Becky Sharp Page #5

Synopsis: Set against the background of the Battle of Waterloo, Becky Sharp is the story of Vanity Fair by Thackeray. Becky and Amelia are girls at school together, but Becky is from a "show biz" ...
Genre: Drama, Romance, War
Production: RKO Pictures
  Nominated for 1 Oscar. Another 1 win & 1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.0
UNRATED
Year:
1935
84 min
199 Views


It's a false alarm.

Let's dance.

Music! Play music!

It's Napoleon!

Get my carriage!

Wait for me here.

I'll take you home in my carriage.

Becky!

Come with me. I'll take you home.

We could still leave.

The call to the colors. Did you hear, Lieutenant?

The call to the colors.

It means nothing to me. You are coming with me.

I'll desert, Becky, we'll go somewhere.

To Canada, to Sidney.

Only let's hurry. There's still time.

Why not take your wife, George?

Occasionally you must remember that you're married.

George!

Oh, my dear, I've been so concerned about you.

You, Becky, concerned about anyone but yourself?

You can't take George from me.

By heavens!

You'll never take him from me.

You're excited, Amelia, you're frightened.

I don't want your George. See her home, George.

Take care of my poor Amy.

Au revoir, George.

I'll be watching you from above.

Rawdon!

Darling!

Oh, Rawdon!

Darling, where have you been?

Wellington's orders.

I just dashed back for a few moments.

Oh, darling, I have so many things to tell you

before I go.

I've been happy with you.

I've gambled and I drank but always...

always I've loved you.

We've loved each other, understood each other.

Here, take this money. I shan't need it.

You sell my watch, my silver dressing case.

Oh, darling, I leave you with so many debts.

No!

Sell my two horses.

Don't think about money. I'll make out.

I'll pray for you Rawdon. I want you back.

I love you!

I love you and I'll never love anybody else.

I must go now, but remember...

Never forget this.

I worship you, Becky, from your little toes up.

What shall I do? What will happen to me?

What will I do? How shall I get out of here?

Answer me, you little devil!

Answer me!

No horse, Sahib.

All join the army.

Now what? Now what?

Am I to rot away in Brussels?

Why did I ever leave India? Why?

Why?

Becky!

Not a single horse left in Brussels.

Is this the end of justice, Becky?

I could sell you a horse.

Becky!

I can sell you two horses.

A brown and a pink.

What? You're robbing!

Two thousand for the pair.

No, five hundred.

Do you prefer to walk?

You get winded so easily.

Seven-fifty for one horse.

Your proportions call for two horses.

Two thousand for the pair.

Two thousand pounds. I'm ruined.

Ruined. I could have bought a herd of elephants

for that.

Becky, where are those horses?

In the main stable. They'll recognize you.

The drums. The marching men.

In an hour they'll be dying for their country.

Dying for their country.

Well, I'm dying for my breakfast.

Lady Southdown, would you do me the honor.

Lord Liverpool, please condescend.

And Mrs. Sedley, would you please.

Your Grace... Mr. Sheridan.

My dear brother.

What honorable man is to sue for the privilege

of sitting on your right?

The loser is to challenge the winner to pistols

at forty paces.

Lord Dobbins is next to Lady Southdown

and you are by the famous Mrs. Sittons.

What would Mayfair say if that old Dane sat next to me?

They'd clap their hands.

You can't clap your hands

when you're whispering behind your palms.

Lord Steyne.

Bizarre. I shot a hog for the Tsar!

With all these famous men here,

I feel I'm still in the House of Lords.

Or lying in Westminster Abbey.

Why did you bring me here, Pitt?

This is a wicked and immoral atmosphere.

Look at Lord Steyne and that woman.

That woman is your sister-in-law now, Jane,

please remember.

And remember also that she's very pious.

Why, before I married you

she and I used to read sermons together.

Everything is so delightful in your new home,

my dear.

These pictures, are they family portraits?

Ancestors, Lady Southdown.

Oh, yours or Captain Crawley's?

Mine. The Duke and Duchess de Cordonnet.

Lavinia and Alastair. I bought them last week.

Five pounds a piece.

Bravo!

You've got them eating out of your hand.

But they may bite it later.

Becky, you've arrived.

Where, milord, not St. James's Palace?

Not yet.

Patience, Becky, patience.

The Queen presenteth Miss Elizabeth Cooper.

Now watch out for Mrs. Crawley.

She has wagered me a hundred pounds if the Prince Regent

will stop the presentation to talk to her.

It's unthinkable. The Court of St. James

will be shaken to its solemn foundation.

The foundations may be solemn, but the head isn't.

The Queen presenteth Mrs. Rawdon Crawley.

Did you get it?

Yes, I have, Your Grace.

And the man actually guarantees to take

ten pounds off every week.

The Queen presenteth Lady Cybil Clay.

Voil, madame.

Oh, exquis! Ravissant!

Oui, c'est sduisant, madame!

Very elegant, Becky!

Tell him I'll keep it.

Il ne peut pas le laisser sans avoir ru

quelque chose.

Is the man mad? Can you imagine a tradesman

demanding cash in this house?

An outrage! Shall I kick him down the stairs?

Be your usual gallant self and just pay the bill.

Voil, monsieur.

Twenty-five pounds?

Oui, monsieur.

I don't pay that much for my Sunday breeches.

Merci, monsieur.

Look here, Becky.

Everytime I come here it costs me money.

You either borrow or I have to pay the bill,

like a gentleman.

Why do you come?

To advance myself.

Did you or did you not promise me

that Lord Steyne would have me appointed to some post?

Well, I've spoken to him and he thinks you'd make

a very fine Consul...

at some distant spot.

When?

When? I thunder, when?

Promises are not enough. Am I a Consul?

Do I wear a sword and a cocked hat?

Do I stand for the British land?

No! Thrice no!

Yes! Thrice yes! It's all settled.

You are to be made Consul for Sierra Leone.

Sierra Leone?

Sierra Leone.

But, Becky. Those chaps are all cannibals.

How will they take to me?

Oh, I think they'll get to like you...

bit by bit.

Huh? But... look here, Becky.

At last!

Hello, Rawdon.

Where on earth have you been?

I've worried about you all night long.

I'm sorry. You shouldn't have.

I stayed at the club.

Club, eh?

You must have met some sirens, that's what.

Sirens.

Come now, Rawdon, confess.

You'll come again tomorrow, won't you?

Well, I'm here now, you know.

Wouldn't this be a good time for you to be buying

that cocked hat and sword?

That's right.

I'll sally forth and have me outfitted.

Bit by bit. Your servant, Becky.

Your servant, Rawdon.

My echo... sounds.

Carey & Carter thirty-seven pounds for livery.

And here's a little bill due for eight hundred

or they'll sue.

Bagatelle.

What's wrong, Rawdon?

Everything. I had a nasty night at the club.

Almost came to blows with Dussais.

Others had to separate us and all that sort of rot.

But why?

He kept hounding me and fretting me

about the four hundred pounds that I owe him.

He demanded immediate payment.

A pretty time he picked. We haven't sixpence.

I know, that's the devil of it.

After the row it became a matter

for the entire club.

Naturally a debt of honor.

I was instructed to pay immediately.

You go away for a few days

and the whole thing will blow over.

No, it won't.

This is not like owing money to a shopkeeper.

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Francis Edward Faragoh

Francis Edward Faragoh (October 16, 1898 – July 25, 1966) was an American screenwriter. He wrote for 20 films between 1929 and 1947. He was nominated for an Academy Award in 1931 for Best Writing, Adaptation for Little Caesar. He was born in Budapest, Hungary and died in Oakland, California from a heart attack. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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