All language subtitles for Holy Lands (2017)

Dad, I continue

to write to you in
spite of your silence,

so that the bond
won't be broken,

so that one day I won't
come upon a stranger

who might be my father, so
that I won't forget you.

Is it still a matter of anger?

Anger over my
forthright announcement?

A string of words which
changes the course of my life,

but not yours?

Do you not want to speak
with me, to hear my laughter?

Strangely, the less I see you,
the more I become like you.

I find you in mirrors.

I have your hair.

I have the warmth of
your hands in mine,

even in the middle of winter.

I surprise myself by wearing the
turtlenecks I hated as a child.

You know, the ones you always
wore when we lived in London?

I have the same bald
patch in my beard

when I go without shaving.

I hope the strange
adventure you're on

is bringing you happiness.

Raising pigs in Israel?

Couldn't you play golf
like everyone else?

Are you hoping to provoke
God, to get an answer?

I hope you'll find one
and come back to me.

Send my regards to your pigs.

You, who never let me have
so much as a goldfish.

I have an offer to make you.

I'm listening.

How about, instead of
watching your shitty play again,

you let a handsome man
take you to dinner?

That sounds awesome.

Let me know if you find any.

I should just leave
you here for that.

How are you, sir?

Ah, Mr. Rosenmerck.

Mr. Rosenmerck?

How are you, sir?

Come on.

What?

We have a problem.

Yeah.

Mr. Rosenmerck?

Mr. Rosenmerck?

12 nipples, 13 piglets.

This one is the little one.

Yeah?

He's weak.

- Oh, he's weak?
- Yeah.

So wait a minute.

So, I still don't follow.

Uh... you want me to
give him the bottle?

Yes.

Uh.
OK.

OK.

I'll try it.

I mean, it's a
little ridiculous.

Yeah.

I shouted.
Still nothing.

I shouted.

I rang the doorbell.

And he just rocked his pig,
cradling it like a baby.

Can you imagine?

Pretending not to hear me?

I think the man's a degenerate.

Did you change it at the top?

Yes.

Are we going to start?

Scrub, scrub, Rivka.

You need more detergent.

I did that already.

Never going to
get this pig off me.

Do you think we should
just throw it all out?

Check the Torah.
Maybe one washing isn't enough.

- Dad, are we going to start?
- Yes.

OK.

So.

Dear Mr. Rosenmerck,
this is my third letter

to you regarding your pig farm.

- It's your second letter.
- Exactly.

He'll want to point out that
it's only my second letter,

which he can only do by
replying and acknowledging

- that he received my first one.
- Clever.

Very clever.

Yes, so please don't
make me explain my strategy

every other sentence.

Ready.

This is my third letter to
you regarding your pig farm.

You want me to write it again?

No, I'm just starting again.

Oh, OK.

Hey.

Hey, what are you doing?

You can't wake me up
like this every night.

I can't take it.

Hey.

What... what are you doing?

I need my sleep.

I'm... I'm... I'm going to... hey.
Hey.

OK.

Oh, god.

Here.

Don't bite my toes.

Come on.

What does the snake represent?

Evil.

Yes.

And what else?

A penis?

That's not funny to me.

Pardon me.

Amos.

You have a reply
from the farmer.

Ah, good.

Shall we hear what
the miserable pig

- farmer has to say for himself?
- Yes.

- Yes, please.
- Yes, of course.

Dear Rabbi, I
have followed your...

You read very well, but
please pass it to Benjamin.

I put the pigs on stilts
like Hawaiian bungalows

over the ocean.

Never shall a hoof brush
the earth of the Holy Land,

except of course for
when you buy them from me

to chase off the terrorists.

In the New York Times last
month, I saw a

soldier with a pig on a leash.

And I must say, it discredits
your tough guy reputation.

OK.

Give it to me.

I am a man who is
respectful of religion,

although I don't
practice it myself.

I didn't mean to
offend you, though you

appear to mean to
offend me by calling

me a degenerate shegetz.

Oh.

Well, I had
to make him react.

Mind you, this will
not change the fact

that Israeli Jews are
gorging themselves on bacon,

and that I am a man who
sells it to them through one

restaurant alone in Tel Aviv.

Eggs and bacon, whether you
like it or not, are on the menu.

They're very popular.

So tell me, Mr. Rabbi,
what exactly is the story

behind the use for pig's blood?

You know, the one in which
bags of porcine blood

were hung in the city buses to
deter terrorists from blowing

themselves up, splashing
themselves with it,

making them impure,
barring them from paradise?

If you can secure me this
contract with public transport,

I won't have to sell
them any more bacon.

I figured that
giving your politics

being so different from
the other rabbis, you know,

your open mindedness and
all, you'd understand me.

As for the road, I will
continue to use it.

You can't prevent me
from practicing my trade.

What do we think of that?

Harry one, Rabbi zero.

Dr. Swimmen.

Dr. Swimmen!

Dr. Swimmen!

Dr. Swimmen!

Wait.

- Annabelle.
- Hi.

I wasn't expecting
you until tomorrow.

I know.

I need to talk to you.

What can I do for you?

I'm kind of in a jam.

I need to cancel
our session tomorrow

because I can't pay you.

But I know that if I
cancel now, I'm still going

to owe you for tomorrow anyway.

And why can't you pay?

My dad, he hasn't transferred
my money in nine weeks.

Your money or his?

Are we on the clock right now?

You're 34 years
old, Annabelle.

I'm also still a student.

Lots of us still are.

You guys left us
a shitty economy.

You know, I've been
thinking of getting

a skateboard to ride to work.

What?

You don't think I could
pull off a skateboard?

No.

You're probably right.

What a ridiculous thought.

I'm too old to pull
off a skateboard.

And you're too old
to have an allowance.

You'll come at 5:00
tomorrow, as per usual.

And once you get that
paycheck from that first job

you're going to start looking
for, you can pay me then.

Now hit that
pavement, Annabelle.

Thank you.

I will, as soon as I
get back from New York.

I'm visiting my mom.

She's paying for the
ticket, by the way.

What's this?

This is the name of an
excellent child psychiatrist.

He has great results
with adolescents

in just your situation.

So can you help me or not?

You've been there for three
hours, for crying out loud.

I tried everything,
your neighbor, Milad, that

grows cows, he will have to...

She raises.

Raises cows.

What?

Raises... I mean,
you don't grow cows.

Listen.

I'm talking English on
top of this telephone pole

with a place full of pigs.

Give me a break with
the grammar lessons.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

So what about this
neighbor that grows cows?

Doesn't want a wire that goes
through a land full of pigs

through his own farm.

These are religious Muslims.

And then the other way,
there is Mrs. Lapierre.

Miss Israel of
'65 or whatever.

She said that Nazareth
belongs to the Christians.

Jesus' land.

But she thinks you're nice.

I know that.
Um.

Yeah.

She comes over to my house.

She wants me to
take her to dinner.

She schleps through the mud here
with these high heeled shoes

just to give me these
baskets of fruit.

She's a fan.

I mean, is there any
other solution, or?

The only solution I
see is to go east where

there's the new settlement.

All the way down there?

Yep.

Oh, my god.

This is the right
time to invoke his name.

Do you have one of those, um...

like, one of those rooms where
you get to talk to each other?

Videos?

The thing, you know,
like a chat thing?

What do you they call it?
Chat?

Oh.
Uh.

FaceTime or Skype?

There you go.

In less than a minute,
you'll be talking to Monica.

Monica?

I don't want to
talk to my ex-wife.

Well, then why is she
the first in your contacts?

Harry?

What are you doing on Skype?

Are you all right?

Sorry.

Is that a green juice?

You really are having
a crisis, aren't you?

Welcome to Skype, Harry.

Just another way for you to show
David that you can be in touch,

but you just don't want to.

Monica, you have to stop
talking for one minute.

You called me.

Maybe you had an intuition.

I'm having an MRI today.

I've been feeling
very dizzy, Harry.

You as well, uh.

Good luck with that.

And, uh, I'll talk to you soon.

Well, thanks for your concern.

You're a
hypochondriac, Monica.

- OK?
- Well, it's my turn.

Ignore our son, cut
off our daughter,

and dismiss me for your
ridiculous pig family?

Harry, Harry, you've
got to listen to me.

How do I shut her off?

Just press the button
with the phone on it.

Annabella's been trying
to get in touch with you.

What does it say about us
that our 34-year-old daughter

can't make her rent?

There are two
buttons with phones on.

One has red and one has green.

Whatever we did,
this is how we raised her.

You can't just
overnight.

Speaking of purse strings,
you would not believe...

I had dinner with...

Well, I'm, uh.
I'm going to hang up now.

Um.
Bye-bye.

You can't
believe her jewelry.

It's disgust... Harry?

Asshole.

God.

That woman.

Hang on.

I'll just get this.

Are you Rabbi Cattan?

Yes, I am, yeah.

Ah.

I was wondering,
are you planning

on sticking these fucking
signs all over the city?

You must be the pig farmer.

Nice to meet you.

I'm not here to be nice.

I'm here to tell you, if
you don't stop harassing me,

I'm going to get
very, very angry.

Really, what are you
going to do, beat me?

You're 100 years old.

100, huh?

You, my friend, are
three feet tall.

Are you finished?

Because my children
are waiting for me.

I am not finished.

This country has laws.

And you, my friend,
have no right

to tell me whether I can raise
pigs or fucking alligators.

OK?

That's the government's job.

You're in a Jewish country.

You're aware of that?

You're aware that it's my
country as well, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

So why don't you
cleanse yourself

and stop humiliating us all
with your disgusting animals?

Cleanse yourself.

Get rid of the stupid
beard and the fucking hat

and the coat when it's
98 degrees in the shade.

You look like you escaped a
fucking mental ward, you moron.

Mr. Rosen...

Mr. Rosenmerck, come to Shabbat.

Shabbat this.

Prick.

Dad.

I can't seem to get
any news from you.

I think I'm beginning to
understand how David must feel.

I cried and cried over
my little wounded heart.

And for the first time,
you weren't there.

How could it be that the tears
I cry, when they evaporate,

end up in the same
clouds as the sea?

What have you done here?

Or the
flushed water of a toilet.

Were you afraid I was going
to leave you, or something?

There ought

to be a doctor for sorrow.

Not a psychiatrist,
or an acupuncturist.

No soft science guru.

I mean a real doctor, the kind
who can identify the source

of my sorrow and disinfect it.

Hey, dad.

Yo, son.

You look awesome.

It
would sting, painfully.

And then it would be over.

Things smoothed with a
pink paste like candy,

or a marshmallow for
a toothless child.

And then my pain would be
smothered, rather than me.

You're the only one with whom
I can share my heartbreak.

Do you remember Esmeralda?

I must have been four years
old when I first loved a boy.

I told him, I love you, Tommy.

I want to be your girlfriend.

And breathe.

And he
said, I like Esmeralda more.

I walked out of the school.

I waited so the other
kids wouldn't see.

And I blew my nose
into your shirt

while I told you
of my heartbreak.

And hold your breath.

Without
a word, you consoled me.

And breathe.

- I
- wolfed down a Belgian waffle

and we sang in the car.

I'm leaving Brussels
for New York.

This winter is just too cold.

I fear spring will
never come, that it's

a lost season, like the love
there used to be in my heart.

I've always tried to
think of my patients

as not having families.

No attachments.

No dependents.

No history.

I try to make them abstract.

Try to make them
cases to be tended to.

I try to look behind
the life in their faces.

Otherwise, I fall apart.

You understand?

Do you want me to
find another doctor?

No.

The first time we met, you
answered the door to Harry

and I. Here was the
handsome doctor.

I was the French intern.

You were barefoot, remember?

In that big apartment your
parents had on East 74th?

You saw Harry first.

He has a way to be seen first.

And it was already too late.

I knew I could not compete.

You were so sunny, so beautiful.

And I said to myself, this
woman will always be beautiful.

How much time do I have?

We can slow it down.

I'm asking for...

I'm asking for a number.

It's hard to say.

I'm not sure we should
go through chemo

to steal a few more months.

Tell me, Michel.

It will help me.

Having time to prepare is
a luxury, don't you think?

People live like they're
never going to die.

I want to take
advantage of that.

Hedge.

I want to turn wasted
time into precious time.

A year.

More or less.

One year, Monica.

Hey.

Hey.

What's up?

Good to see you.

You're going in?

Come on.

Let's go.

Let's go.

There's mom.

That's the critic
from the Times.

Asshole.

I'll be brief
and to the point.

You're a hopeless old schmuck.

Why don't you talk to your son?

Yell at him.

Have an argument.

Anything would be better
than a crotchety silence.

On the other hand,
I have to thank you.

I have been invited to
all the New York dinners

ever since you
started breeding pigs.

Every time I tell the
story, it's a hit.

Although I'm not sure
it's doing anything

to reduce anti-Semitism.

Dear Monica, you
call that brief?

Your letter was two pages long.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have serious work to do.

Dear Harry.

Raising pigs in Israel
doesn't make you a rebel.

It makes you a food
pornographer at the best.

You are the Larry
Flynt of bacon.

Harry Flynt in the Middle East.

Dear Monica.

Wearing high heels in
New York doesn't make you

Carrie Bradshaw.

You did manage to
raise a gay son

and an eternally
teenaged daughter

to avoid hearing
the word Granny.

But still.

Dear Harry, you missed the
premiere of David's play.

It's wonderful to
know that you have

kids that love you and is so
proud to have you as a mother.

You, on the other hand, are
getting a really bad rap.

You following me?

Uh.

No.

Where's that shitty
little bike of yours?

You going on a date?

I'm going to visit
my mother's grave.

I'm sorry.

Are you going on a date?

I'm going to see an
old rabbi friend of mine.

Mhm.

What do you, um, rabbis talk
about when you get together?

Torah.

Well, that sounds great.

You do the first
bath and then another.

Don't leave them
in too long, OK?

This is going to
take us all day.

When was the last
time you processed?

Years.

It's been years.

And they say
I'm the crazy one.

Dear dad, Annabelle

finally found courage to develop
the picture she took on 9/11.

That day was the
first day I ever

made love with another man.

And it felt so right and
so wrong at the same time.

It's strange how human beings
confuse the world's stories

with their own, how
self-absorbed we

are even in the face of horror.

It felt like the
towers were my fault.

It felt as if my cries
and moans drowned out all

of the ones buried
in the asphalt.

As if my chest pressed against
the chest of another man

played a part in
this awful tragedy.

Did you see?

Mom!

I told her not to come in.

Can you please?

Your eyes are all red
like those albino rabbits

that they sell in the pet store.

Yeah.

We were in the dark.

Did you see the Times?

No.

Did you?

That prick pretended
to be asleep.

He has some very strong
opinions about your play.

It's nine in the morning.

So when do you think
the paper comes out?

I just
really wanted to spend

some time alone with David.

Well.

I want to spend time
with the two of you.

And I brought bagels.

Go.

Good, good, good.

No.

Leave him alone.

When you go down, put your
hand behind the pinky.

Pocket towards me.

Look.

Once you play, the idea if
you catch on the ground,

your hand is here.

Why?

Why?

Because you can go in
and get it out and throw it

- to where you have to throw it.
- OK.

If your hand is here...

Do you see any baseball at all?

Yeah, of course.

- Where?
- Sports channel.

ESPN.

The who?

- Sports channel.
- ESPN.

Oh.

On television.

Mr. Rosenmerck.

I noticed you have a special
affection for this pig.

So I took the liberty
of sewing him this.

Oh, thank you.

Affection.

Um.

It's more like, you
know, his... his mother

deserted him as a child.

And, and... as a piglet...

You know, Harry, to
have affection for someone

is nothing to be ashamed of.

No, of course not.

Thank you so much.

Shut up.

You might have a girlfriend.

Come on in.

Oh.

Hello.

I'm of Nazareth.

How do you do?

We haven't met in person.

But I've written to you.

You are Harry Rosenmurph, yes?

Yes, Rosenmerck.

Have a seat, please.

Thank you.

Um.

Can I offer you a drink?

Oh, thank you.

I'm fine.

I prefer not to indulge.

Ah.

Well then you defy
the stereotype.

Water?

That too is an indulgence.

Without a doubt,
among the finest gifts

the almighty has granted us.

Of course.

Yes.

Forgive me.

Rosenmert?

- Is that Belgian?
- Merck.

Rosenmerck.

It's Polish.

I'm Belgian.

Yes.

I could tell right away.

And if you'll please excuse me,
the mess here is my little pet

over there, Judas.

Judas?

You amuse yourself
mocking our religion?

Uh... no.

No.

That's not... not it at all.

It's just a long story.

What can I do for you, Father?

We want you to leave and
give back to the church

what rightly belongs to us.

What might that be?

This land.

According to various documents,
even the emotions that descend

upon me when I set foot
here, it's on this spot

that our savior,
Jesus Christ, left.

This place belongs to humanity.

You are living on the
remains of Jesus's home.

Can you feel it?

Don't you feel those vibrations?

Do you feel it, Mr. Rosenmert?

Rosenmerck.

And, uh, no.

You'll be receiving
a letter from the Pope,

who unlike you, doesn't see
this as a laughing matter.

He might come see you himself.

I'm getting a
little tired, so.

Maybe you can write this all
down and mail it to me, OK?

I have.

And you haven't replied.

We are already in motion.

We are going to change the world
by buying this plot of land

from you, Mr. Rosenmert.

Once upon a time,
there were the Jews,

the Muslims, the Pope, and me.

And they all
walked into this bar.

See, that's the
beginning of a joke.

You write me when you
get the punchline, OK?

You make yourself the
punchline, Mr. Rosenmauve.

You are the punchline.

I'll be back, because
God is within me.

And if Jesus makes his return,
it won't be in a pigsty.

Take this.

- Mother?
- Yes.

This is your favorite.

It'll bring you luck.

All right.

I gotta go.

Kiss your father for me.

Don't you think it's time you
start kissing somebody else?

Get him to call David.

If you can, OK?

Slip this into the
Wailing Wall for me.

It's very important to me.

You know, Tinder is way more
effective than the Wailing

Wall, mom.

Just do it.

For me.

OK.

I will.

Oh, and hun?

Here.

I got... here.

- Just take this.
- It's OK, mom.

Dad's going to take care of...

Just... it's emergency
funds, because you never know.

OK.

Maybe buy some dresses.

Get drunk.

Find a husband.

Oh Jesus, mom.
Bye.

I gotta go.

Look how it is fat.

You know, I really, um, only
thought about the raising part.

I never thought too much
about the butchering.

It's going to be
a delicious ham.

Let's just let them stay
here a little longer, because,

look.
The road is blocked.

We'll never make it
to the slaughterhouse.

So let him stay a
little bit, you know?

OK.

I'm going to the rabbi's house
tonight for Shabbat dinner.

Oh.

What do you bring,
uh, a rabbi, to dinner?

What do you bring?

I'm a Buddhist.

Why don't you just Google it?

To make the
perfect cholent, you

begin with a kilo and a
half of spinach in a basin.

You wash it, chop it up.

And you fry it in a big pot.

As soon as it begins to
brown, you stir, stir, stir.

And you never stop so that
it browns without burning.

You have to be careful,
because this is an art.

When the spinach
is dark and crispy,

you pour in two liters of water,
a medium large onion, diced.

My aunt Eget used to put the
onion in before the water.

My mother didn't.

I didn't know there are two
schools of thought on that one.

Then you add three small cloves
of garlic, peeled and crushed.

Next, we add the spices,
a dozen fresh mint leaves,

chopped very, very fine.

Two spoonfuls of ground
cinnamon, salt and pepper.

As soon as the
ingredients begin to meld,

when it becomes a sort
of bubbling magma,

you add the meat.

Kosher, obviously.

A sliced cow foot is good.

A kilo of beef shoulder.

I like to add a
little veal myself.

It's my own personal touch.

And then you set it on a low
heat for three to five hours,

the longer the better.

And you serve it up piping hot.

And you're in for a real treat.

Rabbi?

Shabbat shalom,
Mr. Rosenmerck.

Rabbi.

Oh, shabbat shalom.

Here.

I bought you a, uh...

book basket.

That's very kind.

I wanted to play it, uh,
you know, kind of safe.

I'm supposed to
make a phone call.

And as you know, my
farm gets no reception.

So I was wondering, somewhere
where I could do it in private.

Sure.
Go in the back.

Do it in the garden.

Quickly though, because
shabbat's coming in.

You need to be off the phone.

Oh, well, it's a good thing
my phone plan is agnostic.

Um.

Mazel tov.

Monica.

You know, I got your message.

What... what's so very important
that I had to call right away?

What is it?

Oh.

OK.

Your children all right?

It's their mother.

She's a real ball buster.

I thought ball busters were
supposed to live forever.

Hey, Harry.

Simon, hey.

What's, uh... Simon...

You met my
eldest, Shimon?

Amen.

Shabbat shalom.

You ever tried cholent?

No, I don't believe I have.

It's better than it looks.

For sure.

I trust you.

It's very good.

Well.

Sometimes, our wall
seems to close in on us,

as though we built our own tomb.

Well.

I think we have too
many walls anyway.

You know, Harry,
to my office, I

see these divorcing couples,
these wounded women who

we think we're appeasing
by offering them money,

feel humiliated.

They ask for more because they
actually want something else,

something they can't express.

Because once you've lost it,
you know it's gone forever.

And the Palestinians
are a proud people.

But they seek to recover
something that is long dead...

the past.

Even if they had the
entire land of Israel,

they wouldn't be satisfied.

Do you think that's
enough politics?

Yeah.

It's getting a
little late, so, I...

- I thought I'd just head home.
- No.

You can't do that.
That's a disgrace.

What?

What, are you starting
with the pig stuff again?

No.
I mean, yes.

But no.

As a rabbi, I must
insist you don't drive.

Abraham, shh.

It's bedtime.

OK.

Good night.

Why do you let
them get like that?

My son, Shimon, he's
going to be 18 next month.

He doesn't want to
study the Torah all day,

so he's going to join the
army, because this is Israel.

Yeah?

But he thinks that
in life, he should have

more choices than God or war.

You have a son, Mr. Rosenmerck?

I'm sorry.

But you're applying
to adopt alone.

And you've publicly
declared your homosexuality.

So...

So?

Those conflict?

You travel a lot.

Your income statements show
professional instability.

I'm one of the more prominent
playwrights in the city.

There's also your
relationship with God.

My relationship with whom?

And again, your sexuality.

I'm sorry, Mr. Rosenmerck.

But your application is denied.

Hm.

So what you're saying is,
a homosexual playwright

is unfit for fatherhood.

That's not what I said.

I think that's
exactly what you said.

In fact, you could have
been a little less vulgar.

Thank you for your time, ma'am.

We'll have a baby, David.

I'll make sure of it.

Don't worry.

Really?

How's that?

I'll find one.

Or we'll steal
one from the park.

An ugly duckling no
one's going to miss.

Thank you.

Monica.

Harry?

Oh.

Did you call me
by mistake again?

No, no, no.

I've been trying to
reach, uh, Annabelle.

She's not answering her phone.

I'm... I'm... I'm getting
a little worried.

You know, we had
some rocket fire.

Um, you know, I just hate
that she's alone, you know?

But... well, that doesn't
make any sense, because she

texted me yesterday.

So I know she's OK.

I'll call David
to see what's up.

Yeah.
OK.

Thanks.

Harry?

That... that fear, that
dread, when you haven't

heard from someone you love?

Yeah.

Two years before we
separated, you left for a week

with no explanation.

You just said you had to do it.

I thought if you were
cheating on me, you...

you would have come
up with a better

explanation, a real alibi.

And now I just need to know.

Will you tell me where you went?

So we can leave it in the past?

Well, um, keep an eye out
for Annabelle for me, will you?

Monica.

Yeah?

Is that, uh, Michel
taking good care of you?

Yes.

He's always been in love
with you, that son of a bitch.

Last call for jealousy.

Hey.

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

I don't speak Hebrew.

What are you doing here?

Why do you want to cross?

I just want to see.

Either you have a reason to be
there, or you're not crossing.

I thought I just
gave you a reason.

Who are you?

- Are you a journalist?
- No.

I'm not a journalist.

I just want to see for myself.

Look.

I spent my childhood
summers here, and I just...

Did we ruin your childhood
memories with our big,

mean, wall?

Yeah.

You did.

As a matter of fact, yeah.

I don't speak Hebrew, so...

What is your nationality?

American.

In this country, where no
one agrees about anything,

90% of actual Israelis
wanted this war

after a room of
dancing teenagers

were blown up in a nightclub.

We find a way to agree
about one matter.

Yeah, I remember that.

You remember reading about it.

You remember hearing about it.

You don't remember it.

If you cross to the
other side, you might not

be able to get back tonight.

You don't mind humiliating
entire families like that?

They are humiliated
because to them,

it's a wall of segregation.

To us, it's a wall
of protection.

Not humiliating.

Necessary for security.

OK.

Can I at least take
some pictures please?

For your Instagram?

No.

- Move on.
- Yeah.

OK.
I got it.

Hey.

Look... look what they sent me.

Can you believe this?

They're demanding a
meeting at midnight.

Where?

Um.

Our Lady of the Big Fright
something or other church.

Uh, you know where it is?

Harry, I'm a rabbi.

I don't go into churches.

If you went into a
church eating parma ham,

would they cancel
each other out,

or would you go to hell twice?

Listen, why don't you
stop your stupid jokes.

Go home.

Forget about the priest.

He's... he's a fanatic.

He's not even a Catholic.

The actual priest in Nazareth
doesn't even speak to him

because last year
he tried to canonize

a pizza that he thought was in
the shape of the Virgin Mary.

Oh.
Interesting.

Yeah.

Harry.

What?

Have you ever had chicken pox?

Yeah, when I was six.

Why?

Three of my children
have chicken pox.

My wife has taken the car to
the doctor's, and there's no one

to pick up Shaol from school.

I'm on my way.

Thank you.

And stay away from the church.

They'll try to crucify you.

Or convert you.

He says he doesn't know you.

Of course he knows me.

We see all kinds
of things these days.

I'm sorry, Mr?

Rosenmerck.

Look.

Didn't his father tell
you I was coming here?

He said an Ashkenazi was
coming, which is a bit vague.

But look how afraid the boy is?

I guess that's fine then.

Um.

I understand.

Thank you.

Harry, wait.

Hey, hey.

You'll ruin his bandana.

Oy vey.

You promise not to
tell your father?

Promise.

OK.

All right, boys.

That's enough.

We had a good time.

Get out of here, OK?

Hm?

I've called the cops.

Everyone knows you
don't have a telephone.

Well, everyone knows
that you're a fruitcake.

What does that mean?

It means you are nuts.

If I'm that crazy, then you'd
better hurry up and accept

our offer before you regret it.

Is that a threat?

I'm just a messenger.

God has asked you to leave.

Is he the same
one that notarized

the act to buy my farm?

It's not a farm.

This is the Lord's home.

Oh.

Why don't you put a
fucking phone in it?

Move over with your dress.

Sorry.

Do you know what it's like, not
to know where the heck you are?

I mean, you had me nuts.

I called, didn't know if
you were OK, where you were.

What are you thinking about?

I wonder why we bury ourselves.

Why do we bury ourselves
when we're still alive, dad?

Your Esmeralda and Tony story.

You gotta let that go.

Look.

Anything that works
backwards is kind of stupid.

I also think that you have a
whole lot of beautiful stories

in front of you.

Beautiful.

They'll be there.

Anyway.

You're never going
to die, right dad?

No.

How could I?

You have years of therapy left.

You used to come here
to have lunch with me.

I always hoped you'd come one
day to show me your breasts.

And I'm here looking
at your tumor.

Do you find it sexy?

Come on.

I'll take you downstairs.

We have the best
sushi in Manhattan.

Everybody thinks they have
the best sushi in Manhattan,

and chiropractor.

We can't all have
the best, can we?

No.

But actually, mine is the best.

I'm sure it is.

Also happens to be
the best chiropractor.

He can fix your spine while
you're eating sashimi.

True talents.

OK.

Let's go.

It feels like
I'm in a costume.

I used to dress up as a rabbi
before I became one, in truth.

You're going to become
what you should be.

And then the costume won't
feel like a costume anymore.

We're in costume until
we've found our way.

And that takes time, Shimon.

So don't worry.

Dad.

Wow.

That looks absolutely
perfect on you.

It fits like a glove.

I completely forgot there was
such a thing as winter here.

David asked me to...

Listen.

About the money.

It's OK, Dad.

I'm going to try on my own.

OK.

I really think that'll make
you much happier that way.

What about you?

Me, what?

Your pigs.

They're going to make you happy?

Yes.

They... they would make me
happy before I got sad.

OK.

You know, you
didn't stay very long.

For me.

And, uh... listen, Annabelle.

Uh.

Look after your
mother, will you?

What makes you say that?

Well, you know.

Children don't see
their parents aging.

I love you, baby.

You be careful.

So do you still not want
to know the child's gender?

No.

Yes we do.

Just trust me!

I'm so afraid.

I... I can't.

Fear is nothing.

This will make you feel alive.

In the movies, people are
always doing incredible things.

Jumping out of airplanes,
swimming with whales.

Like it's nothing at all.

And here I am.

I don't want to do any of that.

I just want to be with you and
David, see what happens next.

When is it happening?

The thing that happens next.

In a month, mom.

Don't worry.

You'll be here.

You'll see.

Shh.

Shh.

But seriously, mom.

You don't want to
do anything else?

Well, if I thought I
was going to die tomorrow,

I'd go see Mrs. Ozzo and tell
her what a bitch she was.

I mean, she was always telling
me that your... your drawings

were strange.

I mean, what kind
of person does that?

Seriously, mom, my
first grade teacher?

She was a terrible teacher.

She was a bitch.

She was so uninspiring.

She was a horrible teacher.

I think it damaged you.

What are you doing?

Going to see Mrs. Ozzo.

I've been holding that
resentment for years.

Mom!

Shh.

Sorry.

Rabbi.

When are you going to
start letting me, you know,

have my ham in peace?

How many little piglets have
gone through your farm now,

do you think?

A couple hundred.

Why?

And that little Judas pig.

You... you like him a lot.

You treat him like a child.

Oh, yeah.

I like him very much.

How soon before you fry him
in his own fat and eat him?

Are you fucking nuts?

I'm not going to eat him.

Just his family then.

You know, if you want
a shrink, they're

very easy to find in Israel.

That's really kind of you.

Some religions, they
ban the eating of pig

because it's a
cleanliness issue.

It's a hygiene thing.

But I have a different theory.

They're very close to us in DNA.

When that plane
crashed in the Andes,

and the survivors ate
the other passengers,

they said it tasted like pork.

If you singe your hair on
your arm, it tastes like pork.

And pigs themselves will
do anything to survive.

They'll eat their own garbage,
they'll eat their own shit.

They'll eat each other.

We don't need pigs
to remind ourselves

that we're human, to distinguish
ourselves from beasts.

I asked Hassan,
I said, why aren't

Muslims allowed to eat pigs?

What did he say?

Oh, he said that,
because God said so.

You Jews, you think too much.

No.

It's because Judaism is not
just a religion of faith.

It's a religion of questioning.

Hair or makeup.

Excuse me, are you...

the Richard Jacob that writes
those wonderful theater

reviews in the Times?

That's me.

That's what I thought.

You know, I was
sitting next to you

during David Rosen's
new production.

Oh, poor you.

No, no.

I love the play.

Yes, but, I... I...

found it really distracting
because of your snoring.

Yeah.

I fell asleep almost instantly.

Yes, you did.

Even before the curtain rose.

So I was really
surprised to see that you

could even review the play.

No need to undress
the fat girl to know she

can't get you hard.

That's for my son and for
all the beautiful fat girls

out there.

On behalf of them,
go fuck yourself.

Jesus.

Fucking crazy bitch.

Look at me.

Psycho bitch.

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

I have cancer.

I'm sorry.

Order more wine.

Listen, OK?

Please forgive me.

Please, understand.

Look.

I'm dying.

I'm dying.

And I just think it's
really bad to be mean.

Just don't be mean.

Many rivers to cross.

But I can't seem to
find my way over.

Wandering, I am lost.

As I travel along
white cliffs of Dover.

The cliffs of Dover.

Many rivers to cross.

Many rivers to cross.

And it's only my
will that keeps me alive.

Yeah, brother.

I've been licked,
washed up for years.

Washed up for years.

And I merely
survive because of my pride.

And this loneliness

won't leave me alone.

It's such a drag
to be on your own.

On your own.

My woman
left and she didn't say why.

Well, I guess I have to try.

Many rivers to cross...

But just
where to begin?

I'm playing for time.

There'll be times I find
myself thinking of committing

some dreadful crime.

Yes I've got many
rivers to cross,

but I can't seem to
find my way over.

Sick, twisted fuck.

Fuck.

Sick.

Take me to that fucking church.

Right now, Moshe.

Come on.

I'm not coming in.

Don't do something stupid.

I'll wait here.

I'll wait here.

Harry.

Harry.

Harry.

Come on.

Do you hear?

At least put a shirt on
and join us for dessert.

It's my 40th birthday.

I can't.

It's been months since
you've left this apartment.

I'm writing and you know it.

Oh, yeah?
To whom?

That's not what I meant.

Go and see your mother,
at least, while she's here.

Look.

You can't tell me how
to deal with this.

Everyone reacts differently
when faced with death.

This isn't your death.

How narcissistic can you be?

This is her death.

She's as thin as a rail.

She is fading before our eyes.

Do you know what she asks me?

She wants me to keep bringing
your fucking laundry, David.

That's the only way she knows
how to connect with you now.

Through your filth.

And you don't even
want to see her?

No one's asking you
to confront death.

She's a living woman.

She's here.

And she's fighting.

And you won't even see her.

This is just how
we are in our family.

I'm a prisoner to them.

They're a prisoner to me.

But we're family, in
spite of everything.

We're a family who never
touches each other.

We don't cook together.
We don't eat together.

We don't birth together.

We don't die together.

We write to each other.

We feel each other from afar.

That's
not your family.

That's your goddamn father.

As soon as something scares you,
you'll run away from it all.

You keep away from
what displeases you,

what makes you uncomfortable.

You're hiding behind him.

And you're calling it love.

But he's not even here.

Fuck you.

Fine.

But if you don't go and face
your mother, I'll leave you.

Mazel.

I won't be able to come
tomorrow, you know that.

Yeah.

Yom Kippur.

Day of atonement.

Why do you say it like that?

Say it like what?

Why are you so damn paranoid?

Anyway, you're not well.

So, I won't encourage
you to fast.

Well, I won't.

No.

Hey, Moshe.

Um.

Thanks.

Oh, oh.

Mr. Rabbi.

Yes, Mr. Rosenmerck?

I was just wondering.

Does... does one have
to declare friendship,

as one would declare love?

I think so, Harry.

But with silence.

Ah.

It's me.

Yes, Monica.

Are you alone?

Sure.

Come on in.

What's up?

You're out of breath.

You all right?

You'll never guess what I did.

Skydiving?

First I bought my
granddaughter gifts.

It's a girl.

No one knows, but I know.

Of course you know.

I bought her
everything a little girl

could dream of, from birth
to her 21st birthday.

So I'll always be here
as her fairy grandmother.

You'll always be
here, no matter what.

And Michel, I let
go of resentment.

I confronted every one I
should have, for years.

And how do you feel?

I feel alive.

I don't want my kids
to see me suffer.

My children,
I've had my share of sorrow

and I've had my share of joy.

When I became a mother, my life
took on an entirely different

meaning.

I've done everything I can to
leave you traces of who I am,

so that you can find the
pieces to your own puzzle.

I thought so many times
that I was leaving

too early, before I could
leave you an instruction

manual for happiness.

I thought I'd find
happiness for you.

It was my lifetime
quest, to find

the formula that would bestow
smiles on your faces, always.

Dear David.

When the phone
rang, and Annabelle

told me of your
mother's passing,

I went to the bathroom.

I locked myself in.

And I sobbed.

David, Annabelle,

the idea that your
names will keep

echoing in an empty
room reassures

me and crushes me at once.

When your father and I
parted, and you spent nights

at his house, I lay
myself in your beds

and imagined that I was stroking
your hair, hushing you to sleep

while you slept under his roof.

I imagined that
somehow, deep within,

you could feel it from afar,
and that it calmed you.

Surely, I was fooling myself.

And it was me who
fell asleep imagining

your warm bodies near my own.

The last years

I cried went back to your
birth, and they ran with joy.

I didn't cry for my mother,
but, uh, I cried for yours.

Wherever it
is I'm going, I'll be with you.

And every night, you'll
feel my hand on your head.

That's a promise.

Hello?

Annabelle?

David, open the door!

David, open the goddamn door!

David, she's gone!

David, open this door!

I can't do this by myself!

Dave, she's gone!

Open the door!
Open the door!

Jesus.

Annabelle.

Annabelle.

Your water's broken.

I... I...

We all have
strengths we're not aware of,

as well as sorrows.

Come on.

It's
to you whom I write,

it's to you I turn,
you to whom I haven't

spoken in more than six years.

One day, you become the
child of your children.

And that day has come.

I imagine your pain
and your remorse

at not having seen your
mother in her last few days.

I understand what you did.

I'm sorry.

We can't accept

those we love are mortal.

I did the same thing with you.

I decided that none
of it was real,

that the David you imposed on
me only existed for others,

and that mine wasn't gone.

Hi.

Hi.

In my
mind, David is married

to a beautiful blonde woman.

In my mind, David has a son
and I bounce him on my knee.

In my
mind, David is a doctor.

And we play chess together.

I think I know what
makes him tick,

but he just beats me every time.

I don't know that deep within,
David is not so simple.

In my mind, David doesn't
kiss other men on the mouth.

My mind is full of
tears, regrets, and time

that's far too short.

I was angry with you.

And I'm still angry with you.

I'm angry with you that my
mother emerged from the camps

where my father died,
that she carried me

in the face of horror, that
the sickly infant I was had

to struggle to survive and
that I then brought you

into this world so you could
stop everything right here, as

if you were giving
a reason to death

itself, to the end of our
family name, to the shadows.

But who gives a damn, right?

I mean, who cares about
the names, survivors.

They die too.

Everything comes to
an end, including me.

Especially me.

I'll be there Thursday
for the kaddish,

put the one I loved
into the ground,

and I'll protect
you and your sister

and the tallit of a father.

And soon, all three
of you, because Monica

isn't with us anymore, but
another has already arrived.

Forgive me, my son.

My silences.

David, they made
the sound of love.

Smile though
your heart is aching.

Smile, even though
it's breaking.

When there are clouds in
the sky, you'll get by.

If you smile through your
fear and sorrow, smile,

and maybe tomorrow,
you'll see the sun

come shining through for you.

Light up your face
with gladness.

Hide every trace of sadness.

Although a tear may
be ever so near,

that's the time you
must keep on trying.

Smile.

What's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still
worthwhile, if you just smile.

That's the time you
must keep on trying.

Smile, what's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still
worthwhile if you just smile.