Island in the Sun

Are you afraid of Boyeur too?
He represents the people, or they think he does.
It amounts to the same thing.

You don't think I have
a chance of winning, do you?

- No.
- Well, I do!

I'm not afraid of Boyeur!
I'm not afraid of opposing him!

Is there something to drink?
I'd like a sour.

Your father and I were talking about
taking Jocelyn to England for a while.

It's death for a young girl
like her on this island.

She ought to have the chance
of meeting the right people, don't you think?

Do you think he'd ever trust me
to run the estate single-handed?

Your father felt like that about
the election because he was concerned for you...

- what a defeat might mean to you.
- Was he?

I don't remember his ever
being concerned about me before.

I can't remember his ever
worrying whether or not I went to England...

whether I ever had a chance
to meet the right people.

All I've ever had
is this dreary island.

Ah, now,
you're not being fair.

Fair? I'm being truthful.
I know what people say.

I know what people think.
I know what you think. I know what he thinks.

I never lived up
to the great Fleury name.

But I might have,
if I'd gone to Oxford and Eton like Arthur did.

Many things might
have been different.

But instead you sent me
to school here with a load of colored brats.

All I ever heard about was Arthur-
how well he was doing,
what good reports you had.

That's who father cared about.
Elder son, apple of his eye.
- Arthur's dead.
- No, he's not dead. He's alive.

Always will be for him.
And I'll always live in his shadow.

Charming Arthur. Modest Arthur.
And then Arthur
dead in the war, a- a hero.

- Maxwell, be quiet, will you?
- All right. Father was kind.

He gave Sylvia and me Belfontaine
as a wedding present.

A decaying house out
on the God-forsaken tip of the island.

And I'm supposed to be grateful
for being Julian Fleury's son.

I'd have been better off
if I'd been born black.