The Oxford Murders
Go!
Go!
What is that?
It's a man!
- What is he, dead?|- No, sir. He's writing!
Repeat!
He's writing, sir.
He's writing in a notebook!
That man was not mad.|He was working
with shrapnel whistling round him|because he couldn't wait.
The contents of that notebook|were too important
to write it down later.
He had to do it|when his mind dictated,
he couldn't put it off|a single second.
What was so important that|he would risk his life for it?
What was he writing that|stopped him from standing up
and running, like any other man|would have done?
The "Tractatus|Logico-philosophicus",
the most influential philosophical|work of the twentieth century.
That soldier was called|Ludwig Wittgenstein,
the man who set the limits|on our thoughts.
The enigma that|he tried to decipher
was the following:
Can we know the truth?
All the great thinkers|throughout history
have sought a single certainty,
something which|no one can refute,
like "two and two make four".
In order to find that truth,
Wittgenstein used, in fact,
mathematical logic. What better|means of obtaining a certainty
than an immutable language,|free from the passions of men?
He advanced slowly,|using equation after equation,
with impeccable method,|until he reached
a terrifying conclusion.
There is no such truth
outside of mathematics.
There is no way of finding
an irrefutable argument
which might help answer|the questions of mankind.
Philosophy,|therefore, is dead.
Because "Whereof we cannot speak,
thereof we must be silent."
Don't touch that, please.
This is an Enigma machine!
Just a copy. The original's in|the Imperial War Museum in London.
Sorry to sneak in like that...|The door was open.
Of course it was open. You surely|didn't expect me to get up
and let you in|on these legs, did you?
I'm...
Martin, our new overseas|student lodger, I presume.
- This man in the photo with you...|- Yes.
That's Turing, Alan Turing,
the man who deciphered|the Enigma code.
Thanks to him, we won the war.
Poor man died|such a strange death...
a poisoned apple, like Snow White.
And the one on the left?
My husband, Harry.
Harry Eagleton. He developed the|concept of fractional dimensions...
He deserved a bloody Nobel prize,|but he hated sucking up
to politicians.|Politicians or anybody.
He never had many friends.
He had one at least.|Arthur Seldom.
Poor boy. He spent day
after day in the house,|tidying Harry's papers.
He'd go without lunch or dinner,|going over the equations.
Eagleton tutored his doctoral thesis|on the logical series. In 1960,
- wasn't it?|- I see you've done your homework.
I know everything there is|to know about Arthur Seldom.
In fact, Mrs. Eagleton,|it's because of him that I'm here.
In Oxford, I mean.
I know what you mean.|Seldom is... unique.
Every prize,|every acknowledgement
he's received over the years|has been a real joy for me.
Careful, mother, or|your secret will be discovered.
What secret?
After daddy died,|you tried to marry him.
How dare you!|That's not true.
He's always been|like a brother to me.
Only because there was no chance|of him being anything else.
Beth!
There's no doubt|Professor Seldom is a genius,
but there's one area|he's no different from other men.
Beth, darling, couldn't you stop|being so spiteful just for a second?
Sorry, mother.
Take no notice of us.|We're like two bitter old spinsters.
Thank you, mother, for tarring me|with the same brush.
I'm sorry,
you are?
I sent a fax a few weeks ago,|about renting a room.
Ah, our overseas student.
Why don't you|show him to his room?
If I'd known,|I'd have rented a tux.
You look stunning.
My daughter has|a concert tonight. That's all.
A concert?
I play the cello|in the Sheldonian.
- It's the local amateur orchestra.|- Yes.
We're not quite|the London Symphony.
I... I love the cello.
Me too. Maybe it's because|it's all I get to cuddle
- these days.|- Beth.
Please.|You'll scare the young man.
Mother.
My daughter's suitors|tend not to be
around very long.
Difficult character, you know.
Having an old lady hovering in the|doorway doesn't exactly help either.
Are you calling me a busybody?
No, mother. You just want|to protect me, don't you?
Of course.
My mother has this theory
that unless a man lived|through the Second World War
he's not to be trusted.
My daughter
thinks I've gone a bit
gaga, but she knows
I'm right.
on that damned machine|every bloody day,
that altered the code, and we|had to decipher it all over again.
There were no computers|in those days,
calculations were done by hand.
You must have been very young.
Time for me to go.
Fancy a game of Scrabble?
Well, this is your study.
I trust you'll be comfortable.
It's perfect.
You should also be thinking|of a supervisor
for your thesis.
I've had one in mind|for a long time; Arthur Seldom.
Your parents?
Yeah.
Very American.|Is it close to the beach?
Not at all.|It's the desert, Arizona.
It actually happens to be my home.
Really? Lovely.
Anyway...
all the studies are shared.
Your colleague is|also an overseas student.
I'm sure we'll get on fine.
By the way,
I think you'll find Professor Seldom|only works as a researcher now.
I know, but the college told me that|he could supervise my doctorate.
Who told you that?
I've got a fax...
here.
I see.
I'm sorry to say Mrs. Keeman
was being rather over-optimistic.|Also,
But there must be some way,|perhaps if I speak to him...
You're free to talk|to whoever you want,
of course, but I must|warn you Professor Seldom
is not one for|this sort of spontaneity.
If you take my advice,
I suggest you approach your studies|in a more realistic way.
I'm sure you'll find some excellent|tutors among our teaching staff
who will more than understand|the nature of your work.
- Don't take it out on the wall.|- Walls?
Don't talk to me about walls. That's|all you get in this f***ing city.
Sorry, just letting off|a little steam.
Well, at least they come in|handy for doing your homework.
These? I was just trying to save|myself 16 years of practice.
See, I'm trying to calculate|where I need to run,
depending on where|the ball bounces,
and what height it makes contact
with my racquet.
Makes it easier. Here.
See? It works.
Yeah, and what would happen|if you played against a person?
There would be more variables
but it would still be possible|to work out the trajectory.
Please.
Give me time.
I have to rethink my calculations.
Okay.
Thanks for the beating.
Do you want to continue|letting off steam
on your own|or do you prefer company?
Wednesday, same time?
Yes. Bring a proper squash racquet.|Makes life much easier.
Okay.
I see you're picking up|the local customs very quickly.
I try my best.
Maybe she can help you|with your doctoral thesis,
since uncle Arthur|is out of the question.
- Can nothing be done?|- No.
And if you're suggesting my mother|have a word with him, forget it.
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"The Oxford Murders" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 5 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_oxford_murders_15460>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In