and love!

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

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

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

  
- Morning, Jasper.
- Morning.

  
Two tries out of you today...

  
Charles. You're to come away at once!

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

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

  
It's heaven with strawberries.

  
Just the place to bury a crock of gold.

  
I should like to bury
something precious

  
in every place where I've been happy.

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

  
I could come back
and dig it up and remember.

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

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

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

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

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

  
Keep up.

  
Charles. Charles.

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

  
Meet my new chum, Charles.

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

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

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

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

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

  
You've come at just the right time.

  
Lady Marchmain's
on her way up from London.

  
It's the Conservative Women's Tea.

  
They always turn out for Brideshead.

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

  
Your mother will be disappointed.

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

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

  
I pray for my dear Sebastian every day.

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

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

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

  
Just a little look.

  
Don't be such a tourist, Charles.

  
If you're that keen,

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

  
God, I loathe that painting!

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

  
What did you do that for?

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

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

  
Come on, come on!

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

  
Charles, what are you doing?

  
Car. Now.

  
Who was that in the car
with your mother?

  
- My sister.
- What's she like?

  
For goodness sake, Charles,

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

  
But I've never
asked you anything before.

  
You're so inquisitive.

  
Well, you're so mysterious about them.

  
I hoped I was mysterious
about everything.

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

  
Who are you ashamed of, them or me?

  
Don't be so vulgar, Charles.

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

  
I don't have a family.

  
You have me.

  
Sebastian and Charles,
contra mundum.

  
Contra mundum.

  
Father?

  
Father?

  
- Back already?
- Term's over.

  
So soon?

  
Thank you.

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

  
A great friend of mine
has had a terrible accident.

  
- I must go to him.
- May I?

  
"Gravely injured.
Come at once. Sebastian."

  
I'm sorry you're upset.

  
Reading this message,

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

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

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

  
Remind me.
Why is your presence necessary?

  
I told you, he's a great friend.

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

  
Take your bag, sir?

  
Excuse me!

  
Are you Charles Ryder?

  
Yes. Sorry. Hello.

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

  
Hop in, Mr. Ryder.

  
- Case in the back.
- Sorry, yes.

  
How's Sebastian?

  
- He's fine.
- Fine?

  
Did he tell you he was dying?

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

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

  
He's not badly hurt, then?

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

  
- How did it happen?
- Playing croquet.

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

  
you traveling all this way
for a croquet injury.

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

  
Is it? Why?

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

  
I can't stand the place.

  
Be an angel and light me one.

  
There you are, at last!

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

  
The pain was excruciating.

  
Julia, ask Wilcox
to fetch us some champagne.

  
- I hate champagne.
- For our guest.

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

  
Come along, Charles.

  
I thought you hated champagne.

  
I do.

  
I suppose Sebastian's told you
all about us?

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

  
And nor should I.

  
What?

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

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

  
She means you're not a Catholic.

  
Sorry, no. No, nothing at all.

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

  
Strictly speaking, we're C of E,

  
but Father only ever goes
for Christmas and funerals.

  
He likes those.

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

  
I was very young.

  
She died working for the Red Cross.

  
Which, given her devotion to good,

  
does rather point up
the arbitrariness of it all.

  
I see. So, you're here arbitrarily?

  
He's here as my friend.

  
Given Mr. Ryder's
staunch position on religion,

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

  
Leave Charles out of it.

  
- Tell me.
- Oh, God.

  
Mummy takes her faith
very seriously, indeed.

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

  
called her a living saint.

  
Mind you, he drinks.

  
Sebastian and I
are a couple of heathens.

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

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

  
Why do we always end up
talking about family?

  
It's time for my bath.

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

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

  
I don't think
she cares for anyone much.

  
I love her.

  
She's like me.

  
Drink in remembrance of me.

  
Hang on.

  
In fact, I know that that's checkmate.

  
Come here.

  
If only it could be
like this always.

  
Always summer.

  
Always alone.

  
Fruit always ripe.

  
Cheers.

  
Now,

  
try this.

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

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

  
A flute by still water.

  
This is a wise old wine.

  
A prophet in a cave.

  
And this

  
is a string of pearls on a white neck.

  
- A swan.
- The last unicorn.

  
Who's that?

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

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

  
Mother.

  
Hello, there.

  
Go away,
we're not decent!

  
- Mummy's here.
- We know.

  
She's invited Charles to dinner.

  
It's not what we
agreed upon, Sebastian,

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

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

  
That's not going to help, is it?

  
You see, darling,
whatever yesterday's sins,

  
we must all pray for God's forgiveness.

  
So now, you try and try again now.

  
Be a good boy.
For God and for Mummy.

  
Now, just put your shirt on now.

  
Dining room's this way.

  
Is Sebastian all right?
He seemed upset.

  
Oh.

  
He and Mummy often have these talks.

  
Flannels for dinner?
Very bold, Mr. Ryder.

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

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

  
- Do you often do that?
- What?

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

  
Thank you.

  
- Amen.
- Amen.

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

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

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

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

  
Or perhaps Bridey's a better fit.

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

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

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

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

  
Has Sebastian
been seeing to the wine?

  
Yes. Sebastian's been
seeing to the wine.

  
Delighted to hear it.

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

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

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

  
What do you enjoy, Bridey?

  
Hunting, shooting,

  
fishing.

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

  
- Sorry, pleasures?
- Your hobbies.

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

  
Drinking is not a hobby, Sebastian.

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

  
- Whereabouts?
- Paddington.

  
You live in a railway station?

  
No, no. Sorry. No, I live nearby.

  
I see.

  
And has this led
to an interest in trains?

  
No.

  
So, are you close
with Sebastian's crowd?

  
Not really.

  
- With Anthony Blanche?
- We're acquainted.

  
Charles is a painter, Mummy.

  
How charming.

  
We must get you
to paint something for us.

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

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

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

  
Summer at Brideshead.

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

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

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

  
I see.

  
And do you intend
to accept this invitation?

  
Yes. Why not?

  
What about you, Julia?
Will you be going?

  
I'd like to.

  
Wouldn't you rather
stay at Brideshead?

  
Well, yes, if you want me to.

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

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

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

  
You do know Charles is an atheist?

  
An agnostic, surely.

  
Actually, no.

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

  
Thank you.

  
- No Sebastian?
- No, Mummy.

  
Charles, are you really an atheist?

  
- Yes, I am.
- How awful for you.

  
I'll put you on my prayer list.

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

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

  
and they christen a baby after you.

  
Right.

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

  
Give us this day our daily bread,

  
and forgive us our trespasses

  
as we forgive
those who trespass against us.

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

  
Amen.

  
Have you ever
been to Venice, Mr. Ryder?

  
No. No, I haven't.

  
Every ambitious young man
should visit Venice.

  
It makes one sound more complete.

  
I was thinking, if Sebastian were to go,

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

  
He needs someone plausible
by his side.

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

  
It's youthful high spirits, I understand,

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

  
Atheist, or no.

  
I know I can rely on you.

  
You seem to me
a very reliable young man.

  
- San Giovanni e Paolo.
- Oh, dear.

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

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

  
He lives
in one of the palazzos with Cara.

  
- Who's Cara?
- His mistress.

  
Poor Papa's rather shunned by society.

  
Not the Italians, of course.
They adore him.

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

  
- My dear boy!
- Darling, Papa.

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

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

  
Cara thinks I'm getting far too fat.

  
Julia, come here.

  
- Father.
- My child.

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

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

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

  
Julia, this is your friend, Mr. Ryder?

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

  
- Delighted.
- How do you do, sir?

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

  
Come along now. This way.

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

  
Sorry.

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

  
Your father seemed
pleased to see you.

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

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

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

  
- Who are you like?
- Me?

  
Oh.

  
Nobody.

  
I'm the family shadow.

  
Drinks.

  
- Julia.
- Cara.

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

  
- Charles is an artist.
- Good.

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

  
He never goes anywhere.
Such a philistine.

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

  
The Italians seem unable
to paint anything half decent

  
without putting Christ dying in it.

  
Of course, your mother loved Italy.

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

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

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

  
You were the one who walked away!

  
What must you think of us, Mr. Ryder?

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

  
I lost my mother when I was young.

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

  
I thought it was magnificent.

  
You think that? Really?

  
And now, here you are in Venice.

  
What a lot of temptations.

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

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

  
That woman nearly suffocated him.

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

  
Well, just look at her children.

  
Even when they were tiny,
in the nursery,

  
they must do
what she want them to do,

  
be what she want them to be.

  
Only then, would she love them.

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

  
But surely you're Catholic, too?

  
Yes, but a different sort.

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

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

  
Sebastian loves you very much, I think.

  
There you are.

  
They're very good,
these romantic English friendships,

  
if they don't go on too long.

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

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

  
Tread carefully, Mr. Ryder.

  
Come on.

  
- Hello.
- No! No!

  
Come on.

  
Got you.

  
- Can't sleep.
- Try pajamas.

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

  
You were very sweet.

  
Charles?

  
There you are.

  
Sorry.

  
Lots to drink.

  
I'm so glad you're here.

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

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

  
Let's get plastered.
- If you want.

  
Oh, yes, I do. I want. I want.

  
There's a wonderful chapel
near here!

  
You will see a masterpiece, I tell you.

  
The devil's got his eye on you!

  
Well, then you must protect me.

  
Julia!

  
Julia.

  
I got lost. All those people.

  
What are you doing?

  
What's the matter?

  
No!

  
Funny old religion, isn't it?

  
Sebastian,

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

  
If I'd known it was going to happen,

  
I'd never have...

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

  
Checkmate.

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

  
You've been enjoying yourself?

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

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

  
- No.
- I'm very thankful.

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

  
Watch out, Flyte!
- Sebastian!

  
- Sebastian!
- Leave me alone!

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

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

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

  
Bastard's been set up to follow me.

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

  
God, I feel a hundred years old.

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

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

  
- Since Venice.
- Yes.

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

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

  
Mummy's hired him to watch me.

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

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

  
Dear Charles, always so certain.

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

  
By the way, Mummy's here.

  
She has to talk to you.

  
Probably wants you
to spy on me as well.

  
Don't be like that.

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

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

  
I'm so sorry.

  
So, Charles,

  
- how was Venice?
- Venice was fine.

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

  
Speaking as an artist or a man?

  
I want a word with you
about Sebastian.

  
I'm concerned about him.

  
- Tea?
- No, thank you.

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

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

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

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

  
Sebastian drinks to escape
the claims of his conscience.

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

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

  
- Did something happen there?
- No.

  
- You all had a good time?
- Yes.

  
I wonder what it could have been.

  
I hope you didn't let Julia mislead you.

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

  
Please understand,

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

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

  
Were it simply
a difference in upbringing,

  
this I might overlook.

  
But you are a self-proclaimed atheist,

  
and my daughter
is destined to marry a Catholic.

  
God commands and we obey.

  
However, we're forgetting ourselves.

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

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

  
Because of Julia?

  
But that is all cleared up now.

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

  
I'd like you
to keep Sebastian company.

  
You came to Brideshead
as my son's friend.

  
If you have
unaccountably offended him,

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

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

  
And, of course,

  
Brideshead does look particularly
beautiful at this time of year.

  
Tell me, I'm curious.

  
Since, as you claim,
you have no religion,

  
what do you imagine
you are doing on this earth?

  
Living my life, the same as you.

  
But without faith,
what could your purpose possibly be?

  
I want to look back and say that I was

  
alive.

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

  
That I was happy.

  
Happiness in this life is irrelevant.

  
All that matters,

  
the only thing of consequence,
is the life hereafter.

  
Ready for the off.

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

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

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

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

  
We should compare notes some time.

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

  
Wise man. Load of English
blue bloods on horseback.

  
Got to fit in, though!

  
Who is it?

  
It's me.

  
You could have knocked.
I nearly spilt my drink.

  
I did.

  
Sit down.

  
If only it could be like this always.

  
- Always summer.
- Ancient history.

  
Pass me a towel.

  
Where's that damn shirt?

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

  
Don't you know, Charles?

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

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

  
It's me.

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

  
I'm fine.

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

  
I want you to know that
whatever happened in Venice,

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

  
I'm on your side.

  
Contra mundum.

  
Dear Charles,

  
you're not in anybody's gang.

  
That's always been your problem.

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

  
I do.

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

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

  
If they treat me like a dipsomaniac,

  
they can bloody well
have a dipsomaniac.

  
Well, they can't stop you.

  
They can, as a matter of fact,

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

  
I've pawned my watch
and cigarette case.

  
That lasted for a bit,

  
but that's all gone now.

  
So, regretfully...

  
Sebastian, I can't do that.

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

  
Well, then.

  
Look, why don't I come with you?

  
It's miserable drinking alone.

  
We could get drunk together,
like we used to.

  
No.

  
I'm past all that.

  
Thanks for the offer.

  
Well?

  
Are you with me or against me?

  
Little bit further up
on the shoulder, though.

  
Sarah, look.

  
Sort of up here.

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

  
on top of the birthday festivities,

  
the engagement of my eldest daughter,
the Lady Julia Flyte

  
to Mr. Rex Mottram.

  
Yes, it's marvelous, isn't it.

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

  
- Cordelia, I'm...
- Come along!

  
- Charles?
- Hmm?

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

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

  
Good. I thought so.

  
Get a grip, Charles!

  
Rex! Rex, I need a better dancer.

  
Yours for five minutes and no more.

  
- Come along.
- Okay.

  
You're rather tall, aren't you?

  
Is that a handicap?

  
Why didn't you tell me?

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

  
Charles, I can't do this.

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

  
Why? It was wonderful.

  
I know.

  
I think about it all the time.

  
I have no choice.

  
- Oh, Sebastian.
- Never mind.

  
- Oh, Charles.
- Don't!

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

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

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

  
You see... What it is...

  
I hate you all so very much!

  
- Sebastian.
- Get off me!

  
You don't care about me!

  
All you ever wanted
was to sleep with my sister!

  
Okay, Sebastian, that's enough.

  
All right. I'm going.

  
Charles,

  
did you give Sebastian money today?

  
Yes, I did.

  
Knowing how he was likely to spend it?

  
Yes.

  
I don't understand.

  
How could you be so nice
in so many ways,

  
and then do something
so wantonly cruel?

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

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

  
Having him watched
every second of the day?

  
But you deliberately
helped him to drink.

  
You're the reason he drinks,

  
not me.

  
All I did was

  
try to give him a little freedom.

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

  
I think you should leave now, Charles.

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

  
Yes, thanks.

  
I'm Celia Mulcaster, by the way.

  
Charles Ryder.

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

  
No need to look so gloomy.

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

  
You can thank me, if you want.

  
Thank you.

  
Would you like me
to buy something now?

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

  
- Charles.
- Lady Marchmain.

  
Thank you, Father.

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

  
Please, sit down.

  
I'm fine, thank you.

  
How did you know where I lived?

  
My driver found you.

  
The Ryders of Paddington
are limited in number.

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

  
Congratulations.

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

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

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

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

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

  
- I act only as God directs.
- Rubbish.

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

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

  
The reason I called
was to ask you a favor.

  
A favor?

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

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

  
You banish me from your house,

  
you poison my friendship
with both your children

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

  
There's no one else I can ask.

  
Even if I were to agree,

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

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

  
All I ever wanted was to see them safe.

  
And all they do is hate me.

  
I'll be at Brideshead.

  
You may send word to me there.

  
Driver!

  
Driver!

  
I'm looking for Sebastian Flyte.

  
This is his house.

  
- Who are you?
- I'm his friend.

  
In the local hospital.

  
When you see him,

  
tell him I'm still here.

  
Your friend
has got the grippe.

  
One of his lungs is full of fluid.

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

  
He's very weak. No resistance.

  
What do you expect?
He is an alcoholic.

  
Here is your friend.

  
What the hell are you doing here?

  
Your mother asked me to come.

  
She wants me to bring you back home,

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

  
I wouldn't, even if I could.

  
I think...

  
I think she's dying.

  
Walk with me. I'm meant to exercise.

  
Did you go to my house?

  
Did you meet Kurt?

  
Yes.

  
He wanted you to know
he was waiting for you.

  
It's rather a pleasant change,

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

  
to have someone to look after, yourself.

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

  
Brideshead?

  
Are you mad?

  
The place would still be full of her.

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

  
I need to sit.

  
I'm sorry.

  
Whatever for?

  
Everything.

  
It's all right.

  
Truly.

  
I asked too much of you.

  
I knew it all along, really.

  
Only God can give you that sort of love.

  
Come home, Sebastian.

  
When you're well enough.

  
Don't finish it like this.

  
This is my life now.

  
I'm happy here.

  
I miss you.

  
How sweet of you to say that.

  
Dear Charles,

  
it was my fault for
bringing you to Brideshead.

  
Run away.

  
Run far away and don't ever look back.

  
I'm sorry.

  
You must be so proud of him.

  
- Was he away long?
- Two years,

  
and it doesn't feel like a day.

  
Hello, Charles.

  
Did you know I was on the boat?

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

  
You're married now.

  
Yes.

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

  
- How ridiculous.
- Yes, isn't it?

  
Tell me this is fate.

  
- What?
- Nothing.

  
Tell me.

  
I was thinking about Sebastian.

  
Mummy died without
ever seeing him again.

  
I know.

  
Let's go up on deck.

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

  
Come on!

  
Sorry.

  
- So where's Rex?
- I drowned him.

  
Forgive me, Rex!

  
Lady Julia, fancy meeting you here.

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

  
Dry martini, please.

  
One dry Martini,
one whiskey with water.

  
Please, allow me.

  
So, why did you marry Rex?

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

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

  
Because Mummy approved,
God rest her soul.

  
I thought he was my painted savage.

  
It turns out he was
thoroughly up to date.

  
Thank you.

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

  
- Do you have children?
- No.

  
No.

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

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

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

  
- What about Italy? Capri?
- Antibes.

  
- Seville.
- Verona.

  
- Paris.
- Brideshead.

  
- No!
- Why not?

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

  
- Not after this.
- Nonsense.

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

  
Besides, Rex is there.

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

  
I'll settle everything.

  
Trust me.

  
I do.

  
- And stop worrying!
- I will.

  
Good afternoon, ma'am.
- Lovely day.

  
Mr. and Mrs. Ryder.

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

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

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

  
Mrs. Ryder, good day.

  
Charles, how charming you look.

  
Anthony.

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

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

  
Where are the pictures?

  
Let me explain them to you.

  
This is simply charm.

  
Simple, creamy, English charm,
playing tigers.

  
But enough of art.

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

  
Or nearly everything.

  
Everyone's talking about it.

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

  
Do you think I should warn her?

  
Warn her about what?

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

  
I always thought you
were the lamb to be slaughtered,

  
when all along it is they
who are hunted.

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

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

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

  
Rex thinks there's a war
coming with Hitler.

  
He wants to do well out of it.

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

  
- Hello, Rex.
- Good evening, Rex.

  
Mr. Ryder,
welcome back to Brideshead.

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

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

  
It's cold.

  
Not here!

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

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

  
- Yes? Charles?
- Yes.

  
If that's what you want.

  
Hello, Bridey.

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

  
Welcome back to Brideshead, Charles.

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

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

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

  
Well, come on. Out with it.

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

  
Well, who is she?

  
- No one you know.
- Is she pretty?

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

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

  
She is a big woman.

  
- Fat?
- No, big.

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

  
But, Bridey, where did you find her?

  
Her late husband, Admiral Muspratt,
collected matchboxes.

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

  
No, no.

  
Matchboxes were left
to Falmouth Town Library.

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

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

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

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

  
- I couldn't do that.
- Why not?

  
Well, you must understand,

  
Beryl is a woman
of strict Catholic principle,

  
fortified by the prejudices
of the middle classes.

  
I couldn't possibly bring her here.

  
I don't understand.

  
It may be a matter of indifference
to you,

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

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

  
How dare you talk to her like that?

  
Bloody offensive thing to say!

  
Really, there was nothing
she could object to.

  
I was merely stating
a fact well known to her.

  
Take no notice of him, my darling.

  
So,

  
got you. Sorry about the delay.

  
I'll be outside.

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

  
I had it installed especially. Want one?

  
No, thank you.

  
I know what you're thinking.

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

  
I do it on purpose.

  
It amuses me to offend
their delicate sensibilities.

  
So, you wanna take my wife off me?

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

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

  
She'll never be free.

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

  
Who said anything about faith?

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

  
All those pretty paintings.
All those pretty views.

  
Let her go, Rex. You never loved her.

  
The only thing you ever had
in common was religion.

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

  
I converted before the wedding.

  
Bet she didn't tell you that.

  
- I guessed.
- Oh, yeah?

  
You're the type.

  
You people,

  
you never learn.

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

  
I did what I had to do.

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

  
It's a great religion.

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

  
You gotta woo these people.

  
This family don't live in the real world.

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

  
You want my wife? Make me an offer.

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

  
Try a little harder.

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

  
You can never have enough
of what you want.

  
No, you're right.

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

  
I'll tell you what I'll do.

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

  
I hear you're worth collecting.

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

  
You don't have to speak.

  
Just nod.

  
I'll have my driver take me to London.

  
He can pick up the paintings
in the morning.

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

  
Lost the only one we had.

  
Julia?

  
I'm so sorry. I didn't know.

  
- It's just a shock.
- Shh.

  
Shh. Don't.

  
I've always known, ever since nursery.

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

  
All through the backgammon
and cigars, I tried.

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

  
God had to punish me.

  
So he took my little stillborn...

  
My child. My girl.

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

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

  
an invisible thread drawing you back,
inch by inch,

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

  
And that voice inside your head,

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

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

  
And the voice is telling you,
whispering,

  
"Wicked little Julia,

    面对这类充满英伦风情的电影或文学作品时，我总是没有多少抵抗力。
    一个古老、神秘、华丽的庄园，一个终身被宗教束缚的家庭，三个感情纠葛的青年，没有跌宕起伏的情节，那些剪不断理还乱的感情也是化作眼神中欲说还休的爱意。所有的一切，Julian Jarrold 只是用含蓄的镜头，为我们诉说了一段淡淡的故事。然而，足以令人沉沦。
    我想在这里，讨论的不该是宗教究竟是对是错，而且我本人也信仰基督教。可是，我不得不震惊与宗教对这个家庭的巨大影响。宗教，应该是让人内心得到慰籍，解脱的信仰。然而在这里，宗教却是心灵的枷锁。每一个人都虔诚地匍匐在圣像面前，忏悔着自己无尽的罪恶。母亲自小就灌输着孩子们原罪说的教义，从厌恶，反抗到顺从，“可恶的小Julia,坏姑娘，活在罪恶中”于是那每晚枕边的耳语竟果真在心底生根发芽，每个人都蒙上了沉重的负罪感。每一个Flyte，都成了宗教的牺牲品。
    庄重高贵的贵妇，她冷漠，她专制，狂热的天主教徒，嘴里总是说着上帝、罪恶， Charles指责她说“上帝是你最好的发明，你想要什么，他就做什么”可是当她请求Charles把Sebastian带回家时，当她听到Sebastian不愿回来面对她的消息无力的靠在墙上时，我看到的是一个伤心、无助、充满爱怜的母亲；浪漫不羁的老伯爵，他开朗，他享乐，因为忍受不了家中压抑的氛围而放弃了子女，和情妇常年居住在威尼斯，看着妻子一点点的折磨着自己的子女，而选择沉默，可是当他病入膏肓时，他还是选择了回到Brideshead Castle ，选择了死在家中。他讨厌妻子的贞德形象，新婚时送给她的礼物却是那幅让Sebastian极度憎恶的圣母画像。他坚持不要神父来做临终忏悔，在弥留之际却还是顺从了子女，用颤抖的手费力地画了一个十字。。。。。。人物内心的种种矛盾冲突，究其根源，无外乎宗教两字。
他们臣服于圣像下忏悔，信仰却时时刻刻折磨着他们。Marchchair夫人说Julia的婚姻无关乎教养，而取决于她的信仰。Julia顺从了，被迫嫁给了同是天主教徒的Ｒｅｘ。那个在车站接Charles时自信的神情，那个看见Charles和Sebastian光着身子时不怀好意的嘴角上的笑容，那个与他们在威尼斯的海滩上肆意玩闹得身影．．．我一直以为Julia和Sebastian一样反抗他们的母亲，反抗者这个家庭，如果说Sebastian是以沉醉酒精来得到超凡的解脱与快乐，那么Julia应该是以冷眼旁观来排斥这个家庭吧？可是我错了。Julia没有这份勇气，她是个彻头彻尾的奥兰斯卡夫人式的人（见《纯真年代》）。她和她一样嫁给了自己不爱也不爱自己的男人，她和她一样拥有了一段没有结果的爱情，她和她一样在幸福辍手可得之际退缩，转身离开。她像ｓ一样厌恶自己的家庭，厌恶母亲灌输的宗教思想，但她还是屈顺于其，在父亲临终时甚至怒斥了不愿用神父的Charles，坚持了母亲的那一套。她想要摆脱儿时以来母亲给与的罪恶感，她想和Charles在一起以获得自由，可是这份不合宗教伦理的爱加重了她的罪恶感，她茫然，不知所措，她再次顺从了，放弃了和Charles在一起的机会。根深蒂固的那些信仰让她在排斥的同时，却下意识的更接近于它们。只能说，哀其不幸，怒其不争。
Charles是故事的叙述者，就像所有的热爱艺术的贫穷青年画家们一样，从第一眼起，Brideshead这座古老精美的庄园便深深吸引了他。他不顾一切的想要了解它。他开始想法设法地接近这座庄园。但我总觉得在他不卑不亢的外表下，还有这一丝虚伪，是的，道貌岸然的虚伪。在被赶出Brideshead Castle后，他出于利益和方便娶了Celia, 而再次遇见Julia后竟然又毫不犹豫的，明目张胆的背叛了自己的妻子。Marchchair夫人在舞会上指责他给Sebastian钱让Sebastian继续酗酒不只是出于单纯的友情：“你只是想要被他喜欢，你不顾一切的想要被喜欢！”这话也许过分，但也不无道理。Julia 在影片后段，听到Charles愿意用两幅画换取Rex和Julia自己的离婚后，对他说的那句“你要的不仅是我，更是这座庄园！”很好的解释了这点（虽然导演在这个问题上处理的有些牵强，没有充分的铺垫好）。这些是连Charles自己在这之前都没有意识到的自己内心的真正欲望。
而Sebastian无疑是这部片子中最让人心酸、同情的角色了。哦，那个总是与他的泰迪bear Aloysius形影不离的看似长不大的任性的男孩Sebastian怎能叫人不心酸呢？“Sebastian and Charles,contra mundum”(Sebastian 和Charles，一起对抗世界) 当我再次看到这句话时眼眶几乎湿润。他只是想要快乐。他多么希望能有一个人，一个可以赋予真心的人。可是，至始至终，都只有他一个人在对抗“世界”。我无法认同有的介绍中“父母的丑闻扭曲了孩子们的天性”这样的说法。Sebastian 对Charles那难以言说的微妙情感决不是什么“扭曲”了的情感！！循规蹈矩的冷漠兄长，天真无知的单纯妹妹，抛下孩子离开的父亲，专制霸道的母亲。没有依靠。和他一样叛逆的姐姐，最终也顺从了“主”的旨意。他太孤独了，他太痛苦了，他太忧伤了。宗教、家庭压得他喘不过气来，压得他感受不到爱，压得他只能以酒精来麻痹自己。于是，那个号称无神论者的Charles出现了，他的不同把Sebastian稍稍从阴霾的包围中拉出了一只胳膊。Sebastian 以为他终于找了支撑。那个突如其来的浅浅的吻，是Charles 的无意为之，却是Sebastian的真情流露。Sebastian无时无刻不小心地维护着Charles脆弱的自尊，总是在众人面前强调Charles是个artist 而不是painter。换来的是舞会上Charles大声又无情的推开。Sebastian在极度痛苦的情况下抽泣的喊出“Bridey（和庄园同名的哥哥），你不是什么好东西！……我是如此憎恨你们这些人！”没错，Sebastian 是一个懦夫。在面对家庭沉重的束缚时，他选择了逃避，沉溺在酒精中来获得一点点地精神上的自由；然而Sebastian又是一个勇士。他的父亲老伯爵也选择了逃避，桃李到了国外与情妇海阔天空，但在生命最后一刻仍选择了回来，他们都想要自由，但仍被紧紧地束缚着，即使在Marchchair夫人死后，正如Charles所言“你母亲，现在却比以往任何时候都更有生命力”就像有根线，一条看不见的线，一寸寸地把你带回去。只有Sebastian，他真正的挣脱了，他情愿拖着虚弱的身躯在摩洛哥的一家医院当门僮，也不愿再回来当一个不快乐的少爷，只有他做到了。他挣脱了母亲有形无形的阴影、家庭的束缚，挣脱了对Charles复杂的难以割舍的感情，再也没有回来……
安东尼.伯吉斯把小说原著比作一朵“被月光催开的玫瑰”。旧地重游，不可避免的勾起了回忆的伤痛，但是，当我们在为那些无为的牺牲痛心时，还曾记得湖边树下那两个依偎在一起的逃课少年，还曾记得喷水池里肆意游泳的年轻人，还曾记得避开了狂欢的人群、在波光潋滟的桥洞里相爱的人间青涩的初吻？这些美好，是“永远的夏天”，被留在了记忆的“故园”中。。。。。。

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

我想起一首歌叫一个爱上浪漫的人。
歌词里有一句叫，空留自作的多情余恨

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

这就连回旋的余地都没有。旁观者都看得灰心难过。

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

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

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

塞巴斯终究是个善良的人，但谁来拥抱你的天真。



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


——————————2013年12月重刷———————————

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

这两句我觉得都对。

高中时看过杰瑞米爱恩斯的电视剧版。看风格就觉得是小说改编的，就去图书馆英美文学的架子上一本本的翻，翻到了，伊夫林·沃的原著《旧地重游》，搞了一本。又到处去找电视剧的录影带，没找到。
时隔多年，最近才发现世界上有了一种叫做电驴的好东西，于是去下，顺便下到了新拍不久的电影版。

多么糟糕的电影版啊，不但改变了叙事的顺序（这非常重要，这一改变不但使得茱莉亚比塞巴斯蒂安先出场，而且使故事成为了“插叙中的倒叙”的古怪结构），更重要的是，这个神经病编剧，居然篡改了非常重要的情节。
比如自作聪明的给塞巴斯蒂安和查尔斯弄了一场吻戏，比如茱莉亚神奇的出现在威尼斯之旅中，更要命的是编剧还天才的加了一场塞巴斯蒂安看到查尔斯吻茱莉亚的戏，然后紧接着的就是塞巴斯蒂安酗酒的场景。这不是逼着观众误以为塞巴斯蒂安是因为查尔斯的“移情别恋”才开始酗酒的吗？编剧到底把原著中的宗教主线置于何处？居然把“查尔斯赖德上尉的渎神回忆”（原著的副标题）变成低劣可笑的“画家与贵族兄妹的三角恋情”……太怒了！

原著中后半部可以理解为查尔斯一直在其他人身上补完塞的形象，寻找与其有关的消息、他的家族、尤其是他的信仰……同时自己也慢慢历经人生的风雨从一个不可知论者变成一个天主教徒。当然也可以有别的更透彻的理解。虽然因为时代、环境、地位、宗教信仰等原因，我永远都无法真正理解这本书中表现的感情，但我还是不能接受电影版这种，因为自己不能理解那种宗教情怀，不能理解塞巴斯蒂安拥有一切（包括查尔斯的爱）却无法控制的自毁情结，就自以为是的改变原著情节，把自毁的原因变成傻子也会说理解的爱情受挫……
电影版已经不是《旧地重游》了。


当然，它也不是一无是处，电影版里演塞巴斯蒂安的演员（小本）非常漂亮，就像原著说的“他是迷人的，带着女性美，高唱着情歌，遇到第一阵寒风就凋谢了。”