- Grace: There's a family with kids. Do the kids first and make the mother watch. Tell her you'll stop if she can hold back her tears. I *owe* her that.
- The Big Man: Rapists and murders may be the victims according to you, but I, I call them dogs. And if they're lapping up their own vomit, the only way to stop them is with a lash.
- Grace: But dogs only obey their own nature, so why shouldn't we forgive them?
- The Big Man: Dogs can be taught many useful things, but not if we forgive them every time they obey their own nature.
- Narrator: How could she ever hate them for what was at bottom merely their weakness? She would probably have done things like those that had befallen her if she had lived in one of these houses. To measure them by her own yardstick, as her father put it. Would she not, in all honesty, have done the same as Chuck and Vera and Ben and Mrs Henson and Tom and all these people in their houses? Grace paused and as she did, the clouds scattered and let the moonlight through, and Dogville underwent another of those little changes of light. It was as if the light previously so merciful and faint finally refused to cover up for the town any longer. Suddenly, you could no longer imagine a berry that would appear one day on a gooseberry bush, but only see the thorn that was there right now. The light now penetrated every unevenness and flaw in the buildings and in the people. And all of a sudden, she knew the answer to her question all too well. If she had acted like them, she could not have defended a single one of her actions and could not have condemned them harshly enough. It was as if her sorrow and pain finally assumed their rightful place. No. What they had done was not good enough. And if one had the power to put it to rights, it was one's duty to do so - for the sake of other towns, for the sake of humanity and not least, for the sake of the human being that was Grace herself.
- [last lines]
- Narrator: Whether Grace left Dogville, or on the contrary Dogville had left her - and the world in general - is a question of a more artful nature that few would benefit from by asking, and even fewer by providing an answer. And nor indeed will it be answered here.
- [after Chuck sees Grace teaching his kids]
- Chuck: How is it going otherwise with the fooling act?
- Grace: I wasn't trying to fool anyone.
- Chuck: I mean Dogville. Has it got you fooled yet?
- Grace: I thought you were implying that I was trying to exploit the town.
- Chuck: Wishful thinking. This town is rotten from the inside out and I wouldn't miss it if it fell into the gorge tomorrow. I see no charm here. But you seem to. Admit it, you've fallen for Dogville. The trees, the mountains, the simple folk. And if all that ain't got you fooled yet, I bet the cinnamon has. That damned cinnamon in those gooseberry pies. Dogville has everything that you ever dreamed of in the big city.
- Grace: You're worse than Tom. How do you know what I dreamed of? You're from the city yourself, aren't you?
- Chuck: That was a long time ago. I'm not that stupid anymore. I've found out that people are the same all over. Greedy as animals. In a small town they're just a bit less successful. Feed 'em enough, they'll eat till their bellies burst.
- Grace: That's why you want to get rid of me... Because you can't stand that I remind you of what it was you came here to find.
- Grace: What? What is it?
- Tom: A man can't really be blamed for being scared, now can he?
- Grace: No.
- Tom: No. I was scared, Grace. I used you and I am sorry. I'm stupid, I am, maybe even arrogant sometimes.
- Grace: You are, Tom.
- Tom: Although using people is not very charming, I think you have to agree that this - specific illustration has surpassed all expectations. It says so much about being human! It's been painful, but I think you'll also have to agree it's been edifying, wouldn't you say?
- Grace: Not now, Tom. Not now.
- [Grace walks away and reenters The Big Man's car]
- Grace: If there is any town this world would be better without, this is it.
- Narrator: Grace paused. And while she did, the clouds scattered and let the moonlight through and Dogville underwent another of those little changes of light. It was if the light, previously so merciful and faint, finally refused to cover up for the town any longer. Suddenly you could no longer imagine a berry that would appear one day on a gooseberry bush, but only see the thorn that was there right now. The light now penetrated every unevenness and flaw in the buildings and... in the people! And all of a sudden she knew the answer to her question all too well: if she had acted like them, she could not have defended a single one of her actions and could not have condemned them harshly enough.
- Narrator: [as McKay explores even further with his hand] It was not Grace's pride that kept her going during the days when fall came and the trees were losing their leaves, but more of a trance like state that descends on animals whose lives are threatened - a state in which the body reacts mechanically in a low tough gear, without too much painful reflection. Like a patient passively letting his disease hold sway.
- Vera: I believe smashing them is less a crime than making them. I am going to break two of your figurines first, and if you can demonstrate your knowledge of the Doctrine of Stoicism by holding back your tears, I'll stop.
- [Vera starts to tear up]
- Vera: Please don't say such nice things about the kids. I cry too easily. Both in sorrow and in joy.
- Grace: All I see is a beautiful little town in the midst of magnificent mountains. A place where people have hopes and dreams even under the hardest conditions.
- Narrator: And then it was as if Dogville just waited. Even the wind dropped, leaving the town in an unfamiliar calm. As if somebody had put a large cheese dish cover over it, and created the kind of quietness that descends while you're awaiting visitors.
- [after being left the "last man standing"]
- Tom: Bingo, Grace, bingo. I have to tell you, your illustration, it beat the hell out of mine. It's frightening, yes, but so clear. Do you think I can allow myself to use it as a inspiration in my writing?
- Grace: So I'm arrogant? I'm arrogant because I forgive people.
- The Big Man: My God,can't you see how condescending you are when you say that? I mean you have-- you have this preconceived notion that nobody, listen-- that nobody can possibly attain the same high ethical standards as you, so you exonerate them. I cannot-- I cannot think of anything more arrogant than that.
- Tom: I think if Dogville had any significant symbolic meaning it wouldn't have an ordinary name like Dogville.
- [first lines]
- Narrator: This is the sad tale of the township of Dogville. Dogville was in the Rocky Mountains in the US of A, up here where the road came to its definitive end, near the entrance to the old abandoned silver mine. The residents of Dogville were good honest folks, and they liked their township. And while a sentimental soul from the East Coast had once dubbed their main street Elm Street, though no elm had ever cast its shadow in Dogville, they saw no reason to change anything. Most of the buildings were pretty wretched, more like shacks, frankly. The house in which Tom lived was the best, though, and in good times, might almost have passed for presentable. That afternoon, the radio was playing softly, for in his dotage, Thomas Edison senior had developed a weakness for music of the lighter kind.
- [Tom offers a piece of bread to Grace]
- Tom: You want to eat? You must be hungry.
- Grace: I can't. I don't deserve that bread. I stole that bone. I've never stolen anything before. So now, now I have to punish myself. I was raised to be arrogant. So, I... I had to teach myself these things.
- Tom: Well, it may be for your education. Grace, in this town... In these times... It's very impolite not to eat what's set before you.
- Narrator: It was as if the light, previously so merciful and faint, finally refused to cover up for the town any longer. Suddenly you could no longer imagine a berry that would appear one day on a gooseberry bush, but only see the thorn that was there right now. The light now penetrated every unevenness and floor in the buildings and... in the people.
- Narrator: [as Grace attempts to make her case] If forgiveness was close at hand in the mission house, they were all hiding it well. It hadn't been easy for Tom to get them there. Appealing to consciences stowed farther and farther away by their owners every day, as if they were as fragile as Henson's glasses after polishing, proved quite a task. But if one was going, the others might as well come along too, so nobody could talk behind anybody's back.
- Grace: Why shouldn't I be merciful? Why?
- The Big Man: No, no, no, you should, you should be merciful when there's time to be merciful. But, you must maintain your own standards. You owe them that, you owe them that. The penalty you deserve for your transgression, they deserve for their transgressions.
- Grace: They're human beings, Dad.
- The Big Man: No, no, no, of course-- but does every human being need to be accountable for their actions? Of course they do, but you don't even give them that chance.
- [first title cards]
- Title Card: The film "DOGVILLE" as told in nine chapters and a prologue
- Title Card: PROLOGUE (which introduces us to the town and its residents)