Lady Chatterley's Lover Page #4

Synopsis: Early version of D.H. Lawrence's classic risqué novel about an aristocratic wife who has a passionate affair with her game keeper. French, dubbed in English. (1959; B&W)
 
IMDB:
6.0
Year:
1955
101 min
111 Views


Mellors!

Mellors. Am I caught up somewhere?

I should say you are, sir.

- Shall I give you a push?

- No, let the motor do it.

I'll try again.

Yes, you can push.

Come on, man, push!

Push!

Push, Mellors!

Come on! Push.

Come on. Put your back into it, man.

- Have you got the brake on, sir?

- No, of course not.

Wait a minute.

The gears have gone.

Youll have to push me in neutral.

Well, give him a hand, Connie.

It is a shame to be

at the mercy of anyone.

Mrs. Bolton, can you send for Newman?

Don't bother him.

Mellors can carry me.

- Can't you, Mellors?

- Yes, sir.

Connie, tidy my chair away, will you?

Not too heavy am I, Mellors?

Don't touch those!

Thanks awfully, Mellors.

Thank you, sir.

- Did you enjoy your walk?

- Yes, thank you very much.

He's really quite a good sort,

don't you think?

Mrs. B, ask Field

to run me a bath, will you?

He thinks he's the whole hill

of beans, as the Americans say.

People like him...

...even Mrs. Bolton, nice as she is...

...they've no real respect for us.

For what we've got, perhaps,

not what we are.

Ought they to? Do we respect them

for what they are?

What are they,

apart from what they do for us?

Would you raise a shout

about his soul?

He's just so much live human meat.

Thank you, Mrs. B.

So you've come, then?

Obviously.

Is it all right? You wanted to come?

Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't.

I'm glad you did.

I'm so glad you did.

It's cosy in here.

- They're pretty.

- The flowers.

- So that's what she looks like.

- Who?

- It is your wife, isn't it?

- How do you know?

I know a lot about you.

Well, we didn't come here

to talk about her.

No, but I have to think about her.

After all, you must

have liked her once.

She ran off. She's not my wife now,

so there's an end to it.

Connie?

Youre crazy.

You look a figure out

here in the night.

- Am I still beautiful?

- Aye, under the moon.

Youre more of the moon

than this world.

The sky is real, the woods

are real, and you are real.

- I am your wife in the woods.

- Aye, my wife anywhere.

I never had a wife before.

I never knew what a woman

was like before.

It's day.

We have time.

Now I know what it's like

to sleep with someone.

- What?

- Nothing.

I should go now.

Stay with me.

It's cold.

- What's wrong?

- What sort of man am I?

Running around at the call of

a paralysed man and f***ing his wife.

What sort of a mate am I for you?

How can you respect me

except for f***ing?

- And almost anyone would do for that.

- Here, no other man would do for that.

I can't go among your people,

you can't come to mine.

- Does all that social stuff matter?

- Aye, it matters.

How much?

This much?

This much?

You must go.

We'll have another time like this.

Clifford?

Clifford.

You could tell me it's all untrue.

"Go ahead, Connie. Take a man

if you wish, only never leave me."

- A man, Connie, not a damn...

- Peasant? Slave?

What if you got pregnant, milady?

Think of that.

Think of me.

Think of the future.

I thought of who it might be,

but that damned Oliver Mellors...

Oliver, is it?

You never even asked his name.

I've made all the arrangements.

I sent a telegram to your sister...

...you'll be on the 10:30 train

to London...

...and the 3:
30 boat train on

from Victoria.

We both need time to think.

- Have a good journey, milady.

- Thank you, Field.

Could you do something for me?

Please tell Mellors.

Darling, if I left my husband,

you can leave yours.

Youve made the first move

with this gamekeeper chap.

Why are the second, third

and fourth moves so difficult?

It's not as easy for me

as it is for you.

I don't like seeing you like this.

I'll make you smile again.

Can you wait for me here, please?

Connie, look what

I've found for you.

Which one do you want?

Not for me. Have them both.

I'll see you later.

Are you listening? How can you

stand it here all the time?

I quite enjoy it here. It makes

my dilemma seem even more heroic.

Dilemma?

This letter's arrived for you.

I hope that it's good news.

I'll see you in a minute.

Connie, dear, come on.

Don't you want to go swimming?

Honestly, Connie, you're such a bore.

Clifford arranges it

by sending you into exile...

...and all you do is the exact opposite

of what everyone else wants to do.

Pregnant women are

allowed their whims.

- You can't be pregnant.

- I am. I've seen a doctor.

Absolutely awful.

It's the best thing that

ever happened to me.

Don't be silly.

- What will we do with you and it?

- Get me back to England.

- Clifford?

- Wait.

- Welcome back, milady.

- Hello.

Isn't it simply wonderful?

And all Mrs. B's doing.

My encouragement, perhaps,

Sir Clifford, your will-power.

Be careful! Are you all right?

It's the devil of an effort

but really worth it.

- Going down the mine was the triumph.

- What?

I wrote you about it.

Didn't you get my letters?

I wrote you about everything.

Oliver?

Milady? Oh, he don't work

here no more.

Was it anything important?

No, thank you.

I'm sorry to have troubled you.

- What's happened to Mellors?

- He's gone. Sir Clifford dismissed him.

I see.

Youd better tell me everything.

- About what?

- Mellors.

Mellors?

I wrote you about it.

It was in my letters.

I didn't read your letters.

Tell me.

I thought you didn't answer them,

because of that.

When I heard you were coming back,

I thought you'd forgiven me.

Because of what?

He didn't want to stay.

You sent me away, and you

dismissed him. I can't believe it.

I didn't want you

to become too fond of him.

I know we agreed

about you having a lover...

...but I did it because of you,

to save you pain.

After all, we did talk

about a son and heir...

...and if you'd saw too much of him...

...who knows what bastards

I'd give my name.

- Y our name.

- Con, surely you understand my position.

Clifford, I'm pregnant.

He's the father,

and your name be damned.

I tell you, love, work outside

the mine is getting hard to come by.

- What are you doing here?

- I just got back.

- Did you, now? What do you want?

- Please...

Look, it can't be the way it was,

so there's an end to it.

But don't you want me anymore?

I want to be with you.

I don't want to miss you all my life.

If you hate me, how can you

still slave for the Chatterleys?

- Have you heard of Canada?

- What?

Canada, 14 pounds a week.

I'm working to earn my fare.

- Listen to me, I've got it all planned...

- No.

How can you like the likes of me?

- Oliver, I'm pregnant.

- Damn you.

You got what you want,

and Sir Clifford gets a child.

No, it will have my maiden name

or your name.

There will be no other Chatterley.

Clifford is the last.

I'll leave him,

whether you come or not.

And where will we go?

What will we do? What will I do?

You could run your own farm.

- How?

- We could use my income.

Can't you see you live like a slave?

- I've made myseIf free. You can too.

- I'll not be a kept man.

And our child, no class.

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Marc Allégret

Marc Allégret (22 December 1900 – 3 November 1973) was a French screenwriter, photographer and film director. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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