All language subtitles for The.Human.Stain.2003.x264_track3_[eng]

You mean to tell me you're
President of the United States

and you're banging some
22 year-old intern in the White House

and you ask her to keep her mouth shut,

and you really think she's gonna do it?
I mean, come on, give me a break!

Clinton. He should count himself lucky
she didn't go straight to Oprah.

Come on, she was overwhelmed by
Starr's team in that hotel room.

No, poor thing.
Eleven guys hitting on her?

- That's a gang-bang.
- Oh, right.

That's why she's talking to Linda Tripp.

She's talking to everybody.

She's part of that whole dopey culture.
Yak yak yak.

Oh, look, if Clinton couldn't
figure Monica Lewinsky,

then he shouldn't
have been president.

That's grounds for
impeachment right there.

- That's true.
- You're right.

I'm telling you,
if he'd just fucked her.

That's the way you
create loyalty.

- Yeah.
- That's the way.

But you know what Kennedy would
have done to her? Or Nixon?

They would have told her,
Not only are you not gonna work,

you're not gonna work ever again.
And your father's gonna be out of work.

And your mother. And your brother

Everybody in your family is
not gonna make one more thin dime

unless you keep your mouth shut.

Well, but Clinton plays it like a lawyer.
That's why he didn't want to come.

Hey, when he came,
he was finished.

Evidence.
Smoking come.

Nineteen ninety-eight was
the summer of sanctimony.

After the fall of Communism and
before the horrors of terrorism,

there was a brief interlude when
the nation was preoccupied by cocksucking.

This is Coleman Silk, powerful Dean
of Faculty and professor of Classics

at Athena College in western Massachusetts.

Educated at NYU and Oxford

Coleman taught in England before
returning to the U.S. To become

One of the first Jews to teach in
a Classics department anywhere in America.

When he was appointed Dean of Athena,

Coleman took the poulky
sleepy-hollow type college

and dragged it, kicking and screaming,
from mediocrity to excellence.

Of course, in the process,
he made a good many enemies.

Sing, O Gods,
of the wrath of Achilles

And finally, "the persecuting spirit"
caught up with Coleman.

All of European literature springs
from a fight, a barroom brawl, really.

And what was Achilles
so angry about?

Well, he and King Agamemnon
were quarrelling over a woman,

a young girl and her body

and the delights of sexual rapacity.

Achilles, the most hypersensitive
fighting machine

in the history of warfare.

Achilles, who, because of his rage
at having to give up the girl,

isolates himself defiantly
outside the very society

whose protector he is and
whose need of him is enormous.

Achilles, has to give up the girl.
He has to give her back.

And that is how the great imaginative
literature of Europe begins,

and that is why
three thousand years later,

we are going to
begin there today.

Miss Cummings, Tracy Cummings,
can you tell us

Still not here. Okay.
Mr. Thomas, William Thomas.

Is he here?

We're five weeks into the semester

and I haven't even laid eyes on these folks.

Can anyone tell me, do these people exist?

Or are they spooks?

Were you aware, Professor Silk,

that Tracy Cummings and William Thomas
are African-Americans?

How could I be?
I've never seen them.

But you are aware of
the connotation of the word "spook."

Ghost Professor Roux. Ghost.

I was referring to
their ectoplasmic character.

Here is the, uh, first definition
of the word. I quote

Spook, Informal
Ghost, Spectre

But, Dean Silk, let me remind you
of the second definition

Negro.

I'd never laid eyes on them.
How could I know they were black? Hmm?

All I did know was
that they were invisible.

Nevertheless,
they have lodged a complaint.

Miss Cummings was devastated.
Now the issue here

These students have
never attended a single class.

Do they exist or are they spooks?
Consider the context.

- But, Dean Silk
- I've not finished!

The only issue is the nonattendance
of these students,

their inexcusable neglect of work
and their sheer chutzpah.

Oh, Miss Cummings is devastated.
Give me a break, will you?

To charge me with racism
is not only false,

it is spectacularly false!
And you know it!

Thanks a lot, Herb.

- Well, I've quit.
- What?

I've resigned from
that half-assed college.

Where's that last year's phone book?

Wait a minute.
Wait a minute. What happened?

- I've been accused of a racist epithet.
- What racist epithet?

I used the word "spooks," which
fifty years ago was just a slang

I know what it was slang for.

Where's that phone book?
We'll sue these wimpy bastards.

- I want that lawyer, Alfred or whatever
- Wait, did you remind them

- that when you were dean you...
- Yeah, I reminded them.

No, you hired Herb Keble,
the first black...

- Please, "African-American," please.
- Okay

- African-American, ever on the faculty.
- Where's that book?

Isn't Herb on the same committee?

- But wait, wait, just tell me
- Yes, he is.

And they're our friends,
for God's sake!

- Did Herb even open his mouth?
- Yes, yes.

I'm sorry, Coleman, I can't be
with you on this. Bullshit.

Fine, fine. They want to fight?

I'll give them a fight
that they'll never forget!

This is absolute lunacy!
After 35 years of your devotion

Now you know what we're going to do?
We're going to organize.

We're going to get them to sign
a petition. That's what we'll do.

No. You know what we're going to do?
We're going to do a two-pronged attack.

We're going to attack
We're going to get lawyers,

because I know some...
Okay. I know. Which is why

- Coly?
- What?

- Something's wrong.
- I know there is. What do you mean?

- Coly
- What's the matter?

- Coly
- Hey, come on, sit down.

What's the matter?
Come on.

- Come on.
- I'm sorry.

It's all right.

I'm sorry

Iris Silk died several hours later
in her husband's arms.

Six months after that,
Coleman came into my life.

I had been living alone in a small cabin
by a lake not far from Athena.

Including questions
about my private life...

questions no American citizen
would ever want to answer.

Still, I must take
complete responsibility

for all my actions
both public and private.

And that is why I am
speaking to you tonight.

- As you know, in a deposition in January
- Hello?

I was asked questions
about my relationship

- Are you Mr. Zuckerman?
- Yeah.

- Are you Nathan Zuckerman?
- Yeah.

You're the Zuckerman
that's the writer, correct?

- Yeah, but
- We've got to talk. May I come in?

Thanks. Your last book won
some sort of prize, right?

- It was short-listed for the
- That was 5 years ago. What happened?

You're blocked, right?
You're blocked!

You're worried you don't
have another story in you.

Well, I can fix that.
I'm the answer to your prayers.

- You know who I am?
- Dean Silk?

Dean Coleman Silk.
That's right.

The late, retired and now resigned
and unlamented Dean Silk,

following the murder
you clock that?

Following the murder of my wife.

How's that grab you, Zuckerman?

That good enough to
get your juices flowing?

I'm not sure I understand.

Those sons of bitches
killed my wife, Nathan.

They killed my wife as if they'd taken
a gun and fired it into her heart.

Yeah. Who would've thought
Iris couldn't take it

as strong as she was,
brave as she was? But, uh

yeah, their kind of stupidity was too
much even for a juggernaut like my Iris.

Massive embolism.

Pow! I got her to the hospital,
but it was too late.

The point is they meant to kill me
but they got her instead.

All in the name of
political correctness.

There's an oxymoron
if ever I heard one.

So, there's your book, Nathan.

You mind if I call you Nathan?

- Look, Dean...
- Just Coleman.

All my other titles
I have given away.

Coleman. Look, I'm sorry but I write
fiction, and at the moment I'm...

Believe me this thing will read
like The Manchurian Candidate.

They murdered the wrong person,
for Christ's sakes!

For one word! Spooks!

Spooks! It's unbelievable.

Let me tell you something, Nathan.

My father was a
saloonkeeper in New Jersey.

Yeah, he was the only Jewish
saloonkeeper in East Orange.

He only got as far as
the seventh grade.

But he insisted on
the precision of words.

And I have kept faith with him.
I have kept faith with him.

If you don't mind a suggestion

maybe you ought to write
this book yourself.

Yeah.

Maybe I ought to.

Yeah.

I guess I ought to go.
Let me ask you something

Why are you hiding out here,
in the middle of the woods?

- Hiding out?
- Yeah. Isn't that what you're doing?

What's the moment
called in Greek tragedy,

you know, the one where the hero
learns that everything he knows is wrong?

It's called peripeteio or peripetia.
Take your choice.

Yeah. That's me.

Hey. You by any chance
play gin rummy?

And this was how my friendship
with Coleman Silk began.

And how I came out from
my reclusive life,

living alone in
a cabin by a lake.

You're divorced, huh?

Does it show?

Yeah, you have the look about
you of a man at loose ends.

Takes one to know one.

Why did your wife leave you?

Which one?

The first or the second?

Several years ago,

I had been diagnosed
with prostate cancer.

Although the treatment
was successful,

I had nevertheless withdrawn
to my cabin in the woods,

away from the expectations and
entanglements of modern life.

In the year that
followed my meeting Coleman,

the time it took him
to write his book,

we had dinner together
several times a week.

Sometimes playing penny
a point gin rummy,

sometimes listening to music that came
from a small FM station in Springfield

that played big band hits from
the forties and fifties.

It was during that time

that Coleman dragged me back to life,
much as he had Athena College.

- What's with the book?
- The book has come and gone.

- Meaning?
- Meaning it's worthless.

Yeah.

You can't make a college
without breaking eggheads,

and, I couldn't write
a book called Spooks

that didn't sound like
the ravings of a lunatic.

So... all this is useless.

Unless you count the dubious thrill
of re-reading old love letters.

Who's the girl?

- That's Steena Paulsson.
- Very pretty.

- Yeah.
- This you?

Yeah, that's me.

I met her
when I was at N.Y.U.

And, it was in 1948 and I was on
the GI Bill with the Navy behind me.

At that time I used to live
in the Village in those days,

and I used to go into the library.

It was just like fishing. I'd go into
the stacks and come out with a girl.

Steena Paulsson.
Yeah, I almost married her.

Hi.

Hi.

This book will
change your life, I promise.

I can't stay long.

Come on in. Just take me
a minute to find it.

Oh, this is beautiful.
I have two roommates

and we live in this dungeon at the bottom
of an air shaft on West 26th Street.

- Would you like some coffee?
- No. Thank you. I should get back.

It's just one cup.
That's all, I promise.

And the, uh, the library
stays open until ten.

- Sure. Why not?
- Good.

- How do you take it?
- Black is fine, thanks.

- So "Steena Paulsson." That's,
- what is that Swedish?

Close.
It's Danish and Icelandic.

- So you're not from New York?
- How could you tell?

Fergus Falls, Minnesota.

Well Miss Steena Paulsson
from Fergus Falls, Minnesota

this is my gift for you.

Tender is the Night.
F. Scott Fitzgerald.

He's from the Midwest, too.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

The coffee?

Coffee.

What happened?

- To what?
- The cut over your eye.

Oh uh, boxing.
It's just a hobby.

You like that sort of thing?

Yes, I do.

I mean, don't get the wrong idea.
It's not about strength.

It's really all about
how smart you are.

Are you smart. Miss Paulsson?

What do you think, Mr. Silk?

I think you'd make a great boxer.

Good answer.

Well, come on.
Let's see.

- See what?
- Show me.

- Show you what?
- Show me how good you are.

Okay.

- Okay. You're right-handed?
- Yes.

All right. Put your left leg forward,
your right leg back.

Bend at the knees.

Okay?
Two fists.

Bring your right one back by
your chin. Keep it cocked here.

Left one comes out in front of you.
That's what you jab with.

All right. And your thumbs
are on the outside,

yeah? Okay. It's like this

- Jab. Jab. Jab.
- Jab. Jab. Jab.

That's pretty good for starters.

Um, your right hand,
throw that in once in a while.

Just to mix the other guy up.

It's a right cross. Like this

- Jab. Jab right.
- Jab. Jab right.

- That's good.
- Jab. Jab right.

- All right. The hands.
- Okay. I'm getting hot.

Jab. Jab right.
Jab. Jab right.

Nice. Keep the right
back by your chin.

Okay. Jab. Jab right.
Jab. Jab right.

- Watch the hands.
- Stop moving! Jab. Jab right.

- Jab. Jab right.
- That's good.

Jab. Jab right.
Jab. Jab right!

Did I hurt you?

No.

Your heart's beating fast.

I can't believe this.

Me neither.

I guess we do things
a little differently back home.

Yes, I can imagine.

First, first we'd be eyeing each
other in church, on Sundays, right?

And then as fall slipped into winter
and the air turned cold,

there'd be sleigh rides
skating on frozen lakes

singing carols around
the yuletide.

You forgot logrolling
and dunking for apples.

Go on, then.
Give me the straight dope.

- Tell me about real American courtship.
- You're American. Jews are American.

Now listen.

That's Irving Berlin.

I hear that and everything in me
just sort of unclenches, and the

the wish not to die

never to die
becomes almost too great to bear.

Come on, dance with me.

Come on, dance with me!

- I'm not making a pass at you. Come on.
- No-No-No.

Loosen up. Live a little!

Take it easy. Come on,
loosen up, relax!

Just don't sing in my ear,
all right?

- All right, all right.
- Come on.

This is good.
It's good for you.

Turn around. Beautiful.

Good. A little spin.

Away!

Get away!

Really good. You're really good!

I'm having an affair, Nathan.

I'm having an affair with
a thirty-four year-old woman

and I can't tell you
what it's done to me.

I think I have
a pretty good idea.

When this stuff comes back
so late in life

completely unexpected
completely unwanted

it comes back
with such force

there's nothing
you can do about it.

There's nothing
to dilute it.

And when
she's thirty-four?

And ignitable, Nathan.

Ignitable.

Ever hear of something
called Viagra?

Well, without Viagra

I could continue into
my declining years

and still draw profound
philosophical conclusions

and still have a steadying
moral influence on the young.

Without Viagra

I would not be doing something
that makes no sense at all

something that
is ill-considered

and potentially disastrous
for all concerned.

Just where exactly did you
find this astounding woman?

- We're closing.
- Two minutes, that's all I need.

- I said we're closing.
- Two minutes, I promise.

It's okay. Thank you.

Couldn't wait until tomorrow, huh?

No, it's my sister's birthday.

Good. Thank you.

Hi, Phil.

Are you telling me, Mr. Starr,

you believe the President of
the United States was lying?

You know as a witness
when you take an oath,

it's a sacred obligation
if you are a believer,

that you're going to tell the truth,
and you say, "So help me, God."

I mean, this is
very serious business.

- You got car trouble?
- Every other day.

Can I give you a lift?

- Where can I drop you?
- Uh, Nickerson's.

- That's the dairy farm.
- Yeah.

- You mind if I smoke?
- No. Go ahead.

Yeah, two dykes run it.

They give me a room in exchange
for doing the milking.

So you work at the post office
and the dairy farm?

And the college.

Faunia Farley
custodial staff.

It says so on my name tag.

Like to keep busy, huh?

Action is the enemy of thought.

Who said that?

- Thanks for the lift.
- Okay.

Want to come in?

- You mean now?
- Mm-hm.

I haven't been
this close to a woman for

Since your wife died.
I know.

Listen, um, we should
get something straight.

If you're looking for sympathy,
you've come to the wrong place.

I'm...

I don't do sympathy.

Uh-huh.

Hey...
Whatever.

- Thanks for the ride.
- Okay. Take care.

Oh, God.

- Hi.
- Hi.

It's nothing personal, but,
uh, you got to go.

I just...

I don't want to wake up
in the morning and have you here, so

- Like I said, it's nothing personal.
- Okay.

Will I see you again?

You can't much miss me.

What's that?

The question is
will I see you again?

What are you thinking?

- I'm thinking you're going to ruin it.
- No, I'm not.

Yes, you are.
Just leave it alone.

Don't try and get inside my head.

Why do we have to talk?

All right. All right,
have it your way.

- I was thinking I'm a crow.
- A crow, why a crow?

- Mm-mm.
- Your turn.

- I was wondering what it's like making love
- Fucking.

All right. What's it like
fucking an old man?

It's perfect.
No surprises.

What's it like
being out of a job?

It's lonely.
Like you, I guess.

My turn, huh?

Aside from that wreck of a car,
you don't seem to have any possessions.

No books, no pictures

Action is the enemy of thought.

All right. My life story.
Is that what you want?

Fine.

I grew up with a lot of possessions.

My father was rich.
Real rich. Lots of servants.

The whole nine yards.

Don't you believe me?

- Mm-hm, yeah, I believe you.
- Then my parents got divorced

and my mother remarried.

The thing is, this one
couldn't keep his hands off me.

Bedtime stories were his specialty.
Hey, sweetheart, let me read you a story.

Next thing you know,
fingers in me.

- You don't have to tell me this
- Hey, you asked.

Told my mother. She didn't believe me.
Nobody believed me.

When I was fourteen,
he tried to fuck me.

That's when I split.
I went to Florida.

Did a little of this and that.

I don't know. You know,
girl like me always get by.

No possessions.
Travel light.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Real nice.

- Did you hear something?
- Hear what? I don't hear anything.

- What is it? What
- No-No-No, shh.

- What could it be?
- Shhh!

- It's Les.
- Who's Les?

Oh, shit!

He's my ex-husband.

Huh?

He follows me around. I can feel him.
He's out there somewhere.

I can handle him.
I used to be a pretty good boxer.

Listen to me. I'm not kidding.

He's out of his fucking mind.
He was in Nam. He did two tours of duty.

He used to beat me up.

One time it was so bad
he put me in a coma for two days.

Hey. There's nobody there.

Did you ever kill anyone
in Vietnam, Mr. Farley?

- Did I kill anyone?
- Uh-huh.

Isn't that
what I was supposed to do

when I was sent to fucking Vietnam?
Fucking kill gooks?

They said, "Everything goes,"
so everything went.

Look, let's get something
straight right from the start.

- I never hurt her. Okay?
- Mm-hm.

Never.

And I never hurt the kids.
That was all lies.

That blue-blooded whore

Her parents are rich and she wouldn't
ask for a dime to help me with the kids

She never cared about
anybody but herself.

I should have never let her
go off with the kids.

- You sure it's all right if I smoke?
- Yeah.

She waited until I was in rehab.

That's why she wanted me
in re-hab to start with,

so she could take the kids.

She used the whole thing against me
to get the kids away.

She had no right to steal my kids.

Now she's fucking this old Jew.

I should have killed her back then.

This is nice.

I'm sorry, madam. Smoking is prohibited
in the restaurant. Thank you.

- Sorry.
- Thank you.

- I'm sorry about that.
- Oh, no, that's fine.

They seem to have banned
smoking everywhere now.

Is this okay for you?

Sure.

Coleman?

I don't know if this is
such a good idea, you know.

It's fine
It's a fine restaurant.

They specialize in
fish and all that stuff.

- Sorry I'm late.
- Oh, hi. Hi, Nathan.

This is, uh, this is Faunia.

Uh, this is my friend
Nathan Zuckerman.

- Hi.
- Nathan is a writer

a good writer,

and uh What was that
prize you almost won?

Oh, never mind, never mind.

I've been, uh, I've been teaching
Coleman how to play gin rummy.

You're full of surprises, aren't you?

Okay? I just wanted
you to meet a friend of mine,

So, Coleman's told me
so much about you.

Really? He hasn't
told me shit about you.

What did he tell you?

That he's fucking
a cleaning lady?

Why are you doing
this to me?

- Doing what?
- Why are you doing this?

You know exactly
what you're doing.

You want somebody to talk to?

You have a good time.
I'm out of here.

I'm sorry about that.

- Coleman.
- Later. Excuse me.

Well, you've really come down
in the world, haven't you? Huh?

Dean of the college,
professor of Classics

Look what you ended up with.

So what did you
tell him about me?

Nathan's my friend, that's all.
Just my friend.

Did you tell him
I was your little whore?

The thing is, you can't
handle fucking someone

that you can't take
to a fancy restaurant.

Let's just end it, you know?

Just end it, end it
right now.

Hey.

You don't get it, do you?

I can't.

I simply can't.

Turn off the fucking light!

It's Les.

Don't worry,
I already called the cops.

They'll be here any minute.

They know how to deal
with him, all right?

We just have to wait.

What the fuck are you doing?

You can't go out there.
He's fucking crazy.

Yeah, so am I.

Hey, Farley!

What do you want
Farley?

Come on out of there,
you murdering bitch!

- Did she tell you? Did she?
- What?

Did she tell you she was
giving some guy a blowjob

while her kids were
catching on fire, did she?

Did she tell you that?

Get away from here
or I'll brain you!

- Get away!
- Put that fucking thing down

before I ram it through
your fucking skull!

That's my wife
you're fucking in there!

I want to talk to her.

Les!

Hi, baby.

- Hi, sweetheart.
- Go home. Come on.

It's all right. I can...

Come on, go home.
You hear that?

- I had to call the cops.
- Ah, what'd you do that for?

You're always fucking doing that.
I just want to talk to you

you murdering fucking cunt.

Come on, darling,
there's enough time

What are you fucking
this old guy for anyhow?

Get away from her.

Come on.
We'll go for a ride.

I'll bring you right back,
I promise.

Fuck 'em.

- Come on.
- No.

They know me.
They're not going to do anything.

I'll bring you right back,
I swear to God.

I don't want to talk to you.

Come on
Get your fucking hands off of me!

Fuck!

This is payback
for what I did in Nam.

This is what I fucking get
for saving my fucking country!

All the shit
I went through.

I come home to
some murdering bitch

treats me like garbage!

Please no more of this!

No more!

You wanted to know why
I didn't have any possessions.

This is what's left of my kids.

This.

It was an accident, and he knows.

He knows the truth.

There was a...
There was a heater

and it...

it tipped over,
and the place...

the place caught fire.

You know, I can't figure out
what I should do with them.

I don't know, do I keep them?

Do I bury them?

I don't know.

What are you looking at?

Huh? Is this all
too trailer trash for you?

Just get out of here.

Go on, just leave.

You don't want to be a part of this.

Don't stay.

Please go.

Please go.

I can't.

Please go.
Go.

Everyone knows you're exploiting
an abused woman half your age.

Well, if this doesn't take the cake.

What's more, I know
damn well who wrote this.

- Who?
- Delphine Roux.

Professor of Languages
and Literature.

I hired her, for Christ's sakes.
I hired all of them.

Why would she send you
something like this?

I've no idea. How the hell
should I know? You're my lawyer.

Send her a letter. Warn her off.

- She'll just deny that she ever
- That's her writing.

Any handwriting expert
will confirm that.

Coleman, Listen,
forget about the letter.

What are you going to do
about Lester Farley?

I'll get an injunction.

A restraining order.
I don't know.

Have you any idea what you're
getting into here, Coleman?

You want me to fight a legal war
for you on two fronts.

One of them with a phantom correspondent,
and the other with a lunatic.

I can get you a handwriting expert.

I can get you a bulletproof vest.

But what I can't provide
is what you're never going to know

as long as you're involved
with this woman

A scandal-free life.
Is she HIV-negative, by the way?

Did you have her tested, Coleman?

Did you use a condom, Coleman?

And if you don't use protection
does she?

How do you know she doesn't want to use
you to make up for all that she's lost?

Do I represent you in
a paternity suit, Coleman?

Give up the girl, Achilles.

I took your Intro to European Lit
umpteen years ago as an undergrad.

Give her up,
and your troubles go away.

Faunia Farley is not in your league
and she's not from your world.

Last night, you got
a good look at her world.

The fact is...
she ain't worth it.

Achilles on Viagra. How much sense
does that make anyway?

Ah, Nelson.

I'm sorry, have you quite finished?

Yes.

Nelson, you're a genuine vocal master.

And so rich with contempt
for every last human problem

you've never had to face.

- Listen, I was only
- No, you listen.

I never again want to hear
that self-admiring voice of yours,

or see your smug, lily-white face.

Good! Good-Good-Good! Yeah.

- Get out of the corner
- Finish it off, finish it off

That's enough. That's enough.

Next week, West Point.

Oh, come on, Doc.
That guy's got five pounds on me.

But he's slow.
You can take him easy.

Besides, the coach of Pitt is
gonna be there. He's a buddy of mine.

I want him to see you fight.

- So?
- So?

Once he sees your stuff, and once
I tell him about your grades,

I'm pretty sure
he'll offer you a scholarship.

I can't go to Pitt!
My father wants me to go to Howard.

- He's an optician, your dad?
- Used to be.

He lost his business in the Depression.

Well, look, Coleman.
Just box for the guy, that's all.

- Then we'll see what happens.
- Okay

One thing.

When you meet the guy from Pitt,
don't tell him you're colored, okay?

- Don't tell him?
- Don't bring it up.

You're neither one thing nor the other.
You're Silky Silk, that's all.

- He won't know?
- How's he going to know?

Here's the top kid from East Orange
High and he's with Doc Chizner.

He's going to think you're Jewish.

- You're late!
- I know.

- Walter's home on leave.
- Hide this for me, will you?

Sorry I'm late.

Hey, Mom.

- Walt.
- Cole.

- How are you?
- Fine.

So what's this I hear about
you being class valedictorian?

It's all true.

Hey, with the only 4.0 grade average,
who else were they going to choose?

Yes, we're very proud of Coleman.

- May I inquire how you did, Cole?
- How I did?

Today in the boxing ring.

I'm asking whether
you won or lost your bout.

- Did you tell him?
- Kindly answer my question.

I won.

How many fights have you won?

Eleven.

And how many have you lost?

- None.
- So far.

Just when were you planning on
turning professional?

- Dad, I don't think
- This does not concern you, Walter.

I asked you a question, young man.

Doc says I could get
an athletic scholarship.

Maybe to Pitt.

Like Walter,
you will go to Howard.

And after Howard, should you
choose to become a doctor,

you will not be doing
your hands any good

pummeling them in
a boxing ring, will you?

You know, Coleman, if I were your father,
do you know what I would tell you now?

- You are my father.
- I'm not at all sure.

I was thinking Doc Chizner
was your father.

He's my coach. That's all.

He teaches me how to fight.
You're my father.

Well, if I were your father, do you
know what I would tell you now?

I would say, "You won today. Good.

Now you can retire undefeated."

You're retired.

If you'll excuse me,
I don't wish to be late for my train.

Boy!

Yes, sir?

This fish is overcooked.

Very sorry.
I will attend to it right away, sir.

Cowards die many times
before their death.

The valiant only taste
death but once.

Of all the rumors that
I yet have heard,

it seems to me most strange
that men should fear

seeing that death,
a necessary end,

will come when it will come.

Clarence Silk knew well
these words from Julius Caesar.

He was a man of great intellect,

unflinching courage,
and an uncompromising honor.

But above all else,
he was devoted to his family.

His wife, Dorothy,
his sons, Walter and Coleman,

and his pride and joy,
young Ernestine.

Clarence Silk was
the finest man I've ever met.

Coleman?

You're on duty?
Tonight?

It's better this way.
For me, anyway.

I never knew him, Mom.

Not really.

I didn't have any idea
what he went through

day after day after day.

I don't believe
he wanted you to know, dear.

He couldn't see the point.

The point is

if you're colored

it doesn't matter how much you know.
You work in the dining car.

He did that
so you wouldn't have to.

Coleman, you don't have to worry.

Your father's insurance
and your academic record

will see to it that
you get into Howard.

I heard all about
Howard from Walt.

He said they're always talking
about the Negro people

about "we, the Negro people."

I'm not a political person, Mom.
I don't understand who this "we" is.

Who do you think you are?

- I know who I am.
- You need to be proud of your race.

What about me?

What about just being
proud of being me?

It's my life. Or don't I get
any say in the matter?

Coleman, I'm not clever
enough to argue with you.

Then don't.
Don't let's argue.

I love you, Mom.
But don't ask me to go there.

Coleman, you're barely
eighteen years old.

What are you going to do?

Have a seat.

You have a registration card?

Yes.

Welcome to the Navy, young man.

So what did the lawyer say?

He was more worried
about Lester Farley?

Yeah. I don't want to
talk about Lester Farley.

Anyway, I can handle him.

Coleman, you yourself told me
that Lester Farley is a psychotic

who's been locked up in the mental
ward at the VA hospital. Twice!

Let me ask you something.

What do you think would
have happened last night

if the police hadn't
shown up when they had?

Lester Farley is not going to just
disappear off the face of the earth.

This kind of thing
is going to happen again,

and when it does, next time
uh, you might not be so lucky.

So... I just throw her to the wolves.
It's just like that, huh?

I'm not thinking about her.
I'm thinking about you.

Nathan. She's waiting for that.
To her, sex and betrayal are synonymous.

Coleman, every mistake a man can
make usually has a sexual accelerator.

The things that restore you
can also destroy you.

Yeah, I know that.

And I'll tell you something.
I don't give a damn.

These things don't come without a cost.

Look-Look what's happening here.

People are saying that
you got her pregnant

and she had an abortion
and tried to kill herself.

Uh-huh. And what else
are they saying, Nathan?

Hm? What else
are they saying, Nathan?

Don't you look at me like that.

I know this is bullshit.
I'm your friend, remember?

Then act like a friend!

Stop judging me,
and stop judging her!

Jesus Christ!

So what do you want me to say?

I just want you to acknowledge that

something important is taking place
between me and this woman.

Something that's worthy of respect.

I guess you were right.
This really is about great sex.

Oh, fuck you, too.

Coleman! Coleman.

Okay.

Granted, she's not my first love.
Granted, she's not my great love.

But she sure as hell
is my last love.

Doesn't that count for something?

Enough to risk
getting killed for?

I'm not afraid of dying, Nathan.

I'm not the one who ran off to
a cabin in the woods to hide.

Dance for me.

One dance, for me.

Sure. Why not?

Why not?

Don't fall in love
with me, Coleman.

We're just a man and a woman, in a room,
alone, right here, right now.

Nothing else matters.
Don't fuck it up.

This is more than sex.

No, it's not.
You just forgot what sex is.

Did I?

Dance for me. Come on.

You're way too young for me.

I need a man much older than you.
Someone at least a hundred.

You know anyone
in a wheelchair?

I will do
whatever you want.

How many times

have you heard a woman say
that and really mean it?

I see you, Coleman.

You want to know what I see?

I see anger.

And I see shame.

- I see everything.
- Is that a fact?

- You imagine you kept secrets from me?
- You never know.

Thank you.

- Mr. Wilson, can you watch the register?
- Yeah.

Can I help you?

Yes. Um...

I was looking for Rachmaninoff's
Third Piano Concerto, the, uh...

- The Horowitz recording?
- Yes, that's right.

Right this way.

Did you go to
East Orange High School?

Yes. Yes, I did.

I thought you looked familiar.
Charley Hamilton's my cousin.

I haven't seen him in a while.
How's he been?

He's good. He's good. Actually,
I think he's getting married.

Good for him.
Now the Rachmaninoff please.

Is that your girlfriend?

Yes. Yes it is.
Look,

maybe I should
come back some other time

- and then we can talk, okay?
- Fine. Here.

That'll do the trick
a lot better than Rachmaninoff.

Dance for me.

That has got to be
the single most sexy dance

ever danced by a girl
from Fergus Falls

in the history of the world.

I love you.

I love you. I love you.
I love you. I love you.

I love you. I love you.

I want to spend my life with you.

What are you doing Sunday?

Nothing. Why?

On Sunday

we're taking the train
to New Jersey

to have dinner with
my mother.

Okay.

Okay?

I'd like that.

Oh, I hope she likes me.

I hope the chocolates are okay.

Chocolates'll be fine.

Maybe I should have gotten flowers.

There was a place back
at the station I could get

Chocolates will be fine.
And you'll be fine.

Okay.

You know, this is
my old paper route.

That's where I crashed my bike
into Mr. Harris' front porch.

Which one?

Right over there.
My father made me pay for the damage.

To the bike and the porch.

Uh... I'm scared.

I love you.

You know that, don't you?

I love you, too.

Hi.

Sorry we're late.

Mother, this is
Steena Paulsson.

Steena, this is my mother.

How lovely. Please come in.

It's quite a beautiful city,
Fergus Falls.

It's quite unusual,
because we have the Otter Tail Lake

and the Otter Tail River
very close to each other.

My father owns a small hardware
supply store, a lumberyard there.

He's the disorganized one.

He cuts himself and
doesn't even bother to wash it.

They're tough,
those Icelanders.

I actually didn't even know they
were called Icelanders, growing up.

My mother, she's a Rasmussen.
She's the opposite.

Sets the table for Saturday dinner
at five the night before.

I guess I was sort of caught
between the two extremes and so

I decided to get away for
college out of their reach, so to speak.

And that's how I came to New York.

I've never been to the Midwest,
but I'm sure I'd like it.

Coleman, wouldn't you
like to see the Midwest?

New York City. Final destination
Penn Station, New York City.

Steena?

Honey, we're almost there.

Honey.

I can't do this, Coleman.

I love you.

I love you, but I can't.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,
and welcome to the Saint Nicholas Arena.

Tonight, in our opening battle,
from East Orange, New Jersey

weighing a hundred and sixty-two pounds,
Coleman "Silky" Silk!

A record five wins and no losses!

From Rochester, New York,
weighing a hundred and seventy pounds,

Sugar "Pete" Cunningham!

A record six wins, one loss.

Take it easy with the guy, okay?

Let's give the people
their money's worth.

Dance him around for
three, four rounds, then go to work.

Hey, kid.
Hey!

I asked you nicely to give
folks their money's worth.

You could have stopped
the forth round instead of the first.

I'm a hundred and sixty-two pounds.
He's a hundred and seventy.

I'm supposed to let him
hit me in the head

five, ten, extra times
to put on a show?

I ain't holding up no nigger.

It's beautiful,
isn't it?

I have to go.

Stay tonight.

Mm-mm.

No. I never stay.

Just this once.

Hi. Good morning.

Would you like some breakfast?

Uh... Eggs Benedict and ham?

Sit down. Please.

Coffee?

No milk, huh?

There you go.
Okay.

Looks like Monica Lewinsky
isn't going to

get a job in New York
for the time being.

Can't you avoid the fucking seminar?

I don't give a fuck
if Monica can't find a job.

Does fucking Monica care if my back
hurts from milking those fucking cows?

Does she fucking care that I have to
clean up other people's shit

in the fucking post office?

You think losing your fucking job

when you're about to retire is a big
deal, don't you, Coleman? I mean...

No... I hate to tell you,
but it ain't!

Having your stepfather put his fingers
in your cunt, that's a big deal.

Having your husband come up
behind you with an iron pipe

and hit you in the fucking head,
that is a fucking big deal!

Having your two kids
suffocating and dying!

That is a big fucking deal!

Don't you ever fucking
talk to me about that.

Because you don't fucking know!

I knew I shouldn't have stayed.

I knew I shouldn't have stayed.
It was a mistake.

It was a big mistake.

Even whores know better.
They know.

Men don't pay you to sleep with them.
They pay you to fucking go home.

Hey, there.
Hey, Prince.

Yeah, it's me.

You remember me, don't you?
It's Faunia.

Did you forget me?

I wanted to come and see you,
but I couldn't.

Hi.

I haven't seen you in...
it must be three, four, months.

Prince missed you.
He got out the other day.

The other birds attacked him.
They would've killed him.

He doesn't have the right voice.

It's because he's hand-raised.

He's been hanging around
people like us all his life.

A crow that doesn't know
how to be a crow.

The first time I tried,
it was a month after they died.

I got all dressed up.

Even my mother
would have been proud.

You know I called her?

I did.

Called her to tell her
my kids were dead.

Mom, it's Faunia.

Twenty years.
No call for twenty years.

She said, "Oh, I don't know anybody
by that name" and hung up.

Bitch.

Why did they have to
break the door down?

Even the nurse said-she said later,
There wasn't a heartbeat.

Not when they first showed up.
Not a heartbeat.

Why couldn't they let me die?

Couldn't even get that right, could I?

No.

I think I made a mistake this morning.

Faunia Farley,
custodial staff, you know?

Just, uh... just doing my thing.

So where were you?

- I was starting to get worried.
- I walked around. Went to a movie.

Listen, I'm...

I'm sorry.

Everything that I said,
and everything that I did, I...

You were right.
What happened to me is nothing.

No. You lost everything.
You lost your wife, you lost your job.

They took your life away from you
over a stupid, pissy little word.

- That's not nothing.
- Maybe.

I don't think
you can measure sorrow.

Yeah

I brought you these.
They're doughnuts.

They're from the...
from the doughnut store. Jelly.

Listen, if you don't want me,
If you want me to go, you know,

then I understand that because...

I understand and I won't blame you.

- What are you smiling at?
- Just so happy to see you.

Same here.
I'm happy, too.

Listen, there's something
I need to tell you.

It seemed impossible to me

that someone as vital as Coleman

could have been killed in
what the police called,

a freak accident.

The more I thought I about it,
the more I began to feel that

Coleman and Faunia could not
have died without the presence,

somewhere nearby,
of Lester Farley and his pickup truck.

At what point did you get in
your truck that morning?

Before sunup.

- Why did you get in your truck?
- To get him.

- To get who?
- The Jew professor.

- Why were you going to get him?
- Because I had to.

You were going to kill him?

Oh, yes. All of us.

That was the plan.

- There was planning, then.
- There was no planning.

- Uh, but you knew what you were doing.
- Yes.

But you didn't plan it?

No.

- Did you think you were back in Vietnam?
- No Vietnam.

Were you thinking about the kids?
Was this payback?

No payback.

Weren't you trying to get revenge
to take revenge for that?

No.
No revenge

- Were you depressed?
- No. No depression.

- Angry?
- No more anger.

But you drove your truck
into their car.

I didn't kill them.

I didn't kill them.

They killed themselves.

- What do you think?
- I checked with the police and

there are no skid marks at
the site of the accident,

no sign of a collision.

I think Lester Farley is delusional.

Completely delusional.

My name is
Herbert Keble.

And I am among those who failed
to rise to Coleman's defense

when he was accused of racism.

Coleman, I can't be
with you on this.

That is what I said
to my everlasting shame.

I should have spoken up
to say then what I want to say now

in the presence of
his former colleagues

that the alleged misconduct
never took place.

Coleman Silk and his wife, Iris,

were betrayed by
the moral stupidity

of a censorious
and coercive community.

And I was a part
of that community.

We all were.

Mrs. Keble.

My name is Nathan Zuckerman.
I was a friend of Coleman's.

- I thought your husband's speech was
- I'm not Mrs. Keble.

Are you?

I'm Coleman Silk's sister.

Iris. Nice name.
And when is the happy day?

June 14th.

Have you told her?

When will you?

You plan on bringing her
home for dinner?

I told her
my parents are dead.

Dead?

You have no brother?
You have no sister?

There's no Ernestine?
There's no Walter?

I don't want to be Coleman Silk,
the Negro Classics professor.

And that's how it would
always come out, Mom.

You know it, and I know it.

Funny, I never thought of you
as black or white.

Gold.
You were my golden child.

Look, Mom...

I haven't figured
the whole thing out yet.

Will you have children?

Yes, I suppose so.

You aren't going to
let them see me, are you?

My grandchildren.

Mom, you'll tell me

sit in the waiting room
in Penn Station at 11:15 a.m.

I'll walk by with my kids
in their Sunday best.

That'll be my birthday present
five years from now.

And you know I'll be there.

But aren't you taking
a risk having children?

The suspense will be unbearable.

Suppose they don't pop out
of her womb as white as you?

Won't you have some
explaining to do?

Will you accuse her
of adultery with a Negro?

I have to go now, Mom.

Coleman

you think
like a prisoner.

You're white as snow
and you think like a slave.

Murderer.

- Is that the doorbell?
- I'll get it.

Don't you ever
come near Mom again.

You don't call, you don't write,
you don't nothing.

I never want to see
your lily-white face again.

And your mother obeyed Walter.

All the Silk men, from my father on down,
are very decisive.

Yes, she did it.
But I didn't.

I was trying to reach him two days ago.
It was his birthday.

The day after he was killed.

I don't blame Walter.
He was only trying to protect Mother.

And was he successful?

Just before she died,
she was delirious.

She kept saying, "Oh, nurse,
get me to the train.

I've got a sick baby at home."

Did you know why your brother
resigned from the college?

I gather he was accused of racism.

That beats it all,
doesn't it?

For using the word "spooks."

Sounds like from what I heard today,
almost anything goes nowadays.

People are just getting dumber

but more opinionated.

You know what's sad,
Mr. Zuckerman?

Nowadays,
it's hard to imagine

that anyone would do
what Coleman felt he had to do.

Constructing his whole life
around a lie.

Coleman could have stopped that
racism charge in its tracks,

if he'd only told the truth.

But that's the one thing
he couldn't do.

Do you think
he ever told anyone?

Maybe.

Maybe someone.

So finally,
I guess my mother was right.

I wanted to be free,
but I became a prisoner instead.

And you never
told anyone?

Not even my wife. She...

I have not said a word about it
to anyone until tonight.

I haven't told anyone until...
you.

Why me?
Why did you tell me now?

It was during my conversation
with Ernestine

that I decided to
write this book.

A book that Coleman
couldn't write himself.

The story of his mother and father,

of Walter and Ernestine,

of Steena Paulsson

and of Faunia Farley.

Who ran from
a world of privilage

just as Coleman had run
from a world bound by race

And finally, there was
one thing I had to do.

Beautiful spot.

It's peaceful.

Long as I can keep it secret.

Only now I know.

- You're the writer, aren't you?
- That I am.

Any luck?

Not much.

What do you think about out here
when the fish aren't biting?

I was thinking if I had a son,
he'd be out here with me now, fishing.

That's what I was thinking about
when you walked out here.

What kind of books you write?

I write about people like you.

Their problems.

You live at
Mike Dumouchel's place, right?

The cabin on the lake.

What's the name
of one of your books?

The Human Stain.

- Can I get it?
- It's not finished.

I'll send you a copy.

You know, I started ice fishing
after my wife left me.

All you need is warm clothes
and the right equipment.

Like this auger.

You drill
a hole through the ice.

This'll cut through
just about anything.

Then you drop your line with
your favorite lure right through.

Any flash down there,
fish are attracted, even in the dark.

And it's way dark down there.

And if I had a son

little Les, a son of my own,

I reckon I'd be telling him
all this stuff instead of you.

- It's cold out here.
- You better believe it.

I should be going.

Yeah, well, you know your
ice fishing now, don't you?

- You can put it in your book.
- I will.

And you know my secret place.

You know everything now,
don't you, Mr. Zuckerman?

But you won't tell, will you?

And, hey!

The book.
Send me one.

It's in the mail.