Their Finest

What's the matter, Mrs. James?

You'd better have a good rest tonight. It's these 12-hour shifts.

I had some bad news this morning, miss.

My Jim's missing.

Oh, try not to worry. I'm sure he'll turn up.

Oh, I do hope so, miss.

I expect I'll feel better when I've had a cup of tea.

- - That's right. It's finishing time now.

- -

A million bullets for dispatch by the morning?

But, I tell you, the girls have done ten hours today already.

Yes, I realize how urgent it is.

- -

But you can't expect these girls to work 14 hours a stretch.

All right, I'll ask them.

She doesn't have to ask us.

A million bullets by the morning.

All right, come on, girls. It's got to be done.

- -

Stop. Stop there. Stop the bus there.

All right, can't go no further.

Passengers for Bloomsbury,

- you're on foot from here. -

Thank you.

- Mmm-hmm. - This way, miss.

"A million bullets by morning"? No wonder the audience booed.

- Or snored. - We learn from our mistakes.

I would have shot the writers, not the picture.

Authenticity, that's what we're after now.

Authenticity informed by optimism.

You think I don't understand to give an audience optimism?

I have three grandsons in the forces.

Your company reputation is founded primarily on comedy.

The highest-grossing British picture of the year was a comedy. Mine.

And Mr. Buckley here wrote it.

Yes, and very entertaining it was, too,

but if we are to capture the public imagination and their trust,

we need more than fat policemen toppling off ladders.

We need a story to inspire a nation.

Give me a real brief, Mr. Swain,

and I swear, I will bring you a picture to win the war.

Or at least one to cheer us up if we carry on losing it.

So, please, tell us what it is you want.

You have your brief, Mr. Baker. Authenticity and optimism.

Right, so I'll look for a story.

So sorry. Monstrous of us to have kept you waiting.

Welcome to the Ministry of Information Film Division.

Roger Swain. You must be Miss Cole.

- Mrs. - Ah, splendid. Please, take a seat.

Husband in the forces?

He volunteers as an air-raid warden, but he wasn't fit for conscription.

He fought in the war in Spain.

Splendid, that's splendid. Now, about the job.

We need to cultivate a more convincing female angle in our output.

Mr. Buckley here has been appointed to the department as a special adviser.

Not special enough to get paid, obviously.

He seems to think you're what we need.

I said "might be." She can't be worse than those chaps you've got.

- Did you write this? - Mmm-hmm.

It was wrapped around my chips.

I was the secretary at the copy writing department,

but all the copywriters got called up.

"So-Be-Fee. It ain't beef, but it ain't bad,

'cause sometimes you just have to make do with what you've got."

Ah, splendid.

Ministry wages start at three and ten.

And obviously, we can't pay you as much as the chaps,

so shall we say £2 a week?

Thank you.

- You a cinemagoer? - Yes.

Then you'll be familiar with informationals.

We sandwich them between the support and the main feature,

so the public to be informed don't have time to escape.

What to do in an air raid.

Get under cover at once.

Don't stand staring at the sky. Take cover at once.

You'll find a page of script equates to a minute of screen time

or roughly 80 yards of celluloid,

or it would if directors didn't squander the film stock

as if it were lavatory paper.

Speaking of which, ladies' is last door on the left.

I wouldn't risk the other facilities if I were you.

I thought it was a secretarial post.

Oh, for God's sake, keep that to yourself.

What did they say, the War Artists Committee?

They find my interpretations altogether too brutal and dispiriting.

You're so much better than all the rest of them.

All the rest of them manage to put food on the table.

Ellis, I had a meeting today...

about a new job.

They offered it to me. £2 a week.

You know, Perry wants you to model for him.

I told him only I'm allowed to paint you.

You only ever put me in for the perspective.

No, I put you in because I want you there.

Right. I have to get to the warden's post.

It's a writing job.

Well done, Catrin.

When there's a raid, I want you to go down to the tube station.

I didn't bring you all the way from Wales to see you hit by a bomb.

I saw April today.

She and Tony have made up ever such a clever code,

so he can write to her about what he's doing.

"The village green," that means "England."

"Onion soup" is "France."

There's a word for "regiment,"

and one for "troop train."

Do you really have to smoke that thing?

- Couldn't you just mime? - I can mime smoking.

- I can't mime smoke. -

- That's a cut. -

I wonder, would it be possible to have some knitting?

My hands are aching for something to do, and it seems so right for the character.

- Props! - Yeah, I'll try and find some knitting.

Walter, a word.

I fully understand the national importance of what we're shooting,

and obviously there's no question of diluting the message.

I just...

Wonder if it mightn't pack a little more punch

if Mr. Brown were to express a little more.

For example, at the mention of the clever code,

I might say, "Well, that'll be the first clever thing.

April's ever done in her life."

Do you see? So, just a... Just a...

Just a dash of humor. And then further along...

- Excuse me. - Hello.

- Hello. - Oh, certainly.

Oh, no, no, no.

It's just that the caption at the end's going to be,

"He's not listening, but the enemy might be."

It's a joke for women who think their husbands never pay attention.

So if you start answering her, well, the caption won't make sense.

I wrote it. The scenario.

I'll be in my dressing room, if anyone needs me.

Ahem. Everybody take ten.

Save the lights.

Banished from the set. What in God's name possessed you?

The actor was ruining the script.

Course he was. He's an actor.

- What's this? Penance? -

- Hello, Mabel. How's baby? - He's coming along splendidly.

With more free time, I should like to do some war work.

I simply don't know what to do.

Are you good with your hands?

I think so, yes.

Have you thought about factory work?

And the version without the lines, please.

They want to re-use the footage for carrots.

- Hello, Mabel. How's baby? - He's coming along splendidly.

An appetite like his father.

He's eating us out of the house.

I simply don't know what to do.

- Are you good... - in the garden?

I think so, yes.

- Have you thought about... - carrots?

Right, I'll get that recorded.

- Thank you. - How's it been, anyway?

Boys in Scenarios made you feel welcome?

They can't see the point of me.

"If there's a dog in the script,

we don't employ a Jack Russell to write 'woof-woof, ' do we?"

Just been reading your work. None of them could do better.

Would you care for some lunch?

Now, don't look so chapel. It's official business.

I've, uh, got a proposal for you.

- -

When I'm not busy special advising,

I work for a man called Gabriel Baker.

Remember him? The Hungarian.

He's a producer.

Desperate to make a film that will make a difference.

- Hello, Tom. - Thelma.

Sorry. Excuse me.

Dunkirk. The evacuation of troops trapped by the German advance.

Seven hundred fishing boats and the Royal Navy

on a mission to bring our boys home.

Twin sisters took their father's cockle boat over to join the rescue,

came back with a deck full of soldiers.

- It's everything the Ministry are after. - Authenticity and optimism.

Contradiction in terms, if you ask me, but this could be a bloody good story.

Before they'll give it the go-ahead,

they want someone to go down there to talk to the girls.

Me?

Unless your artist would object.

So, how did you meet?

He came to Ebbw Vale to paint the steelworks.

Ah, he's one of those artists.

- Older than you? - Yes.

- Fifty? - No.

Sixty? Oh, I bet he's a toff.

No one else can afford to be an artist.

Actually, his family disinherited him.

- Because of you? - Because of his politics.

So what do you think? A day at the seaside.

And you never know, if there's a film at the end of it,

there might be a better job in it for you.

We'll need someone to write the slop.

- Slop? - Girl talk.

Women's dialogue. "Woof, woof."