Their Finest Page #7

- You're up.

- Oh, no. No, no, no.

Oh, shut up, Ambrose,

you know you want to.

All right. "Wild Mountain Thyme"

in D flat major.

There it is.

O the summertime is coming

And the trees are softly blooming

And the wild mountain thyme

Grows around

the blooming heather

Will ye go, lassie, go

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme...

So how was London?

You knew I'd cover for you.

I was thinking

about what Mr. Hilliard said

about needing to back-seed

the death speech.

Liar.

Sorry.

...a towers'

From the pure and crystal fountain

Hmm.

And it's there I shall rain

All the flowers of the mountain

Will ye go, lassie, go

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around

the blooming heather

Bomber's moon.

Someone'll be copping it.

So...

Another couple of days in Devon.

London for the studio shoot.

Then what?

Back to Careless Talk and carrots?

Don't know.

Swain's talking about another feature.

Air-raid wardens.

There'll be slop.

I don't know.

Here.

I'll get you a real desk.

Marry you.

Quiet. No bombing

since Tuesday, apparently.

I meant the exhibition.

Very successful.

True love will not come

And your artist?

Likewise.

So why didn't you stay?

What?

I'm already married.

No, you're not.

That was private.

It was a private conversation.

You had to buy the ring yourself

in Woolworths.

When times got hard,

he tried to send you back to Wales,

and he's disappointed in you?

He's a stupid bloody fool,

but he's not as much of a fool as you.

He changed your name, for Christ's sake!

Where's your f***ing self-respect?

How dare you?

You have no one.

You don't know.

- I know you deserve better.

- You?

You're the better?

Catrin... I... I...

I think... Look, I think you're mustard.

And I think...

you're a drunk, squalid bully.

Come and get out of the water.

Hush!

You were speaking

of Flight Lieutenant Lundbeck.

Ah. You know he only did the film

under orders.

"They told me it would be good

for Eagle Squadron recruitment, sir."

He's desperate to get back

in the air, poor boy.

- Tea, sir?

- Thank you.

- Oh! Um... Oh, I...

- Thruppence, please.

Please.

There.

Well, as long as you receive

an adequate coaching fee,

I see no objection to your continuing

to instruct him.

- Fee?

- Yes. Certainly a fee.

I shall be raising the matter

with Mr. Baker today.

Is there anything else you wish me

to discuss with him?

Your dressing room is adequate?

Uh... Oh, your intimate needs

are being catered for?

Mmm?

Sammy once mentioned you do not like

to share studio facilities with crew.

Electricians in particular?

Yes. Well, one mustn't complain.

They do their best

to make one comfortable.

And as for the work, uh,

people...

People seem to be responding

rather well to Uncle Frank.

I look... I look forward

to your opinion.

Thank you.

Sometimes one simply has to be firm.

Did you miss me?

You left your jacket in the cabin.

It smelt of you for the longest time.

And then one day, I went in there

and all I could smell

was Uncle Frank's pipe.

Only I'd understand, you know,

if things have changed.

And that bullet might have

had my name on it.

Oh, Johnnie.

I wouldn't blame you.

Brannigan is one in a million.

And I'm not much

to write home about, am I?

I'm just an everyday sort of bloke.

"Even

Every day for the rest of my life.

Good work.

Bloody good show,

what you've shot so far.

When the film's been treated for color,

it's going to look marvelous.

God, the American's teeth!

Can they be real?

If the studio shoot goes half as well,

this picture's going to be a triumph.

There is, however,

one area of concern...

Memo, please.

From our American distributors.

I'd ask you to absorb what's said

without derision, Buckley.

"American picture-goers like

to be knocked off their feet.

Bangs, crashes, ambulances

careening around corners.

The same goes for romance.

What you call understatement

translates as a lack of oomph."

The Americans feel that

the ending as presently written

is too subtly nuanced,

- too... restrained.

- Restrained?

I mean, it's practically a call to arms.

Their concern is more

what one might crudely call

the love triangle.

I have to say, as far as

the home front goes,

we can't let it look as if she'd rather

have had the American.

Well, that'll be the teeth.

Teeth or no teeth,

what all parties need is a morally clean,

romantically satisfying resolution.

Well, perhaps if Mrs. Cole could carry on

her good work with Hilliard on set,

Buckley and I could tackle

the new ending in the office.

You'll enjoy the studio.

Change of scene.

Excellent. Excellent.

Slowly forward.

Two steps.

- Look to the side.

- Like this?

No, left side to the camera,

your good side,

and now raising your eyes

and turning as the Stuka...

Please, if you don't mind...

Stuka.

Johnnie is hit!

Can you bring the light

over here? Thank you.

Could you move, please?

We're trying to get big boy up there.

- Sorry.

- Tea. Excuse me.

- Coming through.

- Anyone for a cup of tea?

I thought that was

really rather convincing,

- don't you think?

- Very real.

Oh, I say, are those rock cakes?

Ooh!

They want to know

when it'll be ready.

It's very much on its way.

Only you keep saying that you'll be

sending over the new ending, but...

- It's almost ready.

- Oh.

Let me know when it is.

- Bye, Parfitt.

- Mrs. Cole.

Shall we find the lady

who'll do our makeup?

I suppose so.

It's coming over.

Mind your heads.

Cigarette?

That's it. Okay, line it up, please.

Line it up and keep it straight.

That's it.

I've never much

seen the point in men.

Still, I do hate to see you pining.

Oh, I'm not pining.

Ellis moved out weeks ago.

I'm already used to it.

It wasn't Ellis I was thinking of.

Forgive me.

It's just that...

When we were shooting in Devon,

you always seemed so... vivid.

Perhaps I'm just

in a sentimental mood.

My landlady was killed yesterday.

I could hear her husband crying

through the wall all night long.

It seems to me when life

is so very precarious,

it's an awful shame to waste it.

I was wondering.

On page 76, I say...

They're getting worried.

About the ending.

Turned Ministry spy now?

Is that it?

Could I...

' Sorry.

- I'm sorry. I didn't mean...

- Don't bother.

It's not worth it.

What do you think?

It's not very good.

It's not very... Buckley.

It's not your fault, you know.

It really isn't.

You'd better go home, Mrs. Cole.

Exterior train. Station.

A full moon, a clear sky.

A man sits by the shore.

There has been a quarrel.

A woman is walking away from him.

Now she turns back.

"I didn't mean what I just said.

And, anyway, you said worse."

It was a declaration.

"Stupid bloody fool" was good.

Did you think of that beforehand?

Are you trying to pick a fight

with me, Mrs. Cole?

No.

What I'm trying to say is that...

if all of this stopped...

the sparring and the jibing

and the insults and the arguments...

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