All language subtitles for Manhattan.Nocturne.2016.1080p.BluRay.x264.VPPV

I sell mayhem,
scandal, murder, and doom.

Oh, Jesus, I do.

I sell the newborn
and the dead.

I sell the wretched, magnificent city
of New York back to its people.

I sell newspapers.

Thanks for your time.
Yeah?

Porter. I got
a shooting, plus a fire.

- Mm. Any bodies?
- At least two, Projects on Avenue D.

Paul said something
about a kid.

I'm on it. I'm on it.
Thanks.

I'm always
running to the place

where the bad thing
just happened,

arriving just after
the danger has passed,

watching from a safe distance,
searching for an angle,

that little wrinkle,
the kick to the heart

that makes you
want to put down the dollar

and pick up the paper.

With three deadlines a week,

I'm always looking
for a good story.

I seen the smoke,
and I'm looking up there.

And that's when Demetrius,

he come jumping
through that window.

And he on fire,
burning like all over.

And he holding Vernon here.

And Demetrius,
he fall, fall, and fall.

I can see he gonna land
on top of the baby.

And then just before
Demetrius land,

he do this little
kind of flip.

And he landed on his back.

And he holding the baby up, like...

And I can see that
he do that on purpose.

What did you do?

I run over and
I pick up Vernon here.

And I see Demetrius.

He just not gonna make it,

because he landed
on his back like that.

Hey, little man.

I'm sorry that happened to you
and your daddy. You okay?

No, no, no,
he don't talk yet.

Fall, fall, fall.

Thanks for your time.

Hey, you're the one that helped
them find that little girl?

I write a column
for a daily newspaper.

In other words,
I'm an endangered species.

I used to think my stories
could make a difference.

Now I just hope they are
enough to feed my family.

These days, eight million kids
have iPhones

and post their videos
on YouTube

like they're actually reporting
and commenting on something.

My wife says I sound old.

I'm heading into a long one,
so you'll probably get home before me.

Josephine needs to get paid.

And please remember to scrub
the pots and pans.

You keep leaving them for me.

Yeah, well, they
have to soak overnight.

Oh, yeah?

- Yeah.
- Really?

Is that what
your mother told you?

Well, look, I got to go, baby.

- Wait, Porter.
- What?

Did you remember your tuxedo?

Yeah, but I don't want to go.

Everyone's going to be
sucking up to Hobbs...

You know, if they're really

thinking about cutting your column,
you better go.

I know you are a watcher,
Mr. Wren, but it is rude to stare.

I'm sorry. I was just trying
to figure out where I knew you from.

I see you recognize me, though.

From your cheesy picture.

The one that goes with my column.

Your smug expression is annoying.

It was taken last year,

in the waning moments
of my youth.

Right before they retired
the film camera?

- Wow.
- Sorry.

Does anyone actually read
the newspaper anymore?

Well, I have a few fans
of the print edition.

I'm told they
Twitter at me.

I think they Twitter
about how awesome it is,

the feel of the paper,
the smell of the ink.

Hashtag-well-written-column.

Well... I do like
the feel of the paper.

And your column, Mr. Wren,
is always very well written,

in an old-time,
classic kind of way.

- Well...
- I do wonder, though.

It must be depressing for you
to be in all those places

right after a terrible thing
has happened.

You must have seen
so many awful things.

I've seen a few things.

People seem
to open up to you.

You must have a skill for
asking the right questions.

Usually people want
to tell somebody,

and I'm just there
at the right time.

Come on.
You're being modest.

What brings you to the party?

My boyfriend,
Charlie's bank,

does some kind of business
with the company

that I guess just
bought your paper.

You all work for
Hobbs now, I guess.

"All" meaning mankind? Yes.

You grateful you landed a job
that pays you to stare at people?

Look“.

I deal with bullshitters all day.

But I'm on my own time here,

so, if this is all
going somewhere,

get to it already.

Well, it's complicated.
It takes some time to explain.

Oh.

Could we leave right now
and go back to my apartment?

It's only 15 blocks from here.

Charlie wouldn't be coming.

Is this about your
husband's death?

Porter Wren, is it?

Yes.

You must come and have
a word with Mr. Hobbs.

He's quite eager to meet you.

Excuse me.

This is Porter Wren,

the investigative reporter
who found the girl.

Excuse me, Mr. Hobbs?

Mr. Porter Wren, sir,

famed investigative reporter
who now writes the column.

Really?

Yeah?

I really think this
could happen.

I think it's very prudent.

Every single--

Wonderful.

The invitation still stands?

Yes.

Come in.

I want to show you this.

Okay, this is what
we're talking about.

This is where we start.

- This is where we start?
- Yes.

- Another drink?
- Why not?

To help you through
the gates of hell.

This is a police report.

It's a bit stingy
with the tonic and ice.

Well, I want you drunk,

so I can tell whether
you are a lout or not.

You know you can get in a lot
of trouble for having these files?

Detectives don't even let other
cops see these things.

I know that.

Okay. So, Simon Crowley

was found in the rubble of
a demolished building.

Surrounding the body were
small pieces of jade.

Police have no idea
how he got in there,

given the high fence with wire,

nor can they determine the cause
of death because of the...

The bulldozers
and the rats. You can say it.

I've read the report
17 times.

I'm sorry.

"The world-famous filmmaker
appears incapable of smiling."

Clearly.
"Several hours into the interview...

...I came to realize
that Simon Crowley..."

Thank you.

"...is not a nice person, particularly,
and he doesn't care if you know it.

In his pursuit of great movies,

woman upon woman,
and cigarettes,

in that order,
niceness is irrelevant."

Mixed review.

- Is that Best Director?
- Best Original Screenplay.

Apparently it's what they give you

when they want to give you
Best Director but they can't.

VANTAGES

FILMMAKER CROWLEY FOUND DEAD

They still can't figure out
how he got in there.

The place was all locked up and
he didn't have a key on him.

What's the story
with the pieces of jade?

No idea.

Could I have my coat, please?

I hope you don't feel like
I've wasted your time.

Here's my number.

When the gate shuts,
my work and the city

remain on the other side of the wall
that surrounds our hidden home.

Lisa and I fell in love with this house
when we were first married.

There's something about it surviving
hundreds of years, like a secret.

It kept me honest.

Anywhere else, this house
should be mundane.

But in Manhattan,
it was a miracle.

My family slept inside,

safe from the dangers
of these dark streets,

secluded too from the world of Caroline
Crowley and her famous dead husband,

who could not enter
this sacred place,

unless, of course, I brought
them home with me.

Did you redo it yesterday?

- It happened too late.
- Daddy-bird!

Saved the wedding dress part
just for you.

All right. I'm on it.

I'm on it. Thanks.

Classy quote
from the gymnastics coach.

You see what they put
for the headline?

- The Pulitzer is waiting.
- I liked it.

You okay?

Yeah, I'll be all right
in a few hours.

You didn't drive home
last night, did you?

No. I left the car in the lot.

Oh. Excuse me.

- Sally, come. We need to get dressed.
- Oh, no, but I--

- Tommy, let's go.
- Never!

- Morning, Josephine.
- Tommy?

- I don't wanna come.
- Tommy.

Tommy. Don't you kick me.

- Yes. I got him.
- Pick him up.

There you go.

You better come on with me.

- Get your tush under control.
- Come on here.

Josephine, if you could pick up
the house a bit today, it'd be great.

Like, maybe you could do,

like, the dishes,
or maybe do the pots in the sink?

You know, she ignores me
all the time.

Oh, listen. I have an important surgery
that I have to do tomorrow night,

so I won't be able to go to that
dinner with Lorca and Cabot.

Well, I'm not going without you.

We've rescheduled that,
like, four times.

I'm sorry. It's a visiting
Iranian ambassador with an emergency.

Let's just stop pretending it's
effective to have a sex life.

What?

To schedule a night out, yeah?

Do you need a ride somewhere
this morning, Mr. Grumpy Pants?

- Yes.
- Where are you going?

Upper West Side.

Get dressed.

Morning.

I like the girl with the mob,
but I need some quotes about Iris.

I'm going to reach out to her mother.
I'm going to try to track her down.

- All right. Thanks, Bobby.
- Later.

Yeah.

Oh, God.

Hello?

Hey, it's Porter Wren.

Well, hello, Porter Wren.

How are you feeling?

Did you roofie me last night?

No, I didn't.

Why are you calling me?

"Opportunity only knocks once"?

Hey.

I just rode up the elevator
with Leonardo DiCaprio.

Oh, yeah.
He's got a friend upstairs.

So, tell me how you met Simon.

I was living a sort of tired,

pretty girl, New York life,
you know? I had no money.

I had given up on L.A.
after a year, and moved here.

I was apartment-sitting
for rich people,

with no steady income
or place to live.

And I had just been fired for refusing
to date my asshole lawyer boss

whose firm I was
answering phones for.

Did you have a laundry line hanging in
the backyard when you were growing up?

Excuse me?

You know, with jeans
and t-shirts

and underwear hanging
in the backyard?

A laundry line.

Yeah, actually, I did.

Me, too. I didn't like
my underwear hanging out there

for the other kids to see,

but I did enjoy my one friend's
mom's brassiere...

- Right.
- ...hanging on their laundry line.

He bought me
a couple more drinks,

and we had
an amazing conversation

about our childhoods
and parents.

I knew who he was.
I recognized him right away.

- He was very smart.
- Caroline.

I'm going to ask you one,
crazy question,

but it's serious,
not a joke.

Okay.

I want to marry you.

Now, I know
it sounds completely crazy,

but I had just been
sitting there thinking

how I was probably going
to have to leave New York,

and in walks this
enigmatic, weird,

brilliant human being.

- Yes.
- Jesus. God.

So, you met him in a bar.

- Jesus.
- He proposed. You said yes.

All within the span
of less than an hour?

Well, a few hours, but, yeah.

Okay.

I got a package
from him the next day

containing a flash drive
and an engagement ring.

You want to see the video?

Sure.

Hey, Caroline.

HEY-.

I've been thinking about you
since I left you earlier today.

I was thinking about our, uh,
wedding vows and everything,

and about how
the regular vows are, "I do,"

and how that won't do, actually.

So, I decided I want to make
my vows to you here, right now,

this, this minute, exactly.

And I have no idea
what I'm going to say.

But once it's done,
it'll be my vows to you, okay?

So, after I said
goodbye to you,

I had dinner with,
uh, Jessica Chastain.

She wants to be in my next
movie, Strange Day.

And she looks good.

There was nothing wrong
with the conversation.

She was very smart and funny,
and whatever,

but she wasn't you, Caroline.

I didn't get that
"click" from her.

I got the click from you.

I got the click.

When I was in high school,

I got a job as a busboy
at this place in the Village,

Dante's Cafe'.
But that was, uh,

that was a big,
big thing for me.

I made some money
and I got my first camera,

and I could watch
all the people.

There was this very beautiful
model who started coming in,

her name was Ashley Montgomery.

I would save her used cigarettes
with that perfect lipstick smudge,

faintest trace of
her perfume on them,

and, when I got home,
I would lie naked in my bed

and I would lay the cigarette
butts all over my body,

even under my tongue, and even in
my ass, once, while I jerked off.

I did not consider this strange.

I'm sorry, is this still
his marriage proposal?

- Yeah.
- I was certain that I would never...

...be loved, never.

I swore that, if I ever had the
chance for somebody I loved,

I would take it right away.
And when I saw you today,

I saw a woman who could take it,
who could take me,

who could fucking kick it back
at me, if she had to.

This is my excitement...

...and my terror.

My heart thrills
to your heart, Caroline.

My dark heart
to your dark heart.

That is my vow, Caroline,
my vow to you.

This is a song that makes me
think of you.

We were secretly married
in New York three days later.

Showed a real affection for me.

In the first six months, we were
surprisingly happy together.

And this one night, when...

...when Simon didn't come
home, I got worried.

But I didn't call the police because
I knew Simon would be pissed if I did.

Three days went by,
and it was pretty clear then

that something was wrong.

Look, Caroline...

...if the police can't figure
out how or why Simon died,

I honestly don't think I can.

But you found that little girl.

Don't people tell you
all kinds of things?

Honestly?

I found that little
girl by mistake.

It was random luck.

I didn't deserve
any credit for that.

Mostly, people tell me stories.

I never press them.

They just tell me 'cause
they want to be known.

You seem to be searching
for something else.

You had to know that
by coming here today,

I was going to ask for
your help.

Unless, of course, there was
another reason why you came by.

I should go.

Can I have my coat, please?

Come on.

Oh, shit.

Caroline?

Hello?

It's just me.

I forgot my phone.

- Oh, my God.
- I'm sorry! I'm sorry.

- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
- Oh, my God.

What are you doing here?

I'm really sorry.
I forgot my phone.

- I'm--
- You scared the shit out of me.

How'd you get in here?

I saw-- I saw the code.

I'm sorry.

You were watching me just now?

I'm really sorry. I...

You liked watching me,
didn't you?

I couldn't help it. I'm sorry.

I was thinking of you.

I got to go. I...

Okay. Goodbye, watcher.

Glad you got a good view.

You know, you were right.

Opportunity really only
does knock once.

Hey. I'm watching you,
Caroline.

I see everything.

No, Tommy. Tommy,
I need the washcloth.

I need your face.

I need your face.
Just real quick.

- Real quick.
- Daddy-bird!

- Hello.
- Okay. Give me the washcloth.

- How's my family, huh?
- Tommy, I need the washcloth.

- Hey, you. Hi.
- Hi, sweetheart.

Hello to you.

I think Tommy peed
in the tub again.

Oh, Thomas.

Honey, can you
take care of it? Thank you.

Sure. That's my cue,
after urination in the tub?

Yeah, that's your cue.

How was your day?

Busy. Yours?

Swell.

I had awoke
with the odd desire

to visit the site of
the demolished building

- where Simon's body had been found.
- Excuse me?

537 East 111th Street
was now just a vacant lot.

And it held no answers to the questions
that were troubling me.

Did Simon die in the rubble or was he in
the building before it was demolished?

And if he was
in the building, why?

And how did he get in there,
if he didn't have the key?

In the building next door,
the super, Luis,

didn't have anything to add since
the investigation 17 months ago.

Any reason you can think of why
the victim might have a key?

Sure. Lots of reasons.
It's a big city.

Thank you for your time.

With my nagging guilt growing,

I needed some time
to think this whole thing over.

I told myself I'd never
see Caroline again.

And yet,
when she called,

I told her I'd meet her
for lunch.

Well, I don't feel guilty.

You know, Porter, I'm actually
kind of alone.

I have Charlie, but I can't talk
to him about everything.

Simon is very much
a taboo subject.

Charlie's already started
looking at houses in New Jersey.

White picket fence,
garden in the back.

Two-point-five kids?

You're the only one that I can
talk to about any of this.

And there's something that
I would like to show you, today, now,

if you still have
the time for me.

You keep money
in this bank?

No. I keep Simon here.

This, as much as anything,
was who Simon was.

I'm going to need you
to understand this.

Simon was very
unhappy all of his life.

He was always...
"searching for the truth".

On each of these video cards
is some truth

that he was proud
to have captured.

And if he wasn't happy with it,
he would throw it out.

He used to treat these like
original film in a camera.

He would never
reuse or copy them.

He likes them being
completely individual,

as a single source
of the truth.

Okay. So, which do we
watch first?

I'm not staying. I'm sorry.

I've seen them all so many
times, it's exhausting.

I'll let them know up front
that you'll be here a while.

Okay.

Thank you, Porter.

It's one of the weirder
moments in my life.

Call me when you're done.

Okay.

- Stop,
- Really?

There's one.
Pull over. Pull over.

All right, pull
over, Max. Over.

- Hey, hey.
- What's happening tonight?

I'm cold and lonely out here.

- We're lonely in here, too.
- Round the world is 200.

She for you, Billy?

Too ugly for me.
Can't spend that much.

She's not ugly. She's,
she's, she's plain, perhaps.

She's nondescript, generic.

Billy, it sounds
like you're interested.

I could be interested.
I could be very interested.

What's your names?
What's your names?

- Billy. Simon.
- Oh, yeah.

- Come on, Billy, Simon.
- I like her.

Get in here.

I don't know why I like
her, but I like her. Get in.

She says something.

She's in it.
She says something.

- Yeah.
- Hello.

Simon?

HEY-.

Can you let me in?

I changed the lock.

Okay, fine. Open the door.

First you must answer me
three questions.

Jesus, come on, Simon, let me in.
I really have to pee.

Three honest answers
is all I require.

Question one: when I'm in L.A.,
how often do you masturbate?

Come on. Fuck you.
Open the door.

Jesus Christ.

Every day, at least once.

Question two: have you
ever fantasized

about being with Billy?

Yes.

Third question, please.

Question three: when you finally
tracked down your biological father,

what was the last sentence
he said to you?

Fuck you. I am not
playing this game anymore.

Really?
That's your choice.

Come on. You already know
the answer to that question,

you sick fuck.
Open the door.

I win.

Oh, my God.

He said,
"You ain't my daughter.

Now get the fuck out of
my sight. And when I--"

The last thing he said.

The last thing he said was,

"Unless you want
to give me a blow job."

You want to order some food?

The fuck is wrong with you?

- Yeah?
- Mr. Wren?

This is Waldon Campbell
from Mr. Hobbs' office.

He'd like to meet with you
immediately.

Himself?

Excuse me.

Hey.

Fuck.

Nice view.

Mr. Porter Wren!

Chronicler of people's woes.

Good afternoon, sir.
Good of you to come.

Oh, do, please, sit down,

since I'd like to discuss
a certain matter.

Do sit down.

You, sir, are having an affair
with Miss Caroline Crowley.

That's of no--

Please, please, please.
I ask you not to interrupt.

Now, Miss Crowley has been
sending me a video

on a digital card from a camera.

It's the same one each time.

What's on it?

Something... very compromising.

She's asking for
money in return?

No, no, no requests.

Oh, she's bloody fucking
psychologically clever, you know.

Are you certain
she's the one sending them?

She is the only one who would

logically be in possession of it.

Okay. So, I ask her about it.

And she tells me
she's not sending it.

And I look through her stuff,
and I don't find it.

Then what?

Then, you keep going, sir.

You make do.

Look, this is crazy.

You are my employee.

And I can have you
fired and replaced

in the time it takes me
to tie my shoelaces.

I'm quite familiar with
your financials, sir.

Your salary just about
covers your mortgage,

and your wife
provides all the rest.

The firing would come with
embezzlement charges

and a long,
protracted lawsuit,

which would oblige the bank to foreclose
on that charming house of yours.

I can sell the house, Mr. Hobbs.

You may have to, when your wife,
distressed with news of your affair,

operates on someone with less
than her usual skill.

Malpractice suits are the ruin
of many good doctors.

Yes, yes.

That's what you'll find motivating.

You're famous for your
investigative skills.

You found the little girl
in the woods

when the best
detectives failed.

Too much limelight
causes you to

retreat to the comfort
of a column.

You're now a hack
in need of a challenge.

Oh, you were good once.

And now you're going to have
to be good again, sir, for me.

I had a funny patient
come visit me today.

9h, yeah?

She complained of basic
rheumatoid arthritis.

Well, but you're a surgeon.

I know, but she insisted
she stop in to be seen.

I was surprised,
because she was only 28,

and she was very beautiful.

Might I add,
she could have been a model.

But anyway, so,
I check her hands,

and she doesn't
have arthritis.

What does she have?

Nothing.

Her hands are
perfectly healthy.

- But she was in pain?
- So she claims,

but I watched her fiddle with her purse
in the waiting room

when I went out to get her,
and she wouldn't have been able

to do that with what
she was describing.

Plus, when people
are really in pain,

they beg me
for something stronger

than what they can buy
over the counter.

And she didn't even ask me
for anything.

So, you think she
was making it up?

I know she was.

Sounds like a nut.

She wasn't.

Well, I can't talk
about hands anymore.

I need some other parts.

Who the hell is that?

It's no one.

Dad. Hey, Dad. Is that
an old box you're repairing?

No, you know, it's, it's a different
kind. One of these brand new ones.

Dad, how long you been
in the elevator repair union?

Yeah. When you left
South Dakota to track down--

Simon?

Jesus, fuck, Simon.

Simon, wake up.

Shit. Fuck, Simon.

Oh, my God.

Oh, fuck.

9-1-1. What's your emergency?

Yeah, I need an ambulance.

My husband has overdosed
on some sleeping pills.

Yeah, that's 411 East
Third Street, Apartment 12.

Please hurry. No.

No, I can't tell if
he's breathing or not.

Fuck. Just send an ambulance.

Jesus, Simon.

Fuck. Wake up.

Simon?

Simon? Come on.

- GOt you!
- Oh! Fuck!

- I can't believe you came!
- The fuck is wrong with you?

Holy shit.

- You were amazing.
- That is not funny.

- What are you doing?!
- This guy's fucked up.

- What are you fucking doing?
- That was incredible.

I actually called
the fucking ambulance.

- Asshole.
- Baby? That was...

I'm making you a little drink.

Easy on the roofies.

You supposedly working
on your column right now?

- Column's done.
- Is it noteworthy?

Only for the fact that it might
be my most rushed one yet.

Cop shot at home with
his own gun,

by his 12-year-old daughter.

Accident, of course.

They deserve better
than the time I gave them.

Look, I better tell you
I have an agenda here.

I have an agenda, too.

Maybe we can
save 'em both for later.

God, I'm so going to hell.

Tell me why
you have sex with me.

No.

Tell me how it's different
than with your wife.

No.

Your wife is attractive, right?

I bet you know
the answer to that.

I bet I do.

- Did you go?
- Yes.

- To her office?
- Yes.

Why?

I was curious.

She knew you were lying.

- Yeah, I guess.
- It's not funny.

That was an incredibly
fucked-up thing to do.

I'm sorry.

- I didn't mean it like that.
- Well...

She's smart, Caroline.

She's very, very smart.

Smarter than me?

Yes.

How do you know?

Because nobody's
is smarter than my wife.

Trust me. Believe me.

Never make contact
with her again.

Ever. You understand?

Yes. I understand.

Okay.

I'm going to ask you a question now.

All right.

Is she good in bed?

Absolutely.

She loves you,
and you love her?

Yes, very much. Yes.

Then how is it different?

Unless you have children,
it's hard to understand, I think.

Try me.

After you have children,

death kinda gets into it.

You know?

Somehow you become aware
you're going to die.

I didn't get that
before I had kids.

What happens if
one of my kids dies?

Anyway, it all sort of
gets into the sex.

It's complicated.

Have you been with her
since our last time?

Yes, last night.

Did you think of me
when you were with her?

Yes.

I mean think of me
not just 'cause you felt guilty.

- Yeah.
- I mean, you were fucking her,

but actually thinking
about fucking me.

Yes.

Do you look down at your wife
when you're fucking her and think,

"I'm going to be
with you until I die"?

Yes.

How do you
feel about that?

It's both comforting and
terrifying at the same time.

Do you love me?

Ever since the first moment I saw you.

What are you thinking about?

Trying to decide
if it's better to

snoop around your apartment
while you're not here...

...or ask you point-blank
where it is.

Where what is?

Hobbs expects me to deliver a video
he believes you're sending him.

Oh, fuck.

- What?
- Oh, God, I don't fucking believe this.

- Jesus Christ.
- What?

I wanted you to find
that video for me.

What?

They've been through my whole
apartment, my computer.

They watch me everywhere.

They've been threatening me
with all kinds of things.

I don't have much time and I wanted you
to help me find that video.

Wait, you know
what's on that video?

I've never watched it,
but I was there for the taping, yes.

All right, come on,
don't bullshit me.

If you're not the one sending that video
to Hobbs, then who is, hmm?

I don't know. I was hoping you
could find that out, too.

Okay. Well, maybe you want to share
with me what the fuck is going on.

It's not good.
Okay, you have to understand that

Simon was always testing me. I became
like a science experiment for him.

I'm willing to do
anything you ask,

as long as it doesn't
involve hurting someone,

if you are willing to do
anything I ask.

Fuck you, Si.
I can keep up with you.

You can?

So you accept
the challenge?

Yeah.

So what do you
want me to do?

I want you to be holding the hand
of someone just as they die.

Challenge accepted.

I want you to have sex...

...with someone most unexpected.

Challenge accepted.

I'm gonna need proof.

If you're really going to play
this kind of game, it gets really...

...interesting. It gets...
gets exciting, sort of.

I don't know.
Maybe I'm not explaining it.

What?

So, he set off with his camera
to be with somebody

when they died in the
hospital or something,

and then I set off with mine
to have sex with someone

- "most unexpected."
- Meaning?

Meaning like a cab driver
or a woman wouldn't do,

because that's too
predictable for Simon.

You know, I always
had to push back.

Simon had a way of making me
want to show him everything,

just to... just to see
if it was enough.

I sat down in the lobby
to think.

I could go to the Mayor's
place, Gracie Mansion.

I thought of trying to get
to one of the Yankees.

And then in walked Hobbs.

I thought I recognized him from
the CNN report of his last mega-buyout,

merger, whatever,
but I wasn't sure.

The bellhop confirmed he was
the billionaire media mogul Hobbs,

and, 1,000 bucks later,
he gave me his room number.

And you taped
the whole thing.

Yeah, it was easy. I just had my
camera peeking out from the purse

that I left on the table.

The next morning,
Simon tears into my purse,

and he took the flash drive,
and he never let me see it.

And he never kept his end
of the bargain up, either.

And I fucking hated him for that.
I took a shower for, like, three hours

and I promised myself I would never care
what Simon thought about me ever again.

And then he saw the video and he
freaked out, and we had a big fight.

And after he died,
I thought that the...

...that the video would be in his
collection, and it wasn't.

Look... why me?

Come on.

You know you're perfect for this.

So, all this, between us?

This is all for me to help you
get back some video file?

Just tell me.

Yes.

- Do you forgive me?
- No. Or me.

You have to understand that
initially I asked you for help,

and then I got to know you
and I really liked you.

Porter, you've got
to believe me.

Hobbs is serious about
getting this video.

He's going to take
everything away from me.

You know, you're
saying a lot of things,

but you're not telling me
what I need to know.

- I've told you everything.
- No.

There is a reason
why Hobbs is so adamant

about getting this flashcard back,

because a guy his age would be
proud to have proof

of fucking a woman as young and
beautiful as you without paying for it.

And if Simon told you to go
have sex with somebody,

there's a reason why he got so
upset when he saw the footage.

So tell me the truth... now.

Or I'm leaving.

I've told you everything.
I promise you.

I promise.

Please help me.

Porter, please help.

Porter, please.

- Wren?
- Okay, okay, okay.

What can I do for your fellows
on this lovely evening, huh?

Give us the file.

- I don't have it yet.
- Are you sure about that?

- You just came from her apartment.
- Hey. What the fuck?

How come you're not
answering your phone?

Do you want to sell
to somebody else?

I don't know.

You think you can
fuck with Hobbs?

Don't let us come back here tomorrow
and find it in your house, asshole.

Please. Please.

Jesus.

Oh, I'm fine.

- What the hell happened?
- I'm fine. I got jumped.

It was only a matter of time.

It was stupid.

I didn't put my wallet away
while I was in the cab.

L Qot mugged.

I'm sorry.

It was only
a matter of time.

You scare me when you say that.

I'm sorry.

Good morning.

You have a furious wife,
you have blood in your piss,

and you still have a column due.

But instead of doing your job,

you dig around and you find
that Simon Crowley's father,

Frank, lives in
a nursing home in Queens.

Mr. Crowley?

I'm a friend of Caroline's.

I was hoping
you could help me.

Did Simon leave with you
a video camera, a memory card?

You know, a memory card?

Mr. Crowley?

Is he okay, though?

Okay. I'm on my way.

I'm on my way.

Paging Dr. Bender.

Paging Dr. Bender.

How serious is it?

I examined the wound myself.

The bullet pathway in the muscle
will leave scar tissue,

but not going through
the entire depth.

What does that mean?

It means that he will never have
the absolute contraction

in that muscle
that he should have.

- Josephine?
- It hit the left patella.

She'll need surgery and rehab.
It'll take at least a year.

What the fuck happened?

What happened?

She rode with the kids
in the ambulance.

But the cop who was trying
to get the story

said that she
was pretty incoherent,

just that a man forced his way
into the house with a gun

and was searching
for something.

You know who the man was?

I have a good idea.

I will not let my children
be a part of this, Porter.

- No.
- Daddy?

Sally-bird.
Don't cry, sweetheart.

Come here.
Oh, Sally-bird.

Everything's going
to be all right.

- How did I get here?
- No, sweetheart, you're okay.

I'll tell you later.

I'm taking the kids
to my mother's.

Sit up, baby.

What about his arm?

They need this room.
He's free to go.

He can travel.
I'll take good care of him.

Here, you be careful
with this thing, okay?

Daddy, are you coming to Grandma's?

Such a good boy.

Not on this trip, sweetie.

Why?

- Come on, baby.
- Let me walk you to the street.

I would rather you didn't.

I don't know if I'll be able to
contain my rage that long.

Come on, sweetheart.

When your little boy has been even
grazed by a bullet, all bets are off.

I needed to get to Hobbs.
And I knew that the only way

was through
his gatekeeper, Campbell.

I was now past being afraid of
what my desperation could do.

Open the other door.

- Take my wallet!
- Shut up. Get inside.

Get inside.

- Oh, God!
- Move!

Don't kill me, please.

Do you know who I am?

- No.
- I'm Wren.

Porter Wren.

Your goons shot my little boy
this afternoon, did you know that?

Yeah.

Which drawer has
the sharpest knives?

Oh, God, no, please.

Which drawer?

Now, call Hobbs.

I can't. He's in London.

No...

No, we're going to tell him
to call off his goons.

He's unavailable.
I swear.

Start thinking, Campbell.

My son is three years old.

He is a perfect angel.
He's innocent.

All right!
Wait, wait, wait, wait.

0-11-44-955-646-7287.

Hobbs?

- Campbell?
- So sorry to wake you.

Hobbs, this is Porter Wren.

One of your goons
broke into my house today

and shot my three-year-old son
and his babysitter.

You listen to me,
you motherfucker.

If you do not
call off your goons,

I will make 1,000 copies
of that video

and I will send one
to every newspaper,

every television station
in the world.

I will be a fucking wild man.

I don't care.
I don't give a shit.

I will go down
in a glorious ball of fire,

and I will take you
with me, you fat fuck.

Now you call off your goons
right now.

You have a 24-hour grace period,
Mr. Wren. How about that?

Fail to hand me the master video when
I'm back in New York tomorrow evening,

and your troubles today
will be longed for fondly

compared to the realm
you will find yourself in.

I don't know how
he got up there, but he did.

- You're funny.
- Okay, Daddy? Dad?

Daddy? Tell me again how to make
the elevator run from the remote.

Out of the key paid
in the back of the panel.

Some dessert, Frank?

I know, the quick
patch or the boot patch, or...?

Boot patch. You need a boot patch
to complete the circuit.

The camera annoys me.

What? What's the matter?

Frank doesn't like the camera.

I know. Well, I got...
I'm going to go away tonight

for a little while, Dad,
and I want you on,

on the camera, okay?

Okay, I'm going to go.
I have to go.

I have to pick up some
medicines for Irv.

Mrs. Segal, I need
to get a key made.

Can I get a ride with you to
the hardware store?

- Well, of course you can.
- Thank you.

Dad? Dad. I'm going to say
goodbye now, okay?

Okay-

- Me, too.
- Bye.

- Okay.
- Mrs. Sega]?

Would you mind if...
we had, you know, a minute?

Father/son moment?

Thank you.

- Say goodbye- Say goodbye-
- Yeah, I... I said.

Okay.

Daddy?

Here's what I want you to know.
I want you to know that I never

blamed you for what happened...

for what happened to Mom, okay?

And no matter what happens now,

or tonight, I don't want you
to blame yourself.

Okay?

And you watch this as many times
as you need...

...until you accept
that that's the truth, okay?

I love you, Daddy.

All right. Okay.

Mrs. Sega! in the
video had to be Norma Sega],

a name I had noticed in
the nursing home guest book.

She visited Frank Crowley
twice every week.

I tracked her down
to an address in Queens.

And, like Frank Crowley,
I was running out of time.

And she was all I had.

Hello?

Hello?

Oh, my God, get out!

Get out. Get out.
I'm calling the police.

- Please don't. No.
- I'm calling the police.

- No, please.
- No, don't touch it. No!

- Get out! Get out!
- Here.

Please don't hurt me.
Just please go.

Mrs. Segal, I'm desperate.

Please, I'm sorry I entered
your house without permission,

but-- I know it's wrong.

I need your help, Mrs. Segal.
Please.

You know me?
How do you know me?

- Do I know you?
- I'm Porter Wren.

I'm a...

I write a column
in the paper.

I'm risking my whole career,
telling you who I am.

And please, trust me.

I read you all the time.

I'm not here for the paper.

I promise I won't,
I won't write about this.

I'm...

I'm trying to help Caroline.

Now if you could just answer
a few questions for me,

I'd be incredibly grateful.
Okay?

- Okay.
- Now, Simon was a family friend?

Yes. Simon was best friends
with our Michael growing up,

- when they were little.
- Oh, yeah?

They remained friends?

Michael drowned
when he was eight.

Simon still came over
every day after school,

because Frank was working and Simon's
mother had passed away already.

He became like a replacement son
for us, you could say.

Now, you were visiting
Frank Crowley, Simon's dad,

and billing the estate, right?

Yes. Simon had his firm
send us $2,000 a month,

once he started making money,

because he wanted
to take care of us.

I was very uncomfortable with it.

I thought, I thought we
should earn the money.

So, I was visiting Frank twice
a week at the home.

Frank and I've become close
over the years.

So, I started billing the firm

for those visits by sending invoices
on lrv's legal stationery.

Would you...
Would you like to sit,

and... and go downstairs?

Sure.

- Sorry.
- That was very scary.

- I'm really sorry.
- Yeah.

Now, what about
those other $5,000 payments?

Oh, that was
something different.

Simon said he had a job for me,
for which he would pay $5,000.

He told me to bill the firm,
to send something to a third party.

He said to write the invoice
on legal letterhead like I had before.

Was it a camera
memory card?

Yes, it was
a video camera card.

He gave me this whole box of
little plastic things.

I don't know what was on it.
I didn't look at it.

Simon told me, if we needed cash,

follow the same instructions,
mail one of them,

and bill the firm.
It was remarkable.

Remarkable.

Mrs. Segal,
I need that box of copies.

Oh, no, no. Simon made me promise
not to give it to anyone.

No, no, you keep billing the firm.

You just...
You can't send them anymore.

Really?

Because I'm down to my last one,

and I was wondering
how to make more.

I need that video card.

Such a small, little thing.

I have no idea
what could be on it.

I'm much heavier
than I should be.

And I'm quite incapable of
normal sexual function.

Can't have sex?

There are other things in life.

There's something that
you're not telling me.

- Well...
- Well, don't be embarrassed.

You can tell me anything,

and I can take whatever it is
and keep it locked up.

Well...

Well, it happened a very...
a very long time ago.

Too long to
keep inside of yourself?

It was summer, before my final
year at university,

and I decided to work
on a freighter.

I was the son of one of
the richest men in Australia.

I took the job
just to spite my old man.

Anyway, we had a week's shore
leave in Marseilles.

Something tells me there's a
woman involved in this story.

As beautiful as you are.

She was the most expensive
prostitute in Marseilles,

and I... I did something
stupendously stupid.

And what is that?

Well, I fell in love with her.

And I gave her my last franc

just to be able to look into her
eyes for a few minutes longer.

It broke me up to say goodbye.

I kissed her,

told her I loved her,

and flew down those dark
streets to the port.

Suddenly, some of the regular
Marseille sailors

caught up with me
and beat me up, pretty badly.

One of them stuck me
with a knife, in the groin,

at least. ..
at least a dozen times.

And they...
and they left me for dead.

Oh, my God.

Well, my manhood was
severely wounded.

I... in fact...

In fact...

I was butchered.

Well, I went to the best doctors
in the world, but some things...

Well, some things,
you can't fix.

And I was 20-years-old.

May I see?

Good God, it's far too embarrassing.

Please.

Show me.

Show me.

You're not repulsed by me?

No.

I think you're sweet.

I'd like to tell you a story now
that I've never told anyone before.

It's about when I was a little girl
and I really wanted a horse.

And every day, I would ask
my stepfather for this horse.

I used to beg him, so much...

Good God.

That's terrible.

I want...
I want to do something...

...for you.

I'd like...
so very much...

...to kiss you...

...in... a special place.

Am I...

Am I allowed...

...to do that?

I don't mind if you say no.

You're allowed.

You sure?

Yes.

Oh, my God.

Mr. Wren.

Can we behave like
gentlemen this time?

I'm much heavier
than I should be.

And I'm quite incapable
of normal sex--

Oh, I'd like to
ask you three questions.

Shoot

Was Miss Crowley sending
these video cards?

- No.
- Then who was?

An innocent woman, taking orders
from Simon Crowley.

Did she watch the contents?

- No.
- Did you?

That's four questions.

Please indulge me.

And I'll, I'll share
something with you.

Yes, I watched the video.

Aren't I a lovely sight?

I've been holding onto
this for a long time.

And in the spirit of
"all's well that ends well,"

I'd like to...
to give it to you.

We did gain access
to Ms. Crowley's apartment,

and I am sure she
suspects something.

- She does.
- We were looking for the video.

And we looked
at all her keys,

and we identified every one,
except that one.

I could've left
it there, walked away,

tried to put my life
back together.

But there were still too many
questions about Simon's death.

And the truth is this key could
unlock the secrets of Caroline.

She was a mystery I could not
walk away from.

Can I help you?

Hey. It's Porter.

Back in the day, I used to
deliver coal to both buildings,

through this basement.

The one next door that they demolished
was identical to my building.

You see, both buildings are
exactly the same.

Does the demolition crew
inspect the elevator

before they send it
to the basement?

The one next door was already in
the basement, didn't need to be dropped.

And the cops who
investigated Crowley's death,

they couldn't search
the elevator, could they?

Because it was under
20 feet of rubble.

What would they be looking for?

It's just an elevator.

Yo! Throw the rope!

- What?
- Feel that?

Why have you been
buying milk lately?

They're going to demolish this
tomorrow morning.

Well, can we make it quick?

It's creepy in here.

All right?

Yeah. You know, I'm going
to wait downstairs.

- This is too weird.
- Here.

Caroline?
Come talk to me.

Why is this elevator not working?
I want to go downstairs.

Hey, come. Come talk to me.
I'm your husband.

Come talk to us.

Why do you have my horse?

It's an item of marital interest,
wouldn't you say?

This old treasure
is about 1,000 years old.

Your phone's not gonna work, baby.
I took out the SIM card at home

and put it under your pillow.

It's made of jade,
from the Zhang Dynasty.

And it's worth about
$1.8 million, I found out.

So, obviously,
Mr. Hobbs appreciates you.

He appreciated you with
his tongue, we know that.

He appreciates your little horse
story that you told him,

to give you a gift like this.

Made you feel like you have
a real daddy?

Made you feel safe, Car?

Tell me the story.

I'm not telling you the story.

- It's locked.
- We're leaving.

No, we're here.
All the doors are locked, babe.

Fuck.

We are not leaving until
you tell me the story,

exactly the way
you told it to him.

Okay.

Well... I guess
we'll stay the night.

Seriously. I am prepared
to wait all night.

I have my milk.

And if you have not told me
the story by the morning,

we can be demolished
along with this building,

and our bodies can be
crushed by the rubble,

and we'll be
compressed into dust.

I'm never telling you
that fucking story, okay?

Ever.

Jesus, what the fuck
are you doing?

Well, I'm breaking
the expensive horse.

This key will
bring the elevator back.

So...

- Give me the key.
- Give me the story.

No. Just give me the key, Simon.

Actually, that's, um,
that's our postal box key.

This key is the one that unlocks
the padlock around your ankle.

How about that story now?

- I fucking hate you.
- I fucking love you.

The more you resist,
the harder it's going to be.

So, tell me the story.

No?

No?

Okay, 'cause of that, I'm going
to have to drink my milk here.

I've been practicing
drinking milk.

It'll help me swallow keys.

Son of a bitch.

Don't swallow the key.

Please don't. Please.
Please stop.

So now you
control your fate.

Tell me the story, so I won't
send the elevator down,

because, if I send it down
to the basement,

there's no way for it to be down
there and you to still be here.

I'm not telling you the story.
Just stop this, please.

Last chance.
I'll start it for you.

When I was a little girl...

- Please don't.
- I really wanted a horse.

Just tell the story and I won't
push this button, okay?

I don't want
to tell the story.

No. Stop.

Shit, Simon, fuck.

Is your pathetic story
really worth this?

No. No, please, stop.
Stop the elevator.

Tell me the fucking story!

Why aren't you trying
to stop this thing?

Okay. When I was a little girl,
I really wanted a horse.

- Okay.
- I begged my stepdad for one every day.

- Fucking stop.
- Too late. Bye-bye. Bye-bye.

Hi. Okay.

So, I rigged it to stop.

I thought for sure you would
tell me sooner.

Anyway, so, yes. "My stepdad,
every day, I asked him," and?

Jesus.

Oh, God.

Simon?

Please...

Hello.

Please tell me
that you found the Hobbs tape

- and that you returned it.
- I did.

What? You did, really?

- Where was it?
- I'm sorry. I can't talk now.

Well, can we have breakfast?

I'd like that.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Have you been rolling
around in the mud?

It's a long story.

Well, I like long stories.

Before you tell me everything,

there is something
that I would like to show you.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

I've got some things
to show you, too.

It's beautiful.

What is it?

Don't lie to me now, Caroline.

Simon threw it and broke it.

Yes.

You used the padlock
from your ankle

to lock the basement door
so no one would find the body.

Porter...

Did you know...

...it was all on camera?

Every second.

Moment by moment.

This is a copy for you.

The original is somewhere
you will never find.

If you ever contact my wife
in any way--

I see.

Keep me in check.

Will you tell it to me?

The horse story?

When I was nine,
I really wanted a horse.

And my stepfather, Ron,

was not into giving me one.

And my mother was so powerless
in the relationship

that she didn't even bother
to argue for me.

As my birthday got closer,
I used to beg

and beg for that horse.

And every time I begged, Ron
would slap me across the face.

It would only make me
beg more the next day.

One night he came into my room
and he said,

if I could keep his visit a secret...

...and if he could do
whatever he wanted,

then he would buy me
a horse for my birthday.

And this went on
for about a week.

And when my birthday rolled
around, there was no horse.

So, that night,
when he came into my room,

I told him that I was
going to go tell my mother

what he had been doing to me.

And he promised me that
he'd kept his end of the deal...

...and that there would be a horse
waiting for me the next day.

Happy birthday, Caroline.
Here's your horse.

Why did you look
in the elevator?

I think you wanted
me to, Caroline.

Goodbye, Caroline.

Well, don't just go.

Say something to me.

Be well.

As well as you can be.

The ugliness of who
I've been and who I am now

is strongest when I get to see
my wife and children.

I never told Lisa the truth,

choosing instead to let her
imagine the worst of me.

I think she decided that
whatever was in me now

was dark and ugly
and better left where it was,

as long as it was not near her
or the kids.

What was I doing here?

Maybe because it made me
feel safer

to know Caroline
was far away from me,

as if I alone were not responsible
for the wreckage to my marriage.

Maybe to see her
in a new life

would bring me
some kind of closure.

Maybe I'm just feeling
stupidly sentimental,

like the asshole that I am.

As the old reporter told me
on my first day,

"it's all one story, kid.

It's all one big story."