Tom Jones Page #5

Synopsis: In eighteenth-century England, "first cousins" Tom Jones and Master Blifil grew up together in privilege in the western countryside, but could not be more different in nature. Tom, the bastard son of one of Squire Allworthy's servants Jenny Jones and the local barber Partridge, was raised by virtuous Allworthy as his own after he sent Jenny away. Tom is randy, chasing anything in a skirt, he's having a sexual relationship on the sly with Molly Seagrim, the peasant daughter of Allworthy's gamekeeper. Tom is nonetheless kind-hearted and good-natured, he who is willing to defend that and those in which he believes. Blifil, on the other hand, is dour, and although outwardly pious, is cold-hearted and vengeful. Despite his randiness, Tom eventually falls in love with Sophie Western, who has just returned to the area after a few years abroad. Despite Sophie's love for Tom, Squire Western and his spinster sister would rather see Sophie marry Blifil rather than a bastard, who Western nonethele
Director(s): Tony Richardson
Production: Woodfall Film Productions
  Won 4 Oscars. Another 16 wins & 20 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.7
Rotten Tomatoes:
84%
NOT RATED
Year:
1963
128 min
712 Views


I perceive you are a gentleman.

We should be glad to

welcome you into our company.

- I'd be glad to march with you.

- Good. We shall be on the march shortly.

There comes a time when men

in a constant state of readiness for war

will slip their leash and fight like dogs.

I believe... that a man can fight for

no nobler cause than that of his religion.

Hear, hear.

I'd like to propose a toast

to the Protestant cause.

Smoke the prig out, Northerton.

Smoke him.

Sir, were you ever at university?

Sir, so far from having been at university,

I was never at school.

Me neither!

I only presumed, sir, from the information

of your great learning.

Sir, it is as easy for a man not to have

been at school and know something

as it is for a man to have been at school

and know nothing.

Well said, young volunteer.

Upon my word, Northerton, you'd best let

him alone or he'll prove too hard for you.

Give us a toast, young fellow.

Fill up his cup.

I would like to propose a toast...

to the health, and bless the name...

of Miss Sophie Western.

Sophie Western.

Sophie Western?

I knew one Sophie Western - was lain with

by half the young fellows at Bath.

Perhaps this is the same woman.

Miss Western is a lady

of fashion and fortune.

Oh aye, so she is, so she is!

Aye, it is the same young lady.

I'll lay half a dozen of Burgundy

Tom French of our regiment

had her in the tavern at Bridge Street!

Sophie Western!

Sir! I can bear no jesting

with this lady's character.

Jesting? Damn me if I was

ever more in earnest in my life.

Tom French of our regiment

had her and her aunt together at Bath.

You are the most impudent

rascal on earth!

You've killed him, you swine!

Zounds, I was but in jest with the fellow.

I never heard of Miss Western in my life.

Then you deserve to be hanged. You are

under arrest. Sergeant, take him away.

Arrest him.

But a hero cannot be lost

until his tale is told.

For, heaven be thanked,

we live in such an age

where no man dies for love

except upon the stage.

I'll kill you, Northerton...

I'm going to kill you, Northerton!

Northerton... Northerton...

Must find Northerton.

Must find Northerton...

Northerton!

Northerton!

Northerton!

Northerton!

Help! Help!

The ghost walks!

Shh! Shh!

Shh-shh-shh!

Come on, you, get up.

I can't afford for you

to lie here idle any longer.

Get out and follow

them rascally friends of yours!

You soldiers call yourselves gentlemen,

but it's we who have to pay for you -

and keep you too, for that matter!

- What are you talking about?

- That Lt Northerton escaped last night.

The rest of the company

went in pursuit after him -

and conveniently left

without paying the bill.

- How could he have escaped?

- His doxy, a trollop called Mrs Waters.

The sentry disappeared

and she let him out.

She'll soon learn what kind of a man he is.

Nothing's good enough for sparks like

him, but paying the bill is another matter!

Don't worry, madam.

I will repay you handsomely.

Ah, sir... A nice young

gentleman like yourself

shouldn't want to get mixed up

with them rough soldiers.

- It's gone.

- What's gone?

I had a Pounds. 500 note in my breeches pocket

and it's gone!

- That's a likely story.

- I had Pounds. 500...

- You never had Pounds. 500 in your life!

- One single note of Pounds. 500, and it's gone!

- I should've known your kind...

- Who took it?!

Somebody's been in this room during the

night and taken Pounds. 500 out of my pocket!

Was it you? Did you see her take it?

Somebody took the Pounds. 500 out of...

You lying rascal! Nor them cheating

redcoat friends of yours, neither!

Go on, take your things

and get out of here quick!

Go on! I'll set the dogs on you

if you don't hurry up!

You blackguard! Robber!

The whole lot of you! You and your Pounds. 500!

Wake up, you country stewpot!

Your daughter, sir!

While you've been lying a-bubbling here,

your daughter is gone!

Rouse yourself from this pastoral torpor.

Your daughter is gone!

What?!

Come on, you lazy lot, and take the

London road! Come on, Miss Slouch!

- Are you wanting anything, madam?

- We're tired and in need of refreshment.

It'd be an honour to serve such a lady.

Has by any chance a young gentleman,

a Mr Jones, passed this way?

Indeed he has. I'm surprised at a lady

like you inquiring of the likes of him -

brawling, thieving, bragging about

his mistress - one Sophie Western.

- Sophie Western?

- I'm not surprised, after Molly Seagrim.

- But I am the same Sophie Western.

- Well, you can get out of here quick!

Go on! Follow your fine friend. Take

your fine airs and graces with you!

This is a respectable house!

We don't want the likes of you here!

Our hero's next adventure

concerns a lady in circumstances

from which any gentleman

would instinctively wish to free her -

but of which any man

who was not a gentleman

might instantly want to take advantage.

Let her go, villain!

You savage!

Aaargh!

Sure, I've only myself to blame for trusting

in a man so unworthy of my favours.

No, sir - you've had trouble enough.

My nakedness may well shame me. I'd go

alone, but for the need of your protection.

Well then, in case

any prying eyes should offend you,

I will walk ahead

and escort you as far as Up... Upton.

So Tom and Mrs Waters - for so the lady

was called - set out on the road to Upton,

Tom, like Orpheus leading

Eurydice out of Hell,

hardly daring to look back

in case the fires consumed him.

Sophie! Sophie Western!

Sophie!

- Cousin Sophie!

- Look, ma'am, 'tis Mrs Fitzpatrick!

- My cousin Harriet?

- The same.

Why, so it is.

- Cousin!

- Harriet!

- What are you doing here?

- I'm on my way to London.

That is my destination. But why

are you both on one horse, indeed?

Oh, Harriet,

I am running away from home.

And I too - running away

from my husband, Mr Fitzpatrick,

who's hot on my trail, I'm sure.

Oh, never marry an Irishman -

particularly if he is eaten up with jealousy,

possessed of a quick temper,

and a mighty fool into the bargain.

But what will you do alone in London?

I have a friend. He has taken lodgings

for me in Curzon Street.

Cousin.

He's a dear, kind man,

and a peer of the realm.

You can stay with me.

- May I?

- Come on.

- But your friend.

- He is away for a few days.

When he returns

we will make other arrangements.

Now get in, Cousin,

and tell me about yourself.

Landlady, two rooms, please.

And perhaps you'd find this lady a gown.

She's been involved in an accident

and deprived of her clothes.

Take us to our rooms at once.

Heroes - whatever high ideals we may

have of them - are mortal, not divine.

We are all as God made us,

and many of us much worse.

All right, all right, I'm coming.

I'm coming, I said!

- Where's me wife?

- Who?

Me wife! Mrs Fitzpatrick.

I have come a distance to fetch her.

- There's no Mrs Fitzpatrick here.

- I know she's here! I know it.

Where is that serpent-toothed siren?!

Who's here, girl? Tell me, and I'll make

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John Osborne

John James Osborne (Fulham, London, 12 December 1929 – 24 December 1994) was an English playwright, screenwriter and actor, known for his excoriating prose and intense critical stance towards established social and political norms. The success of his 1956 play Look Back in Anger transformed English theatre. In a productive life of more than 40 years, Osborne explored many themes and genres, writing for stage, film and TV. His personal life was extravagant and iconoclastic. He was notorious for the ornate violence of his language, not only on behalf of the political causes he supported but also against his own family, including his wives and children. Osborne was one of the first writers to address Britain's purpose in the post-imperial age. He was the first to question the point of the monarchy on a prominent public stage. During his peak (1956–1966), he helped make contempt an acceptable and now even cliched onstage emotion, argued for the cleansing wisdom of bad behaviour and bad taste, and combined unsparing truthfulness with devastating wit. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "Tom Jones" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 18 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/tom_jones_22036>.

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