Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Synopsis: In the later years of the nineteenth century Latin master Mr. Chipping is the mainstay of Brookfields boys boarding school, a good teacher and a kindly person but he is considered to be married to the job so that it is a surprise when, on a walking holiday, he meets and marries the vivacious Kathie,who becomes his helpmate at the school but sadly pre-deceases him. Just before World War One insensitive new headmaster Ralston tries to edge Chipping out but the boys rally and Sir John Rivers, an old pupil of Chipping's and now head of the board of governors, invites him to stay and,when the war breaks out and Ralston joins up, Chipping becomes the new head. He is saddened by the waste of young lives in the pointless war and also by the death of his old friend and former German teacher Max, who had returned to his homeland to fight for Germany and he reminds the assembled boys that an individual's goodness is more important than their nationality. It is a sad day for all concerned when Chi
Genre: Drama
Director(s): Stuart Orme
Production: Carlton International Media Group
 
IMDB:
7.6
Year:
2002
99 min
40 Views

Thank you.

(Shouting)

(Man) Howzat!

(Second man) Well fielded!

(Man) Keep the pace up!

(Man) No running!

Colley!

Good Lord. Where do you imagine

this one's from?

By Jove. Those ears!

You think his mama used them

to hoist him out of his crib?

(Laughs)

- Sir? Follow me to the Headmaster.

- Thank you.

Chipping?

We've never had

a Chipping here.

Indeed, Headmaster?

It's Chipping as in Chipping Norton.

Or if you prefer, Chipping Camden.

I've never been to Chipping Norton

or to Chipping Camden.

Which, as you say, I may well prefer.

Now, the agency says

you're worth a second chance.

And here at Brookfield we believe

in giving the second chance.

Now...

The boys are, I warn you,

most energetic.

Most.

And if in your previous school

discipline proved a problem...?

- If I might explain...

- The fact is, Chipping,

our Latin master's gone,

came into a huge inheritance,

but there's still a month of term.

Ideal trial period!

We can always think again,

I mean, after that.

Can you take the Lower Fifth now?

Declensions, conjugations -

- no striving necessary.

- Yes. Thank you, Headmaster.

Thank you, Chipping,

we are rather desperate.

(Headmaster) Ah, Rivers. Good man.

Mr Chipping is taking the Lower

Fifth. Would you show him there?

- Yes, Headmaster.

- (Door opens)

We'll get you accustomed

to Brookfield's language

or you shan't know

what we're talking about.

A boy shan't ask for a glass of milk,

it's "a tot of dolly."

He mustn't wear "gutties" in dorm,

"gutties" are for cricket.

Nor can a boy wear his "pigs" in dorm

either - "pigs" are his boots.

- (Chattering)

- (Rivers) Walk!

The Upper Third. Like all

young beasts they need restraint.

Ahh!

Henshaw, you burnt

my toast again today.

Sorry, Rivers! I won't do it again!

That suggests you did it

deliberately.

You should say,

"I shan't let it happen again."

I shan't let it happen again,

Rivers! Ow!

The standard of fagging this year

is deplorable.

This is Mr Chipping.

He will take you for Latin.

All the books you shall need -

in the drawer. Sir.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

(Boys) Good afternoon, sir.

(Chipping) Possum - I can.

Potes - you can.

- Potest...

- (Thud)

(Laughter)

May I enquire as to the nature

of your unannounced recreation?

(Boy) Please, sir,

he's playing possum.

- "Playing possum"?

- Like opossum - the animal, sir.

He's pretending to be dead, sir.

Take 100 lines and resume your desk.

Sir, I can't,

I hurt my arm when I fell.

(Laughter)

200 lines, and sit, please.

Oh, I think... I feel ill

(Imitates vomiting)

(Boys groan)

300 lines, after school,

in this classroom.

(Pretending to cry)

(Boys) Ohh...

500 lines and sit!

- Oh, no, sir...

- Right!

- Get back here!

- (Boys cheering and banging)

(Muffled shouting and banging)

Get back here, boy!

Go on, Colley, run!

Gentlemen!

(Silence)

Where is your honour?!

Is this the spirit of Brookfield?

From two o'clock tomorrow every boy

will come to my office for caning.

Alphabetical order,

one boy every five minutes.

Resume your books.

Er, the staff room, I think.

- Good afternoon.

- Afternoon.

(Chuckling)

- How do you do?

- How do you do?

- Burnley, Geography.

- Chipping, Latin.

- Glass of brandy?

- Thank you, no.

(German accent) What was that row?

Shh.

Hello! I'm Staefel. I do German.

Chipping. I do Latin, I hope.

Was that your baptism of fire?

I say, if you're Latin

it's your night for Prep.

Ah, Metcalf, a change of plan.

- Could you possibly take Prep?

- Headmaster, please!

In the light of the scene

I just witnessed...

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