by James Ivory
United Kingdom, 1985

Synopsis:

Lucy Honeychurch, a young, upper-class Edwardian woman is trying to sort out her burgeoning romantic feelings, divided between an enigmatic free spirit she meets on vacation in Florence and the priggish bookworm to whom she becomes engaged back in Surrey. Adapted from E. M. Forster’s 1908 novel.

A costume drama, which turned into an arthouse sensation and a swooning, sensual take on E.M. Forster’s classic romance, starring a cast of British royalty and feted with 3 Oscars.

-The scene is set in Florence.
The sunset. The sunset of Italy.
Under Orcagna's loggia, the Loggia de Lanzi, as we sometimes call it now.

-There's an absurd account of a view which I will spare you.
-Oh, do read it.
What do you think of our view, Mr. Emerson?
-My father says there's only one perfect view and that's the view of the sky over out heads.

"Afar off, the towers of Florence.
And she wandered as though in a dream through the wavering, golden sea of barley touched with crimson stains of poppies. All unobserved, he came to her."

-Isn't it immortal?

"There came from his lips no wordy protestations such as formal lover use. No eloquence was his, nor did he suffer from the lack of it. He simply enfolded her in his manly arms."

-No, this isn't the bit. There's another much funnier further on.
-Should we go in to tea?
-By all means, tea rather than Eleanor Lavish.

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-Oh, I would have held back if your Cecil had been a different person. But he's the sort who can't know anyone intimately, least of all a woman. He doesn't know what a woman is. He wants you for a possession, something to look at, like a painting ot an ivory box. Something to own and to display. He doesn't want you to be real, to think and to live. He doesn't love you. But I love you. I want you to have your own thoughts and ideas and feelings even when I hold you in my arms.

-Do you understand how lucky people are when they find what's right for them? It's such a blessing. Don't you see?

-You can take all those. But leave me Thoreau till I go, I need him by me now.

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-There is only one thing impossible. That's to love... and to part.