Lines of Wellington (Linhas de Wellington)

PAULO BRANCO presents

An Alfama Films France 3 Cinéma Production

After the failed attempts of Junot and Soult in 1807 and 1809,

Napoleon Bonaparte sent a mighty army led by Marechal Massena,

to invade Portugal in 1810.

The French had no difficulty reaching the centre of the country

where the Anglo-Portuguese army, led by General Wellington, awaited them.

For RAÚL RUIZ who prepared this film

Director

Original Screenplay and Dialogues

Director of Photography

Art Director

Production Manager

Original Music

LINES OF WELLINGTON

Leave that crap alone, you imbecile! It's covered in blood!

On the slopes of Buçaco,

despite the many natural obstacles that favoured the defence of Alcoba,

our valiant men of the Second battalion battled to the summit,

after one hour of extraordinary efforts.

They arrived, breathless, at the ridge of the mountain,

only to be met by the full force of the English artillery.

Marechal Massena made a terrible mistake,

sending the Second battalion into action before the Sixth were ready to intervene.

Our men greeted the French with a musket volley at fifteen paces.

Five hundred Jacobins stopped dead in their tracks.

General Wellington advanced heavy reinforcements,

forcing the French to fall back...

We chased them down the slopes with our musket fire,

which they could ill return,

and scythed them down like ripened wheat...

If I had my way, they wouldn't even bury their whoring mothers.

Don't be so harsh, Chico! They're Christians after all...

Christians, my foot!

They're all Jews, Zé.

Sergeant?

They can't all be.

Those who're not, are freemasons or the like.

Bunch of Jacobins!

If they want a decent burial,

they should've stayed in their own damned country!

Right, lads!

Come on!

Let's get back to the English encampment, we've earned it.

The Jacobins lost above five thousand men.

A general and two hundred and fifty officers

among the dead, wounded or captured.

Come on!

Halt, halt!

D. Pedro!

Lieutenant, Sir!

It's no use, Sergeant. He can't hear you.

- What's wrong with him? - Two musket balls to the head.

He's more dead than alive, we should have left him.

- Are you a doctor? - No, Sergeant.

Then hold your tongue. What's your name?

Eusébio, Sergeant.

Noted, Eusébio. I never forget a name.

If he dies before he sees the doctor, I'll cut your throat. Off you go!

- Who was that? - Lieutenant Alencar.

Well?

He's not yet twenty...

Sergeant!

Damn, Sergeant, you!

I saw it.

You shot him, didn't you?

The French General! It was you, I saw it you rogue!

I couldn't swear it was me, Major. I had him in my sights.

And took the shot.

You didn't kill him though, you ninny.

We took him alive. A bit buggered, but alive.

Want to see him?

I'd better not, if you'll pardon me, sir.

The devil might tempt me to finish him off...

You can't forgive them, eh?

Not in this world, or the next.

Tell me, Chico, have you seen Corporal Percy about?

No, nor will I, Major.

He fell at my side. He's still down there.

Careful what you say.

His wife's waiting for him. They've not been married a year...

Damned Jacobins!

Tell her. Go on.

Me, Major?

Yes, you. You saw him last, didn't you?

Well? Tell her.

Poor girl has a right to know what happened.

- In what language, sir? - You choose.

She'll understand, don't worry.

Go!

That's an order, Sergeant.

Percy?

Come. Come with me.

I'm... I'm a friend!

Friend of Percy.

Corporal Percy, today...

Corporal Percy!

To see, him.

It's not a good idea.

He not pretty.

To see...

not good...

Yes.

But not today.

Tomorrow.

I'll take you.

Yes?

Tomorrow...

Yes. Tomorrow.

I'm Francisco Xavier. Chico.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Who's that?

Martírio! Leave me be... Go on, shoo.

What're you doing here?

The Major sent me...

There's a girl asleep next door. Don't make a noise, go away.

Stop it, you'll wake the girl.

I won't wake anyone if you'd shut up, you dolt.

All right.

Quietly, quietly. Come here.

Quietly.

Oh damn!

What is it?

I left my purse in my cloak.

Don't worry, the Major paid.

Thank you.

I had to explain to that fool Zé Maria why we had to retreat although we'd won.

It was hard to grasp that the bastard French, even in defeat,

far outnumbered the English and us.

We could only beat them again on favourable ground,

like in Buçaco...

That's what I think our General Wellington will do

farther to the south where I come from, where it's more hilly...

Meanwhile, I can't stop thinking about Corporal Percy's death

and his poor wife, Maureen,

alone without solace in a foreign land

where she doesn't speak the language.

Fewer dead! More heroes!

As if today's dead weren't tomorrow's heroes.

Our troops reached Coimbra on October 1st.

The wretched inhabitants of that great and beautiful city

of one hundred and twenty thousand souls

were told of the enemy's imminent arrival,

and ordered to abandon their homes.

It's path blocked by the sheer volume of refugees,

Wellington's army fell back in disarray on the road to Pombal.

Get these flea traps out of here!

Come on, hurry up!

To our amazement, rather than seizing the advantage to rout the enemy,

General Massena decided to stay in Coimbra

to "regroup"and "treat the wounded"...

What's going on?

Where are we?

In Hades, my friend...

The French. They're here.

The French?! Already?

They'll garrote us all.

Flee if you can. Hide!

I won't get far with no legs...

Captain, sir... I can't leave you here.

Don't be an ass. You can and must.

Flee! Flee while you can!

As for me, French or no French I haven't got long.

I can't say I even want the time I have left...

- Go. Hurry. Get away! - No, no, Captain, sir!

Go! Don't waste time. Get going! The window!

The window.

Shit!

He can't have got far...

From behind, it looked like a woman.

Don't tell me this old fool's still here!

Fuck off, messieurs.

For the Marechal and his retinue

we were fortunate to find intact the magnificent palace of a Swiss merchant.

Being a friend of the French,

he gave up his last Guinea fowl for the Marechal's dinner...

I knew your Voltaire well, you know...

Knew him!

You exaggerate, my poor Léopold.

Say rather, you imagined him...

- You remember my dear, at Ferney! - Yes, at Ferney! Don't you remember?

And from far away.

- Only a few metres... - Yes, more or less...

With his back to you.

More wine, Monsieur le Maréchal? I'm afraid it's not Bourgogne...

They say it's a little rough... Myself, I hardly drink.

No!

Are you sure, Cosima?

Really!?

- A hussar? - Absolutely, Severina.

Like Papa...

But, sister dear... there's only one bed in the room!

The French, you know...

What? Know what? What are you talking about?

Nothing.

I'm afraid we have nothing for dessert.

The servants took everything.

We do, however, have a little French cognac...

You're probably wondering, Monsieur le Maréchal, why we stayed.

My petal, I don't expect Monsieur is interested...