The History Boys Page #4

Ahem!

(quietly) "...they achieve some

of the permanence of art simply by persisting

and acquire incremental significance

if only as social history."

Dear me.

What fun you must all have.

Well, it's not like your stuff, Miss.

It's cutting edge, it really is.

- Where do you live, sir?

- Horsforth.

Not far from Mr. Hector, sir.

He might even give you a lift.

It's not a loft, is it, sir?

Do you exist

on an unhealthy diet of takeaways

or do you whisk up gourmet meals for one?

- Or is it a lonely pizza, sir?

- I manage!

No questions from you, Dakin?

What they want to know, sir,

is do you have a life?

Or are we it? Are we your life?

It's pretty dismal if you are,

cos these are as dreary as ever.

You get a question, you know the answer.

But then, so does everybody else.

So, say something different,

say the opposite.

OK, look, er... take Stalin.

He's generally agreed

to be a monster, and rightly so.

Dissent. Find something, anything,

and say it in his defense.

A question is about what you know,

it's not about what you don't know.

A question about Rembrandt, for instance,

might prompt an answer on Degas.

- Is Degas an old master?

- "About suffering they were never wrong,

The Old Masters; how it takes place while

someone's eating or opening a window."

- Have you done that with Mr. Hector?

- Done what?

The poem. You're quoting somebody.

Auden, isn't it?

Was it, sir? Sometimes it just

flows out, you know, brims over.

Does he have a program

or is it just at random?

- Knowledge.

- The pursuit of it for its own sake.

Breaking bread with the dead,

that's what we do.

- It's higher than your stuff, sir, it's nobler.

- Only not useful. Mr. Hector's not as focused.

(Lockwood) Not focused at all.

He's blurred, sir.

We know what we're doing with you.

Half the time with him,

we don't know what we're doing.

We're poor little sheep

that have lost our way.

- Where are we? Where are we, sir?

- Sit down.

You're very young, sir.

This isn't your gap year, is it, sir?

I wish it was.

(Lockwood) Why, sir?

Do you not like teaching us?

We're not just a hiccup between the end

of university and the beginning of life,

like Auden, are we, sir?

- Do you like Auden's poetry, sir?

- Some, yeah.

Mr. Hector does. We know about Auden.

(all) Oh, yes, we do.

- He was a schoolmaster for a bit.

- I believe he was.

Yeah, he was. Do you think he was

more like you or more like Mr. Hector?

I have no idea.

Why should he be like either of us?

Oh, I think he was

more like Mr. Hector.

Bit of a shambles.

He snogged his pupils.

Auden, sir, not Mr. Hector.

So, you could answer

a question on Auden, then?

No, sir! Mr. Hector's stuff's

not meant for the exam!

It's to make us

more rounded human beings.

Listen! This examination's gonna be about

everything and anything you know and are,

and if there's a question on Auden

or whoever and you know about it, answer it.

That would be a betrayal of trust.

Yeah! Is nothing sacred, sir?

We're shocked.

I would, sir, and they would.

They're taking the piss.

"England, you've been here too long,

And the songs you sing

are the songs you sung

On a braver day, now they are wrong."

- Who's that?

- (all) Oh! Mr. Irwin!

Sir! It's Stevie Smith of

"Not Waving But Drowning" fame.

Don't tell me that's useless knowledge.

If you get an essay on post-imperial decline,

you're losing an empire, finding a role,

all that kind of stuff.

A gobbet like that,

it's the perfect way to end it.

A what, sir?

A gobbet. A quotation.

How much more have you up your sleeves?

We've got all sorts.

Hey! The train, the train!

(all imitate train)

(as woman) I really meant to do it.

I stood there trembling right on the edge.

But I couldn't.

I wasn't brave enough.

I should like to able to say the thought

of you and the children prevented me.

But it wasn't. I had no thoughts at all.

Only an overwhelming desire

not to feel anything at all ever again.

Not to be unhappy any more.

I went back into the refreshment room.

That's when I nearly fainted.

- What is all this?

- (all) Shh!

- Laura.

- Yes, dear?

Whatever your dream was,

it wasn't a very happy one, was it?

No.

Is there anything I can do to help?

Fred, you always help.

You've been a long way away.

Thank you for coming back to me.

God knows why you've

learned Brief Encounter.

I think you ought to know

this lesson's been a complete waste of time.

A bit like Mr. Hector's lessons then, sir.

They're a complete waste of time too.

Smart arse. But he's not

trying to get you through an exam.

(all) Ooooh!

- French Kiss?

- I beg your pardon?

- Newmarket, three o'clock.

- (chuckling)

- Dorothy.

- Thank you, Stanley.

So, how are you finding them?

You've taught them too well.

They can't see it's a game.

- History? Is it a game?

- For an exam like this, yeah.

- Dorothy.

- Ah, f***.

- Dorothy.

- Headmaster.

- I call him the awful warning.

- Who? Felix?

If you don't watch out,

he's what you turn into.

If this was a 1940s film, he'd be

played by Raymond Huntley.

Who?

He made a speciality of sour-faced judges

and vinegary schoolmasters.

- Who would I be played by?

- Dirk Bogarde.

I'm not sure I like that.

- Dorothy.

- Watch out.

Ah, Hector! The very man.

- Chin up, Rudge.

- Hello!

Mrs. Lintott.

Our lord and master having grudgingly

conceded that art may have its uses,

I gather I'm supposed to give your

Oxbridge boys a smattering of art history.

Not my bag, Hazel. Irwin's your man.

- It's really just the icing on the cake.

- Is art ever anything else?

Michelangelo.

Well... I suppose.

Who've you got?

- Both nancies.

- Are they?

These aren't women.

They're just men with tits.

And the tits look put on

with an ice-cream scoop.

- Do you like Turner, then?

- He's all right.

Well, choose someone you do like.

Art's meant to be enjoyed.

In the long term, maybe,

but with us, enjoyment don't come into it.

We haven't time to read the books.

We haven't time to look at the pictures.

We really need lessons in acting. That's what

this whole scholarship thing is: an acting job.

So, have the boys

given you a nickname?

- Not that I'm aware of.

- A nickname is an achievement.

Both in the sense of something won

and also in its armorial sense.

Of a badge, a blazon.

Unsurprisingly,

I am Tott. Or Tottie.

Some irony there, one feels.

- Hector has no nickname.

- Yes, he has. Hector.

- But he's called Hector.

- That's his nickname too.

He isn't called Hector.

His name's Douglas.

Though the only person

I've ever heard address him as such

is his somewhat unexpected wife.

Posner came to see me yesterday.

He has a problem.

No nickname, but at least

you get their problems. I seldom do.

Sir, I think I may be homosexual.

- I love Dakin.

- Does Dakin know?

Yes. He doesn't

think it's surprising.

Though Dakin likes girls, basically.

I sympathized, though not so much

as to suggest I might be in the same boat.

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