Lady Chatterley

Synopsis: Sir Clifford has returned from the Great War to his estate near Sheffield, paralyzed from the waist down. Lady Constance, his young wife, cares for him, but she's lifeless, enervated. Her physician prescribes the open air, and she finds a quiet retreat at the hut - the workplace - of Parkin, the estate's gamekeeper. The rhythms of nature awaken Connie - daffodils, pheasant chicks - and soon she and Parkin become lovers. She's now radiant. Parkin, too, opens up. Class distinctions and gender roles may be barriers to the affair becoming more. Connie's trip to France, with her father and sister, bring the lovers to a nuanced resolution.
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director(s): Pascale Ferran
Production: Kino International Corp.
  11 wins & 10 nominations.
Rotten Tomatoes:
168 min

That's what's planned.

You don't want me to say no?

Oh, no.


I told Clifford I might have a baby.

You said that?

Well, it's possible, you know.

Would Sir Clifford...

accept it as his own?

Yes, I think so.

But... you didn't mention me?


I'm going away soon

with my father and sister.

I could always say

I'd met someone there.

You're going away? For how long?

When do you go?

In 3 weeks' time. Around mid-June.

I see. That's not far off.

Leave it.

I'll do it.

Sir Clifford will think

some society type

got you pregnant, won't he?

What'd he say

if he knew it was me?

He'd be furious.

But you won't

tell him will you?

You needn't worry about that.

Is that why you wanted me?

To have a baby?

I don't know.

I wanted...

I don't know what I wanted.

I just wanted...

I wanted you.

I want you.

And a baby, too, perhaps.

You didn't consider me?

I liked your body.

My body?

D'you still like it?


I can't imagine

that you like to touch me

like I do.

I do. I love touching you.

I don't think so.

It's just that I'm a little scared.

Do you like it when I touch you?

Yes, very much.

Well, what's stopping you then?

Now you can touch me if you like.

Yer beautiful.

Can we lie down?

If he has the baby

we'll have had this.

See yer soon then?

Go on, yer run along now.

Oh, Lady Chatterley,

what a pleasure to see you!

Good morning, Mrs Bentley.

Sir Clifford isn't with you?

I'm afraid not.

He rarely comes now.

Excuse me,

I live just opposite the Company.

Sir Clifford passes by my window

every time he goes to work.

Is Sir Clifford as well as they say?

He's in fine form, thank you.

I felt it as soon as you came in.

You look absolutely radiant.


- Can I come in?

- Come on in.

I'm not disturbing you?

No, I just got back from Uthwaite

about some poachers.

Please carry on eating.

Do you want a cup of tea?

The kettle's boiling.

Maybe I can do it.

If you like.

The pot's there.

And the tea's on the shelf.

Is that you?

In that photo.

Is that you at your wedding?

Just after.

Were you in love with her

when the photo was taken?

I suppose so, in a way.

I was smitten.

Do you still love her?

Me? No, I don't love her any more.

But it wasn't love anyway.

It wasn't love between us.

But... Really?

I'd rather change the subject.

When did you lose your husband?


He was 28.

And I was 24.

Was it in the mine?

Yes, an explosion.

Mining wasn't for him.

His father was a miner,

so he was too.

But he wasn't cut out

to go down the mine.

You often think of him?

Oh, yes.

I can't help it.

It was so sudden.

And we were so happy together.

A few days later,

Clifford wished to go out

with Constance.

Look at me on my foaming steed!

- Coughing, more like.

- Yes, that's it.

Spluttering, even!

I thought we could do some work

on the house next year.

The mine's doing well.

What if there are more strikes?

Why on earth

should they go on strike again?

They'd ruin the industry...

or what's left of it.

Maybe they don't care

about ruining it...

It's what fills their bellies.

If not their pockets,

as Mrs Bolton would say.

No, I'm not too worried

about strikes.

Simply because they'll soon be

virtually impossible.

What do you mean?

Are you going to ban strikes?

The miners will never let you!

We won't tell them.

It's for their own good.

The slightest spanner in the works

and they'd starve.

They would, not me.

I have other resources.

Are you so sure that there's

nothing good in socialism?

Heavens, no!

Nothing is more dangerous

than an ideal based on lies.

The masses only want one thing:


- Meaning you.

- Meaning me.

You, us.

Well, I'm sorry,

but I find that rather facile.


That some are made to command,

others to obey.

That's the way it's always been.

May I remind you

on which side you were born?

- I don't play boss.

- Of course you do. You are one.

All your servants know it full well.

Being pleasant to them

doesn't change your role.

You're their boss, like it or not.

Even with Mrs Bolton.

I'm sure I don't boss her.

No, you ask her to do things.

And she does.

It's exactly the same.

What if I tried to go to the spring?

I haven't seen it in ages.

Yes, why not?

- Will you come to my place tonight?

- Tonight?

Yes, this evening. For the night.

All right.

I must go.

I'll wait at the gate.

Around 10...

This chair is admirable.

It's icy cold.

Shouldn't one make a wish?

One should.

And did you?

Yes, but one mustn't tell.

You should hoot for Parkin.

Let her catch her breath.

Is there a stone

to put under the wheel?

- I'll help.

- No, don't push!

What's the point of the engine?

Put the stone back.

- You should call...

- Leave me alone!

Can't you stay still for 5 minutes?

I thought you were having trouble.

Won't it move?

It would seem not.

- Is there any petrol?

- Of course! A full tank.

What's wrong?

Can you see?


The connections look fine.

Give her a try.

That's better. I'll just push...

Wait! Let the engine try.

She's got to do it.

Clifford, this chair

can't move on her own!

Why bother insisting?

She won't do it.

She's done it before.


There! What did I tell you?

- You're pushing?

- Ay.

Let go of her!

- She won't make it on her own.

- Let go!

It's what she was made for.

She has to do it.

Clifford, the brake!

The brake!

The brake, Clifford!

I'm clearly at everyone's mercy.

I think this chair needs pushing.

Would you be so kind

as to push me home, Parkin?

I hope I didn't offend you at all.

No, no offence, sir.

Would you like me

to push the chair?

Please do.

Is that really necessary?

You should have let us push before.

Parkin, it only remains for me

to thank you.

I need another engine for this chair.

Go and have a beer

in the kitchen, won't you?

No, thank you, sir.

I'll be getting back.

I'll lunch in my room

If you don't mind.

As you wish, my dear.


- 3.

- 2.

- You're here...

- Yes.

You're on time.

Yes, it was very easy.

Do you hear those noises?

It's the trees.

It sounds like they call each other,

each in their own language.

And what are they?

Pine trees.

You leave the light on?

At night, I do.

Then people can't tell

if I'm in or not.

What people?

I don't know. Anybody.

Do you want something to eat?

No, thank you.

But you eat if you're hungry.

I'm all right.

I'll just make some tea.

Do you want one?

Yes, please.

Will you love me?

Yes... I'll love you.

You must love me.

You should take that off.

Take yours off then.

Turn round.

Turn round

Before you put the candle out.

You're already awake?

Yer better go.

Is it sunny?

It will be.

How curious. It's tiny now.

Like a bud.

When did you say

Hilda was coming for you?

On Thursday.

Oh, yes, that's right, Thursday.

When will you be back?

A month later.

If you ever do come back.

- Why wouldn't I come back?

- Who knows?

The hand of God...

An earthquake...

Or a heart quake.

Talking of which,

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Roger Bohbot

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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