Enchanted April Page #6

Synopsis: This slow-paced gem is about the civilizing influence of Italy on beleaguered Londoners both male and female and has its own civilizing influence on the viewer. It's almost like taking a little mini-trip to Italy, a gorgeously filmed enchantment.
Genre: Drama
Director(s): Mike Newell
Production: Miramax
  Nominated for 3 Oscars. Another 4 wins & 5 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.4
Rotten Tomatoes:
83%
PG
Year:
1991
95 min
806 Views


Well, my father...

uh, many years ago...

stuck his cherry-wood walking

stick into... uh...

that spot, and said to the head gardener,

"this is where we'll have an oleander. "

And he left it there

as a reminder,

and, uh, after a while,

uh, quite how long

nobody can be sure,

it the stick began to sprout.

And it was...

an oleander.

Is that true?

It doesn't matter.

It's such a pretty story.

Yes, it is.

He seemed very taken

with Rose.

He certainly didn't grab

like the rest of them.

I'm pleased.

Yes, I'm very pleased.

Of course I'm pleased.

Gerald?

Gerald Arundel. It can't be.

Oh, my goodness.

Caroline...

I didn't expect...

What are you doing here?

You must forgive me

dear Caroline.

Your mother told me

where you were.

As I happened to be passing

on my way to Rome,

I thought I'd get out at Mezzago

and just look in,...

see how you were...

if that's all right.

Didn't Mother tell you

I was having a rest cure?

Yes, she did.

That's why I didn't come earlier.

Left it till near dinnertime.

Didn't want to intrude.

I thought you might be bored.

I'm not.

I do apologize

for barging in like this.

No, no. I'm rather

glad to see you.

Tell me all about Mother.

She's taken to wearing a wig.

A wig?

Blond.

She looks rather like

Brunhilda.

I must run, or I'll never

be ready in time.

Don't worry about me.

I'd just like to have a sit

after that walk.

See you at dinner?

Frederick?

Rose.

I knew you'd come.

When did you start?

Start? Yesterday morning.

You started right away then.

Right away, yes.

You got my letter very

quickly, didn't you?

Your letter?

Very quick.

Sweetheart...

I'm so glad you came.

Oh, I am sorry. I...

I didn't mean to...

Mr. Briggs.

Well, I'm damned.

This is my husband...

Frederick Arbuthnot.

I thought you were widow.

No. Why?

Well, no, I thought, um...

well, so many women

seem to be...

Frederick, this is Mr. Briggs.

He owns the castle.

- How do you do?

- Oh, how do...

well, um...

We'd better go on.

come on.

We mustn't be late for dinner.

Not like Caroline.

- Caroline?

- Caroline?

Lady Caroline Dester.

She's one of my friends.

Are you all right, dear?

Never better.

Of course, Mrs. Fisher,

it would be

undoubtedly best if one's

outward appearance

and one's feelings matched,

but so often they don't.

One can't have everything.

I, for example...

I am at the moment

feeling happy... joyful, even.

But do I show it?

I kept telling Rose you'd come,

didn't I, Rose?

You did.

I didn't believe it,

but here you are.

You're right, Lottie.

It's this place.

It's a tub of love.

What?

A tub of love.

Ah, this is Caroline.

I'm Frederick Arbuthnot.

Frederick Arbuthnot.

My name's Frederick Arbuthnot.

I'm Rose's husband.

I've just come down to see her.

Yes, yes, yes. Hmm.

How nice.

And I'm late on your very

first evening.

Do forgive me.

Isn't she beautiful?

Love...

yes.

You know, it's a great thing

to get on with one's loving...

and not to waste time.

I suppose you think

Rose's husband is just

a middle-aged, red-faced,

rather ordinary man.

He isn't.

Isn't he?

No.

Rose sees through all that.

She sees what we can't see

because she loves him.

Oh, dear Lottie, we must be

friends forever and forever.

Thank you for not, uh...

I don't know what you mean,

Mr. Arbuthnot.

I think Rose is waiting for you.

Oh, hello. Who's that?

It's me. Caroline Dester.

I hope I'm not disturbing you.

Oh, no. No.

Forgive me.

I couldn't help noticing

how miserable you seemed.

Was it the unexpected arrival

of Mr. Arbuthnot?

Uh, yes.

I thought Mr. Arbuthnot

had, uh, died.

Well, so many men died.

Yes. So many.

Yes. It's, um...

Well, you may not have noticed,

but I'm rather shortsighted.

- Indeed?

- Well, the war.

Does it give you any pain?

On, no, no.

Absolutely not. Nothing

to it at all, but it does

rather mean

I never get a...

a good look at people,

you know.

They all seem rather

hazy somehow.

I tend to judge people

by their voices, you know,

the inside person,

and it did rather seem to me

that Mrs. Arbuthnot was...

wonderful... inside.

Wonderful inside?

Yes.

That's important.

Yes.

Oh, what the devil.

It's too beautiful a night

to be miserable.

Though I do miss the stars.

- No!

- Sorry.

I had to grab you.

All my dead friends don't seem

worth reading tonight.

They always say the same things,

good things, but always the same.

They were... they are... great,

but they have one

terrible disadvantage

- they're all dead.

I'm tired of the dead.

I want the living.

Thank you, my dear.

I was feeling

a little melancholy.

Where are the others?

They all seem to have

paired off, Mrs. Fisher.

It does seem

that people can only

be happy in pairs,

all sorts of pairs.

Then you and I will be

a pair, Mrs. Fisher.

We're going to be very

good friends.

I hope so, Lottie.

I see it.

Then we will be.

Where exactly are the others?

Well, the Roses are in love

in the Rose garden.

The Roses?

Why not call them

the Arbuthnots, my dear?

Very well, Mellersh.

The Arbuthnots.

And the Carolines...

...the who?

Oh, the Briggses, then.

The Briggses?

Oh, are you mad?

They never set eyes

on each other before today.

That's why they're

able to go ahead.

Go ahead?

It's no use, Mellersh.

I see them as the Briggses.

You coming, my dear?

It's so sad to leave here.

Lottie. Lottie, just

a moment, my dear.

- You go on.

- Are you sure?

You go on ahead, and

'll join you presently.

All right. Mind your

step here.

Such a beautiful place.

Marvelous.

Mrs. Fisher!

Come on!

That last week,

the whole country seemed

to dress itself in white.

There were white lilies,

white stocks,

white banksia Roses,

and the fragrance of the acacias.

Even after we'd got to

the bottom of the hill

and passed through the iron

gates and out into the village,

we could still smell the acacias.

We could smell them even

when we reached London.

But that's another story.

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Elizabeth von Arnim

Elizabeth von Arnim (31 August 1866 – 9 February 1941), born Mary Annette Beauchamp, was an Australian-born British novelist. By marriage she became Countess von Arnim-Schlagenthin, and after her second marriage she was styled as Elizabeth Russell, Countess Russell. Although known in her early life as Mary, after the publication of her first book, she was known to her readers, eventually to her friends, and finally even to her family as Elizabeth and she is now invariably referred to as Elizabeth von Arnim. She also wrote under the pen name Alice Cholmondeley. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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