The History of Mr. Polly Page #4

Synopsis: Quiet and somewhat direction-less, Alfred Polly uses the money he inherits from his father to marry and to set up shop in a small town. His heart is in neither of these enterprises and he eventually resorts to desperate measures to break free. His random wanderings in the countryside lead him to a new opportunity that just might be what he's been looking for all along.
 
IMDB:
6.8
APPROVED
Year:
1949
95 min
39 Views


with dustbins. Look at 'em.

He delib... (Whistles)

...deliberately rolled into my goods.

- Anyone see it begin?

- I did. I was in the shop.

If a witness is needed,

I've got a tongue.

I've got a voice in seeing

me own husband injured.

My husband went out

to speak to Mr Polly...

(Birdsong)

Hole. Hole!

Beastly silly wheeze of a hole.

# Oh, rotten beastly hole! #

(Wheezes)

(Sighs) Why did I ever get into it?

Hate Fishbourne. Hate the High Street.

Hate the shop. Hate Miriam.

Hate me neighbours.

(Sniffs) Hate meself, too.

Sixty pounds.

Konk, Maybrick, Ghool and Gab...

Next thing you know, I'll be bankrupt.

Nearly 40, and that's what I've come to.

(Snorts) I'm finished.

Haven't done any of the things

I wanted to do.

Haven't gone anywhere, seen anything.

Stuck in a silly little shop,

surrounded by a lot of people

who hate the sight of me.

Sick of it!

(Sighs) Oh, well.

It's hopeless. What am I gonna do?

No sense in going on, is there?

Might as well be dead.

Better.

I'll kill myself.

Kill myself.

That's what I'll do. I'll kill myself.

Life's insured. Place is insured.

I don't see it does any harm

to her or anyone.

Go about it the right way,

might even do a bit of good.

She ought to be grateful to me, really.

That's it. I'll kill myself.

What's the best way of going about it?

Must plan it properly.

Wouldn't do to have it go wrong.

Now, what's the best time? Sundays.

Sunday evening,

she always goes to church.

Plenty of firewood and stuff

under the stairs.

Drum of paraffin too.

I can't think why I never thought of it

before. It solves everything. Why not?

Suicide arsonical! Good idea. Righto!

(Church bells)

- Coming to church?

- Rather.

I've got a lot to be grateful for.

- You got what you deserve.

- Suppose I have.

You'd do better to come to church

than mope.

I shan't mope.

Well, aren't you going?

Go on, go to church!

- (Door shuts)

- Good riddance.

(Chair scrapes and squeaks)

Beastly home.

Beastly life.

Here goes.

Looks pretty arsonical.

Now for the stairs.

(Panting)

Now there's plenty of time.

Light the fire in the kitchen,

open the back door,

make certain the paraffin catches,

and sit down here and cut my throat.

Won't hurt much.

Ten minutes, I'll be a cinder.

Lord! Stings like a nettle.

Must be paraffin!

Got to put this out

before I cut my throat.

I'm soaked with the stuff!

I'd nerved myself for throat-cutting,

but this is fire!

No water up there, none in the shop.

Rumbold's'll be ablaze in five minutes!

It's all going too fast.

Fire!

(Rings)

Hi! Fire!

- Hey, look!

- Shop's on fire!

Shop's on fire! Fire!

Rumbold's deaf mother-in-law! Upstairs!

Hey! Fire! Fire! Fire!

- Polly and Rumbold's on fire!

- (Dog barking)

The key!

I'll be down just as soon

as I've got me trousers on!

- Seen old Rumbold?

- Gone for a walk.

We haven't got the key

to the fire station!

Lawks! The old lady's there alone!

There's a deaf old lady upstairs!

Something ought to be done!

Righto!

(Dog barking)

Telephone the Port Burdock

and Hampstead-on-Sea Fire Brigades!

Men! Men, cut away

the woodwork of the fire station!

- The telephone!

- No need. I've attended to it.

Back, please.

Two people on the roof!

I can't jump!

Old ladies like me mustn't be hurried.

(Background music drowns speech)

I've never been out on a roof before.

I'm all disconnected.

(Laughs) It's very bumpy,

especially the last bit.

Can't we sit here for a bit and rest?

You sit here for ten minutes, you'll pop

like a roast chestnut. Understand?

Roast chestnut! Pop!

There ought to be a limit to deafness.

Come on!

- Can't hear a word you say.

- I said, come on!

Where's he going to now?

Running and scurrying about

like black beetles in a kitchen.

Now you sit down.

Mr Rumbold, he's a very quiet man.

He likes everything quiet.

(Laughs) He'll be surprised

to see me 'ere.

(Laughing)

Why, there he is!

Lawks a mercy! Why, it's Mr Gambell.

Hiding his head under that thing.

- Can we get her down?

- He might get stuck in it.

- You'll get stuck in it. Now come on.

- Let me do it me own way.

It's worse than Carter's style

afore they mended it.

With a cow looking at you.

Here he comes!

- There he is!

- (Cheering)

(Fire engine bell)

# For he's a jolly good fellow

# And so say all of us #

(Cheering)

(Chatter)

- (Laughter)

- I've never understood you properly.

You ought to have a medal.

Hear, hear!

I suppose there'll be

a public subscription.

- Not for those who are insured.

- I'm insured. Royal Salamander.

- Same 'ere.

- Mine's the Glasgow Sun.

Very good company.

- You insured, Mr Polly?

- Deserves to be.

Yes.

(Chuckles) I'll lay Rusper's a bit sick

it didn't reach him.

(Sighs, clears throat and coughs)

You never know

how fires are gonna start.

Match, cigarette, anything.

Take Mr Polly here.

Lamp, wasn't it? Hm?

Er... yes, that's right.

Yes, upset the lamp.

I'd just lighted it.

Thing was aflare in a moment.

- So long.

- Good night.

Ha-ha! You played a brave man's part.

- If you don't get a medal, I... Well...

- Hear, hear!

- Good night, old man.

- Good night.

(Mr Rumbold) A man! A hero, I tell you!

(Mutters of assent)

Hero.

'Ello.

Hello.

(Sighs) I've been thinking.

It isn't going to be so bad after all.

We should get your insurance.

We can easily begin all over again.

(Sighs) Hm.

And get a better 'ouse.

I've always hated them stairs.

Choose a better position

where there's more doing.

Not 'alf so bad.

(Sighs) You wanted stirring up.

Forgot to cut me throat.

Miriam.

Miriam?

Hero. That's what they think.

Funny.

(Sighs) One thing clear, though.

You don't like your life,

you can change it.

You can make it better,

you can make it worse.

Anyway, you can make it

more interesting.

Pull yourself together, Miriam!

Tell your mother what it's all about!

- (Sobs) He's gone!

- Gone? Gone where?

Gone for good! Oh, Ma!

He's run away and left me!

Oh, is that all?

Surprised he never done it sooner.

(Whistles tune and stops)

Provinder.

Cold sirloin for choice.

Wheaten bread, nut-brown ale.

My sort.

- (Footsteps)

- Law! Oh, I thought you was Jim.

Oh, I'm never Jim.

I believe I was having 40 winks,

if the truth was told.

- What can I do for you?

- Cold meat?

- There is some cold meat.

- And room for it.

There's some cold boiled beef.

A very crisp lettuce?

- New mustard?

- And a tankard?

A tankard.

Looking for work?

Yes, er, in a way.

What sort of work do you want?

I've never properly thought that out.

Been, erm, looking around for ideas.

Will you have your beef in the tap

or outside? That's the tap.

- (Man yelling, distant)

- Hear that?

- Hear what?

- Listen.

(Man yelling, distant)

- Hear it?

- Mm-hm.

That's the ferry,

and there isn't a ferryman.

- Could I?

- Can you punt?

Never tried.

Well, pull the pole out before you reach

the end of the punt, that's all.

Try.

(Man yelling)

(Man yelling)

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