Women in Love Page #2

Synopsis: The battle of the sexes and relationships among the elite of Britain's industrial Midlands in the 1920s. Gerald Crich and Rupert Berkin are best friends who fall in love with a pair of sisters Gudrun, a sculptress and Ursula Brangwen, a schoolteacher. Rupert marries Ursula, Gerald begins a love affair with Gudrun, and the foursome embarks upon a Swiss honeymoon. But the relationships take markedly different directions, as Russell explores the nature of commitment and love. Rupert and Ursula learn to give themselves to each other; the more withdrawn Gerald cannot, finally, connect with the demanding and challenging Gudrun.
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director(s): Ken Russell
  Won 1 Oscar. Another 5 wins & 18 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.5
R
Year:
1969
131 min
442 Views


got your fair share of the world's gear.

"Now, you mind yourself

and don't obstruct me!"

It sounds like megalomania, Rupert.

I must go and dress for lunch.

Don't be late, Rupert.

Oh.

So this is Hermione's country cottage.

Well, there's one reason

Rupert's attracted to her.

Oh. Do you think so?

I don't think that.

Lovers have sold their souls

for far less, my dear.

At least here you will have

an opportunity to observe nature.

Gudrun Brangwen.

Gerald Crich.

Tibby and Laura Lupton.

Ursula Brangwen.

Rupert Birkin.

Rupert Birkin.

Peculiar names we all have.

Do you think we've all been singled out?

Chosen for some

extraordinary moment in life.

Or are we all cursed

with the mark of Cain?

I'm afraid Ursula was a martyred saint.

It's always been

rather difficult to live up to.

And who is Gudrun?

In a Norse myth, Gudrun was a sinner

who murdered her husband.

Will you live up to that?

Which would you prefer me to live up to,

Mr Crich? The sinner or the murderer?

Ah,

I see the perpetual struggle has begun.

Oh, we all struggle so, don't we?

The proper way to eat a fig,

in society,

is to split it in four,

holding it by the stump,

and open it,

so that it is a...glittering, rosy,

moist, honeyed, heavy-petalled,

four-petalled flower.

Then you throw away the skin,

after you have taken off the blossom

with your lips.

But the vulgar way...

is just to put your mouth to the crack

and take out the flesh in one bite.

The fig is a very secretive fruit.

The Italians vulgarly say

it stands for the female part,

the fig fruit.

The fissure. The yoni.

The wonderful...

moist conductivity towards the centre.

Involved...in-turned.

One small way of access, only,

and this, close-curtained from the light.

Sap that smells strange on your fingers,

so that even goats won't taste it.

And when the fig has kept her secret

long enough...

...so it explodes

and you see, through the fissure,

the scarlet.

And the fig is finished. The year is over.

That's how the fig dies.

Showing her crimson

through the purple slit.

Like a wound.

The exposure of her secret

on the open day.

Like a prostitute,

the bursten fig

makes a show of her secret.

That's how women die too.

Would you like to come for a walk?

Would you like to come for a walk?

The dahlias are so pretty!

Will you come for a walk, Rupert?

No...Hermione.

But are you sure?

- Quite sure.

- And why not?

Because I don't like

trooping off in a gang.

But the dahlias are so pretty.

I've seen them.

Then we'll leave a little boy behind,

if he's sulky.

Goodbye!

- Goodbye, little boy!

- Bye!

Impudent hag.

Have you ever really loved...anybody?

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D.H. Lawrence

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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