All language subtitles for (2008) - S03E16 - Adele Week Four (1080p HMAX WEB-DL x265 Silence)

What she told you
was hard to hear.

Of course it was.

All this time, going on
and telling you

about how traumatized my son
was by his stepfather, and...

turns out he's in love
with the guy.

-He's in love with--
-It's-- it's a figure of speech.

But it's basically
what Rosie told me

in so many words.

I mean...

Max and Steve, they spent
the whole weekend together,

going to museums.
They draw together, they--

Steve brings him
into the architecture studio,

teaches him. I-- I--
I don't even know the terms.

Line drawing, drafting,
whatever it's called.

How to use a mechanical pencil.

Have you spoken
to Max about this?

I haven't spoken with Max
about much of anything.

I was gonna sit him down
as soon as he came back

from Maryland, and...

talk to him about what he found
on my computer that night,

you know,
my Parkinson's research, but...

since my conversation
with Rosie,

I haven't been able
to bring myself to do it.

What are you afraid
to hear Max say?

Are you--

Are you really gonna
make me answer that?

I mean, you-- you saw perfectly
what was happening last week,

more clearly
than I saw it myself.

I'm sure you know the answer
without me having to say it.

You think I know
what you're going to say

-before you say it?

I was getting my son
to worry about me.

He won't tell me about Steve

because he's trying
to protect me.

I-- I can't stop myself
from wondering if...

you know,

if he'd actually be better off
in Maryland.

With his mother and Steve.

It's hard for you
to consider that.

If they share this passion
for drawing, for art,

and Steve feeds it,

I mean, how can I deny
my son that?

If I did, I'd be doing exactly
what was done to me.

I'd be-- I'd be dragging
him away

from his vibrant teenage years
and...

taking him to a dreary,
lifeless apartment

with a sick parent.

Is that how you see
your existence?

As dreary and lifeless?

I'm sure that's how Max sees it.

I wasn't asking about Max.

I really wish Rosie
had never told me

about the fucking twin-drafting
tables.

I-- I really could have done
without that detail.

Is that what gets to you most?

It all-- it all gets to me.
The whole-- the whole picture.

And it's not just them either.

Just about everybody I know
has some kind of passion.

Something or somebody...

drives them.

But not you.

Sometimes I-- I try to pretend
I-- I do, yeah.

How do you do that?

What does that mean,
you pretend?

Wendy--

Um, my girlfriend, she--

she stopped by the apartment
at-- at lunchtime today.

And she-- she knows I have
an hour and a half

without any patients, and, um...

we-- we haven't had sex
for-- for a while.

and, uh...

since she can't stay over
and I can't stay at her place

-because of Max--
-Max was away this weekend.

Right. That's true.
I hadn't told her that.

But you saw her today.

She-- she has--
she has this thing,

you know, she--

For-- For some reason,
she's been wanting

to have sex on the couch
in my office.

So we-- we did.

Well this was your attempt
at being passionate

about something.

I suppose you're right.

And?

I was...

I was distracted. I was...

I was--

I was thinking
about other things.

What were you thinking about?

I don't know, um...

Not her.

I've this-- I have this boat
in my office, and I...

I-- I just found myself...
staring,

you know, staring at it
after Wendy and I were finished.

It's a-- a model,
a kind of a sailboat.

It's about-- about that big.

I used to have about 26 of them.

Different sizes, you know,
schooners, sloops.

-Do you like to sail?
-Never been.

Anyway, these--
these boats are...

Um, I suppose
they're the closest

I've ever come to a hobby.

And when Max was little,
he-- he really loved it.

We-- we used to go searching
at these antique stores.

Sometimes we'd-- we'd build them
from-- from kits, you know.

And we'd give them each a name,

and we'd make up these stories
about the places it had been

and the places that it would go,
and...

How come
there's only one boat left?

He-- he lost interest.

Then when I moved up
to Brooklyn,

I-- I just left the rest
of them behind.

They...

I-- I don't know,
they just started to feel

a bit pathetic.

Twenty-two-inch reminders
of all the places

I'd never been
and I would never get to.

The one that I saved,
I keep it in my office.

I see it
over my patients' shoulders,

so I sit and I listen
to them talk and...

you know, every single
one of them, they--

No matter how sick
or screwed up they are, they--

they all have a real passion.

You find all your patients
have something you don't,

something you're missing?

I do feel that way a lot, yeah.

Jesse-- he-- he loves
photography, he's got this...

fierce attachment to his camera.

And Frances has her--
her acting.

Although it's hard
for her to admit,

with all the guilt
she has around it,

there's no question
of what it means to her.

Other people--

Kate devoted to her clinic.

Now to Max's new father.

I mean, even Gina.
Suddenly a novelist.

As much as I fucking hate her
for what she's written,

she-- she has found her,

you know, her calling.

And-- and then there's--
there's you.

Me? Why do you include me?

W-- What do you consider
my passion to be?

Well, isn't it th-- this? Your--

Your-- your work,
your-- your patients?

I mean, not-- not that
there aren't other things

that you might feel
strongly about,

but from where I sit,
you seem to be...

pretty engaged.

Even in your...

-cool detachment.
-Am I engaged or detached?

I'd-- I'd say both.

But-- but it is clear
that your work

is very important to you.

Am I-- am I wrong about that?

My work is important to me.

I'm just wondering
why you say that.

How you arrive
at this impression.

I went online, you know,
the other night.

It's become kind
of a bad habit really.

And I found myself
back at my desk,

typing in this...

thing on
Parkinson's/olfactory symptoms

thing, and I--

I just-- I stopped.
I made myself stop. And I-- I--

I just happened
to type in your name instead.

Did you know
there's another Adele Brouse?

Also a therapist in Portland,
Oregon?

I wasn't aware of that.

Yeah, an M.S.W.
not-- not a psychiatrist.

Not nearly as prolific as you.

I mean, all this list
of stuff comes up.

All the articles
that you've published over,

you know.

The amount of conferences
that you've attended,

in...

Chicago uh, Prague, Paris.

What did seeing that
mean to you?

Well, the last article
that I wrote was in 1998.

Why have you stopped?

Adele Saskia Brouse.

Hmm. Is that Dutch?

Wasn't-- Wasn't Rembrandt's wife
called Saskia?

My mother's father
was from Holland.

Wow.

-I don't believe it.
-What?

You just a--
You answered my question.

You still haven't answered mine.

Why have you stopped?

Well, let's say that I--

that I no longer share your...

professional drive.

My-- my work does feel
meaningful at times.

When I'm in the room
with my patients,

I'm still interested mostly,
but...

am I passionate?

You mean in the way
you think I am.

Were you ever?

When I-- when I was your age
I-- I published.

I-- I still thought
I could save people.

Do you ever think that now?

Monday, for 40 minutes,
I-- I had a...

I had a flash of that feeling.

What happened Monday?

You-- you remember Sunil.
I-- I-- I told you about him.

He-- he took--

He took a-- a huge step.

I'd been trying to get him
to express his anger

and he'd been inching toward it.

So, we were sitting in--
in my office, and we-- over tea,

-and we were-- we were talk--
-You were talking over tea?

It-- it makes him feel

like we're having more
of a conversation than therapy.

You know, he-- he's a guy
who-- who spends all his time

feeling like an outsider
in what he perceives to be,

this strange,
aggressive country.

So, he-- he locks himself away
in his-- in his room.

So, sharing tea with me
makes him,

you know, draws him out
of his shell.

Are you talking
about him or you?

I'm talking about him.

You know, last week you told me
that you didn't want

to be my supervisor.
Now you kind of sit there,

I think, silently supervising.

It's kind of obvious
what you think.

What do I think?

He opened up to me.

He-- he told me about this
deeply passionate affair

that he had at university.

Something he's never spoken of
before to anybody

and that's haunted him
for years.

You should have seen
how transformed he was

when he spoke about
this love affair.

It's like-- like he...

he came alive.

I mean, this man isn't--
He's not old.

He felt passion at one point
in his life, and I thought,

"why couldn't he have
that again?

Why-- why couldn't he..."

DR. ADELE BROUSE:
Why couldn't he?

I-- I don't know, it was--

It was fleeting, I-- I--
what I-- what I saw in him,

but a glimpse of--
of somebody different,

you know?

Ah.

Maybe I'm-- I'm making
too much of it.

This recent session with Sunil
had a powerful effect on you.

You seem especially focused
on his early love affair.

Well, it's a--
it's a pretty powerful story,

-don't you think?
-Well, have you ever felt

that passion?

Romantic passion?

My lunchtime session
with Wendy doesn't qualify?

Not according to you.

With Kate, I suppose.

When I fell in love with her
all those years ago.

Even with Wendy last year,
at the very beginning.

But now I--

I'm beginning to realize
I've got this pattern.

I seek out people
who have-- who have--

who have themselves
a passion for life

and I feed off them instead.

I allow them to...

to feel for-- for both of us.

You allowed both Wendy and Kate
to do your feeling for you?

Hmm, yeah, at least, uh,
at least in part.

Whatever emotion you do feel,

do you openly express yourself
at the time?

-Not entirely.
-You hold yourself back?

Is-- is that what you think?

Earlier, when you were talking
about Sunil,

you became engaged. Excited.

As if you came alive yourself.

You-- You spoke with energy.
You sat forward in your seat,

and then you stopped yourself.

It was striking.

Does that description seem
accurate to you?

Do you find you have
passionate or excited impulses

but stop yourself
from expressing them?

I made a similar observation
a couple of weeks ago...

about you holding yourself back,

and you had a strong reaction.
Do you remember?

What-- What are you
talking about?

You told me about the beginning
of your dream.

Running toward open gates
along a wrought-iron fence...

and then being dragged down,
paralyzed.

I asked if you were stopping
yourself

and you got very angry at me.
You insisted it was your father

-who was stopping you.
-It was my school.

I'm sorry?

It was my school.

The fence-- The-- the--

The iron fence ran around
the outside

of the boarding school
I went to.

When was this?

I--

I was 12.

-You were Max's age.
-DR. PAUL WESTON: Yeah.

Lancaster Royal Grammar School,
In the north of England.

I-- I wasn't there
for very long,

just a term and a half, but...

Well, my parents
had already started

to fight with each other, and...

eh, it was
our last year in Dublin,

and they sent me away to school.

-Was that hard for you?
-No, not at all.

Most people talk about
how miserable they are

at boarding school,
but I was really happy there.

But I was-- I was there
for less than six months

when my father got...

...got his position
at Union Memorial in Baltimore.

Two weeks later we landed in...

in America.

Wow. I'm--

I'm sure that's part
of the dream the-- um,

you know, re-- reliving
being torn away from school

by my father.

From-- from that feeling
that I had,

that great feeling of--

of contentment
that I found there.

Can you tell me what was so nice
about the boarding school?

The place was--

was just filled with--
with activity.

There were... scores of clubs

and-- and things
that you could do,

teams you could sign up for.

Used to play rugby,

cross-country running,
the school newspaper.

I-- It was just...

all these things my-- my father
tore me away from.

Cross-country running.
Did you run at school?

Well, I was going
to join the team.

Did you play rugby?

-Join the paper?
-Well, I-- I was planning to.

I'm not sure
what you're--

what you're getting at.
The-- the point I'm making

is that I-- I was happy there.

Actively engaged.
Content.

It's interesting to hear
you speak of the school

in this way,
because in your dream,

you're running outside
the gates.

When you told me the dream,
you described a feeling

of anticipation, of excitement.

Not of contentment.

I mean, to me, that difference
seems significant.

You say you planned
to join the newspaper?

Well, I-- I hadn't been
there that long.

Semester and a half?

Surely that's enough time

to join the paper
if you'd wanted to.

No, I'm-- I'm just saying
that if I had stayed,

I-- I-- I would have thrived.

It was my father moving here,
that--

that just took away
that possibility.

And what did you find here
instead?

The move to Baltimore marked
the end of my childhood.

My father walked out,
my mother got sicker,

and I was--
I was forced to, uh...

to take care of her.

The beginning
of a very difficult period,

and your father bears
a great deal

-of the responsibility.
-Well, yeah, who else?

My-- my mother, she was--
she was ill.

I understand.

You mentioned more than once
how strongly you identify

with Sunil's alienation
in this country, that--

that you continue
to feel it at times.

And I imagine you felt it
when you first arrived.

Yes, I-- I went
from Lancaster Royal Grammar...

to P.S. 233.

From beautiful,
Gothic stone buildings

and open green fields,
to brick and asphalt.

That's tough for rugby.

No.
The kids played stickball.

And I remember watching them,
with such...

determination from--
from the edge of the schoolyard.

Determination?
What does that mean?

I-- I was--

I was determined
to decode them.

You know, to figure them out.

How to play their game,
how to fit in.

Because everything
about them was alien.

The music that they listened to,
the clothes that they wore,

even their curse words.

And the girls-- the girls,
they--

Forget it, they--

they wouldn't even look
in my direction.

You stayed on the edge
of that schoolyard as well,

outside the gates.

I was trying to join in.
I was trying to find my way.

And I just--

I just didn't get a chance to.

You were pulled away,
again.

Mm-hm, yeah.

How long was your family
in America

before your father walked out?

Eighteen months.

A year and a half.

Ah okay, I-- I get the point
you're trying to make.

That I had time,
like at boarding school,

to-- to join in.

But, see, the thing is,
my father was--

He was working
really long hours.

And my mother
was already unwell.

You were expected
to stay home with her.

Yes, I was. And I did.

Yeah.

-It was a terrible blow.
-Was it?

What do you mean?

Was it a terrible blow
or was it also a relief?

-I was trying to be a good son.
-I understand that.

-Is that so awful?
-Of course it's not awful.

What I'm saying
is that it may have been easier

than the alternative.

What, do you think I wanted
to spend my teenage years

with my chronically ill mother?

I mean...

The first day I met you,
you insisted,

that you and Gina
had it all figured out.

That your need to save people

started with
your mother's illness.

And does that seem
far-fetched to you?

It doesn't.

But I think caring
for your mother was also a way

of saving yourself.

It was miserable, yes.

But it was also safe,
and familiar.

And it kept you
from having to find

any real connections elsewhere,

from risking yourself
in the outside world.

And it also had the convenience
of allowing you to blame

it all on your father.

And it's really not so different
from what you do

to this day, is it?

You cloister yourself
in your apartment,

or your burrow-like office.

You convince yourself
you're sick.

You accept a growing paralysis,

rather than taking
a risk of finding

where or towards whom
your real passion lies.

Is it any wonder
you haven't found

what drives you yet?

You're 57 years old.

At a certain point
you have to move past

the stories that you've assigned
to your life.

These steadfast explanations
you've settled on years ago.

You have to look
at yourself again...

for real answers.
You have to take that risk.

Well...

you're--

You're so young
and yet you're so confident.

About what?

You just seem so certain
that you're right.

You see everything clearly.

Do you think I see you clearly?

Because I'd like
to see you more clearly,

but I find you're fairly expert
at obscuring the view.

That's not the first time
you've heard that, is it?

In so many words.

I-- I told you earlier
that I was just...

distracted when I was...

with Wendy.

And you asked me
what I was thinking about.

And I said I didn't know.

You asked me if I...

if I hold myself back,
and I didn't answer.

Well, I do hold myself back.

Do you know why?

I was thinking about you.

I hear your voice.

A lot.

I admire your clarity. Your--

You see me.

I noticed that you don't--
you don't wear a wedding ring.

And-- and--

I've imagined
that you might understand

something of my life.

My loneliness.

I-- I know, I know.

Textbook transference.
I know it's--

it's ridiculous. I know.
Fantasy.

And it's my comeuppance,

for being on the receiving end
of these sorts of feelings

but... you did ask.

I'm glad you answered.

You look...

you look kind of shocked.

Why do you say that?

Nothing.

Do you recognize
what you're doing?

You're holding yourself back
again.

As soon as you express
your feelings,

you dismiss them immediately.

Call it ridiculous,
offer an excuse.

What-- what exactly
are you saying?

I'm saying that between now
and next session,

you may want to think
about why you do that.

Are you telling me...

-Are you trying to say--
-We have to stop.

But let's pick this up
next week.

This will be an excellent place
to start.

Okay.

We'll talk more next week.

Have a good weekend.