Fanny and Alexander Page #5

...Uncle Isak

and everyone else. Amen.

Good night. - Good night, Alexander.

Justina, there are a few things

I'd like to discuss about tomorrow...

What are you reading, Alexander?

Good night, my boy.

- Good night, my child. Bless you.

- Good night, Uncle Edvard.

My fondest wish

is that we will all get along.

Love cannot be commanded.

But we should treat each other

with respect and consideration.

You go ahead, my dear.

I'll be along shortly.

Whose doll house is this?

two little girls shared this room.

They, and their mother,

were drowned.

- What if the house is haunted?

- There are no such things as ghosts.

- Was this their room?

- Yes, I think so. Good night.

- Our stepfather isn't very nice.

- And his sister is crazy.

- And that fatty who has to be fed...

- I don't want to live here.

You must give me time.

There's so much that needs changing.

Some changes will take time.

The main thing is not to lose heart.

- Why did you marry him?

- Because I love him. That's why.

Let's get some sleep. Everything will

seem better when we're not as tired.

Don't act like you're Hamlet, my boy.

I am not Queen Gertrude,

and your stepfather is not the King

of Denmark, nor is this Elsinore.

Even if it does look gloomy.

Damned sh*t!

I want to show you something.

There are bars on the windows...

And you can't open them.

Well, Oscar, that's how it is...

We are old and yet

still a child at the same time.

It's hard to fathom where

all the years in between went.

The years

considered to be so important.

May I take your hand?

I remember when you were a child,

your hands were small, firm and dry...

And your wrists were so slender.

I enjoyed being a mother.

Being an actress was nice,

but I enjoyed motherhood more.

I loved being great with child,

it didn't bother me to not be on stage.

Though everything in life is a part we

play, some are simply more enjoyable.

I played a mother.

I played Juliet and Ophelia...

Then suddenly I played

the widow, and the grandmother.

One part follows the other.

And you cannot back away.

Only what became of it all?

Can you tell me that, my boy?

You're a dear, to listen

to your mother's soliloquies,

as Isak calls them.

You're a good boy, Oscar.

I grieved terribly when you passed.

That was a strange part to play.

My feelings came from my body...

And though I could control them,

they shattered reality,

if you know what I mean.

Reality has been broken ever since.

Oddly enough, it feels better that way.

So I don't bother to mend it.

I just don't care

that nothing makes sense.

- Oscar, my dear boy...

- Yes, Mama.

- Are you sad?

- Worried.

Are you worried about the children?

Yes...

It's supper time.

Here...

When you've had your supper,

you are to go straight to bed.

The tray can be left until tomorrow.

Cook sent you some tarts. I'll get into

trouble if Miss Vergerus finds out.

- Hasn't Mama come back?

- No, your mother has not returned.

- She said she'd be back by tonight.

- I don't know what to say.

Why do you sigh like that all the time?

I haven't been here very long,

but Mrs Tander, who was cook here

when the first Mrs Vergerus was alive,

she could tell you a thing or two.

- Would you like a jam tart?

- Yes, please.

What does she say?

That it was

the same in the first wife's day.

Only worse.

My, my... Poor children.

- Do you mean us?

- No, I don't...

I mean the tiny mites

who perished in the cold dark river.

Their mother tried to save them,

but was sucked down by the eddies.

They found them later, by the bridge.

They were clinging so tightly to each

other, they were like one body.

In order to lay them in separate

coffins, they had to saw them apart.

Since then it has never

really been quiet in this house.

- Ghosts don't exist.

- I don't mean to frighten anyone...

But this house does funny things

to you. Just look at my hand...

No skin left...

It's all raw!

I was taking His Grace

his morning coffee,

and when I opened the door,

my skin stuck to the door handle...

I heard laughter behind me.

I heard it plainly,

so I turned around...

Only there was no one there.

And I feel sorry

for anyone who has to...

But I'd better keep my mouth shut.

I'll lock the door now...

But don't worry, your mother

is sure to be back by tomorrow,

and then His Grace

will come in person to set you free.

- I've seen them.

- Who?

- The first wife and her daughters.

- Is that true?

- Are you telling the truth?

- On my word of honour.

Where did you see them?

I'd been in the library

with our mother's husband.

He had been lecturing me,

I don't remember what about...

I was passing

through the dining-room,

and there was a funny sort of light.

Then I saw

one of the girls in the doorway.

She ran past on tiptoe

and didn't make a sound.

Then came the other girl,

the elder one with the dark hair,

and the big eyes.

She stopped and looked at me,

and motioned to me to turn around.

And there, in the bright sunlight...

...stood the woman herself,

all dressed in black.

She said, in a faint

and almost inaudible voice,

not to be afraid,

and that she had something to tell me.

- What did she say?

- I don't want to frighten you.

But these were her very words:

"I want you to know our secret.

Your stepfather, my husband...

...locked me and the children

into the bedroom.

We were confined there

for five days and five nights...

...without food and water.

In our misery, we decided to escape.

We tied sheets together and

tried to climb down from the window

to the narrow tongue of land

surrounded by swirling water.

My daughters went first,

and they fell,

plunging into the depths.

I tried to save them, but I was

sucked into a black whirlpool...

Not until I was under water, was I

able to grab hold of my children."

Why it's Maj!

How nice. Do come in, my dear.

- I hope I'm not disturbing you.

- Not at all, my dear.

Come, give me a kiss. Good...

Very pretty...

Did you make it yourself?

Nice fabric, nice pattern...

- What about the excursion?

- I'm too pregnant to go boating.

- What's wrong?

- I'm worried.

Let's sit here.

- You're worried about the children?

- Alexander promised to write.

- I've written seven letters.

- And not had an answer?

Only a postcard. Three weeks ago.

"Dear Maj, we're fine. Uncle Edvard

took us on an outing to see...

- ...the Botanical Gardens.

- We learned about rare flowers.

Thank you for writing,

I'll write as soon as I find the time.

Most sincerely, Alexander.

Fanny sends her love."

Emelie's capable of looking out

for her children and herself.

There's no reason to worry.

- In a way, they're my children too.

- Are you leaving already?

- I just wanted a word...

- Stay a bit longer.

I'm to make dinner, and I haven't

even put the roast in the oven yet.

My dear child, are things so difficult?

- Is it the coffee shop?

- That too.

I gather Gustav Adolf

has been pestering you.

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