The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Maggie Smith movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie Script


 

                   

Morning, girls.



 

                   

Good morning.



 

                   

There's Miss Brodie.



 

                   

Miss Brodie!



 

                   

Oh, girls, how lovely

to see you. Thank you.



 

                   

- I've been looking for you all over the place.

- Have you had a nice holiday?



 

                   

Oh, you wait till I

tell you about Italy.



 

                   

- Good morning, Miss Brodie.

- Morning, Miss Brodie.



 

                   

Oh, good morning,

Mr. Lowther, Mr. Lloyd.



  

                   

- Will you put that upstairs?

- Yes, Miss Brodie.



  

                   

- Put that on the desk.

- Yes, Miss Brodie.



  

                   

Come on.



  

                   

Good morning,

Miss Mackay.



  

                   

You take charge of these two new girls.

Please see that they know what they have to do.



  

                   

- Yes, Miss Mackay.

- Thank you so much.



  

                   

- Sheila, there's no need to run.

- No, Miss Mackay.



  

                   

Lord, behold us with Thy blessing



  

                   

Once again assembled here



  

                   

Onward be

our footsteps pressing



  

                   

In Thy love

and faith and fear



  

                   

Still protect us

Still protect us



  

                   

By Thy presence

ever near



  

                   

For Thy mercy

we adore Thee



  

                   

For this rest

upon our way



  

                   

Lord, again we bow

before Thee



  

                   

Speed our labors

day by day



  

                   

Mind and spirit

Mind and spirit



  

                   

With Thy choicest

gifts array



  

                   

Keep the spell

of home affection



  

                   

Still alive

in every heart



  

                   

May its power

with mild direction



  

                   

Draw our love

from self apart



  

                   

Till Thy children

Till Thy children



  

                   

Feel that Thou

their Father art



  

                   

Break temptation's

fatal power



  

                   

Shielding all

with guardian care



  

                   

Safe in every

careless hour



  

                   

Safe from sloth

and sensual snare



  

                   

Thou, our savior

Thou, our savior



  

                   

Still our failing

strength repair



  

                   

Here comes Miss Brodie.



  

                   

- Good morning, girls.

- Good morning, Miss Brodie.



  

                   

You may sit down.



  

                   

Who opened the window?



  

                   

Whoever opened the window

has opened it too wide.



  

                   

Six inches is

perfectly adequate.



  

                   

More is vulgar.

Forsooth, one should have...



  

                   

an innate sense of these things,

of what is suitable.



  

                   

Morag, will you please?



  

                   

Thank you.



  

                   

I see we have

two new girls this term.



  

                   

Will the two new girls

please stand up?



  

                   

- You are?

- Emily Carstairs, Miss Brodie.



  

                   

Emily Carstairs.



  

                   

There.

You are inscribed.



  

                   

Would you like to tell us

something about yourself, Emily?



  

                   

I'm a Girl Guide, Miss Brodie.

I have six merit badges.



  

                   

One for knot tying.

One for flag folding.



  

                   

- Indeed.

- One...



  

                   

For those who like that sort of thing,

that is the sort of thing they like.



  

                   

You may sit down, Emily.



  

                   

And this is Mary McGregor.



  

                   

Well, what about you, Mary?

You don't look to me like a girl who ties knots.



  

                   

N-N-No, Miss Brodie, but my b-b-brother does.



  

                   

That is as it should be.



  

                   

But what about you?

What are your interests?



  

                   

I haven't g-got any.



  

                   

I d-d-don't think.



  

                   

That is what I am for,

Mary McGregor...



  

                   

to provide you

with interests.



  

                   

You may sit down now, Mary.



  

                   

Little girls, I am in the business

of putting old heads on young shoulders.



  

                   

All my pupils are

the creme de la creme.



  

                   

Give me a girl

at an impressionable age...



  

                   

and she is mine for life.



  

                   

You girls are my vocation.



  

                   

If I were to receive

a proposal of marriage tomorrow...



  

                   

from the Lord Lyon, king of arms,

I would decline it.



  

                   

I am dedicated

to you in my prime.



  

                   

And my summer in Italy

has convinced me...



  

                   

that I am truly

in my prime.



  

                   

Emily, Mary McGregor,

you are new to this institution.



  

                   

It is possible you will hear my teaching

methods decried in certain quarters...



  

                   

as being unsuitable for a conservative school

like Marcia Blaine.



  

                   

That is to say, a school dedicated

to the status quo.



  

                   

Can anyone define

"status quo"?



  

                   

Sandy?



  

                   

Does it mean staying the same,

Miss Brodie?



  

                   

Precisely.



  

                   

Staying the same to the point

of petrification.



  

                   

P-E-T-R-l-F...



  

                   

l-C-A-T-l-O-N.



  

                   

Petrification.



  

                   

I do not intend to devote

my prime to petrification.



  

                   

Prop up your books

in case of intruders.



  

                   

If there are intruders,

we are doing our history.



  

                   

But we will not

do our history.



  

                   

Can anyone tell me who is

the greatest Italian painter?



  

                   

Leonardo da Vinci,

Miss Brodie.



   

                   

That is incorrect, Jenny.



   

                   

The answer is Giotto.

He is my favorite.



   

                   

Observe,

little girls, Stanley Baldwin...



   

                   

who got in as prime minister

and got out again ere long.



   

                   

Our headmistress,

Miss Mackay...



   

                   

retains him on the walls because

she believes in the slogan "safety first."



   

                   

Safety does not come first.



   

                   

Goodness, Truth

and Beauty come first.



   

                   

One's prime brings one's insight

into these things.



   

                   

One's prime is the moment

one is born for.



   

                   

You little girls must be

on the alert to recognize your prime...



   

                   

at whatever time

it may occur...



   

                   

and live it to the full.



   

                   

"Season of mist

and mellow fruitfulness."



   

                   

I want to tell you

of a moment in my life...



   

                   

when I was very young...



   

                   

younger even

than the man himself.



   

                   

His name was Hugh.



   

                   

I fell deeply in love

with Hugh...



   

                   

in the last year

of the war...



   

                   

but he fell

on Flanders field.



   

                   

Helen McPhee, are you thinking

of doing a day's washing?



   

                   

- No, Miss Brodie.

- You have your sleeves rolled up.



   

                   

Roll them down at once.

I won't have to do with girls...



   

                   

who roll up the sleeves

of their blouses.



   

                   

We are civilized beings.



   

                   

He fell on Flanders field.



   

                   

He fell the week before

armistice was declared.



   

                   

He fell like an autumn leaf.



   

                   

Remind me to show you a map of Flanders

and the spot where my lover...



   

                   

was laid to sleep forever,

before you were born.



   

                   

"Come autumn so pensive

in yellow and gray...



   

                   

and soothe me with tidings

of nature's decay."



   

                   

Robert Burns.



   

                   

Hugh fell

like an autumn leaf.



   

                   

After the armistice,

people were dancing and singing forjoy...



   

                   

in the streets, but...



   

                   

Hugh was one of the flowers of the forest...



   

                   

lying in his grave.



   

                   

What seems to be

ailing the spirits of...



   

                   

Monica Maclaren,

isn't it?



   

                   

Monica cries easily.



   

                   

Well, Monica, perhaps you can

tell me why you are crying.



   

                   

She's moved by a story

I have been telling...



   

                   

of the Battle of Flodden.



   

                   

Crying over

a history lesson?



   

                   

It is a moving story.



   

                   

The night before Flodden,

at Mercat Cross beside St. Giles...



   

                   

a ghostly herald was heard

reading the names...



   

                   

of all the noble families of Scotland

beginning with the king.



   

                   

After the battle,

there was not one family...



   

                   

who had not suffered

grievous loss...



   

                   

as you well know,

Miss Mackay.



   

                   

To be sure.



   

                   

Well, girls, I know you're all

going to work hard...



   

                   

at every subject

this year.



   

                   

A good beginning

makes a good ending.



   

                   

I hope you all

had splendid holidays...



   

                   

and I look forward to reading

your splendid essays...



   

                   

on how you spent them.



   

                   

You shouldn't be crying

over a history lesson at your age.



   

                   

My word.



   

                   

Thank you, Janet.



   

                   

Good morning,

Miss Mackay.



   

                   

You may sit down, girls.



   

                   

You did well, Monica,

not to answer the question put to you.



   

                   

It is well when in difficulties

to say never a word...



   

                   

neither black

nor white.



   

                   

But you did,

Miss Brodie.



   

                   

You were in difficulty,

and you made up about Flodden.



   

                   

Sandy, please try to do as I say

and not as I do.



   

                   

Remember, you are

a child, Sandy...



   

                   

and far from your prime.



   

                   

- I hear I must congratulate you

on the birth of another child.

- Yes, another daughter.



   

                   

Have you never heard

of Marie Stopes...



   

                   

architect for constructive birth control

and racial progress?



   

                   

Ah, yes. An estimable woman. But my church

enjoins me to go forth and be fruitful.



   

                   

I'm aware of your unfortunate affiliation

with the Church of Rome.



   

                   

I doubt, however,

whether that body gives...



   

                   

the same interpretation

to go forth that you do.



   

                   

My church understands human imperfection

and forgives it. Why can't you?



   

                   

I am not interested in human imperfection.

I am interested in Beauty, in Art, in Truth.



   

                   

In Art and Beauty, maybe.

In truth, no.



   

                   

This is outrageous!



   

                   

The truth is that you bounced

into bed with an artist...



   

                   

- but you were horrified

when you woke up with a man!



   

                   

- R-Release me instantly!

- I finished your portrait, Jean.



   

                   

- Come back to the studio. Come Sunday.

- I can't. I can't.



   

                   

- Why not?

- I have another engagement!



   

                   

- Well, break it!

- I can't possibly!



   

                   

- I'm-I'm... I'm going to Cramond.

- What for?



   

                   

Mr. Lowther has invited me

to his estate at Cramond.



   

                   

- Lowther?

- He has a small boat.



   

                   

I'm invited

to go sailing...



   

                   

on Sunday.



   

                   

What do you want me to do...

ravish you on the floor...



   

                   

for the edification

of your girls?



   

                   

- Here.

- Is this liver paste, Miss Brodie?



   

                   

It is pâté de foie gras.



   

                   

Pâté de foie gras.



   

                   

Oh, it must be marvelous

to be French.



   

                   

The French have

a genius for food...



   

                   

but I doubt French women

will ever get the vote.



   

                   

I was quite emphatic about it.



   

                   

"I'll not pull my punches,

Miss Mackay, "I said.



   

                   

"Miss Brodie's girls

are different."



   

                   

- Oh, you said that?

- Oh, I said it, all right...



   

                   

and I meant it.



   

                   

Thank you,

Miss Lockhart.



   

                   

The Brodie set, indeed.



   

                   

Wee girls refusing

to wash their faces.



   

                   

Oh, Miss Brodie,

they informed me...



   

                   

hasn't washed her face

in    years.



   

                   

She looks clean enough

from here.



   

                   

Miss Brodie prescribes

cold cream.



   

                   

She always looks

so extreme.



   

                   

This is my new girl,

Mr. Lowther, Mary McGregor.



   

                   

Mr. Lowther. There's a great deal

Mr. Lowther can teach you...



   

                   

about the modulation

of your tones.



   

                   

Oh...



   

                   

Miss Brodie, I thought... that is,

I hoped there might be time...



   

                   

for a wee cup of tea in the common room

before the afternoon classes.



   

                   

Oh...



   

                   

how nice of you

to ask me, Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

Now, girls, I leave

Mary McGregor in your charge.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Well, Mary McGregor,

how much pocket money do you get?



   

                   

O-O-One and six a week.



   

                   

One and six?

Your father gives you one and six?



   

                   

M-M-Mr. Ealing

gives it to me.



   

                   

I don't have

a f-f-father or mother.



   

                   

- Who's Mr. Ealing?

- At the b-b-bank. He's our guardian.



   

                   

He takes care

of the m-m-money.



   

                   

Well, I'd like to be an orphan heiress

and get my pocket money...



   

                   

from bankers that

don't know any better.



   

                   

Does your brother

get one and six too?



   

                   

I d-d-don't know.

He's   .



   

                   

My b-b-brother

has run away...



   

                   

from four schools.



   

                   

Your brother sounds

like a bad lot.



   

                   

So I thought that this Sunday...



   

                   

I would treat myself

to one last day...



   

                   

of sun and water.



   

                   

I wonder, Mr. Lowther,

if you might be able to help me.



   

                   

- In what way, Miss Brodie?

- Why, you might know if there's any possibility...



   

                   

of my renting

a little boat at Cramond.



   

                   

Oh, well, Miss Brodie,

I have a boat.



   

                   

Oh, do you, Mr. Lowther?



   

                   

It would give me

the greatest pleasure, uh...



   

                   

I mean, i-if you would consider

coming with me.



   

                   

Oh, but I couldn't

trouble you, Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

Trouble? Oh, Miss Brodie,

I would have asked you before many times...



   

                   

but l... I didn't want

to seem to push myself.



   

                   

Please, Miss Brodie,

say you'll come with me.



   

                   

Very well, Mr. Lowther.

On Sunday?



   

                   

On Sunday.



   

                   

After church, of course.



   

                   

Oh, of course, Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

Do you think Mr. Lloyd

is the creme de la creme...



   

                   

or Mr. Lowther?



   

                   

Neither. It's us.



   

                   

"Little girls, if you will

only listen to me...



   

                   

I will make of you

the creme de la creme."



   

                   

My father says these are

the happiest days of our lives.



   

                   

But if these are supposed

to be the happiest...



   

                   

why does Miss Brodie

say prime is best?



   

                   

Miss Brodie never got married

like our mothers and fathers.



   

                   

- They don't have primes.

- They have sexual intercourse.



   

                   

- Oh, I don't like to think about it.

- You don't have to.



   

                   

It happens on

the spur of the moment.



   

                   

You lead.



   

                   

- How do you know?

- About what?



   

                   

What you were saying... about how sexual

intercourse happens on the spur of the moment.



   

                   

Because it happened to Teenie,

that works in my father's shop...



   

                   

when she was out walking

at Puddocky with her boyfriend.



   

                   

They had to get married.



   

                   

You'd think the urge would have passed

by the time they'd got their clothes off.



   

                   

Yes. That's what

I can't understand.



   

                   

People take their clothes off

in front of each other.



   

                   

It's so rude.



   

                   

They're bound to be

put off their passion.



   

                   

Do you think Miss Brodie

ever had sexual intercourse...



   

                   

with Hugh of Flanders field...

before he fell?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

I don't think

they did anything like that.



   

                   

Their love

was above all that.



   

                   

Well, Miss Brodie said

they clung to each other...



   

                   

with passionate abandon

on his last leave.



   

                   

I don't think they took

their clothes off though. Do you?



   

                   

No. I can't see it.



   

                   

Observe, little girls,

the castle.



   

                   

It is built on a rock

of volcanic plug.



   

                   

It was through

one of yon windows...



   

                   

that Mary, Queen of Scots

lowered her infant son...



   

                   

straight down     feet

in a basket in a high wind.



   

                   

Mary McGregor, will you please

do up your shoelace?



   

                   

Oh. Observe the litter.



   

                   

In Italy, Mussolini has put an end

to litter in the streets.



   

                   

Do any of you little girls remember what

the followers of Mussolini are called?



   

                   

- Fascisti.

- That is correct. F-A-S-C-l-S-T-I.



   

                   

Fascisti.

And Mussolini is called?



   

                   

- "Dukee."

- Il Duce. That is to say, the leader.



   

                   

Il Duce.

We move on.



   

                   

Ah.



   

                   

Straighten your shoulders,

Mary McGregor.



   

                   

All you girls must learn to

walk with your heads up, up...



   

                   

like Sybil Thorndike,

a woman of noble mean.



   

                   

In the Kirk

of the Greyfriars...



   

                   

on the   th day

of February,     ...



   

                   

the people of Scotland

pledged themselves...



   

                   

to the Presbyterian faith.



   

                   

Many of them used their own blood

to sign the covenant.



   

                   

- Ew.

- This part of Edinburgh is very rich in history.



   

                   

It is very romantic.



   

                   

So you see, little girls,

you must always remember...



   

                   

you are citizens of Edinburgh,

city of Hume and Boswell.



   

                   

You are Europeans,

not dowdy provincials.



   

                   

- Sandy, what on earth are you doing?

- Walking like Sybil Thorndike.



   

                   

You know, one day, Sandy,

one day you will go too far.



   

                   

- Hello.

- Oh, Mr. Lloyd.



   

                   

Girls, you know Mr. Lloyd, the art master

from the senior school.



   

                   

- Yes.

- Good afternoon, Mr. Lloyd.



   

                   

- Good afternoon, girls.

- Mr. Lloyd has his studio

somewhere in this neighborhood.



   

                   

Number six... fourth floor, front.

The door's always open.



   

                   

I've been giving my girls an outing.

We've been to the gallery.



   

                   

I've been telling them

the story of Gauguin.



   

                   

Ah, the dangerous Miss Brodie.



   

                   

By whom, pray,

am I considered to be dangerous?



   

                   

It is the consensus.

Your girls are said to be vastly informed...



   

                   

in subjects irrelevant

to the accepted curriculum.



   

                   

Most heinous of all,

you are said to inculcate no team spirit.



   

                   

Is that true, girls?



   

                   

Does Miss Brodie incite you

to shirk your duties on the hockey field?



   

                   

Phrases like the "team spirit" are always

employed to cut across individualism.



   

                   

Cleopatra knew nothing of the team spirit,

if you read your Shakespeare.



   

                   

And where would the team spirit

have got Anna Pavlova?



   

                   

She is the prima ballerina.



   

                   

It is the corps de ballet

that had the team spirit.



   

                   

Oh, Miss Brodie,

you are dangerous.



   

                   

Mm-hmm. Yes.

We must away and catch our tram.



   

                   

I doubt we will get seats.

It is      and chivalry is dead.



   

                   

Miss Brodie?



   

                   

I do want you to come and see

the picture, the one I told you about.



   

                   

What about

next weekend?



   

                   

- No. I'm afraid I'm going...

- Going to Cramond?



   

                   

Why, yes. My girls and I spend nearly

every weekend at Cramond.



   

                   

Mr. Lowther

is most hospitable.



   

                   

Good afternoon,

Mr. Lloyd.



   

                   

Come along, girls.



   

                   

Got it!



   

                   

There we are.



   

                   

- Oh, there's some nice ones up here.

- No. Get one.



   

                   

- I'm watching. It's all right.

- Watch out.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Crepe de Chine.



   

                   

Miss Brodie's legs

are longer than Mr. Lowther's.



   

                   

She'd have to

wrap hers around his.



   

                   

First he puts out

the light.



   

                   

Then their toes touch.



   

                   

Then...

"Miss Brodie, Miss Brodie."



   

                   

Miss Brodie says,

"Darling..."



   

                   

- She says...

- "Mr. Lowther...



   

                   

you are

the creme de la creme."



   

                   

We will have to watch

Miss Brodie's stomach.



   

                   

It is the curve

I am attempting to introduce you to.



   

                   

The curve here

in this drape...



   

                   

and here,

and here in the arm.



   

                   

The curve flows through

a painting like a river.



   

                   

It is sinuous, sensuous...



   

                   

epitomizing everything

that is female.



   

                   

The curve is

a beckoning line...



   

                   

here, and here.



   

                   

And here,

in the breast.



   

                   

And the belly!

And the buttocks!



   

                   

Shut up!



   

                   

Go on.

Get along with you.



   

                   

Go to your sewing classes

and your singing lessons. It's all you deserve.



   

                   

"They flee from me...



   

                   

who once did seek me out."



   

                   

I miss you, Jean.

Shall I beg you?



   

                   

Please, come back.



   

                   

You have a family.

I am a teacher.



   

                   

I had a family lastJune.

You were a teacher lastJune.



   

                   

My God. I wish I had a pound note

for every time I've heard you say...



   

                   

"I am a teacher. I am a teacher.

First, last and always."



   

                   

What a firm reminder

your postcard was.



   

                   

"A postcard

from romantic Italy.



   

                   

"The incomparable

Giotto frescoes...



   

                   

How triumphantly his figures vibrate with life.

Yours truly,J. Brodie."



   

                   

A postcard from my passionate,

abandoned inamorata.



   

                   

That night

at the studio...



   

                   

that one night

at the studio...



   

                   

I was pleased to feel it was I

who enjoyed the tutorial position.



   

                   

Come back, Jean.



   

                   

I need you.



   

                   

M-M-M...



   

                   

Mary McGregor!



   

                   

Mary McGregor, do you know

what happened to Peeping Tom?



   

                   

His eyes were shriveled

into darkness in his head...



   

                   

and dropped before him!



   

                   

Poor old Tom.



   

                   

Don't worry, Jean. You've got your girls

well trained. You're safe from that quarter.



   

                   

It's me you've got

to worry about.



   

                   

Come to the studio.

Come to pose again.



   

                   

- Only to pose.

- You should paint one of my girls.



   

                   

- Jenny is the pretty one.

- Hang your girls. It's you I want to paint.



   

                   

I will not come

to the studio.



   

                   

Then to hell with you!



   

                   

Teddy, you know,

you really should paintJenny.



   

                   

You'd likeJenny.

She has a profile...



   

                   

of deceptive purity.



   

                   

What's the matter with you, Mary?

What's happened to you?



   

                   

Your face is all funny.



   

                   

N-No, it's not.



   

                   

Yes, it is, Mary.

Very funny.



   

                   

So is your voice.



   

                   

Well, well.

Miss Brodie's brood, I presume.



   

                   

Yes, Mr. Lloyd.



   

                   

- Would you like a rosebud?

- A what?



   

                   

It's the favorite sweet

of little Princess Margaret Rose.



   

                   

Unmistakably Brodie.



   

                   

And you, I suppose,

are the pretty one.



   

                   

Good afternoon, girls.



   

                   

Mary, you're definitely

upset about something.



   

                   

- N-No.

- Tell! Tell, or I'll pinch you.



   

                   

- Tell.

- No, I w-won't tell.



   

                   

I love Miss Brodie,

and I won't t-tell.



   

                   

What about Miss Brodie?



   

                   

Tell, or we'll take you

into the locker room...



   

                   

- and hang you over the banisters.

- You wouldn't d-dare.



   

                   

- Tell!

- It's n-none of your b-b-business!



   

                   

Ow! Ow!



   

                   

No! Stop!



   

                   

Get your hands off of me! Help!



   

                   

- Let go of me!

- Aaah! No!



   

                   

If you scream again...



   

                   

we'll drop you squoosh

on your silly head.



   

                   

Mary, dear, if something's happened

with Miss Brodie, you should tell me.



   

                   

- What have you done?

- She was s-so angry!



   

                   

Well, you know

how you are, Mary.



   

                   

- What have you done now?

- Nothing.



   

                   

I j-j-just went in.



   

                   

- In where?

- The classroom!



   

                   

So?



   

                   

- There who were?

- Oh, Mr. Lowther.!



   

                   

Miss Brodie

and Mr. Lowther.!



   

                   

No! M-M-Mr. Lloyd!

They were kissing!



   

                   

Kissing?



   

                   

I saw them k-k-kissing...



   

                   

together.



   

                   

- He had his arms around her.

- Mr. Lloyd!



   

                   

Mr. Lloyd! Mr. Lloyd's

in love with Miss Brodie!



   

                   

And she's in l-love

with M-Mr. Lloyd.



   

                   

You should have

s-seen them.



   

                   

But what about

Mr. Lowther then?



   

                   

Mr. Lloyd is an artist.

And Miss Brodie's artistic too.



   

                   

Miss Brodie's really in love with

Mr. Lloyd, but he's married to another...



   

                   

so she's working it off

on Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

- Oh.

- Let's go home.



   

                   

Listen, Mary.



   

                   

Was it a long,

lingering kiss?



   

                   

I shouldn't have

t-told you.



   

                   

But since you did,

was it a long, lingering kiss?



   

                   

- Yes.

- I see.



   

                   

- Didn't they hear you?

- I d-don't think so.



   

                   

They jumped apart though.



   

                   

You mean,

they sensed your presence?



   

                   

I d-d-don't know.



   

                   

Was it like this...



   

                   

That's it! That's it!



   

                   

It's nearly  :  . Time you girls were away.

What were you doing, Sandy?



   

                   

- Just playacting, Miss Mackay.

- Playacting at what?



   

                   

- Opera.

- Opera?



   

                   

Yes, Miss Mackay.

We've been studying Traviata.



   

                   

Sandy, show me

what you were doing.



   

                   

Go on. Show me.



   

                   

That's enough, Sandy.



   

                   

She was doing Violetta

expiring for love of Alfredo.



   

                   

- It's very sad.

- Oh, nonsense.



   

                   

Violetta did not expire

for love of Alfredo.



   

                   

Violetta was a thoroughly silly woman

with diseased lungs.



   

                   

If she'd been properly

brought up...



   

                   

she'd have been out on the hockey field,

breathing deeply.



   

                   

Which is precisely what

you little girls should be doing.



   

                   

Traviata is not

on the Marcia Blaine curriculum.



   

                   

But Miss Brodie and Mr. Lowther

took us to see Traviata...



   

                   

when the Carl Rosa Company

came to Edinburgh.



   

                   

Miss Brodie and Mr. Lowther

took you to the opera?



   

                   

Mr. Lowther's jolly nice.

We go to visit him at Cramond too.



   

                   

When Miss Brodie goes...

on weekends.



   

                   

How very nice

of Mr. Lowther...



   

                   

and Miss Brodie.



   

                   

I hope you're appreciative.



   

                   

My, my. Miss Brodie's very musical,

I believe...



   

                   

theaters, concerts

and the opera.



   

                   

Miss Brodie

is very musical.



   

                   

I think Miss Brodie's

more interested in art, Miss Mackay.



   

                   

Now, what makes you think

Miss Brodie prefers art to music, Sandy?



   

                   

She told us so.



   

                   

Music is an interest to her,

but painting is a passion.



   

                   

Miss Brodie said.



   

                   

- A passion?

- Compared to music.



   

                   

Well, Mary...



   

                   

I'm sure you're too young

to have passions.



   

                   

- What are your cultural interests?

- Stories.



   

                   

Does Miss Brodie

tell you stories?



   

                   

Oh, yes.



   

                   

L-L-Love...



   

                   

Lovely stories.



   

                   

- Stories like Traviata?

- Stories of history.



   

                   

- History.

- She makes history seem like the cinema.



   

                   

- No. Not the cinema. More like Shakespeare.

- Shakespeare.



   

                   

Indeed.



   

                   

My, what would we do

without Miss Brodie?



   

                   

I could wish

your arithmetic papers were better.



   

                   

Culture is no compensation

for lack ofhard knowledge.



   

                   

I'm happy to see you are devoted

to Miss Brodie.



   

                   

Your loyalty is also

due to the school.



   

                   

I'm always impressed

by Miss Brodie's girls...



   

                   

in one way or another.



   

                   

Benito Mussolini

is a great man.



   

                   

He began life

as a journalist...



   

                   

a man of learning,

an intellectual...



   

                   

but he is also

a man of action.



   

                   

He has made Capri

into a sanctuary for birds.



   

                   

A simple act of goodness...



   

                   

If you all turn to page    of your

geography books, you'll find a map of Capri.



   

                   

It's off the coast of Naples.



   

                   

It is because of II Duce

thousands of birds live and sing there today...



   

                   

that might well have ended

their careers on a piece of toast.



   

                   

Miss Gaunt,

is there something you wanted?



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

"Dear Miss Brodie,

I hope it will be convenient for you...



   

                   

"to see me in my office

this afternoon at  :  .



   

                   

Emmaline Mackay."



   

                   

 :  . Not  :  .

Not  :   but  :  .



   

                   

She thinks to intimidate me

by the use of quarter hours.



   

                   

Now, as I was

attempting to say...



   

                   

Benito Mussolini

is indeed a man of action.



   

                   

Come in.



   

                   

 :  . I was afraid

I might be late, or early.



   

                   

Not at all.

You are most punctilious.



   

                   

Thank you

for finding the time.



   

                   

I know how busy

your girls keep you.



   

                   

- Please, sit down.

- Oh. Thank you.



   

                   

What a colorful frock.



   

                   

Color enlivens the spirit,

does it not?



   

                   

Perhaps you're right, though I wonder

if the spirits of the girls need enlivening.



   

                   

Oh, indeed they do!



   

                   

My credo is,

"Lift, enliven, stimulate!"



   

                   

No doubt.

But the Marcia Blaine School...



   

                   

is essentially

a conservative school.



   

                   

We do not encourage

the, uh, progressive attitudes.



   

                   

Now, Miss Brodie,

I have noticed...



   

                   

a spirit of precocity among your girls...

your special girls.



   

                   

- Why, thank you.

- Oh.



   

                   

I am in my prime...



   

                   

and my girls are

benefiting from it.



   

                   

I'm proud to think that perhaps

my girls are more aware.



   

                   

- Precisely. Now...

- To me, education is a leading out.



   

                   

The word education comes

from the root "ex," meaning "out,"



   

                   

and "duco..."

"I lead."



   

                   

To me, education is simply a...

a leading out...



   

                   

of what is

already there.



   

                   

I had hoped there might also be

a certain amount of putting in.



   

                   

That would not be education, but intrusion...



   

                   

from the root prefix "in,"

meaning "in,"



   

                   

and the stem "trudo..."

"I thrust."



   

                   

Ergo, to thrust a lot

of information into a pupil's head.



   

                   

To discuss education with such

a dedicated teacher...



   

                   

is always instructive.



   

                   

However, it was not for that reason

I asked you to come here.



   

                   

Miss Brodie...



   

                   

I am told that you make

weekly expeditions to Cramond.



   

                   

Yes. Isn't it

a lovely spot?



   

                   

It is, indeed.



   

                   

I believe Mr. Lowther inherited

the estate from his mother.



   

                   

He's lived there

all his life.



   

                   

Mr. Lowther is not

a worldly man...



   

                   

not a reckless man.



   

                   

It is doubtful whether he would

recognize recklessness in others.



   

                   

And recklessness

is an indulgence...



   

                   

that we at Marcia Blaine

must eschew...



   

                   

not only within our walls,

but in the personal life...



   

                   

the conduct, as it were,

of the teaching staff.



   

                   

Oh, Miss Mackay...



   

                   

I do not believe I have

ever fully appreciated...



   

                   

the taxing load of trivia...



   

                   

with which a headmistress

must concern herself.



   

                   

I must concern myself, Miss Brodie,

with this school's board of governors.



   

                   

I flatter myself that I am not

unknown to the board...



   

                   

having been a member

of the staff of Marcia Blaine...



   

                   

six years prior

to your engagement, Miss Mackay.



   

                   

I feel quite safe in saying...



   

                   

that no member of the board

has ever shown anything...



   

                   

but appreciation and approval

of my teaching methods.



   

                   

Oh! Oh, Miss Mackay...



   

                   

I use the woods of Cramond

for lessons in botany...



   

                   

the rocks of the shore to investigate

the mysteries of geology.



   

                   

It should be patently clear

that my expeditions to Cramond...



   

                   

are expeditions for enrichment.



   

                   

Enrichment for my girls...

and for Marcia Blaine.



   

                   

Well.

Thank you, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

I feel sure you and I have come

to understand each other better.



   

                   

I'm always

at your command, Miss Mackay.



   

                   

I am delighted

to hear it.



   

                   

Good day, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

Oh, chrysanthemums.



   

                   

Such serviceable flowers.

Mmm.



   

                   

May I have a word with you,

Miss Gaunt?



   

                   

Miss Gaunt, you are, of course,

aware of the problem...



   

                   

when a teacher has tenure

and the loyalty of her pupils.



   

                   

It's not going to

be easy, Miss Gaunt.



   

                   

However, no doubt,

in due time...



   

                   

some advantage will

be vouchsafed us.



   

                   

In the meanwhile, I would deem it

a sincere service to the school...



   

                   

if any indiscretion

that might reach your ears...



   

                   

should also reach mine.



   

                   

Also, your brother...



   

                   

is a deacon of Cramond Kirk,

is he not...



   

                   

and naturally eager

to preserve its sanctity?



   

                   

Thank you, Miss Gaunt.



   

                   

What are you writing?



   

                   

"My dear, delightful Gordon...



   

                   

"your letter has moved me deeply,

as you may imagine.



   

                   

"But, alas, I must ever decline

to be Mrs. Lowther.



   

                   

"My reasons

are twofold...



   

                   

"I am dedicated to my girls,

as is madame Pavlova...



   

                   

"and there is another

in my life.



   

                   

He is Teddy Lloyd."



   

                   

Here. Let me. Let me.



   

                   

"But we can still have...



   

                   

"many a breezy day

in the fishing boat...



   

                   

at sea."



   

                   

- Shh!

- What are you two girls up to?



   

                   

Gather your things together,

and leave at once.



   

                   

This is a library,

not a fun fair!



   

                   

- Are those your books?

- No, Miss McKenzie.



   

                   

I want you to remember, girls...



   

                   

that it is

of primary importance...



   

                   

that the upper

and lower tensions...



   

                   

are perfectly even.



   

                   

And secondly, girls,

it is most important...



   

                   

to ensure that

you are using...



   

                   

the correct length

of stitch.



   

                   

If we were to fill this room

with the hydrogen being made in thesejars...



   

                   

and then

strike a match...



   

                   

there'd be an explosion large enough

to reduce this building to rubble.



   

                   

Look. I'll show you.



   

                   

Hey, Johnnie Cope

are ye waukin' yet



   

                   

Or are your drums

a-beatin' yet



   

                   

If ye were waukin'

I wad wait



   

                   

To gang to the coals

in the mornin'



   

                   

All together now.



   

                   

Hey, Johnnie Cope

are ye waukin' yet



   

                   

Or are your drums

a-beatin' yet



   

                   

If ye were waukin'

I wad wait



   

                   

To gang to the coals

in the mornin'



   

                   

The sun!



   

                   

Forsooth, we are renewed.

Refreshment alfresco.



   

                   

Enough to go round,

but the lion's share for Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

This term, I have sworn

to fatten Mr. Lowther...



   

                   

by a full half-stone.



   

                   

That is my pledge.



   

                   

Did I neglect to tell you girls that once,

on leave from the war...



   

                   

Hugh took me out sailing

on a fishing boat.



   

                   

We spent our happiest times among

the rocks and pebbles of a small seaport.



   

                   

Sometimes Hugh would sing.



   

                   

He had a rich tenor voice.



   

                   

At other times, he would set up

his easel and paint.



   

                   

Hugh was very talented

in both arts...



   

                   

but I think...



   

                   

I think the painter

was the real Hugh.



   

                   

But you girls

are my life now.



   

                   

I am the potter,

and you are my pride.



   

                   

You are shaping up.



   

                   

Soon you will graduate

to the senior school...



   

                   

and I will no longer

teach you...



   

                   

but you will always be

Brodie girls.



   

                   

Ah! Here comes

our Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

"Our minstrel sweet,

oh, synge unto me roundelaie.



   

                   

"Oh, droppe

the brynie tear with me.



   

                   

De da de da de da de da

and like a running river be."



   

                   

Now, Mr. Lowther, you must

cooperate with the fattening project.



   

                   

It will enrich your voice.

Caruso had the appetite of a giant.



   

                   

What good care you take of me.



   

                   

La, la, la, la, la-la

La, la, la, la la-la



   

                   

I was noticed at the theater.



   

                   

I was noticed and reported

to Mr. Gaunt.



   

                   

Mr. Gaunt?

Oh, that deacon at Cramond.



   

                   

Whatever for?



   

                   

Well, he considered

Hedda Gabler...



   

                   

Well, he said

that the choirmaster of his church...



   

                   

had no business attending that sort of thing

with an unmarried lady and children.



   

                   

O-Oh, I defended myself...



   

                   

fiercely.



   

                   

Girls, as you hear,

there's now been an attempt...



   

                   

to persecute Mr. Lowther

on our account.



   

                   

One must never succumb

to provincial ignorance.



   

                   

Mr. Lowther did not...



   

                   

nor shall anyone

under my tutelage.



   

                   

Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther.

What is it, Sandy?



   

                   

Miss Mackay is watching us

from her window.



   

                   

Oh, indeed.



   

                   

I wonder how many more picnics

we will be allowed...



   

                   

before Miss Mackay thinks

fit to patrol the grounds.



   

                   

It is Miss Mackay's hope to harass me...



   

                   

into leaving Marcia Blaine.



   

                   

Miss Gaunt

and certain teachers...



   

                   

have taken to bidding me good morning

with predestination in their smiles.



   

                   

Do you really think

Miss Mackay wants to drive you away?



   

                   

It doesn't signify

what Miss Mackay wants.



   

                   

Here I am, and here I stay.

I would not leave you girls for the Lord...



   

                   

Lyon, king of arms.



   

                   

Not even he! I shall remain

in this education factory...



   

                   

where my duty lies.



   

                   

If they want to get rid of me,

they'll have to...



   

                   

Assassinate me!



   

                   

Now, eat up, Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

Cooperation is the keynote. Now, Jenny,

do us a cartwheel for comic relief.



   

                   

- Oh! Wonderful!

- Bravo. Bravo! Bravo!



   

                   

Bravo! Oh.



   

                   

- Oh.

- These are my girls, Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

Forsooth, they are Brodie girls.



   

                   

Monica...

Monica is histrionic.



   

                   

She will perform

in plays...



   

                   

or perhaps write them.



   

                   

Mary...



   

                   

our Mary is alone

in this world.



   

                   

Her needs are great,

but she has me.



   

                   

Mary will stop stuttering.

She will brisk up.



   

                   

Mary McGregor will

distinguish herself for me.



   

                   

I have no doubt.



   

                   

Then there is Jenny.



   

                   

Sometimes I feel there is

a spiritual bond...



   

                   

between Jenny and me.



   

                   

I don't expectJenny feels this yet,

but someday she will.



   

                   

And Sandy...



   

                   

Sandy is...



   

                   

- Sandy is dependable.

- Oh, Sandy.



   

                   

Sandy is very dependable.



   

                   

Now, Monica,

recite for us, please.



   

                   

What shall I recite,

Miss Brodie?



   

                   

Something...

Something of magic.



   

                   

"There she weaves

by night and day...



   

                   

"a magic web

with colors gay.



   

                   

"She has heard

a whisper say...



   

                   

"a curse is on her

if she stay...



   

                   

"to look down

on Camelot.



   

                   

She knows not what

the curse may be..."



   

                   

Mr. Lowther,

the Philistines are upon us.



   

                   

"She knows not what

the curse may be...



   

                   

"and so she

weaveth steadily...



   

                   

"and little

other care hath she...



   

                   

"the Lady

of Shalott.



   

                   

"But in her web,

she still delights...



   

                   

"to weave the mirror's

magic sights...



   

                   

"for often through

the silent nights...



   

                   

"a funeral with plumes

and lights and music...



   

                   

"went to Camelot...



   

                   

"or when the moon

was overhead...



   

                   

"came two young lovers

lately wed.



   

                   

"'I am half sick

of shadows,'



   

                   

said the Lady

of Shalott."



   

                   

The Lady of Shalott.



   

                   

I think perhaps someday...



   

                   

Jenny will catch the eye

of an artist.



   

                   

Jenny will be

painted many times.



   

                   

In years to come...



   

                   

I think thatJenny

will be famous...



   

                   

for...



   

                   

sex.



   

                   

Well, Monica,

what do you think of it?



   

                   

It makes her look

very... mature.



   

                   

I am very mature.



   

                   

We're all mature.



   

                   

Some people at the school

think you're too mature.



   

                   

Everyone's jealous.



   

                   

They know the Brodie set

has more fun than anyone else.



   

                   

We go places, and we do things.



   

                   

And now you've taken to

hanging around an artist's studio.



   

                   

- Very glamorous.

- Miss Brodie's g-g-glamorous, don't you think?



   

                   

Mr. Lowther thinks she is.



   

                   

Sandy's awfully late.

Do you think she's coming?



   

                   

Three years of Cramond

and Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

- What stamina.

- There's always lovely food at Cramond.



   

                   

Lasagna verde.



   

                   

Sweetbreads a la Milanese.



   

                   

"Harlot" russe.



   

                   

Charlotte russe.



   

                   

Miss Brodie takes good care

of Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

- What does Mr. Lowther do for Miss Brodie?

- He sings to her.



   

                   

Put that wet thing

over there.



   

                   

Mary, for the third time

this afternoon...



   

                   

- will you get out of the way?

- Sorry.



   

                   

Mary McGregor.



   

                   

Well, Mary, what's new on the Rialto?

What's new with your brother?



   

                   

How's he progressing

up at Oxford?



   

                   

His t-t-tutor

caught fire.



   

                   

Caught fire?

His tutor?



   

                   

- Well, how? From what?

- From my brother.



   

                   

Your brother set fire

to the tutor?



   

                   

Your brother should be put

in a house of correction.



   

                   

It makes me look

very mature.



   

                   

It makes you look

like Miss Brodie.



   

                   

All the sketches ofJenny do too.

They all look like Miss Brodie.



   

                   

- I think they do.

- Ew.!



   

                   

I painted that chap

in my student days.



   

                   

It's what's called

a "life study."



   

                   

I had a difficult time

with the pectoral muscles.



   

                   

Pectoral?



   

                   

- Chest.

- Oh.



   

                   

- Oh, Monica!

- What?



   

                   

Miss Brodie says that anyone

of a cultured home and heritage...



   

                   

- makes no fuss about the human body.

- Who's making any fuss?



   

                   

- You are.

- I have as much heritage as you do any day.



   

                   

I think that's enough

for today.



   

                   

If I keep on,

I shall ruin the mouth...



   

                   

and that would

be a pity.



   

                   

- What do you think?

- Well, uh, I think that it's...



   

                   

- It's...

- Miss Brodie says thatJenny

will be painted many times.



   

                   

- And what does she say about you?

- That I am dependable.



   

                   

When should I come back?



   

                   

Whenever you have time.

Come next Saturday.



   

                   

- All right. Come on, Sandy. I'm starving.

- I can't come with you.





 

                   

- I've got to meet my mother.

- Oh, your eternal mother!



 

                   

- Good-bye, girls.

- Bye, Mr. Lloyd.



 

                   

- My feet are wet.

- Take your shoes off then, silly.



 

                   

Dry them

by the stove.



 

                   

I'll make some tea.



 

                   

- Aren't there any more biscuits?

- No, that's the lot.



 

                   

I'm not up to

Cramond standards, I fear.



 

                   

Lasagna verde,

"harlot" russe.



 

                   

A wonder all that rich food

doesn't give old Lowther a stoppage.



  

                   

He eats his greens.



  

                   

Do you paint portraits

of your own children too?



  

                   

Is that your wife?



  

                   

That's my wife.

Her name is Deirdre.



  

                   

Is she in her prime?



  

                   

Perhaps

not quite yet.



  

                   

One day, I'd like to paint

all you Brodie girls.



  

                   

It'd be interesting to see what sort

of group I can make of you.



  

                   

We'd all look like

one great big Brodie I suppose.



  

                   

You're a clever little cat,

aren't you?



  

                   

That will teach you to look at an artist like that.



  

                   

Don't you want

the rest of your things?



  

                   

Can't have you running through

the streets like a wee whore.



  

                   

Oh, there's Sandy!



  

                   

Sandy!



  

                   

Sandy.!

Sandy, dear.!



  

                   

Hello, Miss Brodie,

Mr. Lowther.



  

                   

Whatever are you

doing in this neighborhood?



  

                   

Mr. Lowther and I have been shopping

for tomorrow's lunch.



  

                   

Thank goodness we can still have

our Sunday lunch at Cramond.



  

                   

I can't tell you how much I miss

having you girls in my class this year.



  

                   

We miss you too,

Miss Brodie.



  

                   

Tomorrow, I must tell you girls

of a new plot Miss Mackay has...



  

                   

to force me to apply for a post at a progressive...

that is to say a crank... school.



  

                   

But I shall stay at Marcia Blaine

where my duty lies.



  

                   

- If they want to get rid of me, they will have to...

- Assassinate you.



  

                   

Precisely. I thought you were to attend

some social gathering with Jenny.



  

                   

- Where is Jenny?

- She went on home ahead of me.



  

                   

- I stayed at the studio...

- The studio?



  

                   

She... Uh,

Jenny just left, you see.



  

                   

Mr. Lloyd's studio.

Whatever were you doing there?



  

                   

It was supposed

to be a surprise.



  

                   

Jenny is sitting

for Mr. Lloyd.



  

                   

Jenny is sitting

for Mr. Lloyd...



  

                   

And I wasn't...

When did this begin?



  

                   

- At the start of term. I shouldn't have told you.

- Jean...



  

                   

Oh, I'm very glad

you did tell me, Sandy.



  

                   

You are developing into a girl

of great insight.



  

                   

- Thank you, Miss Brodie.

- You know, Sandy...



  

                   

I would be very interested to hear

your own impressions ofJenny's portrait.



  

                   

But we won't discuss it

with the others.



  

                   

So Monday, after school,

you'll come to my flat for tea.



  

                   

We'll have a nice,

quiet time together.



  

                   

Yes, Miss Brodie.



  

                   

Well, come now. I'm sure

Mr. Lowther will take you home.



  

                   

In you get, Sandy.

Can you manage, dear?



  

                   

- Yes, thank you.

- Thank you, Gordon.



  

                   

- You're very kind.

- Oh, you're more than welcome.



  

                   

It's a painting

of Mr. Lloyd's family.



  

                   

It starts with himself

and his wife...



  

                   

and then all the children graded downwards

to the baby and the dog on the floor.



  

                   

It's supposed to be funny...



  

                   

but the funniest part is,

they all look like you.



  

                   

Like me?



  

                   

Yes. Even the baby.



  

                   

Everybody he paints

looks like you.



  

                   

Hmm.



  

                   

You shall butter the scones,

Sandy, dear.



  

                   

Be generous.



  

                   

Uh, does the portrait

ofJenny look like me?



  

                   

Oh, yes.



  

                   

Mr. Lloyd might want

to paint me too.



  

                   

I doubt if having your portrait painted

is going to be your career.



  

                   

Would you mind shutting the window, dear?

There's a wee bit of a draft.



  

                   

What do you think

it will be, Miss Brodie?



  

                   

Uh, what do I think

what will be?



  

                   

My career.



  

                   

Well, you're quite

intelligent, of course.



  

                   

Actually, Sandy, you have

something more than mere intelligence.



  

                   

You have insight.



  

                   

There goes Miss Lockhart.



  

                   

The chemistry teacher?



  

                   

Yes. She's got

her golf clubs.



  

                   

Monica saw Mr. Lowther

playing golf with Miss Lockhart...



  

                   

twice.



  

                   

Indeed?



  

                   

Well, I know very little

of, uh, Miss Lockhart.



  

                   

I leave her

to her jars and gases.



  

                   

We were talking

about your insight, Sandy.



  

                   

You do have insight...



  

                   

and Jenny...

has got instinct.



  

                   

Jenny will be

a great lover.



  

                   

She's like a heroine from a novel

by Mr. D.H. Lawrence.



  

                   

The common moral code will not

apply to her. She will be above it.



  

                   

This is a fact which only someone

with your insight should know about.



  

                   

You know, Sandy...



  

                   

you would make an excellent

secret service agent...



  

                   

a great spy.



  

                   

Sandy, you must try

not to peer at people.



  

                   

It makes a most

rude impression.



   

                   

Why do you think I would

make a good spy, Miss Brodie?



   

                   

Well, because you are intelligent

and not... emotional.



   

                   

I've observed this

constraint in you.



   

                   

It has, from time to time,

distressed me...



   

                   

as I myself

am a deeply emotional woman.



   

                   

I feel many things

passionately.



   

                   

I feel things,

Miss Brodie.



   

                   

Well, everybody does,

of course.



   

                   

It's simply

a matter of degree.



   

                   

Actually, passion would be

a great handicap to a spy.



   

                   

- It would?

- Definitely.



   

                   

What did you mean

when you said that, uh...



   

                   

Jenny was above

the common moral code?



   

                   

Oh, simply that it

will not apply to her.



   

                   

She is the exception...



   

                   

and we can helpJenny

to realize this.



   

                   

- Oh, Sandy, dear, I forgot the hot water.

- I'll get it.



   

                   

Thank you, dear.



   

                   

Miss Brodie, how do you think

that we can helpJenny?



   

                   

We can encourage her,

give her confidence.



   

                   

Confidence for what?



   

                   

For when she is   .



   

                   

With a girl likeJenny...



   

                   

perhaps even   .



   

                   

Soon she will...

know love.



   

                   

Do you

understand that, Sandy?



   

                   

You mean

she'll have affairs...



   

                   

love affairs.



   

                   

Oh, Sandy,

you do have insight.



   

                   

I am never wrong.



   

                   

I can always

depend on you.



   

                   

Little girls, you must all learn

to cultivate an expression of composure.



   

                   

It is one of

the greatest assets of a woman...



   

                   

an expression of composure,

come foul, come fair.



   

                   

Regard the Mona Lisa.



   

                   

She's older than the rocks

on which she sits.



   

                   

Whom did I say to regard,

Clara?



   

                   

The Mona Lisa, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

That is correct. Clara has artistic tendencies.



   

                   

Little girls, I am in the business of putting

old heads on young shoulders.



   

                   

And all my pupils

are the creme de la creme.



   

                   

Jean!

Oh, Jean!



   

                   

- Mr. Lowther!

- Jean... Uh...



   

                   

Miss Brodie. Miss Mackay. I've just left her.

I don't know what to do.



   

                   

Did you wish to speak

to me about something?



   

                   

What can you be

up to, Gordon?



   

                   

Such a display

in front of the children.



   

                   

It's Miss Mackay.

She dismissed my class!



   

                   

She's found something terrible!

Something incriminating!



   

                   

She demands to see us

both together immediately! Immediately.



   

                   

I am not accustomed to being

summoned immediately. Not by anyone.



   

                   

But, Jean, she sent me to get you!

She said now.



   

                   

Please!

Pull yourself together, Gordon.



   

                   

I promise I won't let

Miss Mackay stand you in the corner.



   

                   

Just you wait there

a minute.



   

                   

Well, your headmistress,

Miss Mackay...



   

                   

wishes to see me

for a few minutes.



   

                   

She has a wee problem

she wishes to discuss with me.



   

                   

Now, what subject

were we doing?



   

                   

- History, Miss Brodie.

- Oh, yes.



   

                   

Open your history books.



   

                   

While I'm away

from the room...



   

                   

you will all read the chapter on

the succession of the Stuarts.



   

                   

You will sit quietly in your seats

and remain composed...



   

                   

like the Mona Lisa.



   

                   

Miss Brodie, do you

know what this is?



   

                   

It would appear to be a piece of blue paper

with writing on it in pencil.



   

                   

It is, in fact,

a letter.



   

                   

It was found by Miss McKenzie

in a library book.



   

                   

She glanced at it, but after the first sentence,

she dared not actually read it.



   

                   

She brought it

instantly to me.



   

                   

Yes.

Is it addressed to you?



   

                   

No, Miss Brodie.

It's addressed to Mr. Lowther...



   

                   

but it is signed

by you.



   

                   

- I shall begin.

- Oh, please do.



   

                   

Of course, I realize

it is a forgery...



   

                   

just the work

of a child.



   

                   

"My dear, delightful Gordon...



   

                   

"your letter has moved me deeply,

as you may imagine...



   

                   

"but, alas, I must ever decline

to be Mrs. Lowther.



   

                   

"My reasons are twofold.



   

                   

"I am dedicated

to my girls...



   

                   

"as is

madame Pavlova...



   

                   

"and there is another in my life...

he is Teddy Lloyd.



   

                   

"Intimacy has never taken place with him.

He is married to another.



   

                   

"We are not lovers,

but we know the truth.



   

                   

"However, I was proud of giving myself to you

when you came and took me...



   

                   

"in the bracken while

the storm raged about us.



   

                   

"If I am in

a certain condition...



   

                   

"I shall place the infant in the care

of a worthy shepherd and his wife.



   

                   

"I may permit misconduct to occur again

from time to time as an outlet...



   

                   

"because I am in my prime.



   

                   

"We can also have many a... breezy day

in the fishing boat at sea.



   

                   

"We must keep a sharp lookout for Miss Mackay,

however, as she's rather narrow...



   

                   

"which arises from an ignorance of culture

and the Italian scene.



   

                   

"I love to hear you singing

'Hey, Johnny Cope. '



   

                   

"But were I to receive

a proposal of marriage tomorrow...



   

                   

"from the Lord Lyon, king of arms,

I would decline it.



   

                   

"Allow me,

in conclusion...



   

                   

"to congratulate you warmly on your

sexual intercourse as well as your singing.



   

                   

With fondestjoy,

Jean Brodie. "



   

                   

Is this what your girls,

your set...



   

                   

has learned under your auspices,

Miss Brodie?



   

                   

It's a literary collaboration.

Two separate hands are involved.



   

                   

One of the authors

slants her tail consonants...



   

                   

in an unorthodox manner,

and the other does not.



   

                   

Also, the paper seems

somewhat aged.



   

                   

Is that all

you have to say?



   

                   

What else

is there to say?



   

                   

Two little girls at the age

of budding sexual fantasy...



   

                   

have concocted a romance

for themselves.



   

                   

They've chosen me as a romantic symbol.

Is that so surprising?



   

                   

Do you deny that you encourage these fantasies,

as you call them?



   

                   

Do you deny that by consorting openly

with Mr. Lowther of Cramond...



   

                   

you lead these poor children

into the most fevered conclusions?



   

                   

Not only Mr. Lowther, but Mr. Lloyd

is brought into the circle of fire.



   

                   

Mr. Lloyd, who has

a wife and... six children.



   

                   

It is diabolic that infants should

be knowledgeable...



   

                   

  -year-old girls

are not infants, Miss Mackay.



   

                   

- How do you know they're    years old?

- From the handwriting...



   

                   

the vocabulary,

the rudimentary knowledge of the facts of life.



   

                   

Oh, surely you cannot believe that that is

the work of  -year-olds?



   

                   

I could believe it was the work

of your  -year-olds, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

There's very little

for me to say, Miss Mackay...



   

                   

in the face of your

extraordinary prejudice and hostility.



   

                   

Miss Brodie, I am not

asking you to say anything.



   

                   

I am asking... demanding...



   

                   

that you put your signature,

your own signature...



   

                   

on a letter of resignation

which I have prepared for you.



   

                   

I will not resign.



   

                   

If you will not resign,

you will force me to dismiss you.



   

                   

I will not resign...



   

                   

and you will not dismiss me,

Miss Mackay.



   

                   

You will not use

the excuse of that pathetic...



   

                   

that humorous document

to blackmail me!



   

                   

Mr. Lowther,

you are a witness to this.



   

                   

Miss Mackay has made totally unsupported

accusations against my name and yours.



   

                   

If she has one

authentic shred of evidence...



   

                   

just one,

let her bring it forth!



   

                   

Otherwise, if one more word of this

outrageous calumny reaches my ears, I shall sue!



   

                   

I shall take Miss Mackay

to the public courts...



   

                   

and I shall sue the trustees of Marcia Blaine,

if they support her.



   

                   

I will not stand quietly by

and allow myself to be crucified...



   

                   

by a woman whose fetid frustration

has overcome her judgment!



   

                   

If scandal is to your taste,

Miss Mackay, I shall give you a feast!



   

                   

- Miss Brodie!

- I am a teacher!



   

                   

I am a teacher,

first, last, always!



   

                   

Do you imagine

that for one instant...



   

                   

I will let that be taken

from me without a fight?



   

                   

I have dedicated, sacrificed

my life to this profession.



   

                   

And I will not stand by

like an inky little slacker...



   

                   

and watch you rob me

of it and for what?



   

                   

For what reason?

For jealousy!



   

                   

Because I have the gift

of claiming girls for my own.



   

                   

It is true I am

a strong influence on my girls.



   

                   

I am proud of it!



   

                   

I influence them to be

aware of all the possibilities of life...



   

                   

of beauty, honor, courage.



   

                   

I do not, Miss Mackay, influence them

to look for slime where it does not exist!



   

                   

I am going.



   

                   

When my class convenes,

my pupils will find me composed...



   

                   

and prepared to reveal to them

the succession of the Stuarts.



   

                   

And on Sunday, I will go to Cramond

to visit Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

We are accustomed,

bachelor and spinster...



   

                   

to spend our Sundays together

in sailing and walking the beaches...



   

                   

and in the pursuit

of music.



   

                   

Mr. Lowther is teaching me

to play the mandolin.



   

                   

Good day, Miss Mackay.



   

                   

Uh, Mr. Lowther...



   

                   

I am sure I need not

suggest to you that we keep...



   

                   

the details of Miss Brodie's

little... tantrum to ourselves.



   

                   

- Yes...

- I've no doubt that you, as well as I...



   

                   

- have her interests at heart.

- Well, l...



   

                   

Thank you,

Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

No doubt you have

other duties to attend to.



   

                   

Oh, yes. Yes, Miss Mackay.

Thank you. Thank you very much.



   

                   

Jean!



   

                   

Jean, you were heroic!

Heroic!



   

                   

Oh, to see you like that,

it was really inspiring!



   

                   

If only I could have stood up

like that to Mr. Gaunt, if I said...



   

                   

"Look here, Mr. Gaunt. If you have

one authentic shred of evidence, just one..."



   

                   

- What are you talking about?

- Mr. Gaunt called to see me the night before last.



   

                   

He advised me to resign as organist

and elder of the church. He spoke plainly.



   

                   

And what did you answer?



   

                   

I resigned.



   

                   

And you allowed this

evil-minded man...



   

                   

a man who uses his position

as deacon of the Kirk...



   

                   

to receive the slanderous gossip

of petty provincials...



   

                   

ButJean,

it isn't just gossip.



   

                   

You do not go home

on Sunday nights.



   

                   

They had no proof!

None whatever.



   

                   

You should have refused

point-blank to resign.



   

                   

Can't you see that resignation

is tantamount to a confession of guilt.



   

                   

- But I feel guilty.

- Well, I do not!



   

                   

Will you not marry me and put an end

to all this sneaking about?



   

                   

- Why won't you marry me?

- Only yesterday...



   

                   

it was told to my face that you are planning

to marry the chemistry teacher.



   

                   

Oh, l... I played golf

with Miss Lockhart once.



   

                   

- Twice.

- Twice?



   

                   

Beware.

Don't trifle with her.



   

                   

She has the means

to blow us all up.



   

                   

Now, don't tease me, Jean.

Miss Lockhart means nothing to me.



   

                   

You know all I care about is you.

All I want is to see you happy and safe.



   

                   

I don't

understand you, Jean.



   

                   

You will not marry me,

yet you feed me and share my bed.



   

                   

"Share your bed"!

Why can't you say you are my lover?



   

                   

I do not want

to be your lover...



   

                   

I want

to be your husband.



   

                   

I want to go on my honeymoon where my mother

and father went on their honeymoon...



   

                   

and come back to Cramond

with my bride.



   

                   

That's what I want.



   

                   

And I want to conduct

the church choir too.



   

                   

Rumors are flying.

Are you out?



   

                   

Hmph! On the contrary,

Miss Mackay experienced...



   

                   

the utmost difficulty

in persuading me to stay.



   

                   

How I wish I might have heard her plea.



   

                   

The utmost difficulty.

You've been painting Jenny.



   

                   

- Yes, that's right.

- I am glad, very glad.



   

                   

She's getting more beautiful each year.

She quite amazes me.



   

                   

You see it too.

You're an artist.



   

                   

You see things other men don't see.

You must see it.



   

                   

Jenny's quite

a pretty girl.



   

                   

Pretty? No, no.

It's much more than that.



   

                   

She has... extraordinary

physical instincts...



   

                   

Primitive and free.



   

                   

Primitive?

LittleJenny?



   

                   

What are you

up to, Jean?



   

                   

I'm only trying to tell you

I've always felt thatJenny...



   

                   

could be

magnificently elevated...



   

                   

above the ordinary rung

of lovers.



   

                   

What are you

talking about?



   

                   

It's just that I've

always known that one day...



   

                   

you would paintJenny.



   

                   

Paint Jenny?



   

                   

Jean, I think you're quite aware

of what you're doing.



   

                   

You're trying to put that child

in my bed in your place.



   

                   

Don't be disgusting!



   

                   

It's only the words that disgust you!

You don't boggle at the thought, do you?



   

                   

You'll accept anything,

anything but reality!



   

                   

Trying to useJenny and poor old Lowther,

making him play house.



   

                   

I do not use Mr. Lowther.

It is I who allow myself to be used.



   

                   

I give him every attention.

I cook for him.



   

                   

You feed him instead of loving him.

Isn't that it?



   

                   

You know nothing about what there is

of love between Gordon and me!



   

                   

Oh, my God! All those boring hours

in bed with old Lowther...



   

                   

puffing bravely away...



   

                   

Good. That's more like it.

That was direct.



   

                   

That's the first actual contact

between us in three years.



   

                   

Get out! Get out!

Get out of my class! My girls.



   

                   

Little girls, this is Mr. Lloyd,

the art master.



   

                   

When you are   

if he is still at Marcia Blaine...



   

                   

I will then hand you over to him,

and you will be fortunate enough...



   

                   

to receive

his artistic guidance.



   

                   

- Good-bye, girls.

- Good-bye, Mr. Lloyd.



   

                   

See you

in three years.



   

                   

Good-bye,

Miss Brodie.



   

                   

I also hope

I shall see you.



   

                   

For the rest

of the afternoon...



   

                   

I have decided we will

not do more history.



   

                   

Rather, I will show you some more slides...



   

                   

of my last holidays

in Italy.



   

                   

Monitors,

the blinds, please.



   

                   

Clara, will you

pull down the screen?



   

                   

I also spent

two weeks in Egypt...



   

                   

where people do not believe

in God, but in Allah.



   

                   

Kathryn, will you

switch on the light, please?



   

                   

The bottom,

left-hand side.



   

                   

I have brought you these slides

at my own expense.



   

                   

The girls at the back

may sit up on their desks.



   

                   

Rome.



   

                   

This is a large formation

of II Duce's fascisti.



   

                   

They are following him

in noble destiny.



   

                   

I, myself,

mingled with such a crowd.



   

                   

I wore my silk dress

with red poppies...



   

                   

which is right

for my coloring.



   

                   

Benito Mussolini.



   

                   

Il Duce.



   

                   

Italy's leader supreme.



   

                   

A Roman worthy of his heritage.

The greatest Roman of them all.



   

                   

The Colosseum...



   

                   

where Christian slaves

were thrown to the lions...



   

                   

and gladiators

fought to the death.



   

                   

"Hail, Caesar.

Those who are about to die salute thee."



   

                   

Florence.



   

                   

The David

of Michelangelo.



   

                   

That is

the original David.



   

                   

He's in the Galleria

dell'Accademia di Belle Arti.



   

                   

There's a copy

in the Piazza della Signoria...



   

                   

next to

the Palazzo Vecchio.



   

                   

He's there for any passer-by

to gaze upon and be uplifted.



   

                   

He's at once the glory of the past

and the inspiration of the future.



   

                   

David,

the young warrior.



   

                   

This is a picture

of the Ponte Vecchio...



   

                   

"The old bridge..."

Ponte Vecchio.



   

                   

There's a famous painting

of Dante meeting Beatrice...



   

                   

It is pronounced

"Beatrichi" in Italian...



   

                   

which makes it

very beautiful...



   

                   

Meeting Beatrice

on the Ponte Vecchio.



   

                   

He fell in love with her

at that moment.



   

                   

He was a man in his middle years.

She was   . That can happen.



   

                   

A mature man can find love

in a young girl, a very young girl.



   

                   

Find the spring...



   

                   

the essence

of all old loves.



   

                   

It is not unlikely that

we shall never know...



   

                   

that Beatrice

reminded Dante sharply...



   

                   

in that moment

when he first saw her...



   

                   

on the Ponte Vecchio...



   

                   

of an old love...



   

                   

a lost love,

a sublime love...



   

                   

and he was seized

with such a longing...



   

                   

such longing...



   

                   

That picture

was painted by Rossetti.



   

                   

Who was

Dante Gabriel Rossetti?



   

                   

Jenny, who was

Dante Gabriel Rossetti?



   

                   

Clara.



   

                   

A painter, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

What... What was that you said?



   

                   

A painter.



   

                   

Yes. Yes, a painter.



   

                   

Oh, yes.



   

                   

A paint...

A painter.



   

                   

Where you're mistaken is in supposing

thatJean Brodie is unique.



   

                   

There's an army of these ladies

in Edinburgh.



   

                   

It's simply that they do not

attempt to teach in schools...



   

                   

of the traditional character

of Marcia Blaine.



   

                   

She is

a magnificent specimen.



   

                   

She's utterly

ridiculous.



   

                   

There's no contradiction in being

both ridiculous and magnificent.



   

                   

Your young mind will have to

stretch a bit to grasp that.



   

                   

I think my young mind

is stretched astonishingly...



   

                   

to be able to discuss

at   ... at   ...



   

                   

the enduring passion

of my lover for another woman.



   

                   

It is not only

astonishing, Sandy...



   

                   

it is unnatural.



   

                   

You should be passionate...



   

                   

and involved...



   

                   

and shortsighted.



   

                   

- I'm tired.

- Take a rest, then.



   

                   

I'll make some tea.



   

                   

Her and her passions,

her fascisti.



   

                   

You should see her skulking around

the third formers, trying to raise funds for Franco.



   

                   

Franco? Oh, my God.



   

                   

Oh, yes.

We've gone very Spanish this term...



   

                   

what with Mary McGregor's

brother and all.



   

                   

What's Mary McGregor's

miserable brother got to do with Franco?



   

                   

Haven't you heard?

He's run off to Spain to fight.



   

                   

Miss Brodie's

beside herself with joy.



   

                   

Jean knows nothing of politics

or politicians.



   

                   

She simply invests all leaders

with her own romantic vision.



   

                   

Why isn't there ever

anything to eat in this place?



   

                   

You know, it occurred to me

that the Brodie set...



   

                   

has been Miss Brodie's faithful fascisti,

marching along...



   

                   

and I suddenly thought

of her disapproval of the Girl Guides.



   

                   

Why, it's simply jealousy.

The Guides are a rival fascisti...



   

                   

and she

cannot bear it.



   

                   

How I wish

I'd joined the Brownies.



   

                   

What a spiteful

child it is.



   

                   

You're too irritable

for a girl of your age.



   

                   

My age does bother you,

doesn't it?



   

                   

How much longer are you going to be

tempted by this firm, young flesh?



   

                   

Until you're   

and over the hill.



   

                   

Hey, Teddy,

take me dancing.



   

                   

- Certainly not.

- What a coward.



   

                   

A man with a wife and six children

plus a schoolgirl for a mistress...



   

                   

can be called any number of rude names,

but "coward" is not one of them.



   

                   

So sweet,

the flesh of the neck.



   

                   

If only it could be

bottled and sold across the counter.



   

                   

I really shouldn't feed

your depraved appetite.



   

                   

Hey, Teddy. Teddy, listen.

When can I look at my painting?



   

                   

I'm very bored with not being allowed

to see my own portrait.



   

                   

When I've finished it,

and I shall never finish it.



   

                   

We shall go on like this

until one or both of us is dead.



   

                   

Now. I want to see myself

mirrored in your eyes.



   

                   

- I need a vision of myself.

- No, Sandy. No.



   

                   

I haven't

finished it yet.



   

                   

- I'm not pleased with it yet.

- Oh, you.



   

                   

You'll never

be pleased.



   

                   

Sandy!



   

                   

I cannot

help myself, Sandy.



   

                   

Believe me, it has nothing to do

with what I feel for you.



   

                   

Even the skin tones

are hers.



   

                   

It's not even my skin.



   

                   

And I thought...

I really thought that you...



   

                   

Well, you know,

desired me.



   

                   

Desired me.



   

                   

L... I do.



   

                   

It might just as well

have been Jenny after all.



   

                   

It would have been

the same with anyone.



   

                   

Sandy,

listen to me.



   

                   

Love is the most irrational thing

on God's Earth.



   

                   

Do you think I choose

to loveJean Brodie?



   

                   

If I could choose,

I would love my wife or you.



   

                   

You are the most

remarkable girl I've ever known.



   

                   

You are marvelous

and astonishing and desirable.



   

                   

Why would I not choose to love you,

if I could choose?



   

                   

Please don't think less

of yourself because I am...



   

                   

bewitched.



   

                   

Very well.

I shan't.



   

                   

- Believe what I'm telling you.

- Oh, I believe you, Teddy.



   

                   

I even believe that

you are bewitched.



   

                   

I'm not sure about God, but I am now

quite sure about witches.



   

                   

Will you be back

tomorrow?



   

                   

No, I won't be back.



   

                   

That really would be

a waste of time, wouldn't it?



   

                   

Good night, Teddy.



   

                   

You can

go on painting.



   

                   

You don't really

need a model.



   

                   

As this seems to be

a time for truth...



   

                   

you're quite

a mediocre painter, Teddy.



   

                   

You'll never be

really good.



   

                   

I wonder you don't try

some other line.



   

                   

You are getting on,

you know.



   

                   

Generalissimo Franco

is called El Jefe, the chief.



   

                   

J-E-F-E.

The "J" is silent. El Jefe.



   

                   

He is

a dedicated man.



   

                   

You must all grow up

to be dedicated women...



   

                   

as generalissimo Franco has

dedicated himself to a cause...



   

                   

as I have dedicated

myself to you.



   

                   

Dedication is

the order of the day.



   

                   

Oh, Mary McGregor, girls,

come and join us.



   

                   

Mary, dear, is there any news

from your brother from Spain?



   

                   

No, Miss Brodie.

Nothing.



   

                   

Mr. Ealing at the b-bank

is sending for him...



   

                   

sending d-d-detectives

to Spain.



   

                   

Your brother

is being sent for?



   

                   

Mr. Ealing at the bank

would send for Caesar.



   

                   

The Mr. Ealings at the bank

have tried throughout history...



   

                   

to stay the march

of civilization.



   

                   

Why can't they understand? It should

be obvious to the meanest intelligence.



   

                   

Franco's army comprises the best

elements of Spain and her supporters.



   

                   

They are committed

to heroic action.



   

                   

You little girls are living

in a time that will demand...



   

                   

all that you have to give

of courage and gallantry.



   

                   

You must become heroines.

Heroines!



   

                   

Do you mean we will have to

march and shoot guns?



   

                   

If you are called.



   

                   

Girls?



   

                   

Have you never heard

of Hannah Snell?



   

                   

She was an English girl born in     

and sailed in Admiral Boscawen's fleet.



   

                   

And fought at Araapong.

She was wounded.



   

                   

But without medical aid, she extracted

the bullet from her own shoulder...



   

                   

and lived

to serve again.



   

                   

Hannah Snell was a girl.



   

                   

- Ooh!

- Now, you, too, must be prepared...



   

                   

to serve, suffer

and sacrifice.



   

                   

- Are you prepared?

- Yes, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

Yes, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

No, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

But she could

get shot.



   

                   

Without medical aid, she would extract

the bullet from her own shoulder...



   

                   

and live

to serve again.



   

                   

It isn't funny.

She could really get hurt.



   

                   

- What's going on? Who could get hurt?

- Mary McGregor.



   

                   

She's run away to Spain

to fight.



   

                   

- What kind of joke is this?

- It isn't a joke.



   

                   

She's really gone

to Spain.



   

                   

Mary McGregor couldn't negotiate

her way across Edinburgh.



   

                   

- Ah, but she has a guiding spirit.

- What are you talking about?



   

                   

I'm sure Miss Brodie gave Mary

very explicit directions.



   

                   

The Paris train will take you

as far as Perpignan.



   

                   

P-E-R-P-l-G-N-A-N.



   

                   

Now, the pounds are

in this envelope marked "pounds."



   

                   

And the francs are

in this envelope marked "francs."



   

                   

And the pesetas are

in this envelope marked "pesetas."



   

                   

How else?



   

                   

- I don't believe it.

- Nor do I.



   

                   

Miss Brodie

will be frantic.



   

                   

Miss Brodie

will be ecstatic.



   

                   

Moving your troops

to Barcelona?



   

                   

Mary McGregor has gone

to join her brother.



   

                   

He is her only kin.



   

                   

Yes, I heard you've been

raising funds for Franco.



   

                   

I find that

extraordinary.



   

                   

The times

are extraordinary.



   

                   

Miss Brodie!



   

                   

Miss Brodie!



   

                   

Miss Brodie.!



   

                   

Oh!



   

                   

Oh, Mary McGregor.



   

                   

Girls, I have

called you together...



   

                   

my special girls...



   

                   

to tell you the truth

about Mary McGregor.



   

                   

Miss Mackay has told you

the facts about Mary's death...



   

                   

how the train was bombed and machine-gunned

as it crossed the frontier...



   

                   

but only I

can tell you the truth.



   

                   

Mary McGregor

died a heroine.



   

                   

It was her intention

to fight for Franco...



   

                   

against the forces of darkness.



   

                   

So although she was killed before

she herself could strike a blow...



   

                   

her intention

was a noble and heroic one.



   

                   

Had she lived...



   

                   

Mary would have become a woman

of great spirit and initiative.



   

                   

Hers would have been

a dedicated life.



   

                   

You must all grow up

to be dedicated women...



   

                   

as Mary McGregor dedicated

her youth to a cause...



   

                   

as I have dedicated

myself to you.



   

                   

Tonight, little girls...



   

                   

let your imaginations soar.



   

                   

Think ofJoan of Arc...



   

                   

Florence Nightingale.



   

                   

Think of Mary McGregor.



   

                   

Who among you has

the makings of a heroine?



   

                   

Yes, Clara?



   

                   

May we think of you,

Miss Brodie?



   

                   

Well, why not?



   

                   

Deep in most of us

is a potential for greatness...



   

                   

or the potential

to inspire greatness.



   

                   

The day draws late.

Your families will be expecting you.



   

                   

Take home the story

of Mary McGregor.



   

                   

Sandy?



   

                   

I thought you and I

might have tea together.



   

                   

I wanted

to talk to you about Mary.



   

                   

I'm sorry,

but I have some work to do.



   

                   

How busy and grown-up you've become.



   

                   

Well, I won't try to stop you, but you must

remember how much I do depend on you.



   

                   

I'll remember.



   

                   

Somebody's crying



   

                   

Do you wonder who



   

                   

Tears that would fill up



   

                   

An ocean or two



   

                   

He's too unhappy

to even feel blue



   

                   

Somebody's crying for you



   

                   

Somebody's crying



   

                   

Pay him no mind



   

                   

He's just a someone



   

                   

That you left behind



   

                   

Although it could be



   

                   

And you'll never see



   

                   

That somebody

crying is me



   

                   

Yesterday's lover



   

                   

Like yesterday's dream



   

                   

Lost like a flower



   

                   

That floats

down the stream



   

                   

- Mr. Lloyd?

- Yes, I should think so.



   

                   

Only the sorrow



   

                   

Somebody's crying

for you



   

                   

- Would you like to dance, Sandy?

- No, thank you.



   

                   

I thought it was considered

a triumph of the first magnitude...



   

                   

to be asked to dance

by a male staff member.



   

                   

Excuse me.



   

                   

- Mr. Lloyd said I could have my portrait done.

- Monica.



   

                   

- Oh, thank you, Sandy.

- All right.



   

                   

Somebody's crying



   

                   

Do you wonder who



   

                   

Tears that would

fill up



   

                   

An ocean or two



   

                   

You know how I feel



   

                   

For sadly, but true



   

                   

That somebody crying is you



   

                   

Would you like

some punch, Miss Brodie?



   

                   

Oh, Mr. Lloyd.

Thank you.



   

                   

That's very

thoughtful of you.



   

                   

Well, Jean,

how's the Franco fund coming along?



   

                   

Mm! Not well.

Popular sentiment being what it is...



   

                   

one can hardly plead the cause

in the Marcia Blaine assembly hall.



   

                   

Yes, I dare say. I, too, am attempting

to raise funds for a worthy cause.



   

                   

You? What sort of cause?



   

                   

A romantic one. I am taking up

a collection to buy a wedding present...



   

                   

for Lowther

and Miss Lockhart.



   

                   

May I put you down

for a pound?



   

                   

It's to be a simple affair in Cramond Kirk

a week on Saturday.



   

                   

I'm told when they announced

their intention to Miss Mackay last evening...



   

                   

her delight was so profound that she ran amok

and toasted them in neat whiskey.



   

                   

- Ah, Miss Brodie.

- Oh, good evening, Mr. Burrage, girls.



   

                   

- Good evening, Miss Brodie.

- I've not seen you dancing yet.



   

                   

Oh, the night

is young, Mr. Burrage.



   

                   

Excuse me

for one moment.



   

                   

Teddy... Teddy, who told you

to come to me like that?



   

                   

I volunteered. "I," said the sparrow,

"with my bow and arrow."



   

                   

- I volunteered.

- And what kill, pray, did you expect to make?



   

                   

Do you think I cannot,

with one snap of my fingers...



   

                   

send poor Miss Lockhart

back to her gaseous domain?



   

                   

It was I who

encouraged Mr. Lowther...



   

                   

in his reluctant

pursuit of Miss Lockhart.



   

                   

What I cannot understand is you.

I cannot understand you.



   

                   

Malice.

Coming to me that way...



   

                   

hoping to hurt

and humiliate me, why?



   

                   

I don't know.

It's what I wanted, to hurt you.



   

                   

Why? Why are you

so angry with me?



   

                   

Because I'm afraid.

Because I don't feel safe with you around.



   

                   

You should have married old Lowther,

you really should.



   

                   

I'm    years old, Jean.

How old are you?



   

                   

- I'm f... I'm in my prime.

- Your prime!



   

                   

Look at yourself, Jean.



   

                   

Look at me...

a second-rate painter running to seed.



   

                   

- You're not in your prime, Jean.

- Teddy, don't...



   

                   

You're a frustrated spinster taking it out

in idiot causes and dangerous ideas.



   

                   

- A schoolmarm.

- I am a teacher.



   

                   

A teacher or a leader?



   

                   

The dangerous Miss Brodie

and her troops.



   

                   

Well, where you lead

I cannot follow.



   

                   

Arrivederci.



   

                   

- Mr. Burrage, will you dance?

- Yes. Yes. Delighted.



   

                   

Thank you so much.



   

                   

Miss Mackay...



   

                   

since you were first appointed

headmistress of Marcia Blaine...



   

                   

you have done nothing but try

to dismiss me from the teaching staff.



   

                   

You have tried

every feeble excuse...



   

                   

even that of immorality,

and failed.



   

                   

Now you are accusing me

of preaching politics to my pupils.



   

                   

Such a continuous

personal vendetta...



   

                   

is hardly conducive

to the dignity of your position.



   

                   

Miss Brodie, I don't think

you quite understand.



   

                   

Let me make the situation

perfectly clear.



   

                   

It is not I,

but the board of governors...



   

                   

who have pursued this investigation

to its conclusion.



   

                   

And it is

the board of governors who...



   

                   

after having given due consideration

to the grave charges laid against you...



   

                   

have given instructions that you leave

this school immediately...



   

                   

and that your classes be taken over

tomorrow morning by another teacher.



   

                   

The board have asked me

to convey to you the fact that...



   

                   

your salary will be paid in full

until the end of the term...



   

                   

which, in the circumstances,

is more than generous.



   

                   

Miss Brodie,

there is nothing more to be said.



   

                   

I shall not accept

the board's action.



   

                   

I shall petition. I shall put

the question before the public...



   

                   

before the parents

and the student body.



   

                   

You will find, Miss Mackay,

that I have the loyalty of my girls.



   

                   

Do you, Miss Brodie?



   

                   

For they are

jolly good fellows



   

                   

For they are

jolly good fellows



   

                   

For they are

jolly good fellows



   

                   

Which nobody can deny



   

                   

Come, now, Lowther, give us a song.!



   

                   

Why, Miss Brodie,

aren't you coming to the common room?



   

                   

- Common room?

- The celebration honoring

Miss Lockhart and Mr. Lowther.



   

                   

My love is like

a red, red rose



   

                   

Aren't you coming,

Miss Brodie?



   

                   

I'll...

I'll be there shortly.



   

                   

In June



   

                   

Oh, my love

is like a melody



   

                   

That's sweetly

played in tune



   

                   

As fair art thou

my bonny lass



   

                   

So deep in love am I



   

                   

And I will love

thee still, my dear



   

                   

Sandy.



   

                   

Sandy.



   

                   

I believe, Sandy...



   

                   

I believe

I am past my prime.



   

                   

I had reckoned

on my prime lasting...



   

                   

till I was

at least...   .



   

                   

Are you listening,

Sandy?



   

                   

I'm listening,

Miss Brodie.



   

                   

I have been dismissed

from Marcia Blaine.



   

                   

I am accused of teaching

treason and sedition to my students.



   

                   

I am being transported

for radicalism...



   

                   

like Thomas Muir

of Huntershill.



   

                   

But if Miss Mackay

and her conspirators...



   

                   

expect that I shall meekly lay my head

on their chopping block...



   

                   

- they're in for a wee surprise.

- What will you do?



   

                   

As I informed Miss Mackay,

I will resort to public petition.



   

                   

I have no doubt that many supporters

will rally to my defense.



   

                   

My students are loyal.



   

                   

My girls.



   

                   

Someone betrayed me, Sandy.

Someone spoke against me to the board.



   

                   

Who could it

have been? Who?



   

                   

Are you thinking that

maybe one of your girls betrayed you?



   

                   

I said

to Miss Mackay...



   

                   

"I have the loyalty

of my girls,"



   

                   

and she said,

"Do you?"



   

                   

I'll not believe it. I'll not believe

it was one of my girls.



   

                   

Perhaps it's true.



   

                   

I thought possibly Monica.

There's very little soul...



   

                   

- Monica is a loyal girl.

- I know. You all are.



   

                   

Monica and Jenny.

Oh, notJenny.



   

                   

She's like

a part of myself.



   

                   

You, Sandy... As you see,

you are exempt from all suspicion.



   

                   

You have had more

of my confidence than anyone.



   

                   

You know more than anyone

what I have sacrificed for my girls.



   

                   

Teddy Lloyd was greatly

in love with me, Sandy...



   

                   

as I think

you've always known.



   

                   

And I gave him up to consecrate

my life to the young girls in my care...



   

                   

you and Monica

and Jenny.



   

                   

Jenny...



   

                   

She and Mr. Lloyd

will soon be lovers.



   

                   

- I have that.

- Do you think that you are Providence?



   

                   

That you can ordain love?



   

                   

What?



   

                   

You haven't

pulled it off.



   

                   

Jenny will not be

Teddy Lloyd's lover.



   

                   

What are you saying,

Sandy?



   

                   

Jenny will not be

Teddy Lloyd's lover...



   

                   

and I'll not be your spy,

your secret service.



   

                   

My spy? What on earth

are you talking about?



   

                   

Do you understand at all

what has happened to me?



   

                   

I have been dismissed

from Marcia Blaine!



   

                   

Why are you standing there talking

about Providence and the secret service?



   

                   

What is the matter

with you?



   

                   

Miss Brodie,

I am Teddy's lover.



   

                   

What?



   

                   

I am Teddy's lover.



   

                   

Teddy's lover? You?



   

                   

Is that so difficult

to believe?



   

                   

What does it matter to you which one of us it is?

It doesn't matter to Teddy.



   

                   

Whatever possessed you?

You know his religion.



   

                   

How could a girl

with a mind of her own...



   

                   

have to do with a man

who can't think for himself?



   

                   

That doesn't seem

to have bothered either of us, does it?



   

                   

We were neither of us

very interested in his mind.



   

                   

How dare you speak to me

in this manner!



   

                   

I suppose I've always known that one day

you were going to ask how dare I?



   

                   

Why? I don't understand.



   

                   

I don't seem to understand

what has happened to everyone.



   

                   

Where has everyone gone?



   

                   

Only Mary is gone.



   

                   

Mary? What has Mary

to do with it?



   

                   

Miss Brodie,

Mary McGregor is dead!



   

                   

Are you aware of

the order of importance...



   

                   

in which you place

your anxieties?



   

                   

One, you have

been betrayed.



   

                   

Two, who is or is not to be your proxy

in Teddy Lloyd's bed...



   

                   

and three, Mary's death.



   

                   

Miss Brodie, aren't you concerned

at all with Mary's death?



   

                   

I grieve for Mary.



   

                   

It was because of you

she went!



   

                   

Because of me?

It was her brother.



   

                   

The poor, unfortunate girl

hadn't anyone else in the world.



   

                   

She had you.

That was her misfortune.



   

                   

To please you, that silly, stupid girl

ran off and got herself killed!



   

                   

Don't you feel

responsible for that?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

No, I feel responsible

for giving her ideals...



   

                   

The ideals that

sent her to Spain.



   

                   

I feel responsible for teaching her

that service to a cause is a privilege.



   

                   

You call it a privilege

to be killed?



   

                   

And for nothing.

Nothing!



   

                   

You really are

a shallow girl, Sandy.



   

                   

By the way she died,

Mary McGregor illumined her life.



   

                   

- She died a heroine.

- She died a fool!



   

                   

Joining her brother to fight for Franco...

wasn't that just like Mary?



   

                   

Her brother is fighting

for the other side.



   

                   

- Her brother...

- Her brother is fighting for the Republicans!



   

                   

Mary was headed

for the wrong army!



   

                   

Oh, Mary McGregor!



   

                   

"Mary McGregor."



   

                   

I used to wonder why

you always called Mary by her full name.



   

                   

I think it was because you had

such a hard time remembering who she was.



   

                   

Poor, dim Mary.



   

                   

I was devoted to Mary.



   

                   

No, you were only attracted to Mary

because she had no one else...



   

                   

and she was

so totally suggestible.



   

                   

She appealed

to your vanity!



   

                   

It was you

who betrayed me.



   

                   

I didn't betray you!



   

                   

I simply

put a stop to you!



   

                   

Oh, I see.



   

                   

No, you don't see.



   

                   

You don't see that

you're not good for people.



   

                   

In what way?



   

                   

In what way, Sandy,

was I not good for you?



   

                   

You are dangerous

and unwholesome...



   

                   

and children should not

be exposed to you!



   

                   

How can you think it?



   

                   

How can you think

that I would harm you?



   

                   

- But you have... You have harmed me!

- How?



   

                   

You have murdered Mary!



   

                   

You have

assassinated me!



   

                   

Oh, why must you

always strike attitudes?



   

                   

You really are

a ridiculous woman!



   

                   

What will you do... now?



   

                   

Do?



   

                   

I don't know.



   

                   

But I am a descendant,

do not forget...



   

                   

of Willie Brodie.



   

                   

He was a man

of substance...



   

                   

A cabinetmaker

and a designer of gibbets...



   

                   

a member of the town council

of Edinburgh...



   

                   

the keeper of two mistresses

who bore him five children between them.



   

                   

Blood tells.

He played much dice and fighting cocks.



   

                   

Eventually, he was a wanted man

for having robbed the excise office.



   

                   

Not that he needed

the money.



   

                   

He was a burglar

for the sake of the danger.



   

                   

He died cheerfully

on a gibbet of his own devising in     .



   

                   

That is the stuff

I am made of.



   

                   

I knew you would rise

like a phoenix.



   

                   

I'm glad I shall not

have to worry about you.



   

                   

No, I expect that

is to be your gift, Sandy...



   

                   

to kill without concern.



   

                   

It is you

who are dangerous.



   

                   

You see yourself as a conqueror,

don't you, Sandy?



   

                   

Kaiserian in all

his beauty rare.



   

                   

But you profess to be

a great admirer of conquerors.



   

                   

Good-bye, Miss Brodie.



   

                   

Assassin!



   

                   

Assassin!



   

                   

Lord, dismiss us

with Thy blessing



   

                   

Thanks for mercies

past receive



   

                   

Pardon all

their faults confessing



   

                   

Time that's lost

may all retrieve



   

                   

May thy children

May thy children



   

                   

Never again

Thy spirit grieve



   

                   

Today we say good-bye

to those senior girls...



   

                   

who are leaving

Marcia Blaine for the last time.



   

                   

You girls are about

to take your place...



   

                   

in a larger,

more demanding world.



   

                   

In this world, you will be called upon

to make many moral decisions...



   

                   

affecting not only

your own lives...



   

                   

but the lives of your families,

your friends, your acquaintances.



   

                   

We are confident,

truly confident...



   

                   

that the training you have received

here in this school...



   

                   

will have equipped you to face life's quandaries

with courage and character.



   

                   

For here at Marcia Blaine...



   

                   

we have done our best

to nurture the virtuous woman...



   

                   

for her price

is far above rubies.



   

                   

Let us pray.



   

                   

Little girls...



   

                   

I am in the business

of putting old heads on young shoulders...



   

                   

and all my pupils

are the creme de la creme.



   

                   

Give me a girl

at an impressionable age...



   

                   

and she is mine for life.









  

  

 
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