All language subtitles for The Forgiven (2022) (NetNaija.com)

L'Afrique.

To Tangier.

-Tangier!
-Tangier!

How can it take this long
to sort out a car,

for fuck's sake?

It's Morocco, not Milton Keynes.

-Hey!
-What's the matter?

-Glad we aren't staying here.
-Mm.

We'll stay on the way back.
Might be interesting.

Interesting in a good way
or interesting in a bad way?

It's 400 miles to Azna.

Long way to go for a party,

but then they're more
your friends than mine.

That'll be news to Richard.

Look at them.
Continental wildebeest.

You'd think
they hadn't eaten in days.

Maybe they don't give them
any sandwiches

on those buses.

Should you still be drinking?

It's just a glass.

You'll finish the bottle
like you always do.

Why am I thinking harpy?

Why am I thinking shrill?

Why am I thinking
highly functioning alcoholic?

I've always thought
the highly functioning part

should cancel out
the alcoholic part.

You know,
like a double negative.

Besides, the roads are empty.

It's not a military timetable.

Do you want to stay here
a night?

I want to get to Richard's.

It's all right.

They treat their women
like donkeys.

To them, you're just
an escaped donkey.

You know I hate it
when you say things like that.

-Well, it's true, isn't it?
-It doesn't matter if it is.

I'd say it matters.
I'd say it matters very much.

You have no idea
how they treat their women.

None.

-Ah, Monsieur?
-Oui?

Merci.

Damn internet.

- Face it, David, we're lost.
- We're not lost.

We just have to find
the turn-off to Azna.

-Is this the right road?
-There's only one road.

We just passed through Midelt.
We should turn towards Tafnet.

I didn't see any other road
that might fit--

I didn't say anything
about Tafnet.

Doesn't matter,
this is the right--

We left too late.

Yes, of course,
it's my fault.

Because you insisted on us--

Change the bloody record,
would you?

I'm going to call Richard.

No, we're not calling
bloody anyone.

Must be one of the guests.

-But what if they're not?
-They're white, aren't they?

Strange, they didn't stop.

What if we'd had a crash?
They didn't even slow down.

-That's the turn.
-No, it's not.

-This is the turn.
-No, David.

Don't be so bloody stupid.

Welcome.

Cocktail, sir.

- Shukran. Merci.
- Fuck it, whatever.

All on your Pat Malone?

My wife ran off
with the hedge fund manager.

Oh, I did that once.

How'd it work out?

He let me keep the condo
in Cabo.

You like the music?
It's very unique.

No, it's not.

They used to play it
on every floor

of every Virgin Megastore.

Oh, you're one of those people.

Oh, maybe.

Okay, bye-bye.

Uh, thank you.

Thank you, thank you.
Thank you. Shut up.

Ladies and gentlemen,
your attention, please.

Thank you all for attending

our little soirée out here
in the desert.

This magnificent edifice
in which you'll be staying

is what's known as a Ksour.

-That's Arab for castle.
-Thank you, Dally.

The renovation proceeds at pace.

Dally and I never thought
it would turn out so well.

The renovation's
a complete farce.

And we couldn't have done it
without the wonderful help

of our little Moroccan friends.

Baksheesh.

So, look, we hope
you'll find this place

a vision of paradise.

A place in which to receive
the people we love.

But enough waffling.

Dinner will be served
promptly,

at 11:00, at which point

I encourage you
to try the pastry

stuffed with sardines
created by our chef,

monsieur Ben. Sensational.

In the meantime,
please sample the honey.

It's the best in the world,
and locally sourced.

And don't forget the figs,

traditionally representative
of a woman's vagina.

Or so we've been told.

-Sláinte.
-Sláinte.

-Dicky.
-Hey, Tom.

I didn't see you there.

Did one of the boys
get you a drink?

Can't be in a library
without a drink.

Haven't seen anyone.

Maybe they're sorting
out the quail.

Speaking of quail,
did you bring a hotsy-totsy?

Girls won't touch me these days.

What about boys?

Dally tells me
you have 1,000 girlfriends.

I've got three
and they all hate me.

You should get down to the pool.
Have you seen those Russians?

Oh là l.

David. It's Richard.

Where the bloody hell
have you and Jo got to? Call me.

-Who's that?
-Old friend.

He's an alcoholic.
I shouldn't have let him drive.

Do people get lost driving here?

All the time.
We say it's part of the charm.

You have an impressive house.

I have an eye for Islamic art,
my time at Christie's.

Why don't you live here
all year round?

One has to get a little older
before moving to the desert.

Dally's not ready yet. I am.

I take it
you're not a friend of--

I'm here on assignment
to do a profile.

But I'm really only here
because of Leila Tarki.

I have no idea who that is.

You don't know Leila Tarki?
The Moroccan auteur?

She's the coolest.

She's only here
to raise financing

-for a new movie.
-Oh, movie, huh?

-What's it about?
-Nomads.

Nomads. Right.

At least
it's not about refugees.

One thing to be thankful for.

-Nomads are going to save us.
-Are they?

They have the right
environmental ideas.

Leila says I look like a nomad.

We were driving along there...

and we saw a couple
by the side of the road.

Oh, we thought
they'd just had sex.

This is the Henningers,
the English couple?

Yes, I suppose.

Could have been bandits
dressed as English people.

Or English bandits.

Plenty of those around
of the "ass" variety.

Are you gay as well?

No, I'm not.
But I fucked a man who is.

Were they having an argument?

I don't know.

They're not here though,
are they?

Thank you, Dally.
Friends.

Life is but a sport
or a pastime,

as the Qur'an tells us.

And, because it is
a game and nothing more,

we forget that the point
of life is death.

So, eat, drink, be merry,
for tomorrow we die.

A little hackneyed, my love.

What do you think
of the outfits?

I designed them myself.

Completely authentic.

-Are they?
-Yeah they are.

They may as well be statues.

What's that supposed to mean?

-What kind of name is Dally?
-It's a nickname.

An insult or an endearment?

Take your fucking pick.

What.

Dicky.

Good God.

Hit him on the road.
It's very unclear.

Unclear?
Why would it be unclear?

They say he was selling fossils
by the side of the road.

He stepped out
and they hit him by accident.

But there has never been
a fossil seller on that road

at night.

Or during the day.
That's why it's unclear.

Anyone recognize him?

No, he's not from here.
He's from the South.

- What about the tattoo?
- A diamond.

Ouarida.

It is for protection
against the evil eye.

Didn't bloody work then, did it?

Lay him out somewhere.

-The garage?
-Yes, the garage. Good idea.

We don't want the guests
getting wind

there's a body on the premises.

Last thing we need.

Shall we clean out the car?

No, we have to call
the police in Taza.

Smashed headlights,
smashed bumper.

Must have been going
at a fair clip.

An accident, they said.

Do you believe them?

They are your guests.
How am I not to believe them?

But do you in fact believe them?

I think they're scared.
And I'm thinking of a proverb.

Go ahead.
I like a good proverb.

Open your door to a good day

and prepare yourself
for a bad one.

-David.
-Richard.

How are you feeling?

Bloody hot.

-It's the Sahara, old boy.
-I know it's the fucking Sahara.

Uh.

You're dressed for dinner.

So, the world's still normal.

You should get changed.
Both of you. Get changed.

Have a shower,
turn up for dinner.

Police will be here in an hour.

I know the officer in charge.
It will be a formality.

Oh, a formality, okay.

How did it happen?

You should tell me
before we tell the police.

Get everything ironed out.

We were bowling along
looking for the sign for Azna.

And there was a lot of sand
blowing across the road.

I couldn't see.

And he just stepped out
in front of us

like he didn't understand
the speed of a car.

The fact is we hit him.
We hit him and we killed him.

Well, the main thing
is to come clean,

cooperate with the police

and seem
overwhelmingly contrite.

-We can do that, can't we?
-Mmm.

If it's absolutely necessary.

David.

Poor fucking kid.
When are the cops getting here?

They arrive when they arrive.

They arrive when they arrive.
What kind of fucking--?

Hey, this is a fucking disaster.

-Have you checked his pockets?
-Yeah, nothing in him.

No ID, not a single dirham,
no nothing.

It's highly unusual
for a Moroccan

-not to be carrying ID.
-You're telling me.

Hey, where are those
fuckers anyway?

Dinner. Putting a brave face
on things.

-Was he drunk?
-I don't know.

They ran right over him.

The kid wasn't just hit.
Am I right?

Am I right?!

What are we going to do?
I mean, you called the cops.

Now, it's going to be
a fucking circus.

What would you suggest we do?

Get it settled tonight.
Pay him off.

They'd have to find out
who he is.

If they find that out,
things might change.

Jesus.
Are you kidding?

I don't think we have anything
to worry about.

-It's clear what happened.
-Oh, it is, is it?

Cause I don't think
it's clear at all.

I think that limey
is hiding something.

Any chance to fuck with us
and they will.

-Who?
-The Moroccans!

The family will show up
and they will fuck with us!

They'll say the infidels
killed their boy.

Which would be true.

We were saying
you must have had an accident.

A flat tire.

People always get flat tires
out in the desert.

We all felt sorry for you.

A flat tire in the dark.

What a drag. Was it?

-Can't you see they want to eat?
-No, it's all right.

We just need some time
to recover.

People disappear here.
They just vanish.

Did the Arabs molest you?

I'm sorry,
I didn't get your...

Enchanté.

She's a nomad.

Did you pass Beni Mellal?

We came through Midelt.
It's a different road.

Did you get lost?

We didn't get lost.

It was just a long
slog of a drive.

It's the road
most of us came on.

Yes, but we didn't know it.

We didn't know
which turning it was.

So, it wasn't a flat tire.
You were just lost.

Not exactly.

We hit a Moroccan on the road
and we killed him.

It was an accident.
He stepped out in front of us.

I think you're wanted.

I can't understand
why you did that.

Was it to humiliate me?

You can't keep pretending
forever. Why lie to them?

But it wasn't our fault, was it?

I mean,
you don't seriously expect me

to take the fault for this

just because
some fucking carjacker

-decided to shoot the two of--
-Carjacker.

Carjacker, yes.

You haven't been
following the news. I have.

You have a practice in Chelsea,
monsieur Henninger.

Uhm, yes, that's... Yes.

And you, madam?

You write children's books,
I believe?

Not very successful ones,
I'm afraid, Captain.

I'm sure
you're just being modest.

May I have a title
I could look up for my children?

The last one was called
Balthazar's Nighttime.

It's a little pretentious.

Ah, but it is charming.

Do you not find,
monsieur Galloway?

Charming.

This man you killed.

Boy, I should say.
He was a fossil seller.

Yes, but I mean...

It was clear
he wasn't interested

in selling us fossils.

How could he be?
This time of night.

Middle of bloody nowhere.

People here are desperate,
monsieur Henninger.

They would do almost anything
to sell a single fossil.

Forty Euros is a good sum
for them.

I'm aware of that.
I know they're poor.

We're really very sorry
about this, captain.

I mean...

We're devastated,
to be honest.

Yeah, devastated.

I'm sure you are.

By the way, I was wondering.

You are sure there was
only one boy?

-They often travel in pairs.
-Uh, yes, one boy.

You are sure.

-Yes, we're sure.
-Good.

We will record it
as an accidental death.

You'll take the body
with you?

No, we cannot do that.

We do not have a morgue
at our post.

There'll have to be arrangements
made tomorrow.

hope you can enjoy the rest
of your weekend,

monsieur Galloway.

The fire-eaters from Taza
are arriving tomorrow.

Splendid.

What do we make
of the Henningers?

She's all right.
Not sure about him.

Typical bourgeois.

-What are you doing?
-Stepping on diamonds.

It's taboo.

I hope the genies
get pissed off.

God's sake, David.

Oh, I hate all this ethnic
pretense and affectation.

You can treat people decently

without rolling their carpets
out everywhere.

Bloody kitsch.

A drink drink? Mm.

Hot chocolate's good. Yum.

I don't like the sound
of those dogs.

They should drive them off.

I think they're wild camels.
I heard one of the staff say--

Staff? Servants, you mean?

Oh, whatever.

They should still
drive them off.

Camels bite.

I hear they do.

They like to bite people
in the stomach.

It's the leading cause
of death among the Arabs.

The police will do nothing.

And what do you expect them
to do?

I heard one of the boys saying
his legs were pulped.

The dead man.
Pulped?

They didn't just hit him.

They run over him.
Maybe more than once.

Bullshit.

What do they call it
in your country?

-They have a word for it?
-Roadkill.

I think we should
get some sleep.

Why?

I'm loosening up finally.

The sun's gonna be up
in a few hours

and I want to sleep it off.

They won't come back.
The police.

-Did Richard bribe them?
-Yeah, possibly.

It's actually a huge
hassle for them.

So much paperwork involved.

-And, I hate to say it--
-No, you don't.

I hate to say it,
but the kid is a nobody.

He's from a village far away
and no one knows who he is.

No ID, no witnesses.

So, that's that.

That's that.

Where the fuck am I?

Morning.

-You forgot the honey.
-Madam?

Nevermind.

Do you have any idea
where my husband is?

Horse riding.

Horse riding.

Have I told you how much
I admire your boots, ladies?

They give one something
to grab hold of, don't they?

Given half a chance.

Have I told you
how loathsome I find you,

-monsieur Henninger?
-You didn't mention it, no.

And please call me David
if you're going to insult me.

I'd slap your bottom for you,
but I know you'd just enjoy it.

I certainly would.

I must say I'm enjoying
this little threesome immensely.

Very picturesque, I suppose,
in a banal sort of way.

Why did Richard
and Dally come here?

Gays have always come
to North Africa.

Usually to bugger
little Arab boys.

- It's an Edwardian tradition.
- Mon dieu .

That is such
an offensive thing to say.

Interesting.
You said it was offensive,

not that it wasn't true.

I thought Richard
was a friend of yours.

He is.
I was speaking historically.

Oscar Wilde, André Gide,

Joe Orton, Allen Ginsberg,
William Burroughs...

I mean, I could go on and on.
Pederasts. The lot of them.

You're a real shit-stirrer,
aren't you, David?

Well, it passes the time

in an increasingly
tedious world.

I was saying to Richard--

Fuck! Little shit.

Oh, my God.

Nice hat.

Got it in Casablanca.

"Made in China."

What were you doing
in Casablanca?

I was playing ping-pong
with a hooker

at the Tahiti hotel.

I've heard about
that kind of ping-pong.

Hookers find me irresistible.
Wanna know why?

You smell of money?

Did she do anal?

What's the point of a hooker
if she doesn't do anal?

I'm going to tell your mother
you said that.

My mother would be fascinated.

- Have you been here before?
- Mm-mm.

We never get away.
David works all the time.

His patients
are all rich old bags

who harass him mercilessly
around the clock.

This is a strange place
for a holiday home.

It's like they're living out
some kind of fantasy,

-I guess.
-I like it here.

It feels like a country
where useless men can be happy.

And are you a useless man?

I follow the way of the Buddha.

It's good to know that
there are other useless people

in this world.

Besides me.

We should get out of the sun.

-Before we start to bleed.
-I don't bleed very easily.

We were riding the trail
and they were waiting for us.

Could have been nasty.

Could have been nasty?
It was nasty, little cunt.

I've always said
they were an irrational people.

Didn't like seeing me
on the horse,

I expect.
Thought I was enjoying myself.

-Mm-hm. Weren't you?
-That's not the point.

Is it against the law
to unwind

after a traumatic event?

Here.

Some kids from the other side
of the valley, apparently.

Everyone's heard about it.

Heard about what?

The accident, what do you think?

Give it here.

They're insatiable gossips.

It's a function
of being illiterate.

What a nice little fascist
you've become

since being hit by a stone.

-Is that all it takes?
-They could have blinded me.

I could have been
bloody disfigured.

They're heading this way.

- It's not the police.
- Haven't heard from them.

Mint suppliers?

They came this morning.

-Maybe someone from the morgue.
-Do they even have morgues?

Don't they just throw the body
in a pit or something?

There's a morgue in Errachidia.
Might be a pick up from them.

I wish you hasn't invited
the Henningers.

What a bore they are
and what a mess they've made.

-Did you see his shoes?
-Are they a bore?

Oh, they're a horrible bore.

I guarantee you
they're the only ones

who don't dress up tonight.

They'll claim
they have post traumatic

-stress disorder or something.
-I'm sure it is what they have.

Let's face it, babe. Pirates.

A bit cheesy,
a bit fucking eighties.

You always pooh-pooh my ideas.

Hardly keeping
with the aesthetic though.

You always pooh-pooh my ideas.
And they're not just pirates.

They are buccaneers and wenches,
and sexy swashbucklers.

All right.

Just as long
as they don't end up

plundering any of my paintings.

You were right
about the Henningers.

We should have invited
the Bainbridges instead.

Yeah, they're generally wacko.

And they don't kill people
on the way up.

The father?

You'll leave him
kneeling there all day?

-They are Aït Kebash.
-So...

They will try
to extort money from you.

Where do the Aït Kebash live?

Far. Far out.

Then they've come a long way.
Open the gate.

They will blackmail you.

The men of the desert
know everything.

No, they don't.
They just assume the worst,

which makes them right
nine times out of ten.

What.

He said the Englishman must pay.

Fuck that.

Pay the old crow.
Make him go away.

You don't pay someone for
an accident, for fuck's sake.

You don't even know
how much he wants.

Might just be 1,000 Euros.

-Or a fuck of a lot more.
-That's nothing for us.

- It's blackmail.
- So what if it is?

What's the word for blackmail
in their language?

If they even have one.

You think villages in the Sahara
are living in shit

in the same way we do?

It's the principle of the thing.

It's the principle of the thing
plus 1,000 Euros.

That seems like
a pretty good deal

for the cost of a life.

Not when I'm being robbed.

You're not being robbed.
You're being spared.

Why? What are they going
to do to me?

Lynch me?
Public castration?

I wasn't thinking
about them lynching you.

And I wasn't thinking about them
cutting off your cock.

I was thinking about them
not going away.

Of course,
your precious weekend.

Must not forget
your bloody party.

What about contacting
the consulate in Casablanca?

I don't think
you're really considering

your own best interests.

If we contact the consulate,
there'd have to be

a thorough look
at this whole thing.

And I mean thorough.

-I don't think you want that.
-I would welcome the consulate--

- No, David.
- I don't think you would.

-Fine, I'll go.
-No.

I would like to pay
my respects anyway.

No. That is absolutely
out of the question.

You know how these people are.

It'd make things
so much more awkward.

Well, we wouldn't want
to make things awkward.

I see Lord Swanthorne's arrived.

-Do you know him?
-From the club.

Perfect parasite,
but amusing in his way.

So, how's the practice?

-Not too good.
-Huh.

Bit of a dearth of skin cancers
in London at the moment.

I was sued by a patient.
Old woman in Chiswick.

Cost me an arm and a leg.

-Oh, dear. I didn't hear.
-No, you didn't.

It's my life.
If it goes wrong,

I'd rather it went wrong
in private.

-What happened?
-Forensic fuck-up.

Didn't spot the tumours
for what they were.

Human error.

-And the old woman...
-She's dying.

Ah, sorry.

So, it cost her an arm
and a leg too, then.

The old boy probably
won't know any English.

You speak French, don't you?

Of course,
I speak fucking French.

You sure you're ready for this?

After you.

He says he will speak to me.

Perhaps because
you're not believers.

-Oh, here we go.
-No, it's fine.

Go ahead.

He wants you to return with them
to bury the boy.

What the fuck?

And if you are a man of honour,
you will do it.

It is customary in these parts.

Is it customary in these parts?

These are not the people I know.
They're Berber.

If they say it is their custom,
I have to believe them.

Did he did mention money?

No, but it will be understood.
We don't speak of such things.

-David has to know the amount.
-I cannot ask him that.

Monsieur David just has to take
a certain amount with him.

Monsieur David hasn't agreed
to this absurd plan.

Go back with him to his village?
Are you bonkers?

It may be
you don't have a choice.

He's not entirely asking you.

He's being polite,
but I think he will insist.

Going back to their village
for a night

and paying your respects

would be a bloody sight
easier than anything else.

You'll be back
in a couple of days.

Has it occurred to you, Dicky,

that he might actually
be planning something

a lot nastier than anything
you can anticipate

since he thinks I bunked off
his fucking kid and all that?

-You're exaggerating, monsieur.
-Am I? Am I really?

Yeah. Yeah, you are.
They won't pull any stunts.

They're afraid
of the Moroccan police.

Well they might be fucking ISIS
for all I know.

Are you this paranoid
all the time?

I don't hear
you volunteering, Yank.

That's because
I didn't kill him.

Well I didn't fucking kill him.

He just stepped out
in front of me.

-His name was Driss.
-Yes, I...

Driss. Driss, right.

- What does it matter?
- One way or the other,

everyone thinks
I'm guilty anyway.

What a jolly weekend
this has turned out to be.

How'd it go?

Dicky and the Arab servant

have cooked up
a perfectly wonderful wease.

I'm to go back
with the old geezer

to his village

in the middle of nowhere
and do some atonement.

Fuck that. They could be ISIS
for all we know.

That's what I said.
Didn't go down too well.

-Had to smooth things over.
-What'd you say?

I agreed to go.

Everyone seems to think
it's the only thing to do.

And I imagine
it might get nasty.

-How was he, the father?
-Inscrutable.

And it's just you
that has to go?

Just me.

They're probably worried

you'll get your period
or something.

The man just lost
his son, David.

I'm sure
that they have their rituals

just like everyone else.

Maybe it's a good idea.

We don't want the police
showing up again,

poking their noses
into everything.

No, I suppose we don't.

May I remind you, Jo,
you got into a car with a drunk,

which makes you an accessory
before and after the fact.

Funny that.

Like I've been an accessory
for a long time now.

I'm sure
Richard wouldn't let you go

if there was a risk.

It'll be fine.
A little jolly in the desert.

Might even enjoy myself,
who knows?

Probably just wants closure,
that's all.

That's what people
always want these days.

It's like being
on fucking Oprah.

A bit of an outdated
reference, Oprah.

Was it? Oh, I'm sorry.
I do apologize.

You know, that that's what
he wants, right? The father.

He wants you to apologize,
to say that you're sorry.

Well, I'll say I'm sorry.

-Are you sorry?
-I will say I'm sorry.

Oh, shit. I forgot about--

Oops.

What's in the bag?

Clean shirt, clean socks,
clean underwear.

I feel like I'm being packed off
to boarding school.

Probably going to need
the clean underwear.

Oh, the rent boy made a joke.

-Now, now. Cash?
-A thousand Euros.

That's all they're getting.

Take care out there, stumblebum.

Right. Remember, David,
you can't show fear

or discomfort in front
of these people.

You have to show indifference
to both.

I'll try to bear that in mind.

I expect one of them will
give you a ride back afterwards.

If not, give us a call
and we'll figure something out.

You've got your mobile?

-Will it work out there?
-Of course it will.

Let me know you're all right.

Good luck, old man.

Poor sod.

It'll be a difficult
couple of days.

It'll certainly be
an experience for him.

I'll call in a couple of hours.

Make sure
they haven't raped him.

-Richard...
-Kidding.

-What?
-You're terrible.

Would you like a cigarette?

-French. Not Moroccan shit.
-No, no. Thank you.

Your wife is very pretty.

I will have a gazelle
like that one day.

InshaAllah!

-You don't look like a pirate.
-I'm supposed to be Dionysus.

None of these illiterates
even know who that is.

God of drink and drugs
and madness.

Then I've an audience of one.

What else should I know?

He was once kidnapped
by pirates, hence the reference.

A cult grew up around him.

His followers
were said to be cannibals.

They symbolically ate his flesh
and drank his blood.

No, I'm pretty sure
you're thinking

of Roman Catholics.

Shouldn't you be wearing a toga?

There's getting
into the spirit of the thing

and then there's going too far.

The pirate costume
didn't suit me anyway.

I looked like Johnny Depp.

Much more handsome,

less bloated Johnny Depp,
obviously.

Obviously.

You're a writer,
Dicky was saying?

Not sure about that anymore.

I haven't written a word
in eight years

and all of my books
have been forgotten

by the world's
feckless children.

-And that doesn't bother you?
-It's a relief.

I guess every artistic career

has a few moments of visibility,

followed by a long,
painful descent

into total anonymity.

I'm sure some feckless child
of the future will pick up

one of your books
and rescue you from oblivion.

No one's going to be
reading books in 50 years,

let alone a thousand.

And the children of the future
will all be empty headed clowns,

just like the children
of the present.

Oh, I'm going to go out
on a limb

and assume
you don't have any kids.

What about you,
not about kids, your work?

Ugh.

Financial analyst.

What does a financial analyst
actually do

if they actually do anything?

We buy, we sell...

And every 10 years or so,

you get it all
catastrophically wrong.

I guess that's right.

-Sounds like fun.
-It is.

We are nearing Erfoud,

the largest oasis
in North Africa.

From here come
the royal family of Morocco.

I'm a big fan of royalty,
I always have been.

Prince Andrew,
Mohammed bin Salman,

wonderful people.

He says we will go to the hotel.

No one can drive
across to Alnif in the dark.

I'll take your word for it.

Come on, bunny.
Don't worry, he'll be alright.

He's probably having a joint
with the Ait Kebash as we speak.

They're incorrigible potheads.
He'll be stoned the whole time.

Easy for you to say.

You're not being driven
into the desert

to a place
that you can't pronounce.

Do you know where it is
on the map?

I don't care
where it is on the map.

Fuck him anyway,
ruined my night.

Don't sulk, sweetie.

We'll have a good ol'
fashioned blowout tomorrow

to make up for it.

You know the school
David and I went to,

there was a story
that did the rounds,

bedroom incident
on Parents' Day.

One of the boys started
throwing mice

off the roof top
of the masters down below.

But each mouse was equipped
with a little parachute

decorated with a swastika.

Parachutes didn't work,
obviously.

Poor mice hurtled
to their deaths

against the flagstones

with the swastikas
draped over them.

That's terrible.

Why would someone do
something like that?

Children aren't really
that well-versed

in the principles
of aerodynamics.

No, I mean the swastikas.

Kid was probably vilifying
the masters as Nazi types.

Or he just liked swastikas.

Story was it was David
who did it.

-No, is that true?
-I couldn't say for sure.

Before my time.

But I heard they caned him
for it anyway.

Beat him black and blue.

Now, listen, are you going
to mope all weekend

or are you going
to enjoy yourself?

It's not a crime
to enjoy yourself, you know?

I suppose I can make the effort.

Attagirl!

What are you doing?

It is more fitting.
Please, I'm sure you understand.

I will order your Coke.

There is a room upstairs
where you can sleep.

We rise again at five.
I will come for you.

The person you have dialled
cannot be reached.

Bloody knew it.

Everyone is alive right now.

Everyone's made it this far.

We've all done the worse
kinds of things...

Liar.

Oh, Christ.

Oh, I heard there was
an accident last night.

Was somebody hurt?

Friend of mine from London
got lost on the road,

David Henninger.

Oh, that's who that was.
Thought I recognized him.

One of the Arabs
stepped out in front of him.

Kaput.

Where's Henninger now?

Oh, he sent him
into the desert to die.

-Did you sleep?
-Eventually.

Did you dream?

No. I mean, I...
I can't remember.

-I had a very strange dream.
-Oh yeah?

I dreamed I was...
I was a butterfly.

How do you know
that you are not a butterfly...

dreaming that you are a man?

-Hmm I like that.
-Well, it's not one of mine.

Chinese fellow said it.

Yes?

Madame. Monsieur Day
has sent you a card.

You can leave it on the table.

Monsieur Day says
I must wait for a reply.

-You serious?
-Yes, madame.

You can call me mademoiselle.

Papayas for breakfast,
how the hell do they do it?

No point in having contacts
in the Ministry of Interior

if you can't get a fresh papaya.

-What happened to the raw egg?
-Couldn't stomach it.

Boosts your libido.

My libido's fine,
Mrs. Henninger.

There's a picnic today.
We should go.

We should go?

Heard your husband's gone AWOL.

I'm just offering my services
as an... escort.

How very gallant of you.

It's an oasis somewhere.

Maybe there'd be a waterfall.

Everyone likes waterfalls.

And this would involve swimming,
I assume?

Hope so.

The voyeurs among us
want to see you in a swimsuit.

Not very subtle.

I'm from New York,
subtly gets you fined there.

I won't fine you, maybe a little
corporal punishment.

Corporal punishment?

Now I'm beginning to feel
a vague stirring of interest.

Vague, stirring,
vague, stirring?

I need something
a little more concrete

than vague stirring.

I'll talk to my people.
They'll talk to their people.

We'll get back to you.

And there I was hoping
for a hostile takeover.

As-salamu alaykum!

Oh. Orthoceras.

He says you cannot drink
from the same cup.

You cannot eat
from the same plate.

He says your shadow
must not cross.

-Is that a custom?
-No, just his way right now.

-It will pass.
-Alright.

It has been sent
all the way to Norway.

Coffee table.

It is incredible
that wealthy men

collect such things.

Wealthy men collect
a lot of stupid bullshit.

The renovation
of a single bathroom

can keep a Saharan village
alive for a year.

The desert is what we fish,
and the fossils are our fish.

It is a joke.
God has played a joke on us.

-Does it make you laugh?
-No, not at all.

-Makes you laugh?
-No.

Makes me laugh.

Soon there will be nothing here.

No people, no trees.
We are the last ones.

We have fossils
and our children.

And nothing else.

ISIS control this part
of the desert.

That's very encouraging to hear.

Marvellous.

We will drive around Issomour
to arrive to Tafal'aalt.

-It is the back way.
-Why the back way?

It's the old man's choice.

So, it'll add hours to the trip.

No, I wouldn't say so long.

We should be there soon enough.

Why are you looking
at your watch?

I don't know.

What?

It was his only son.

It was his only child.

Well... the world
is a dreadful place,

my father used to say.

And the best you can do
is make fun of it.

Here's my best Buster Keaton.

Here's when he's young...

Here's when he's old.
See the difference?

They say you throw
the best parties

-east of Marrakesh.
-Correction.

The best parties
in the whole North Africa.

-Is that good?
-I got it.

Dally. Could you get
everybody moving?

Quicker we get there the better.
It's too bloody hot.

- Oasis time.
- Dicky.

Darling.

As I live and breathe.

You know, Dally and I
come down here

nearly every day,
and every time I remember

- why I'm not in London.
- Do you sing a song to Pan

as you stroll along?

-And other Gods too.
-Mammon, right? He was a god.

The Phoenicians didn't make it
quite this far west, Tom.

Oh, of course. The Phoenicians.
How stupid of me.

Asshole.

Did I tell you
I have a house in Bali?

And you own
a Kandinsky too, right?

It does sound like a line.

What is it you like about Bali?

The hot weather
cheap restaurants.

I thought Mick Jagger
lived there

and then it turned out
he didn't.

-Girlfriend?
-Not in Bali.

I thought all white men
had a girlfriend in Asia.

Not me.

Mmm, I'm sure you have
a few sluts on the side.

A little judgmental,
of both me and the sluts.

I'm not judging anyone.
I think men need sluts.

I think women need to be sluts.

They can't seem
to manage otherwise,

except when they're drunk,
of course.

Maybe you don't know
how to ask.

-Me personally?
-Yeah, you personally.

You've forgotten
about my husband.

-Yes, I have.
-And so have you.

Was that the mother?

No, no.
She died many years ago.

-Aunts and a cousin.
-Hmm.

This is Driss' room.

There is no other room
for you to sleep in.

Abdellah want you
to feel his spirit here.

He thinks it is more fitting.

I'm going to the burial now.

-Does Abdellah want me to--
-No, no, no.

While I am away you should
keep your door bolted.

What?

The women. Grief.

What have you done?

What the fuck are you doing?

Hungry?

-What meat is this?
-Goat.

-It's good.
-Fresh.

Abdellah only killed
the animal an hour ago.

The diggers are returning
from the mountain.

They come back when it's dark,

when they can no longer see
what they are doing.

So, they work from dawn to dusk.

It's a nice phrase
until you think

what it actually means.

Why did you agree
to come back here, David?

I don't know, I suppose...

I suppose I wanted
to cross the bridge

and have done with things.

Abdellah will come by soon
to have a talk with you.

Is he coming with a knife?

I haven't done this in years.

This is A-force snow
from Marseilles.

It's a rather boring drug
I find.

I plowed through heaps of it
with John Paul Getty...

or old one ear
as I liked to call him.

I only do it now
because Maribel insists.

You're such a liar.

You look fucking hot tonight
by the way.

That's just the coke talking.

I think it's good you've got
some time to yourself, Jo.

I think you needed it.

It would be great
if I wasn't so worried.

You know
you'll never be accepted here,

don't you, Dicky?

Being an infidel and all.

Why should they accept them?

They have every reason
to hate them.

I'd have thought they'd have
more reason to hate you.

France has excellent relations
with the Arabs.

We share the Mediterranean
with them.

-But you wouldn't understand.
-I understand.

You mean you have them
in your ghettos...

so you feel close to them,
but do you feel close to them...

when they're burning cars
in the suburbs

and ransacking your synagogues?

That is just, how do you say,
a probleme social?

No, they dislike you
for the same reason

they dislike us.

We're not Muslims
and we lord it over them.

It's against what they regard

as the natural order
of things

which would be
them lording over us.

I don't hold it
against them though.

They're rival imperialists.

But in America, Muslims
are peaceful and prosperous.

They don't spend their time

rioting and pelting police cars
with garbage cans.

How come they only do that
in France?

It must be,
how do you say, solidarité.

You are killing
hundreds of thousands

-in Iraq and Afghanistan...
-No, we're not, darling.

-The Mujahideen are.
-Okay, okay, okay.

Listen, honey, we understand...

that when in doubt Americans
must be blamed.

We would miss it
if you didn't blame us.

We're masochists
is what you're saying.

Yeah, we enjoy it.
It makes us feel

more important
than we actually are.

Blame us less and we'd be
a lot more humble.

We wouldn't think that

we were actually
the centre of the world.

I don't believe you.

You always think
you're the centre of the world.

You fucking Americans!

What do you think, Hamid?

The tongue has no bones, Sir,
but it crushes all the same.

Is it good?

It's an apple.

You speak English.

Well, I guess the joke's on me.

There is something
I want to show you.

The fossil Driss was carrying
when he was hit by your car.

It was recovered by the police.

They returned it to me
because it is so valuable.

It is called an Elvis.
An Elvis?

Only three specimens
have been found in the Sahara...

and the dealers decided
to give it the name of Elvis...

because it is a superstar.

Driss stole it from me.

This happens all the time.

The young boys are frustrated.

They feel they're going nowhere.

And have no hopes.

They don't want to be diggers
all their lives.

They don't want to live
like their fathers.

They want to escape.

So, they steal an Elvis...

which they know will sell
for $10,000

in the United States.

If they can sell it
to a foreigner

for 1,000 Euros...

they can go to Casablanca,
start a new life...

Casablanca is full
of loose women.

And 1,000 Euros
will get you a long way

with a loose woman.

I didn't mind when I found out

that Driss had stolen it
from me.

I understood him.

And in a way,
I wished them luck.

It's only a fossil after all.

A lump of rock. Literally.

If he had sold it to you
for a few hundred Euros...

I would have been happy
for him.

Really happy.

How much better
it would have been...

if you had stopped
and bought the damn thing.

You would now be in Azna...

drinking cocktails
with your wife.

And Driss would be in Casablanca
in the arms of a loose woman.

I'm sorry about what happened.

I'm very sorry.

But it was a terrible accident.

I have no idea why you people
have such a thirst

for these stupid rocks.

What do you see in them?

All we know is that
you want them

and are prepared
to pay money for them.

Some of us believe...

that these are the most
evil creatures

that ever existed...

that they are the forms
of dead demons.

That is what they look like,
you must admit.

They must have an influence
on our minds.

An influence that is evil.

And that's what attracts you
to them.

It's all a mystery.

Driss took my Elvis and ran...

and the next person he saw

was you.

Hey, get this cunt
the fuck off me, will ya?

This is how you open
a bottle of champagne.

You hold it firmly
by the base...

you turn the bottle,
not the cork.

Red wine should be held
by the neck,

a woman by the waist

and a bottle of champagne
by the derriere.

Mark Twain, very good.

Of course, those priorities
can be rearranged later.

Glad to hear it.

I feel like
I've been a little phony

with you in some way.

Playing a part.
It's not me at all.

This isn't me either.

You know...

I didn't want to meet
a married woman...

just 'cause I thought
she'd be quick and--

We have our uses, don't we?

Hello? Hello?

Good morning.

I'm sorry, I don't speak Arabic.

Or Tamazight, I suppose,
is the dialect.

I see you come out for a walk.

Of course, you saw there's
nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

I wasn't trying to run or hide.
My things are all back--

Anouar will take you back
to Azna.

There you are.

Bit early in the day.

I haven't been to bed yet.

It's the gear for you.

-Been for a swim?
-I feel rejuvenated.

So awake I'm dangerous.

Run with it.
It won't last forever.

-What else have I missed?
-I got waylaid by a Greek god.

And what does that mean exactly?

It means,

I've committed adultery
with a ridiculous man...

as women always do.

Yeah, well, such things
have been known to happen.

Not to me.

I'm glad.
Don't mean about Tom.

I mean about you.
Knocked David of his perch.

-That's a good thing, isn't it?
-I wasn't thinking about David.

I was just thinking
about myself for once.

-Are you going to divorce him?
-I think I have to.

Might be for the best.

You didn't seem very happy.
Didn't seem like you.

Guess we were an obvious couple.

All couples are rather
obvious in the end.

-Twelve years after all.
-Twelve years.

I guess it doesn't seem
that long when you say it fast.

I was thinking none of this
would have happened...

if we hadn't killed that boy.

-It would have just carried on.
-Driss?

Boy's name was Driss.

But you knew that already.

Driss Taheri.

What did you do with his ID,
bury it?

- David, what the fuck?
- What the fuck are you doing?

What the fuck are you doing?

That's all in the past.

The important thing is now,
isn't it?

What cereal do you eat
in the morning?

I don't eat breakfast.
I'm usually too hungover.

I prefer cornflakes myself.

It is one good thing
that you have given us,

apart from ice.

I'm glad you like ice.

I like everything that is cool,
cold and fresh.

You think I like to live
in this furnace?

You think I like the camels,
the palm trees...

and the 104 degrees
every morning? Huh?

No, not at all.

I dream of Sweden
most of the time.

Sweden?

Yeah. I've seen it
in a colour magazine.

A fantastic place,
by the looks of it.

It is the place
I would most like to live.

Must be so deliciously
cold there.

But the world does not promise
anything to anyone...

and no man ever lived
the way he wished.

-Goats in a tree.
-It's a fraud, David.

They don't climb up there
on their own.

The old man in the shop
will come out...

and ask you if you'd like
your picture taken.

For a very small fee, of course.

Crooks, David.
Tricksters.

- Breakfast!
- Where'd you get that?

-It's good, huh?
-It's good.

Do you think
Abdellah has forgiven me?

He could tell
that you were sorry.

He judged you to be sincere.

-But does he forgive me?
-I'm sure of it.

He must have forgiven you.

Otherwise you and I would not
be drinking tea here in Alnif.

Anouar...

It was my fault.

The accident.

It was 100% my fault.

I had been drinking all day.

I was driving too fast.

I was arguing with my wife.

Driss did nothing wrong...

except step into the road
to try to make us slow down.

It was my fault.

Anouar...

It was my fault.

Time to say goodbye, my friend.

Goodbye.

Why?

No reason.

Well, for Sweden.

You're a decent man, Anouar.

And you, David.
You are an honourable one.

-Richard sent you?
-No, I saw the jeep.

So much for the
welcoming committee.

Mrs. Henninger.

I believe
she's in her room, sir.

David.

I never did ask your name.

-Hamid.
-Cheers, Hamid.

I knew Henninger a while back.

Never liked him much.

We went to the same school.

He was one of the old boys,
somewhat notorious.

Really?

Did he lark about?
Unnatural practices?

No, nothing of that sort.

More of an agitator apparently.

I was told he once put out
a newspaper called

England without Darkies.

The spoofs about people
feeling ashamed of their

thinly veiled racism.

He should consider republishing.

No thin veils anymore.

-So he was a lefty then?
-I suppose so.

Do you think they buried
the Arab boy, all right?

Assume so.

It's the way they do
things here.

Brush them under the carpet.

No one wants any trouble
in the end.

I expect poor David...

had to bribe them up
to the hilt.

Silly bugger.
Cars do have brakes, you know?

It's been my attitude all along.

What?

-What is this?
-A souvenir.

What happened out there?

The father wanted to talk to me,
that's all.

- Did he ask for money?
- No.

I gave it to them anyway.

You find that hard to believe.

I don't know.
Yeah, I'm a little surprised.

Anyway.

It's over.

Bags in cars.

Over here.

Okay, that's it.
Cheese! Okay.

Is that it?

-That's it.
-Yeah.

Ciao, bambina.

Thank you, boys. Ciao.

Flowers, please, Dally.

Shame we didn't get
any alone time.

Maybe just as well.

Give my best to Jo for me,
will you?

-You know how I hate goodbyes.
-Oh yeah, Tom. I know that.

-What are you doing?
-I need a ride to Casablanca.

-Oh, yeah?
-Yeah.

What have you done
for me lately?

Mate, I can suck a golf ball
through a fucking garden hose.

Yeah, that's what they all say.
Get in.

-See you at Azrou for dinner.
-We'll order the trout.

Maribel, get your pretty
little bottom moving.

People are waiting.

- And where are you two off to?
- Tinghir.

The hotel de Sud
or whatever it's called.

Maribel wants to experience
the desert,

whatever the fuck that means.
It was a great party, Dicky.

Delighted you could make it,
your lordship.

I'd never throw
these kinds of parties myself...

unless orgies could be arranged.

Alas, the age of orgies
appears to have ended.

Arrivederci.

-Ciao.
-Ciao, ciao, bambino.

Good to see ya!

You were having a nightmare.

Yes.

So, why didn't you wake me?

Oh, I thought...

you're not supposed
to wake people up--

That's sleepwalking, isn't it?

Sorry.

I was dreaming I was inside...

a giant Boeing turbine.

And I was supposed
to clean the blades.

All I had was a toothbrush.

Suddenly, the turbines
began to spin...

and I was shredded.

How do you know
it was a Boeing turbine?

Good question.

You inspired?

Yeah, I have an idea
for a new book.

Congratulations.

You know, we're more than happy
for you to stay an extra night.

Makes more sense for you
to start out early tomorrow.

No, I slept all afternoon.
We'll drive through the night...

and get back to Tangier
in a single leap I think.

I know what you're thinking,

but lightning
doesn't strike twice.

Yeah, it does.

Well, we fixed the car
as best we could.

There's a picnic hamper
in the back seat.

The booze is nonalcoholic.

Anyway...

It's all ended
peacefully enough.

Not for the boy, I know, but...

for everyone else
it could have been a lot worse.

They have any interest
in carpets

out there out in the desert?

I've never seen anything
from that far out.

I didn't notice the carpets.

Did you see Tom
before he got off?

No.

He got off without us
seeing him.

How'd he do that, Dicky?

Don't know.
He's a slippery chap.

See him once a year and I
never know who he is really.

-Who's Tom?
-The American.

The American?

Oh, of course.

Give us a call
when you get back.

We always worry until we know
people are home safe.

And treat yourself
to something nice in Tangier.

It does wonders, you know,
a little retail therapy.

Will do that. Bye.

Bye.

-Safe journey, David.
-Goodbye, Hamid.

-What a ghastly weekend.
-That French bitch.

Amazing people like that
actually exist, isn't it?

Who was she with? Remind me.

The New York Times ,
Style section.

Thank God for that.

I thought you were going
to say The Guardian.

I told Hamid
to lock the place up,

outer gates and everything.

-Why'd you do that?
-Just to be on the safe side.

-We need to talk.
-No we don't.

-Excuse me?
-We don't need to talk.

Nobody needs to talk.

We can choose to talk
or not talk.

Which I can assume
you're choosing not to talk.

Your assumption is correct.

You don't even want
to talk about your shirt?

-God, I hate Lou Reed.
-It's Velvet Underground.

How can you hate Lou Reed?

- I think we should stop.
- What? Why?

It's where we hit him, Driss.

I think we should stop
and pay our respects.

There's someone in the road.

No, don't get out of the car.

David?

David.

Abdellah sent you.

David!

-It's all right. It's all right.
-It's not-- It's not all right.

It's a fucking carjacking.

It's not a carjacking.

-Don't!
-Do it.

No, David.

-Do it.
-David!

Do it!