Paramount+ original film Cold Mountain was released December 25, 2003.
#ColdMountain made $173M at the international box office.
rottentomatoes: 70%
metacritic: 73
imdb: 7.2
oscars: 1 win
golden globes: 1 win
SAG awards: 1 win
Ada Monroe
Ada Monroe inherits Black Cove Farm in Cold Mountain, North Carolina.
“‘Dear Mr. Inman, I began by counting the days, then the months. I don’t count on anything anymore except the hope that you will return, and the silent fear that in the years since we saw each other, this war, this awful war, will have changed us both beyond all reckoning.'” — Ada Monroe
“‘I think now on the fleeting moments between us and wish I could repair them. My awkward nature, the things left unsaid.'” — Ada Monroe
“‘When I came with my father to the town of Cold Mountain, I was so shy of how I looked, so out of place. But did you know how happy I was to escape from Charleston, from a world of slaves and corsets and cotton?'” — Ada Monroe
“Good morning. Not at all. It’s very beautiful. Oh. No, I doubt that. Any one? Your top field cleared? Good morning. I’m Ada Monroe. Inman. Wp Inman. If you were to take a glass of cider, your friends might stop staring. Inman. And what do you do? Clear fields? WAs there something in particular you wished to say to me?” — Ada Monroe
“Good morning, Sally. Oh. My piano. Oh, I’ve been missing it. Oh, dear! And then he had nothing to say. Really? Men? I don’t know. I should be gettin’ along. Thank you. Were you never planning to come inside? There’s a good fire going. I was going to take some root beer over to the Negroes. Somebody said you were enlisting. Are you? Did you get a picture made? A tintype, with your musket and your courage on display. I don’t know you. It is. It is.” — Ada Monroe
“‘What if you were killed, and I’ll never see you again? You said after a few years, I would barely remember your name. Oh, Inman. It is more than three years, and I remember your name.’ Thank you. Uh, Mr. Inman is more comfortable outdoors. Perhaps we might… perhaps we might take a walk. Let me just get your hat.” — Ada Monroe
“Well, you have your war. But then who’ll be waiting for you? I found you this book to take with you. William Bartram. They tell me it’s good. I think he writes about these parts, the author. So… and this. I’m not smiling in it. I don’t know how to do that. Hold a smile. What? I’ll be waiting for you.” — Ada Monroe
“Yes. But then I’ve tried countin’ the number of words which have passed between Mr. Inman and me. Not very many. But I think about him, Daddy. All the time. That was the last of the ham. I have to learn how to cook. I can’t have people coming here and cooking for me. I’m not sorry. I would have followed you anywhere. To Mongolia. But with no one left to work this place. Nothing to buy, nothing left to buy it with. I just don’t know how we’re gonna get through another winter. It’s too damp out here. You should come inside. Daddy, bring the tablecloth in. Come inside before you drown.” — Ada Monroe
“‘Dear Mr. Inman… since you’ve left, time has been measured out in bitter chapters. Last fall, my poor father died. Our farm at Black Cove is abandoned. Every house in these mountains touched by tragedy. Each day the dread of learning who has fallen, who will not return from this terrible war. And no word from you. Are you alive? I pray to God you are. This war is lost on the battlefield and is being lost twice over by those who stayed behind. I’m still waiting, as I promised I would. But I find myself alone and at the end of my wits. Too embarrassed to keep taking from those who can least afford to give.’ Shoo! Go away! Devil!” — Ada Monroe
“‘My last thread of courage now is to put my faith in you…’ come on. ‘…and to believe I will see you again. So now I say to you, plain as I can, if you are fighting, stop fighting. If you are marching, stop marching.’ ‘Come back to me. Come back to me is my request.’ Is there a letter for me? Might I speak with you, please? This was the Reverend Monroe’s. I don’t know who would want a watch. Who can bear to look at the time? Thank you. Oh, no! I manage very well, whatever the talk is. I’m very grateful for the pork. Which I intend to pay for, of course. Mmm-hmm.” — Ada Monroe
“No, I can’t. I don’t… I can’t keep countin’ on your kindness. There are no people. And there’s no money. My father had some bonds and investments. They’re worthless now, of course. The war… they’re not worth anything. I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t wanna go. What kind of mirror? Uh… uh… I don’t know.” — Ada Monroe
“‘Yesterday, I saw you walkin’ back to me. Or thought I did. I found myself crouching over Sally Swanger’s well. Like a madwoman staring into its secrets. Was it you I saw walking home to me, or was it your ghost? After so long, I know I must learn to survive on my own and accept you will not return. And yet I cannot. I cannot.’ I don’t know you. I… I need help, but… I do need help, but I need a laborer. There’s… there’s plowing and rough work. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. The rake? My plight? You’re not a servant. Right. There’s a rooster. He’s the Devil, I’m sure of it. I go near him and he is at me with his spurs. He’s Lucifer himself. Oh, no, I wouldn’t…” — Ada Monroe
“Yes. What… it’s still dark. Oh, I… I just have to eat somethin’. A novel. Maul? Sixteen. Number 16.” — Ada Monroe
Ruby Thewes
Best Actress in a Supporting Role
1 win: 2004
Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in any Motion Picture
1 win: 2004
Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role
1 win: 2004
“Them cows wants milkin’. If that letter ain’t urgent, them cows is, is what I’m sayin’. Old lady Swanger says you need help. Here I am. What’s that rake for? Well, it ain’t for gardenin’, that’s for sure. Number one, you got a horse? I can plow all day. I’m a worker. Number two, ain’t no man better than me, ’cause there ain’t no man around who ain’t hold or full of mischief. I know your plight. Am I hard to hear? ‘Cause you keep repeatin’ everything. I ain’t lookin’ for money, I never cared for it and now it ain’t worth nothin’. I expect to board and eat, at the same table. I ain’t a servant, if you get my meanin’. People’s gonna have to empty their own night jars is my point. And I don’t expect to work whilst you sit around and watch, neither. Right. Is that a yes or a no? I despise a floggin’ rooster. My name’s Ruby Thewes. I know your name. Let’s put him in a pot.”
“Hey, Ada. You up? Tell that to the cows. It’s late. You all set? Then you got to get up earlier. What’s that? You wanna carry a book, carry one you can write in. We got our own story. It’s called Black Cove Farm Catastrophe. I can spell it, too. Learned it the same place you did, in the schoolhouse. One of the first words they taught me. ‘Ruby Thewes, you are a C-A-T-A-S-T-R-O-P-H-E.’ Three years I was in school, before my daddy… sayin’ God rest his soul is like wishin’ him what he had in life. He lived to rest. He was born tired. He decided better use for me, than havin’ me sat all day in front of a chalkboard.”
“Number one… lay out a winter garden for cool season crops. Turnips right there, onions, cabbage. Collards. Number two, patch the shingles on the barn roof. Have we got a maul and froe? Maul. M-A-U-L. Number three, clear and turn this field. No harm done lettin’ it go. Now we’ll do well. Number 15. Number 16. Put up some gourds for a martin colony. Keep away these crows. One thing in abundance on this farm, and that’s crows. Shut the gate.”
WP Inman
“It’s Mo Oakley’s boy. Can’t be old enough to fight, can he? Morning, son. Here, you want that? Thanks. Same as us. Seen too much war.”
“Inman. WP Inman. Repeatin’ a thing doesn’t improve it. People call me Inman. Thank you. I work wood, hunt. Mostly work wood. I can clear a field. Not that comes to me. I’ll say thank you for the cider.”
“What? Oakley. Oakley! Oakley! Oakley! Oakley! Come on! I’ve got you. I got a few. I saw. Your folks can be real proud of you. Son, this fellow says he’ll play whatever you want. You heard him.”
“Walk on, quickly. Come on. Walk on, slowly. Walk on. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m wetter than a fish. I’m all right. You’re always carrying a tray. If there is a war, we’ll all fight. Say again? Your laughin’ at me. This doesn’t come out right. If it were enough just so stand, without the words… you look… look… look at the sky now. What color is it? Or the way a hawk flies? Or you wake up, and your ribs are bruised thinking so hard on somebody. What do you call that? I’ll do that. I can’t get much wetter.”
“Go around. Butcher’s down. Run! Go! Go! Go! It’s us! It’s us!”
“Supposed to bring good luck, a bird caught in a room. Reverend. I have some sheet music. It belonged to my father. No use to me. I should probably get along. It’s what people say we’re fightin’ for. To keep it that way. I imagine God is weary of being called down on both sides of an argument. That’s right. He was a teacher. He’s not. No, sir. She died when I was born.”
“Ada… Ada. Are you the law all of a sudden, Mr. Teague? You might be safer back in Charleston. Wait. Thank you. Ada.”
“Pigeon River… Cold Mountain. Cold Mountain. Cold Mountain.”
“Seems that way. I’ve been meanin’ to ask you, where’d you take your wound? What would you give for that? To have your eyeballs for ten minutes. Then we don’t agree. There’s not much I wouldn’t give ten minutes of someplace.”
“Hey. Don’t do that. I killed several of them. What part of God’s business is throwin’ a woman down a gorge? Is she dead? Come on. Back up. You’re gonna put her back where she sleeps. So you reckon to kill her? What, because she’s a slave? Where’s some paper and a pencil?”
Reverend Monroe
“Ben, thank you. Will you assist my daughter? Mr. Swanger! Good morning to you. Esco, you remember my daughter, Ada. Morning! Excellent progress! Mrs. Swanger, Mrs. Castlereagh. Now, if y’all will excuse me. In Charleston, my congregation would still be disputing the size of windows.”
“My dear daughter, Ada, who’s given up so much for so long to help me in my ministry, and upon whom I rely. Friends, we are both very happy to have this opportunity tonight to thank you from our hearts for your kind welcome and, most of all, such a fine chapel. So… thank you and God bless you. Our house is always open to any of you at any time. Welcome. Esco? That gentleman, he help build the chapel? There’s no advantage here, except to celebrate a job well done. And that is a good thing in these troubled times.”
“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. Should just be a few seconds. Mr. Inman! What can I do for you? You must come in. A splendid idea! I dragged my poor daughter 400 miles, from Charleston to Cold Mountain, because my doctors, they’ve been sayin’ my chest is weak. So the air’s supposed to do me good. But it’s the view I think heals. I have no plans to preach war in my church, Mr. Inman. I imagine God is. Thank you. Now, your father played the piano, did he? And is your father living, Mr. Inman? And your mother?”
“Do you worry when there’s no word from him? From Mr. Inman? I lost your mother after 22 months of marriage. It was enough to fill a life. It was delicious. I was thinking of saying something in chapel. Perhaps some of the womenfolk will volunteer. I so… I so regret… I should have raised you less like a companion and more like a young woman. I’m sorry, Ada. And for dragging you here. Mongolia. Will you play me somethin’? Somethin’ peaceful while I look over my sermon. No, I like it. That’s sure what seeing’s done to me.”
Cold Mountain, North Carolina
“What do you fools think you’ll be fightin’ for? The South? I call this nail Northern Aggression. damn right! I call this nail a Yankee skull. Last time I checked, the South was a direction. I never figured you for a Lincoln lover, JT. I tell you, as soon as I finish this chapel, I’m gonna go off and kill me some Yankees. Piss and vinegar. Fightin’ for a rich man’s slave, that’s what. Whoa, here comes the minister. Lord, have mercy! Look at that bonnet. Look what’s in it. Oakley, hand me the hammer, boy. That’s a true Southern belle.”
“Morning, Reverend. Miss Monroe. Morning! Morning, Reverend. It’s a chapel. How ’bout that? Inman speaks. You’re just jealous. I’m gonna take her for a walk at Bishop’s Creek.”
“Him? No, that’s Teague. At one time, the Teague family owned the whole of Cold Mountain. My farm, your farm, it all belonged to his grandpappy. Teague wanted this place bad, and you got it. And he’s here sniffin’ out an advantage. Miss Monroe.”
“Inman’ll get it.”
“♪ Farewell, vain lord I’m going home ♪ My savior smiles and bids me come ♪ And I don’t care to stay here long ♪ Sweet angels beckon me away ♪ To sing God’s praise in endless day ♪ And I don’t care to stay here long ♪ Right up yonder Christians… secession. North Carolina left the Union. ♪ O, yes my Lord ♪ For I don’t care to stay here long… whoo! We got our war! ♪… that I am born to die… we got the war! We got the war. ♪ …my soul shall fly ♪ And I don’t care to stay here long ♪ Bright angels shall convey me home ♪ Away to New Jerusalem ♪ And I don’t care to stay here long ♪ We got our war! We got it! We got it! It’s about time! Whoo! All right! Inman! Inman! Ready to fight, son! Ready to fight! Whoo! We got our war, man! Hey, Teague! Why ain’t you fightin’? ‘Cause he’s too old. Yeah! Three cheers for North Carolina! All right! Three cheers for the South! Hip-hip… hurrah! Hip-hip… hurrah! Hip hip… hurrah!”
“Whoa! He’ll be back in a month! Kiss her for me. Come on, let’s go! Lookin’ good, Butcher! Bring home some Yankee scalps, Swimmer! Yee-haw!”
“Look at the state of this place. Nothin’. We’ve been gettin’ no post through at all. The sooner we lose this war the better. They say not one boy in ten is comin’ home to these mountains. Teague and his rabble throwin’ their weight around. They’re worse than the Yankees. I’ve got a little salt pork you can have. Keep your daddy’s watch. I was talkin’ to some of the other womenfolk about maybe lookin’ in on you at Black Cove. It’s hard right now, but…”
“I just wanna stop, I tell you. Yeah. Sit on the porch with Sal. Watch my boys in the fields. Holler ‘good job!’ every hour or so. You’re waiting on a feller. Look down our well… she should. If you look down our well with a mirror, you’ll see the future, is what they say. You do it. She does it. I got her. See anything?”
Sally Swanger
“Miss Monroe, I was just thinkin’ about you. Cold Mountain must feel like the end of the world. Well, you put us all to shame. Men up here had a bearing on what they thought a woman was, and then you showed up. Oh, believe me. If you was to say a word to one of these fools, I could get my top field cleared. No. Uh… him in particular. Up in the rafters. Won’t normally say boo to a goose. He’s been pressin’ me since the day you arrived here. That’s right.”
“Well, that’s a fine-sounding thing. Thank you, by the way. Inman’s in my top field, clearing his debt. He was happy. Are men so different in Charleston? If you’re sayin’ you might like him, why not go over and say good mornin’?”
“Ada! It’s Sally! Ada! Well, set it on the porch. She let them slaves go free, and now… poor soul. She’s got nobody and nothin’, and waitin’ on a ghost.”
“Ada. Ada. Why, Ada, you are skinny as a whippet, girl. You are comin’ indoors with me. Now, come on, I’m makin’ a stew. We’d be proud to have you. Esco’s gonna be wantin’ his dinner. That’ll be a good day, when our boys get home. What about your people in Charleston? Oh! Esco. We’ll hold on to you. Esco, you hold on. We got you. I tried many a time. Lookin’ for a sign my boys were comin’ home. I never saw a dicky bird. Are you all right? Ada? What? What happened? What’d you see? What’d you see?”
Stobrod Thewes
“What about Bonaparte’s Retreat? That’s one I play. I only know a couple of tunes. I don’t know what music that is.”
Captain Teague
“It’s a great day for North Carolina. Those who follow Lincoln or preach abolition, you best keep one eye open when you’re sleepin’. Ol’ boogeyman might get you. That’s right, son. Home guard for Haywood County, and I’m the law from today, Ya’ll go fight now. We’ll watch over your sweethearts.”
“He ain’t comin’ back, you know that. You must know that in your heart. Look at me. I’m not nothin’.”
“Is everything all right?”
Bosie
“By order of Zebulon Vance, governor of this great state of North Carolina, any soldier turned deserter is guilty of treason and should be hunted down like a dog. Any man who takes in a deserter is likewise guilty of treason. The Home Guard is powered to enter any place it sees fit, without notice or constraint. Captain Teague needs more volunteers. Any man whose age or infirmity prevents him from fightin’ can join us to protect this county from Yankee raiders and traitors to the cause.”
Reverend Veasey
“God forgive me for doin’ this. I’m so sorry. I’m sendin’ you to a better place. You go fly away. Don’t pull that trigger. I’m a man of God. I mean I’m God’s minister. A slave woman. Can you see that in this light? Black as a bucket of tar. No, I drugged her. Like you would a butterfly. And I care for her. That’s the heartbreak of it. She’s got my bastard in her belly. I’m beggin’ you. It’s better you blow out my brains than return me to this place. I do that, the members will lynch me, for sirin’ a bastard while servin’ as their preacher. We’re a strict congregation. We’ve churched men for pickin’ up a fiddle on the Sabbath. I… um… there’s a back door. Have pity. Thank you. I was gonna do a grievous wrong. I think I should go back up to my wife. She wakes at the slightest noise.”
The North
“Move back! Go back! Move back! Help us! Help us! You’re trapped in the wrong damn crater. Whole plan backfired on us.”
“It’s a Reb! How many of them are there? I think there’s five! We got ’em.”
The South
“This poor boy’s from Alabama. He’s a long way from home. Thank you. Why don’t them Yanks just attack? Good morning. Got some boots and jackets. You want one? All right, that’s it. Enough powder here to blow a hole in the sky. Yeah, a real Yankee good mornin’. That old book of yours is in shreds. Hey, Oakley. Don’t worry, son. Them Yankee boys keep store hours. They ain’t open yet. Close it up. Hey, where’d you come from? Hey, that’s fresh breakfast. He’s mine, Butcher. Hey! Hey! Get away! Hey, I saw him first. Come on! I saw it first! That’s my rabbit! That’s my rabbit! Get your paws off my rabbit! Get your paws off my rabbit! Jesus!”
“Send them Yanks straight to hell. Hold it, hold it. Let’s go. Turn it around. Damn fools dug their own grave! We’ve got ’em now, boys! It’s a turkey shoot. It’s a turkey shoot. They’ve run themselves into a hole. Hell busted! Inman! Inman! Inman! Inman. You saw? Am I gonna die? No. Play me somethin’ sweet. Like a girl’s waiting for me. Like when you’re at Bishop’s Creek, and you’re thirsty, and the water’s so cool. I’m reachin’ Cold Mountain before you.”
“Soldiers… don’t get up. You are mentioned tough in my report. You men from Cold Mountain have once again been heroes for the cause. There are Yankees in that stand of trees between us, stuck there from the retreat. If they stay there, tomorrow mornin’ they can shoot us down for sport. Under the trees! Let’s go! Let’s go! Leave him! Leave him! He’s gone! Let’s go! Go, go! Go! Hold your fire! What’s over by them trees? Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Leave him! Leave him!”
“Inman! It belongs to Inman. I got it. He’s here. They found that book you been worryin’ about, soldier.”
“Look out the window, ladies. See what these poor fools are dyin’ for. How many would still lose a leg for the rich man’s slave? Most of these soldiers’ll be dead by morning, or if they’re stubborn, by nightfall. I’ve other men outside in the courtyard waitin’ for beds. So any kind word will be a blessin’. It’s the heat, I’m sorry. They rot. How are you, son? I… I’m sorry. You want water? Cold Mountain?”
“You have a letter. North Carolina. It’s come a long way. It’s not too recent. It’s written this past winter. I’m afraid I can’t read who it’s from. ‘Dear Mr. Inman…’ ‘come back to me.’ ‘Come back to me is my request.'”
“Wounded men, don’t stray from the hospital grounds. Hey! If they send us back to fight… hey, get your peanuts now, from the blind man. Get your hot goobers here. It’s a sad day.”
“Gettin’ better, soldier? I wouldn’t hurry. The war’s almost done. Don’t need your help to lose it. You got ten minutes now, boys. Oh, before I was born. Never set eyes on a thing in this world. Not a tree, a gun or a woman. Put my hand on all three, though. Hmm? Ten minutes? I wouldn’t give an Indian head cent. Might turn me hateful. No, that’s not the way I meant it. You said ten minutes. It’s havin’ a thing and then the loss of it, I’m talking about. Yeah, someplace or someone. You watch yourself now. They’re shootin’ men who take themselves a walk.”