The Judgement of Man Father Brown

Rein.

I imagined it would have been bigger.

Because of its value, I suppose.

A painting like this exudes intimacy.

It invites the viewer in.

Delicate brushwork.

Consummate use of light and shade.

The exquisite depth of field.

A timely reminder of the need for redemption.

Yes.

The worthy few at the gates of Heaven.

The lost souls, condemned to damnation.

Really is one of the finest examples of a Doom painting

ever put to canvas.

1452.

Yes, the artist left his mark.

LOUD CRASH

You clumsy lummox!

Have you any idea of the value of art?

Ted, that lighting in there is all wrong.

I want theatre, I want drama.

A celestial milieu to stimulate the senses.

I'm surrounded by Philistines.

It was very trusting of the Vatican to lend you the painting.

Ah, it was hidden away in the Apostolic Archives.

I persuaded a cardinal to pull some strings.

Oh! As if I don't have enough to contend with.

What a surprise.

And how did you get in?

Well, I persuaded Mr Cadwaller to give me a sneak preview.

I am very interested in this exhibition.

Well, don't tell Felicia. I'll never hear the end of it.

Yes, well, I've checked on security arrangements.

Everything seems to be in order.

Well, the Belvedere is fully equipped

with a foolproof alarm system. All the exhibits are perfectly safe.

I'll be allocating PC Nyland to keep an eye on things.

Just to put our minds at rest.

I'm never going to open on time, at this rate.

Perhaps I should leave you to it.

Yes, perhaps you should.

I have an appointment. Pictura Magazine.

-Ah.

-Now, there's the journalist who's come to interview me,

so I shall see you both at tomorrow's preview.

-Sir.

-It promises to be exclusive.

Binkie Cadwaller.

Museum curator.

I've been looking forward to meeting you.

Yes, well, I can only spare you about 20 minutes, I'm afraid.

Well, let's get on with it then.

Right, well, why don't we do this in my office?

I imagine you'll want to take a photograph of me.

It's certainly arousing plenty of interest.

Yes, and a drain on police resources.

I hear the painting was insured for a million pounds.

So are Betty Grable's legs.

I know what I'd rather look at.

I don't suppose there's any chance of a lift back...

to Kembleford?

A good exhibition takes one on a journey,

stimulates the senses and educates the mind.

It really is all about the narrative.

We both know the value of a good story.

Well, I was rather hoping for a decent spread.

Last month's Pictura piece on Poussin

could, at best, be described as amateurish.

I like to have an angle.

In fact, I'm thinking that this article

should be less about the painting,

and more about the man behind the masterpiece.

Binkie Cadwaller - what makes him tick?

Well, clearly a woman with taste.

And the slightest hint of an accent?

I was brought up in Germany.

A country very close to my heart.

The simple pleasures of Baden-Baden.

The intimate bierkellers of Hamburg.

Leipzig. Do you know it?

That's a city that I'm not...

not, um, terribly familiar with, I'm afraid.

Tinted by the grey hues of Stalinist monotony.

I was hoping that I might have a look at the painting.

Oh, no, no, I'm afraid you're going to have to wait.

Security concerns.

It has such an intriguing history.

Rumoured to have fallen into private hands before the war.

The painting belongs to the Vatican.

I am merely its custodian.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get on.

Are you quite sure it was him? Your eyesight isn't what it was.

I think I can still manage to see across the street.

Someone has only gone and nicked my sparkplugs.

I'm going to have to call the railway station now, because

the Rolls is out of action and Her Ladyship is turning

up on the 3.15 train.

If I were you, I would go to the police.

They'd only accuse me of wasting their time.

He knew I was there. He was taunting me.

If Flambeau's decided to show his face, that can only mean trouble.

Did you just say Flambeau?

The Father claims to have seen him.

Outside the Belvedere Museum.

Well, you know what that means.

Yes.

He wants to steal the painting.

It's awfully kind of you to offer me a lift.

Pleasure's all mine.

I left His Lordship up on the grouse moors.

He likes to shoot things.

In that case, I'm glad he's not here.

I'm all alone in this big empty house.

I'd never leave a beautiful woman to her own devices.

You're nearly as fast as your driving.

I don't make a habit of picking up strangers.

In my case, I'm glad you did.

So what brings you to Kembleford?

I'm over in England to paint some landscapes.

-An artist?

-I dabble.

It makes a welcome change from the oil business.

I'm attending a preview at the Belvedere, tomorrow.

Curator's a friend of mine.

-Religious art, it's not your thing?

-On the contrary,

religious art is my forte.

I'd be delighted if you came as my guest.

Then I'd be delighted to escort you.

-Thank you, Hornby.

-My Lady.

Lounge suits and summer frocks. We're very informal.

I'll swing by and pick you up.

Shall we say 2.30?

-I don't even know your name.

-Charles Coiner the Third.

Friends call me Chip.

And when exactly is Flambeau planning to steal this painting?

Tomorrow afternoon. At the preview.

-In front of all those guests?

-Well, Flambeau likes a challenge.

-Impossible.

-Implausible.

I'm expected to brief my men over an impending art heist,

based on a half-baked hunch?

That just about sums it up, yes.

Why are you sharing this information?

Because the church owns the painting.

I have a vested interest.

I came this close to catching him last time.

If I remember rightly, you helped him get away.

That's not quite how I remember it.

I'd go as far as aiding and abetting.

Sorry, sir. Thought you should see this.

You've raised your concerns. We'll take it from here.

Mirren McConnell - released on licence from Winsome Green.

'How is he my problem?'

'Failed to liaise with his probation officer.'

-Seems he's gone to ground, sir.

-Well, hand it down to uniform.

It's his past form, sir.

Sergeant, get some reinforcements down to the Belvedere right away.

All weekend leave is cancelled.

I want a car posted outside through the night.

Perhaps if we were working together?

If Flambeau makes an appearance, we'll be there to apprehend him,

and you won't be anywhere in sight.

I'll have you taken off the guest list.

He gives you information, you throw it back in his face.

If either of you set foot in that museum tomorrow, I'll have

you arrested for obstruction, understood?

So we're just supposed to sit around

and let Flambeau run rings around them, are we?

Mirren McConnell. Name ring any bells?

They call him The Spark. Wires, explosives, alarms - he's your man.

Scar from his ear to his chin.

So, Flambeau may well have found himself an accomplice.

HE CLEARS THROAT

Back in the morning. Bright and early.

ELECTRONIC BUZZING

BUZZING STOPS

I'm on the press list. Rebecca Himelbaum.

I don't know how I ever let you talk me into this.

You didn't take much convincing.

Bishop Talbot.

And the Dowager...Duchess of Worcester.

-IN PLUMMY VOICE:

-I'm afraid I left my tickets in the car.

Your spectacles, ma'am.

Oh, thank you, Carter.

I shall require these to admire the paintings.

Until then, you carry them, young man.

-IN OWN VOICE:

-Are you quite sure the bishop is indisposed?

Tied up at a synod in London.

That ring better come off. It was Mother's.

She must have had big hands.

Oi-oi, look out.

Lies and deceit.

We have descended to Flambeau's level already.

-Mr Coiner is in the petroleum business.

-Oh, crude oil?

You make me sound so vulgar.

On the contrary, he's something of an art connoisseur.

Yes, well, the Old Masters have had their day.

Pop art is the future.

Bright young things like Paolozzi and Rauschenberg.

Perhaps you should advise me on a good investment.

Binkie's expert eye has proved rather lucrative.

Champagne, madame, monsieur.

Thank you.

I hear your latest acquisition is quite valuable.

No wonder security's tight.

Listen, perhaps I should go and liaise with Inspector Sullivan.

Excuse me.

I'm in safe hands.

An exhibition to remember.

I'll drink to that.

I've got officers posted throughout the museum.

Based on a spurious tip-off.

My openings have always been fondly remembered.

We wouldn't want to lower the tone, now, would we?

Yes, Jemima.

-Stake out the lobby, sergeant.

-Yes, sir.

Oh, and, Goodfellow,

try and blend in.

Yes, sir!

GUARD CLEARS THROAT LOUDLY

Certainly takes the breath away.

Uh...I've always found it rather dark.

Trial and retribution.

The blinking of an eye between time and eternity.

The moment a soul's fate is sealed forever.

A consummate assessment.

I learned about art from my father.

Do you think the guilty ever pay for their sins?

I think you know my answer to that question.

I saw you arrive yesterday.

How is the article on Mr Cadwaller shaping up?

Oh, it will be enlightening, I can promise you that.

A fitting obituary to a colourful career.

No sign of him so far. Maybe he got cold feet.

-IN PLUMMY VOICE:

-As I said to Her Majesty only last Tuesday,

the monarchy is safe in your hands.

I am often called upon to offer discreet advice,

as a redoubtable stalwart of the peerage.

Are we perhaps getting a bit carried away?

Listen, I'm going to go and look for McConnell.

-IN OWN VOICE:

-Well, I don't think much of the paintings.

Far too much naked flesh.

-HUSHED:

-I think we should concentrate on the matter in hand.

-HUSHED:

-Now, he strikes me as a very likely suspect.

I think that's the mayor, Mrs McCarthy.

And I think you told me Flambeau is a master of disguise.

Oh, don't you worry, Father.

Nothing gets past me.

Father Brown! I wondered where you'd got to.

That's all we need.

Lady Felicia.

-How was Scotland?

-Rather weird.

You simply have to meet a new friend of mine. He's American.

Oh, he was here a moment ago.

Excuse me.

Unfinished business.

Why are you wearing my tiara?

I'm working undercover

as the Dowager Duchess of Worcester.

Well, you are a loss to the aristocracy.

Oh, thank you so much.

Perhaps you'd care to tell me what I've missed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I should like to...

-"congratulate you..." Oh!

-Zut alors!

-Pardonnez-moi!

-You imbecile!

Votre chemise! Wet! Wet! Wet!

G'oh! Get on with your work!

I've got to go and get changed for my welcoming speech, haven't I?!

HE BREATHES HEAVILY

I finished the article.

-You shouldn't be in here.

-I wanted you to read it.

Yes, well, I have a speech to make.

I'd read it now...if I were you.

I've made you a copy.

A list of priceless artwork.

Matisse, Klimt, Egon Schiele...

Perhaps you're familiar with them.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Paintings stolen by the Nazis from Jewish families.

Abramsky.

Braunstein.

Himelbaum.

Perhaps you remember me now.

HE EXHALES HEAVILY

Well, I wish someone had warned me.

We don't even know if Flambeau's here.

TICKING

I might have known.

A bomb.

It's a bomb...it's a bomb!

Sergeant! SCREAMING AND SHOUTING

DROWNED OUT BY COMMOTION

There's no need to panic!

Speak for yourself!

Quick as you can, come on!

They need some help. A bomb!

Boom! Boom!

Allez! Allez!

HE SNORTS

Misdirection.

A classic diversionary tactic.

I'd love to stop and chat,

but there's a painting I need to steal.

And if I tried to stop you?

That wouldn't be advisable.

Not while I've got a knife in my hand.

Hmm.

A painting on the theme of redemption.

A irresistible prize.

A welcome addition to my private collection.

And will you be strolling out of here in broad daylight?

That might be imprudent.

Perhaps I should narrow the odds in my favour.

HE WHISTLES

Hercule?

Rebecca?

-TICKING

-Red...

in, black in.

Red out.

He's got the painting.

TICKING STOPS

-BUZZING

-Oh, no.

It's going to blow! Get down!

LOUD POP

Thank you, Inspector.

CLOCK CHIMES "LA MARSEILLAISE"

One of these days...

The painting!

Oh, no, you don't...

The painting's gone! Seal the exits.

I want everyone searched.

Have you seen Father Brown?

He must be still inside.

That's him! That's our man!

I need to get you out of here.

-I can't leave the others!

-It isn't safe.

Well, of all the nerve!

Get your greasy hands off me!

Himelbaum.

I've been looking at your war record.

Distinguished service.

Military Medal.

Unexploded mortar shell.

Blew up in my face when I was trying to defuse it.

I should be a hero.

But you fell victim to a life of crime.

Written off.

In favour of men who barely saw service.

You realise you'll get ten more years for this?

Bomb wasn't real.

If we don't catch Flambeau,

you'll take the rap.

He paid me a visit in prison.

Hired me for the job.

-Half the money upfront...

-And now you're out of pocket.

The rest of the money's in a safety deposit box.

Cheltenham Station.

I expect he'll try and pick it up, with me indisposed.

Then we'll make sure we're waiting for him.

In the meantime,

there's a cell in this station with your name on it.

I want to talk to my solicitor.

Sergeant, get on to Cheltenham.

All available units to the railway station.

-Inspector...

-I'll meet them there.

Any news on Flambeau's whereabouts?

None that I'll be sharing with you.

It's just I'm concerned about Mr Cadwaller.

No-one's seen him since the heist.

Maybe he was in on it.

What do you mean by that?

Recently cautioned for suspected "shilling",

pushing up the value of his paintings

through fake bids at auction.

Yes, the Met investigation couldn't prove anything,

but your pal Cadwaller's got form.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've a thief to apprehend.

ENGINE REVS

He'll be halfway to France by now.

While the police waste their time chasing shadows.

HE SIGHS

Any news on Binkie?

Ashamed to show his face, no doubt.

His reputation in tatters.

Binkie Cadwaller...

is hiding a grievous secret,

if the claims made in this article can be verified.

Someone else is intent on destroying him, someone with a vested interest.

Maybe Her Ladyship knows where he's got to.

And she left with the American gentleman.

Some people know no shame.

What did the American gentleman look like?

Handsome, I suppose...in a raffish sort of way. Expensive suit...

..and French cologne.

Stolen from under our very noses.

Typical French audacity.

I didn't even get to set eyes on him.

At least they caught Flambeau's accomplice.

McConnell was expendable.

Collateral damage.

Something's been troubling me.

Well?

Don't keep me in suspense.

You offered to pick me up at 2.30.

You knew what time the preview started, even before I invited you.

You're smarter than you look.

You're no oil man.

Your hands are too soft.

I've never been to Texas.

-The climate doesn't suit me.

-I had you down for a gentleman.

You're nothing but a common thief.

I needed a ticket. You wanted attention.

How dare you presume to know anything about me!

You're trapped in a loveless marriage,

filling the void with mundane distractions.

You see each other briefly at breakfast

and His Lordship only ever looks right through you.

If you don't leave this instant, I'll ring for Hornby.

You gave the butler the evening off.

Cheltenham Picture House: Singin' In The Rain.

RUNNING FOOTSTEPS RECEDE

Hello, police?

This is Lady Felicia Montague... SHE GASPS

The police are busy searching for a thief.

The last place they'll look for him is here.

BELL RINGS

-Oh, thank goodness!

-Well, if it isn't the bishop.

I was expecting you earlier.

Tell me you've brought reinforcements.

I'm afraid I came alone.

Not even armed with your trusty umbrella?

Ah, in all the excitement,

I must have left it in the cloakroom.

Inept and forgetful - you ARE losing your touch.

Rebecca Himelbaum.

You know her.

I knew her once.

In another life.

A wartime liaison that ended abruptly.

Bitte! Bitte! Nein, nein, nein!

Vater!

Rebecca! Nein!

-Bitte, nehmen Sie sie nicht weg!

-Rebecca, nein!

Sie auch. Jetzt.

No! Lass die Finger von ihr!

BELL RINGS

Nicht bewegen!

-Los!

-Rebecca!

Bewegen!

In den Wagen!

MARCHING BOOTS Halt dein Maul!

Los!

They took the Himelbaums to Theresienstadt,

a camp near the Elbe.

I never saw any of them again.

-Until today.

-I was convinced Rebecca had been murdered.

A victim of the Holocaust.

Binkie betrayed her.

Cadwaller knew the Himelbaums owned priceless works of art.

He struck a deal with the SS.

He sent them to their deaths in return for a cut of the loot.

You're lying.

It soon became a lucrative habit.

Binkie might be a rogue, but he wouldn't stoop that low.

As soon as the war ended, he sold on the art

for an exorbitant profit.

There were plenty of buyers.

The Vatican, for one.

You stole that painting to settle a grudge.

This time it was personal.

-Where is it now?

-That would be telling.

Must be well hidden, otherwise I would have spotted it.

Rebecca is determined to exact her own revenge.

Why do women always complicate things?

The police will arrest her for murder, unless we find her.

Cadwaller deserves all he gets.

Do you want her to hang?

The past is history.

-It's of no concern to me.

-This is your chance to make amends.

This time you CAN save her.

We don't even know where she's taken him.

Someone will have seen them leaving the Belvedere.

Two office doors.

BOTH: They never left the museum.

CHURCH BELL TOLLS

I've been compiling a dossier since the war,

enough damning evidence to lock you up for life.

Circumstantial evidence.

You'll never be able to prove a thing.

First the Jews were forced to hide their art.

Then they were forced to hide themselves.

Now it is the Nazis who are hiding.

The Nazis and their collaborators.

I had no idea what the SS were doing.

You won't be around to refute the claims.

-I doubt you'll be missed.

-You're insane!

You were party to genocide.

-I've presented the evidence.

-This is your trial.

Ways to kill a war criminal...

I could leave you here to starve...

..untie you now and shoot you while you escape.

They say gas is a quick way to die.

We can't ask the people you sent to the camps.

Please...

-this is madness.

-Dangerously toxic in confined spaces.

Thick steel walls.

No-one will hear you scream.

We've only got an hour before Lady Felicia calls the police.

You keep him talking...

I'll break his neck.

GLASS SMASHING

Ah, I only meant to hit the bonnet.

Misdirection.

I'll make a thief of you yet.

A hoard of buried treasure, safe from prying eyes.

And thieving hands.

There are worse sins than avarice.

A sin is a sin.

Sin requires guilt,

a cognitive emotion I've never experienced.

Rebecca? You loved her once.

Love is an indulgence

that leads only to weakness.

A trap, like religion. I'll never make the same mistake again.

It's a very lonely predicament.

You took a vow of celibacy.

Every night in an empty bed?

I can always talk to God.

Praying for some company? Now, I'd say that was lonely.

I think we should split up.

I think so too.

Rebecca?

GUN COCKS

Cadwaller is mine.

I didn't come back for Cadwaller.

What did you turn into...

while I festered in that place?

I thought you were dead.

You're no better than the man who betrayed us.

I stole the painting to ruin him.

I didn't need your help.

Vengeance is God's alone.

You brought me a priest?

He will face justice.

My mother died of typhoid in Birkenau.

I held her in my arms...

and she didn't even know me.

This is not the way.

My father was killed in Auschwitz.

Betrayed and condemned,

deprived of his dignity,

the people he loved.

But you survived.

It took me eight long years to find the proof to damn Cadwaller.

And now I'm supposed to forgive?

If it helps you to find peace, yes.

It's a little too late for a homily, Father.

If Cadwaller dies, you'll hang.

Bittersweet revenge.

I give you my word...

..he will face justice,

in return for his life.

I locked him in.

-HISSING

-Help me!

Please, God! Somebody!

HE COUGHS AND SPLUTTERS

If you ever really loved me, you'd let him die.

If that man dies, she will be a murderer.

-I'll see she gets away.

-To live like you?

A fugitive?

You owe her more than that.

Open it.

He unlocked the vault with a gun to his head.

I don't even know the combination.

For once in your life, use your dubious skills for good.

Drive camshaft. Three-digit encryption.

14.

We're running out of time.

To crack a lock like this could take hours.

I need tools. Silence.

14?

The year in the painting.

1452.

14-5-2?

Try that?

CHOKING AND GASPING

HE COUGHS AND SPLUTTERS

An early death would be too good for you.

The police will be arriving soon.

I wouldn't want them to find you here.

Say a prayer for the Himelbaums, Father.

After all, we share the same god.

Go after her.

I went to the camp after liberation.

No names.

Only numbers.

So you consigned me to history?

-It was easier.

-Easier?

For whom?

I tortured myself for not being able to save you.

It was only a memory that kept me alive.

The memory of someone I loved.

So you see, you did save me.

Perhaps I could search for the man I once was.

We've both changed.

We're strangers now.

I would never have been enough for you.

You sent them to their deaths.

-It was just business.

-They were murdered...

-..for a painting?

-If you expose me,

you'll implicate the church.

The guilty will answer for what they have done.

And you will pay with a proper trial.

The first time I held it...

..I was looking into heaven.

I saw the wicked...

..condemned to doom.

To damnation.

I saw my own fate.

God is a merciful judge.

There is always redemption for those who truly seek it.

I still want you to return that painting.

I thought I'd hang it in my dressing room.

And what will it remind you of?

This is hardly the time for a sermon.

You've exiled yourself to a life of purgatory.

Surrounded by beautiful things.

Because your soul is dark.

You grew up without your father.

You couldn't help Rebecca.

Is it because you couldn't save them?

You are a bereaved human being who now chooses to feel nothing.

The choices are mine to make.

There's no going back.

My valet will be waiting.

Then you mustn't let me keep you.

The forecast is for evening showers.

Why don't you take this?

At least let me protect you from the rain.

A reckless offer to make to a thief.

Well, I know that I will get it back when I see you again.

SIREN APPROACHES

A bientot, Father Brown.

TYRES SCREECH

-Where's Flambeau?

-I'm afraid...he gave me the slip.

He played me for a fool.

Beguiled and deceived by easy flattery.

Yes, well, Flambeau can be quite the charmer.

You let him off the hook. Again.

You're beginning to sound like Inspector Sullivan.

On top of everything else, I've just had the bishop on the telephone,

"anguished" and "outraged" at the loss of the painting.

Wait till he reads about Binkie's wartime exploits.

-Oh...!

-There'll be quite a few sweaty palms in St Peter's.

I made a promise to Rebecca,

and we're all going to have to live with the consequences.

While Flambeau gets away with the stolen loot.

-Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

-How on earth did you find it?

He didn't have the painting when he left the museum.

Events conspired against him.

'He realised that I could help him get it out of the Belvedere,

'hidden in my brolly.

'Some clever improvisation to evade the police.'

That's him! That's our man!

I need to get you out of here.

-I can't leave the others!

-It isn't safe.

He knew I'd work out where he was hiding.

An unwitting accomplice.

Unfortunately for Flambeau...

..I can be absent-minded.

"For what shall it profit a man

"if he gain the whole world

"and suffer the loss of his soul."

Argh!

HE MUTTERS IN FRENCH

So wait,

he didn't go back to save Rebecca?

Who knows?

But for Flambeau,

redemption is still...

..a long way off.