Rogue Male

Synopsis: Early in 1939 Sir Robert Hunter takes aim at Adolf Hitler with a high powered rifle, but the shot misses its mark. Captured and tortured by the Gestapo and left for dead, Sir Robert makes his way back to England where he discovers the Gestapo has followed him. Knowing that his government would turn him over to German authorities, Sir Robert goes underground in his battle with his pursuers.
Genre: Drama, Thriller
Director(s): Clive Donner
Production: BBC
  1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
7.0
Year:
1976
103 min
133 Views


English subs by claudg1950@yahoo.com, Buenos Aires

ROGUE MALE:

Please...

No, the other way.

Fine...

Yes, it's fine.

I was bored!

Bored? You're a liar!

- I am sorry...

- Sorry?!

You tried to shoot the greatest man the world

has ever seen and you say you're sorry?

It was a sporting stalk. I'm sorry because

you don't have the wits to understand...

I went to school in England.

You say I don't understand English?

You understand English! You

just don't understand Englishmen!

- How did you get here?

- I walked.

- Walked?

- Safest way.

- Walked from where?

- Poland.

- That's over 200 miles!

- I got a good bootmaker.

Snade, in Crivet street.

You are an agent of British

Foreign Office intelligence.

Actually not. It's been little sign of intelligence

in the British Foreign Office for a very long time.

You had a gun... with a bullet in the breach.

A very high power, very expensive gun.

One has to be properly equipped to stalk.

What's to stalk without a weapon?

We might as well have an egg

and spoon race without a spoon.

- And a bullet? Does one have to have a bullet?

- Habits are habits. Rules are rules!

It would've been cricket otherwise.

- Life is not a game of cricket, my friend.

- No...

Pity.

Who sent you? The truth.

You wouldn't know the truth if it kicked you!

I'm a free individual. I came on my own.

I brought my passport to clearance.

In its first page you will see what

His Majesty's Foreign Secretary

requests or requires of any foreigners

into whose hands I may fall.

I suggest you beat carefully!

Your passport...

sir Robert. Uhm!

You think we don't

know a forgery when we see one?

It's mine, actually. One of

your chappies' call'd confirm.

Connections are very slow from here. We

will pull out your fingernails while we wait.

Determined whether it is genuine?

You tried to kill him. You? Why?

- A man in your position!

- What position?

An aristocrat. An English gentleman.

I would've thought you to be

in our side, if anyone would...

- On your side?

- As it is.

- I'm a bit of a problem.

- A nuisance, not a problem.

You can't just put ME up

against the wall, can't you?

- We are not barbarians.

- Of course there'll be questions.

- I don't think so.

- Oh, but there will, you see,

and you know there will.

My uncle...

Is a close friend of our

ambassador in London. Oh, yeah.

Very close.

- It's time you grow up, sir Robert. The world is changing.

- Yes, for the worse.

We must find a way of disposing

of you that doesn't upset your uncle.

Well, you're author of Rough

Shooting, the great Hunter...

While a house guest, a welcomed house guest

at a weekend shoot among the new leaders

of the world -whom you so much admire-

sir Robert, unfortunately, went off on his own

and suffered a mishap that lead to his death.

His body has been returned to London

with every mark of respect,

and will be interred in the family tomb.

I'm sure The Times will give

you at least half a column.

I wonder what the Foreign Office

will make of a body without fingernails

Will they take it as a mark of

respect on the part of the new order?

Good point, sir Robert.

May I tell you my little scenario?

As a gentleman hunter wouldn't cause a

wounded animal to suffer without finishing off.

Thank you.

So, having wounded a wild boar

during the course of a boring afternoon

No, my God! The English sense

of humour never traveled!

You followed it cross country to here. You called

it, it charged, you were caught off balance...

And really it's most unfortunate, almost idiotic...

You managed to grab the edge of the cliff --off course

tearing your fingernails to shreds in your

frantic efforts to redress the situation--

But... awfully vain.

What a lot of trouble you are going to, I must say.

Cut above the usual... cut-throat, aren't you?

Now we come to your part

in the scenario, sir Robert.

Believe me:
this hurts me

as much as it hurts you...

as we used to say in Charterhouse.

Did you really? Lousy little middle class school.

- We can't all go to Eton.

- Thank God!

Oh, chuck me over and have done with it!

The scenario, sir Robert, the scenario!

Think of your uncle. Such a family man.

We must convince him that it was an

accident. Isn't that what we agreed?

- We'll come back in the morning

with a couple of honest peasants.

- To find the body...

The more stupid the witnesses are, the

more likely the British are to believe them.

We must leave you now, sir Robert.

The Fuhrer likes to dine

properly, and it's getting late.

Move!

Move!

Move, you will it!

I know you're there, sir Robert!

Gone to ground!

Am I right? Gone to ground!

Isn't that what a hunted beast does?

Goes to ground?

But the human animal, being more clever,

thinks that the running water

will cover his tracks.

Poor sir Robert!

We'll soon catch you up, sir Robert!

Excellent!

Excuse me, mein Herr.

Nicht sprecht Deutsch.

You... don't speak English

by any chance, I suppose...

- You are English?

- Yes. And a sportsman, like yourself.

- 'Fraid I had a bit of problem.

- Accident?

In fact, not.

How do you get here?

- Make 'em yourself!

- Of course.

Good man!...

Look here:
I need a few things, I'm afraid.

It's asking a lot, I know.

Come up here in the mornings, early,

- because before the sun comes up...

- Oh, yes.

It's still paradise.

Isn't it?

What's it that you need?

Clothes, gloves,

shaving title, if possible.

Old stuff... nothing

they can trace back to you

if I may... I'm caught.

There's money in my pocket, or should

be if you can get your hand in.

I can't, without... difficulty.

- English?

- Yes.

I won't tell you who I am or what I've done.

Is better you shouldn't know.

But I've shaken them off. I know that because

I've been holed up here for a couple of days...

I needed a bit of dwell; peace and quiet.

Sorry to spoil your sport...

I'll go get something. Im due back.

Hunting, shipping and fishing...

do rather tend to dominate things.

Good man!

I also brought some food.

Yes, I could certainly bit.

Drink. Brandy. Drink.

- You are Jew?

- Me?

Good heavens, certainly not. Jew?

Goodness, no!

Get changed.

You lie on the bottom of the boat.

I'll get you cross.

You speak amazing English!

I was three years a prisoner of war.

Were, really?

I was lucky.

I went to Kent.

Lovely spot.

- Not in January.

- No, no. On the nippy side then, I must say.

Where will you go from here?

- Yes... How far to the... mouth of the river?

I'm hoping with any luck I'll find a ship.

My problem is getting down river, of course.

Now, they're largely watching

the roads and so forth. But the river...

- I don't like the English.

- Now we... we can be an acquired taste...

Take the boat.

It is very brave.

If you're caught, I shall say you stole it.

I shall endorse... If I'm not?

If you're not, I shall tell my wife I sold it.

In that case... you'll buy a new one.

Yes.

I appreciate this, mein Herr.

- Scum!

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Frederic Raphael

Frederic Michael Raphael (born 14 August 1931) is an American-born, British-educated, screenwriter, biographer, nonfiction writer, novelist and journalist. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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