Mr. Turner

Synopsis: Mr. Turner explores the last quarter century of the great if eccentric British painter J.M.W. Turner (1775-1851). Profoundly affected by the death of his father, loved by a housekeeper he takes for granted and occasionally exploits sexually, he forms a close relationship with a seaside landlady with whom he eventually lives incognito in Chelsea, where he dies. Throughout this, he travels, paints, stays with the country aristocracy, visits brothels, is a popular if anarchic member of the Royal Academy of Arts, has himself strapped to the mast of a ship so that he can paint a snowstorm, and is both celebrated and reviled by the public and by royalty.
Director(s): Mike Leigh
Production: Sony Pictures Classics
  Nominated for 4 Oscars. Another 19 wins & 62 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.8
Metacritic:
94
Rotten Tomatoes:
97%
R
Year:
2014
150 min
Website
516 Views


1

Do you know

what he said to me last time?

I said to him,

"Are you the jolliest at home?"

And he said, "Yes, except for the door knob

because that gives everyone a handshake."

Oh!

Oi!

Aye, aye, me damsel.

Welcome home, Mr Billy.

- We've been worried to death about you.

- For why?

On account of that explosion.

- What was that?

- At Ostend.

Oh, yes.

I heard tell of that at Antwerp.

Dreadful.

Dirty linen.

Mr William's been getting

in a stew about it.

- Is he out and about his business?

- That he is.

You faring well?

Thank you.

- How was your journey home?

- It was execrable.

Oh.

You in need of anything else?

Tea?

- Good morning, Signor Grande.

- Mr Turner! Buongiorno.

- Joshua.

- Morning, sir.

We have damn rats.

No shortage of them in this city.

Wretched things!

It's an epidemic.

- What can I do for you today?

- Well, let me see.

- He is back?

- We are expecting him any day now.

Bravo! The prodigal son.

- Pronti. What do we need?

- An ounce of chrome yellow.

- Chrome yellow, Joshua.

- Chrome yellow, sir.

- A large packet of flake white.

- Flake white.

What is your price

for a bladder of ultramarine?

My price is the best price.

And what might that price be?

Blue ultramarine is coming

from far, far away: Afghanistan.

- What else do you need?

- Bottle of poppy oil, some Indian red.

- Poppy oil, Joshua.

- Yes, sir.

There's your prize porker.

Is he handsome?

He has a big smile on his face.

- You're making the sauce?

- It's all but done, save the brains.

Good.

Oh... dearie me!

- Will you take a dish of tea, Mr William?

- Oh, thank ye, Hannah.

Shall you be putting those chattels away?

I should.

- Best do it now.

- Yes.

Then I can rest me weary legs.

You're home, Billy boy!

Hey, Daddy!

I thought you was exploded.

I been down on my knees

and praying you was safe.

Well, you been chafing your old pedestals

for naught, Daddy.

I was a hundred miles distant.

- Oh, you heard tell of it, then?

- I did indeed.

Terrible, they pour souls as perished,

two score or more.

Took a few brave soldiers with it an' all.

I was vexed to learn

you been entertaining concerns, old Dadda.

'Twas only natural.

Oh, Daddy!

How was your crossing?

Set fair on departure,

lumpy in the middle.

- Did you sail from Rotterdam?

- No, Dieppe.

Oh.

Night coach from Brighton

proved to be an heinous travail.

How so?

It was stuffed full of yacking

and cackling females.

Pox-ridden harridan as broad in the beam

as the old Victory at Trafalgar.

- Were your travels productive?

- Exceeding refreshing, old Daddy.

Yeah, Amsterdam.

Had a gander at the Rembrandt.

Militia Company, Antwerp Cathedral.

Rubens, the triptych.

Flanders, still as flat as a witch's tit.

Thank you, Hannah.

You sly girl.

Did you find tolerable diggings?

Stinking flea pit at Dieppe,

then moved to the harbour.

Westerly aspect, fine sunset.

Oh, Daddy,

I'm in need of an eight-by-six.

I have a seven by five-and-a-half

ready sized and primed.

- That should suit.

- Right you be.

More's to the point,

how you been faring?

In good health, thank the Lord.

- Bronchioles still rattling?

- No.

- He was wheezing last week.

- Shh-sh-sh.

October ain't quite come

round the corner yet, has it?

I've been over to Grande's.

Oh.

Ultramarine's gone up

to a guinea a bladder.

Gawd's truth!

That brigand still robbing us, is he?

- You're in need of a shave.

- Yeah, well, be that as it may, Daddy.

Presently I'm gonna throw myself

into the arms of Morpheus.

No!

I took a trip down west, Exeter, last week.

Oh.

- How fares the old uncle?

- Bearing up, considering.

- Considering what?

- Well, his age, living alone.

Oh.

- Here's the thing.

- Hm?

He wants to arrange a family gathering.

Will you take some more cheek?

Yeah, cast us another morsel.

Missing your button, Mr Billy.

Oh.

Be so kind as to enter the vestibule.

The darkness is to a purpose.

I shall return by and by.

Madam.

Gentlemen.

Behold.

Three steps down.

Pray, view at your leisure.

- Good day to you, Hannah.

- Good day to you, Aunt Sarah.

- And how are you faring?

- Very well, thank you.

- Are you coming in?

- I most certainly am. Is he at home?

- He is. I'll tell him you're here.

- I can inform him myself, thank you kindly.

- Good day to you, sir.

- And a very good day to you, Mrs D.

And how do we find you

on this fair morning?

Exceedingly preoccupied, madam.

'Twas ever thus.

You've always been preoccupied.

You're too preoccupied

for your own good, sir.

Nothing comes from nothing, madam.

And we have had nothing from you, sir.

Evelina, Georgiana,

come and greet your father.

Good day, Father.

May I present my child to you?

- Your granddaughter.

- Rosalie Adelaide.

Your only surviving grandchild.

Georgiana, cease your dithering!

May I suggest, Mrs D,

with the utmost respect,

that you withdraw

to the drawing room?

Good day to you, Mrs Danby.

Would you care to step this way?

Good day to you, Mr Turner.

And will you be gracing us

with your presence

in the withdrawing room, sir?

I sincerely hope you will.

And, pray, do not keep us waiting.

We have our own lives to lead.

Come along, daughters.

The vapours in this room

are most noxious to a child's lungs.

Ladies, pray, sit yourselves.

Sarah, if you please.

I shall be seated, William,

when it suits me and not before.

So be it.

- She's a pretty little thing.

- Thank you, Grandfather.

- We are most proud of her.

- We are indeed.

- Have you been out strolling, Aunt Sarah?

- No, niece.

I've been to collect my pension

at Leicester Fields,

it being the first of the month.

Indeed.

- Your latest infant?

- To be sure, Father.

- Of robust constitution?

- She has an excellent character.

One must trust in providence.

Colour of eye?

- Blue, as yourself.

- Splendid.

Do not forget your other daughter, sir,

whom you have deigned to neglect

these past two years.

Sit down, Georgiana.

- She is learning French.

- And music.

She is having an education.

Reading, writing, arithmetic

and geography with the globe.

Sit up straight, Georgie!

Say something in French.

- Bonjour.

- Bonjour, Papa.

- Are you keeping well?

- I am.

I was not addressing you, sir.

I enjoy good health, thank'ee.

And yourself?

We are surviving as best we can

under the circumstances.

- And what circumstances might they be?

- Straightened circumstances, sir.

But we manage

to keep body and soul together,

no thanks to your ungrateful son.

How dare you take your leave of me,

Billy Turner!

You insult me,

as you have always insulted me!

Billy!

Good evening, William.

Felicitations of the evening to you,

your Lordship.

You faring well?

Bit breathless.

Been up to the farm.

Watch the sunset,

say goodnight to the milkmaids.

Any further consideration

to mechanicalising the thresher?

You can't beat the old oxen.

- Is that so, your Lordship?

- Indeed.

We had a ploughing competition

last spring

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Mike Leigh

Mike Leigh (born 20 February 1943) is an English writer and director of film and theatre. He studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) before honing his directing skills at East 15 Acting School and further at the Camberwell School of Art and the Central School of Art and Design. He began as a theatre director and playwright in the mid-1960s. In the 1970s and 1980s his career moved between theatre work and making films for BBC Television, many of which were characterised by a gritty "kitchen sink realism" style. His well-known films include the comedy-dramas Life is Sweet (1990) and Career Girls (1997), the Gilbert and Sullivan biographical film Topsy-Turvy (1999), and the bleak working-class drama All or Nothing (2002). His most notable works are the black comedy-drama Naked (1993), for which he won the Best Director Award at Cannes, the Oscar-nominated, BAFTA and Palme d'Or-winning drama Secrets & Lies (1996), the Golden Lion winning working-class drama Vera Drake (2004), and the Palme d'Or nominated biopic Mr. Turner (2014). Some of his notable stage plays include Smelling A Rat, It's A Great Big Shame, Greek Tragedy, Goose-Pimples, Ecstasy, and Abigail's Party.Leigh is known for his lengthy rehearsal and improvisation techniques with actors to build characters and narrative for his films. His purpose is to capture reality and present "emotional, subjective, intuitive, instinctive, vulnerable films." His aesthetic has been compared to the sensibility of the Japanese director Yasujirō Ozu. His films and stage plays, according to critic Michael Coveney, "comprise a distinctive, homogenous body of work which stands comparison with anyone's in the British theatre and cinema over the same period." Coveney further noted Leigh's role in helping to create stars – Liz Smith in Hard Labour, Alison Steadman in Abigail's Party, Brenda Blethyn in Grown-Ups, Antony Sher in Goose-Pimples, Gary Oldman and Tim Roth in Meantime, Jane Horrocks in Life is Sweet, David Thewlis in Naked—and remarked that the list of actors who have worked with him over the years—including Paul Jesson, Phil Daniels, Lindsay Duncan, Lesley Sharp, Kathy Burke, Stephen Rea, Julie Walters – "comprises an impressive, almost representative, nucleus of outstanding British acting talent." Ian Buruma, writing in The New York Review of Books in January 1994, noted: "It is hard to get on a London bus or listen to the people at the next table in a cafeteria without thinking of Mike Leigh. Like other wholly original artists, he has staked out his own territory. Leigh's London is as distinctive as Fellini's Rome or Ozu's Tokyo." more…

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