All language subtitles for river

Long ago, when I was
a young man,

my father said to me,
"Norman, you like
to write stories."

And I said, "Yes, I do."

Then he said,
"Someday, when you're ready,

"you might tell
our family story.

"Only then will you understand
what happened and why."

In our family
there was no clear line

between religion
and fly-fishing.

We lived at the junction
of great trout rivers
in Missoula, Montana,

where Indians still appeared
out of the wilderness

to walk the honky-tonks
and brothels of Front Street.

My father was
a Presbyterian minister

and a fly-fisherman.

And though it is true
that one day a week

was given over
wholly to religion,

even then he told us
about Christ's disciples
being fishermen.

And we were left to assume,
as my younger brother,
Paul, and I did,

that all first-class fishermen
on the Sea of Galilee

were fly-fishermen

and that John,
the favorite,

was a dry fly-fisherman.

The poor without Christ

are of all men
the most miserable.

But the poor with Christ

are princes and kings
of the earth.

In the afternoon,
we would walk with him

while he unwound
between services.

He almost always chose a path
along the Big Blackfoot,

which we considered
our family river.

And it was there
he felt his soul restored

and his imagination stirred.

Long ago, rain fell
on mud and became rock.

Half a billion years ago.

But even before that,
beneath the rocks,

are the words of God.

Listen.

And if Paul and I listened
very carefully all our lives,

we might hear those words.

Even so, Paul and I
probably received

as many hours
of instruction
in fly-fishing

as we did in all other
spiritual matters.

As a Presbyterian,
my father believed

that man by nature
was a damned mess

and that only
by picking up God's rhythms

were we able to regain
power and beauty.

Ten and two.

To him, all good things,

trout as well
as eternal salvation,

come by grace,

and grace comes by art,

and art does not
come easy.

Norman.

So, my brother and I learned
to cast Presbyterian style.

On a metronome.

He began each session
with the same instruction.

Casting is an art
that is performed
on a four-count rhythm

between 10:00
and 2:00.

If he had had his way,

nobody who did not know
how to catch a fish

would be allowed
to disgrace a fish
by catching it.

So it was with
my formal education,
as well.

Each weekday, while my father
worked on his Sunday sermon,

I attended the school
of the Reverend Maclean.

He taught nothing
but reading and writing

and, being a Scot,
believed that the art
of writing lay in thrift.

Half as long.

So while my friends
spent their days
at Missoula Elementary,

I stayed home
and learned to write
the American language.

Again. Half as long.

Good.
Now throw it away.

Norman! Norman!

Wait for your brother!

However, there was a balance
to my father's system.

Every afternoon,
I was set free,

untutored and untouched
till supper,

to learn on my own
the natural side
of God's order.

And there could be
no better place to learn
than the Montana of my youth.

It was a world
with dew still on it,

more touched by wonder
and possibility

than any I have since known.

God damn it,
open up the door!

Hey, what the
hell is going on?

Hey, where are
you guys going?

Chicken!

Come on,
move out of the way.

But it was a tough world, too.

Even as children,
we understood that
and admired it.

And, of course,
we had to test it.

I knew I was tough,
because I had been
bloodied in battle.

Get him, get him!

Give him a shiner!

Don't be a sissy!

Come on!

Yeah, come on!
Let's see some blood here!

Go on!

Lots of blood.

Paul was different.

His toughness came
from some secret place
inside of him.

He simply knew
he was tougher
than anyone alive.

Grace will not be said
until that bowl is clean.

Man has been
eating God's oats
for 1,000 years.

It's not the place
of an 8-year-old boy
to change that tradition.

Grace.

Oh, God,

who art rich
in forgiveness,

grant that we may
hold fast

the good things
we receive from thee

and as often
as we've fallen to sin

be lifted by repentance
through thy grace. Amen.

Norm, what do you want
to be when you grow up?

Minister, I guess.

Or a professional boxer.

You think you could
beat Jack Johnson?

I don't know.

I think you could.

I'd lay a bet on it.

What are you
going to be?

Professional
fly-fisherman.

There's no such thing.

There isn't?

No.

Hmm.

I guess a boxer.

Not a minister?

In 1917, World War I
came to Missoula,

taking with it
every able-bodied
lumberjack,

leaving the woods
to old men and boys.

So at 16 I did my duty

and started working
for the U.S. Forest Service.

It was a life
of timber and toil

with men as tough
as their ax handles

and more mountains
in all directions

than I would
ever see again.

Being too young
to join me,

Paul took a job as lifeguard
at the municipal swimming pool

so that during the day
he could look over the girls

and in the evenings
he could pursue his other
purpose in life.

Fishing.

♪ Be thou my vision

♪ Oh, Lord of my heart

♪ Naught be all else to me

♪ Save that thou art

♪ Thou my best thought

♪ By day or by night

♪ Waking or sleeping

♪ Thy presence my light ♪

Whoo!

Preacher,
come on.

Preacher!
Come on, Preacher!

Shut up.

Did I ever tell you guys
what a forest fire sounds like

coming down a mountain
at 60 miles an hour?

Oh, shut up! Again
with the forest fires!

I've got
a great idea.

I know how we can
go down in history.

How's that?

We borrow old man
Seifert's rowboat,

and we shoot
the chutes.

You can't
shoot the chutes,
Pauly.

- You can try.
- You can die trying.

They'd bury you
with full honors.

Tell him, Norm.

Well, we would be
the kings of Missoula.

Yeah, kings.
And we'd be famous.

And all of you would
get your photographs
in the paper.

I'm doing it.

- I am.
- You'll die.

No.

Let's do it.
Come on.

- I'm with you.
- Let's do it!

Let's go!

- What?
- All right.

Whoo! Yeah!

All right.

♪ Row, row, row your boat
gently down the stream ♪

Let's go!

I got the oars.

Whose idea
was this, anyway?

Where we going,
Pauly?

This way!

Don't work
too hard, Chub.

♪ Row your boat ♪

Goddamn rowboat!
I need a woman!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Okay, we'll
put in upstream.

Okay.

Flip it.

Okay, hop in.

Come on,
we can all fit.

I don't think so.

No, I...

Hey.

All right.

Just me, Norm and Chub.

Jeez, Pauly...

Okay.

Then I guess
it's just the Macleans.

You guys be careful!

You ain't
going over,
Pauly!

They'll pull
to shore.

See you in heaven!

Hey, come back
here a second. I got
to tell you something.

Come on, guys!

See you later, boys!

Otter on the right!

On your right,
watch the right!

Right.

Watch it.

On your right,
on your right!

Right!

Hang on!

Oh, jeez.

- Maclean!
- Hey!

Maclean!

Pauly!

Hey, Chub!

Maclean!

What the hell?

Son of a...

Jesus Christ!

Crazy son of a bitch!

You guys okay?

Where's...

Preach, you okay?

Sure.

You will go
to church this day

and pray
for forgiveness.

Your mother
spent the night
sick with worry.

Did you give
any thought to
her feelings?

Mrs. Campbell called.

Who gave you the boat?

- We...
- Borrowed it.

Borrowed?

Boys, what have you done?

Well, you will work off
every cent of its value.

Yes, sir.

I'll work it off, Father.
It was my idea.

Whoo!

What you making?

Know what
you need on that?

Ham, cheese
and sardines.
Delicious!

- I don't want sardines.
- I'll show you.

Boy, can you
believe those guys?

They'll be telling everyone
the class of '19 did it.

I should write
an article.

"Macleans conquer chutes."

- That'd show 'em.
- I don't like sardines.

And you could get it
in the school paper,
I bet.

Chub.

"Jeez, Pauly."

What a skeezicks.

I don't want any
goddamn sardines!

No, stop it!

Stop it!
Stop it!

Stop it!

You hit her,
you son of a bitch!

You knocked her down,
you bastard!

Son of a bitch.

Please, I slipped,
I slipped, I slipped!

I just slipped.
That's all.

That was the only time
we ever fought.

Perhaps we wondered afterwards
which one of us was tougher.

But if boyhood questions
aren't answered before
a certain point,

they can't be raised again.

So we returned to being
gracious to one another

as the church wall suggested.

I then saw
something remarkable.

For the first time,

Paul broke free
of our father's
instruction

into a rhythm all his own.

Okay.

Okay.

They're both marvelous.

I'd say the Lord has
blessed us all today.

It's just that he's been
particularly good to me.

The year ended
with my acceptance
into Dartmouth College.

Sometime before,
Father had told me that
I was allowed to attend

any college in the world
I could get into.

I knew he earned
no more than $1,800
a year,

so his offer meant more to me
than anything in my life.

Well, do your best.

I will.

All aboard!

Hey, Norman!
Norm!

So in the autumn of 1919,
I boarded the Northern Pacific

for a 3,000-mile trip east
to the unknown.

To the son of
a Montana minister,

Dartmouth was
more than an education.

It was a revelation

exposing me to a world
I had only guessed at.

As part of my degree,

I was required
to enlighten
incoming freshmen

on the wonders
of the Romantic poets,

and although I was
unaware of it then,
teaching fit me.

But most of the time,
I sat in the card room
of my fraternity house,

giving my bluenose
brothers a lesson
in Front Street poker.

In all, I spent six years
at Dartmouth,

away from home
nearly all that time.

On the other hand,
Paul stayed home
for college,

unwilling to leave the fish
he had not yet caught.

After graduation,
he took a job as a reporter
for a Helena newspaper

and moved to that town,

his connection with the family
growing as slight as my own.

It was not until
the spring of 1926

that I finally did
come home.

Dinner is
in half an hour.

So, you have time
for a bath.

Do I look thin, Mother?

Do I look old, Norman?

No, you look...

Wish Paul could have
been here tonight.

He's working late.

Norman?

Would you come in?

I'm sorry Paul
won't be here.

The life
of a newspaperman.

Well, you know
how Paul likes to...

I do.

Sit.

I also hear that he...

Well, I hear everything,
don't I?

Lord forbid my flock
keep me in ignorance.

Yes, you can
bet that everyone
from here to Helena

knows the details
of your education,
Norman.

It is an achievement.

So, to what use
shall you put this
achievement?

Well, I've been considering
the Forest Service.

As a career?

No.

No, for the summer.

Ah.

As a break.

Well, that's a good idea.

The body fuels the mind.

Yes, that's what
I was thinking.

And after?

I'm not absolutely sure yet.

Well, you've had six years
to become sure, Norman.

Have you considered
an advanced degree?

The law?

- Medicine?
- No.

The ministry?

I've applied for several
teaching positions and...

Have you?

Yes, college level,
but I haven't heard
anything yet.

No, it's early, but...

Now you have taught classes
already, haven't you?

Yes.

And did you find
that experience
rewarding?

That is to say,

do you feel this
could be your calling?

My calling?

Dinner, gentlemen.

If it's so damn funny,
how come I'm not laughing?

Yes, pee in their pants.

Well, that's
a good story, but I got
a better one.

- Paul Maclean?
- In there.

The rules in Anaconda Mine
say no breaks,
not even for the john,

so the poor bastards
have to stand there
and pee in their pants.

- What about the late...
- George Masterson!

Oh, I'll take that one.

Yeah,
she's 23 and built like
a brick shit house.

I'll take it!
You take the Anaconda.

I'll interview
the grieving widow.

But I'm the boss,
Maclean.

Fine by me, boss.

Brother!

Well, look at you.

Boys, this is
my big brother,
the professor.

- Gentlemen.
- Hi!

Come on.

- We go with it.
- Sit.

Thanks for coming
to see me last night.

Yeah, damn.
I am sorry about that.

Wanted to be there.

Wanted to hear
the old man say,

"Norman, could you come
into my study, please?"

Jeez, the professor.

We should celebrate.

Yeah.

A little early for me.

Oh, the East is
making you soft.

Is that right?

Do much fishing out East?

None.

None?

Well, what do you say?

Big Blackfoot.

You set?

Yeah.

Why don't you
take this hole?
It's a good hole.

No, that's all right.

No, no, no, no.
It's a good hole.

Too tight!
Try a roll cast!

The fish are
out further!

Just a little further.

Cast your line
into the current.

It'll give you
a better base.

Add some distance.

You're just rusty,
that's all.

He called it
shadow casting,

keeping his line above water
long enough and low enough

to make a rainbow rise.

And I realized that
in the time I was away,

my brother had
become an artist.

And one day my coach
comes up to me and says,

"Mac, how'd you like
to meet John L. Sullivan?"

John L. Sullivan?

Yes, the John L. Sullivan!

The last bare-knuckle
champion of the world.

It was then I knew
I was home,

standing on the steps
of the Missoula library
once again,

late at night,

telling stories to the same
boys who had sat
on those steps

and listened
100 times before

and who had,
in my absence,
become men.

It just goes to show you,
the world is full of bastards.

"The number increasing rapidly

"the further one gets
from Missoula, Montana.

"Amen."

See, professor, that's why
you need to stick around
here from now on.

Hey, where's the gargle?

Yes, pass
this way.

I'm gonna take you
to the 4th of July dance.

Every girl you need
to know will be there.

Without Mama.

Find you
a little sheba.

Well, gentlemen,
it's been swell.

Don't say no.

Where you going?

- Heavy date, Paul?
- Where you going, Pauly?

With a poker table.

Hey, you see they
got them new signs
on the way down, Pauly?

"Does your husband
misbehave,

"grunt and grumble,
rant and rave?

"Well, shoot that brute
some Burma Shave."

The road to where?

Lolo.

Little hot spring!

Being back
in my father's church seemed
to complete my return.

More than anything else,
I realized it was
my father's words

that made me
feel most at home.

And in the glow
of awakened memories,

when the deepest feelings
of the heart are all astir,

we are reminded
of the poet who sings,

"Backward, turn backward
Oh, time in your flight

"Make me a child again,
just for tonight"

Whoo!

Recognize anybody?

Well...

Oh, you been gone
too long, son.

Jessie!

Who's that?

Who?

There.

Yeah?

Little infatuation?

Chub, who is that?

Jessie Burns.

From Wolf Creek.

She got a brother
who went to Hollywood.

Jessie Burns.

Excuse me,
would you like
to dance?

Oh, God, would you
be a dar

and get us a drink?

Jessie,
who's that?

Here you are.

Here you go.

Oh, great.

Lifesaver.

Whoops.

How ladylike.

I have to be careful

or I'll wipe off
all the powder.

Phantom of the Opera.

♪ Pack up all my care and woe

♪ Here I go, singing low

♪ Bye-bye, Blackbird

You know, I heard
Louis Armstrong sing
this song once

in a little speak
in Greenwich Village,
New York.

Really?

Best jazz in the world.

Colored jazz, you know?
The real McCoy.

Not like Paul Whiteman
or the Clicquot Club Eskimos.

My mother loves the
Clicquot Club Eskimos.

Does she?

♪ Blackbird, bye-bye ♪

Dance?

Yeah.

Yowsa, yowsa, yowsa!
Let the fireworks begin!

Guys, come on.

Jessie, come on.

Jessie, come on. Jessie.

Look at that!

Wow!

What a wonderful idea.

What better lesson
for those girls

than a trip
to the reservation

to learn a real
Christian lesson
of giving?

Don't you think?

I'll organize it.
Don't lift a finger.

Oh, thank you, Eva.

This is the most
charitable idea
I've heard in years.

Do you know
those Indian children

don't even
have shoes,
Norman?

Hmm.

You waiting
for the phone?

No. I don't have to.

No, no. You go ahead.

Okay.

If you need
to use it...

No, no, no.
I have work
to do.

Okay.

Hello, Mrs. Hatcher.

Hello, Mrs. Hatcher,
I'd like...

Oh, she's fine.

I'd like...

Yes, they're fine.
Everybody's fine.

They're all fine,
Mrs. Hatcher.

I'd like the Burns residence
in Wolf Creek, please.

Yes, Mrs. Hatcher,
I know it's long distance.

Thank you.

Hello.

Is Jessie there?

Oh, this is Norman Maclean,
but I don't think she...

Hello.

No, I'm the one
who brought you
the drink.

Mmm-hmm.

No, we didn't
get a chance.

The fireworks
started and, well...

We talked about music.

And I said I heard
Louis Armstrong sing the...

Yeah, that's me.

- Yeah, I was just
a little nervous.
- Hmm?

Well, because
you were so
je ne sais quoi.

And I thought maybe
I could come over

and listen to the
Clicquot Club Eskimos
with your mother.

Yes.

Uh-huh.

Well, actually,
I called because
I wanted to see you again.

Mmm-hmm.

Well, how about Saturday or...

8:00?

Okay.

Okay.

Then I'll see you then.

Bye.

That was a good meal!

I'd like
to do that again!

Hey, here they are.

Brother.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Jessie, this is my
baby brother, Paul.

And this is Monasita.

Mabel.

Hi.

Shall we?

What do you say,
Pauly?

- Hey, Pauly.
- Murph.

Preacher.

Preacher?

How are you, Murph?

Long time,
long time.

Good to see you.

You know the house rules
as good as I do, Paul.

No Injuns. Period.

I just flat don't like
the house rules, Murph.

Me neither.

What are you going
to make me do here,
Pauly?

Just get us
a table for four.

Last time, Paul.

- Hello, Judge.
- Paul.

You can get him back.

Get drunk
and dance naked
on his table.

Yeah, and beat hell
out of the son of a bitch.

Molly, my darling.

Hi, Paul.

They've got some
swell hooch here.

They even wash the glasses.

Drink?

What'll it be...
Jessie? Jessie.

I'll have
a martini, Paul.

It is Paul?

Righty-o.

The usual for Norm,
gin and prune juice.

Make that a double.

Excuse me?

I'd like to order
a drink, too.

Whiskey. Double.

So, what are you
doing now, Mabel?

I sell bait.

You know, you have
the most beautiful hair
I've ever seen.

You think I should
get it bobbed?

No, no, not in
a million years.

Ah! Well.

"The candle burns
at both ends

"It will not last
the night

"But ah, my foes,
and oh, my friends

"It gives a lovely light"

That's nice.

How about
to my editor, the old...

The old curmudgeon.
Excuse me.

He took me off
the Anaconda story today.

I'm a reporter
at The Bee.

I know.

How do you know?

Oh, I'm famous.

Fishing newspaperman.

You know he fishes, too?

I thought everybody knew.

Brother, you been away
a long time.

I'd say so.

Anyway,
it seems my editor...

The old curmudgeon.

Yes, exactly,

has been getting calls.
No names, just threats.

Real threats?

Well, it's nice
to know you're touching
a nerve button.

Well, what did
they say?

- Hmm?
- What did they say?

Hmm?

What did they say?

You'll have
to cut it out of him.

The usual.

Some of the boys
gonna have to
come down

and pay me
a little visit.

Fit you with a pair
of concrete galoshes,
see?

Exactly.

I have to dance.

Hey, hey.

Watch out.

Wow.

And now the Muskrat Ramble.

I'm nowhere
near as good
as my brother,

but would you
do me the honor?

I'd love to.

"Dear Jessie,

"As the moon lingers a moment
over the bitterroots

"before its descent
into the invisible,

"my mind is filled
with song.

"I find I am humming,
softly,

"not to the music,
but something else.

"Someplace else.

"A place remembered.

"A field of grass
where no one seemed
to have been

"except the deer,

"and the memory
is strengthened
by the feeling of you

"dancing in
my awkward arms.

"Norman."

Yes?

What's wrong?

Norman?

It's okay, Mother.

Who is this?

I'm Norman Maclean.

No, he doesn't have
to post bond.

He covers the police beat
and has friends here.

All you have to do
is look at him and
take him home.

What did he do?

He hit a guy
and the guy's missing
a couple teeth.

Why did he hit him?

It says here a remark
was passed concerning

the Indian woman
he was with.

Well, then the guy
deserved it.

We're picking
your brother up
too much lately.

Is that right?

Besides, he's behind
in the big stud poker game
at Lolo.

It's not healthy to
get behind on that
big game at Lolo.

Is he hurt?

No, he's not hurt.
He's just sick.

He drinks too much.

Down at Lolo

they don't drink
too much.

You better go in
and get your brother.

♪ I'm tired
and I want to go to bed

♪ I just had a drink
about an hour ago

♪ It went right
through my head

♪ No matter where I go

♪ By land or sea or boat

♪ You can always hear me
singing this song

♪ Show me the way
to go home ♪

If you need
any money, Paul,

or anything else,
I want you to know that...

She lives past
the slaughterhouse.

I can help.

Turn here.

Come here, Jeannie!
Come here!

I got it.
Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Oh! Look at that!

Well, chickens haven't
come home to roost yet, Al.

Not bad.

Are you all right,
Norman?

Clara, was that
your jelly?

Yes, it was, Ethel.

- It was wonderful.
- Well, thank you so much.

- And is this Norman?
- Yes, it is.

- My goodness.
- We're very proud of him.

Nice to have you back.

Thank you.

Her daughter's
turned into
quite a beauty.

There she is,
over there.

Twenty only
a week ago.

She's bright
as a light, Norman.

Mother.

Mr. Murchison,
how are you?

How are you?

How are you?

Quite well, thank you.

Good, good.

And this is Paul?

No, this is Norman.

Norman.

Oh, Norman.

You're looking good.

Yes, hasn't he
grown up?

Oh, yes.

Paul's here. Come on.

I'm sorry, Mother, I can't.
I have to meet Jessie Burns'
family at the station.

Her brother Neal's
coming in from California.

Oh, well, now.

So I'm late.

Should we have
this girl over
to dinner, Norman?

Perhaps, Mother.

- Hello.
- Howdy.

Mother.

Come on.

Hi, Paul!

- Well, well.
- Hey, Maclean!

Hello, Paul.

Hi, Sam.
Let me borrow those a moment.

Sure, why not?

- Hello, Father.
- Son.

That's a humdinger!

First shot and he bangs
it right up there.

The Burns family
ran a general store
in a one-store town

and still managed
to do badly.

This is Norman.

They were Methodists,

a denomination my father
always referred to as

Baptists who could read.

Pop.

- It's a pleasure.
- My mother.

It's really a pleasure
to meet you, Norman.

Jessie tells me
that you're a poet.

- Are you related
to the fishing newspaperman?
- That's my brother.

Jessie says
you just got your degree.
- Yes.

Jessie, you know
was at the university.
She was majoring in...

Flapperism.

Science, I believe.
Wasn't it?

But she dropped out.

Aunt Sally!

She could learn from you.
Stick-to-it-tivity.

Now, now, just let
the young man breathe.
He's not used to all this.

He's a Presbyterian.

Oh, Neal!

He's here, he's here!

Let's go.

Jessie's brother, Neal,
stepped off the train
trying to remember

what a Davis Cup
tennis player looked like.

- You look so good.
- He looks a little thin to me.

How you doing?
You look great!

Oh, Neal,
this is Norman.

Norman,
my brother Neal.

Hello, boy.

Did you sit up
all night on that thing?

I met some nice people
on that train.

- Did you get my card
from Yellowstone?
- I did. I got it.

What do you think
about this tie?

Come on, guys. Come
on, let him breathe now.
He just got here.

Let's go eat.

Good idea.

I've got some
chicken salad sandwiches
in the car,

and I've got baking
chickens at home.

Now Mrs. Miller has given
us some cherries. I can
make your favorite pie.

Mrs. Miller's still alive?

Oh, not the homemade beer.

Boy, it was
a good year.

Over the lips,
past the gums,

look out stomach,
here she comes.

What's the first
station out there now?

When I traveled that way,
San Berdoo was there.

San Berdoo and
a lot of sand

and a lot of desert,
a hell of a lot of desert.

We came back
to Salt Lake City

and had to change
at Salt Lake City.

There was
a hotel that...

Served oysters.

Served oysters.

Yeah.

Norman,
do you drink?
Does he drink?

A little bit.

Well, here's to the
ole fam-damn-ily.

The fam-damn-ily.

Hear, hear.

Down the trenches.

He's fine,
Aunt Sally. He's just tired.
It was a long trip.

At least he still has
his appetite! Thank God!

So how long
do you plan
to stay, Neal?

Sport. Sport, come here.

I don't know.
I miss the ocean.

What's it like?

It's big and it's blue.

People ride on the waves.
I tell you, I was getting
pretty good at it.

Damn it!

Bad dog! Bad!

Jeez, Ma.

Well, you get him
so excited. Sport.

Anywho, what was
I talking about?

- The water.
- The ocean.

Oh, oh, yeah, yeah.

We'd ride those waves
all day long. All the boys.

Ramon, me,
Ronnie Colman.

Ronald Colman?

Ronald Colman?

I love Ronald Colman.

You know, people have told me
I look like Ronald Colman.

Yeah.

I can't picture Ronald
Colman riding on waves.

Some Kodak, huh?

Well, Ma.

It's been a long trip.

Maybe you could go
fishing with Norman
sometime.

Hmm?

Yeah, that's a good idea.

Yeah.

Wonderful,
wouldn't it be?

Fishing.

You do fish?

Of course he does!

He has a pole
and everything.

- Oh, yes,
everybody does.
- Oh, yeah.

You betcha.

When would be
a good time
for you, Norman?

Friday.

Friday's good.
Friday's good.

Yeah, that's...
What time?

6:00.

a.m.?

Yes, he'll be there.
Won't you, honey?

Thank you, Norman.
That's very kind
of you.

My pleasure.

Maybe Paul
could come too?

That would be nice.

Well, I'm sure Paul would love
to go fishing with us.

Can I come?

Not this time, honey.

Next time, okay?

You got chores to do.

Why don't you go
with Neal, Norman?

Hmm?

You know,
make your plans.

Oh, yeah.

The only plan
Neal had in mind

was a trip to
Black Jack's bar,

which was simply
an old freight car
set in the woods,

where any honest policeman
would be unlikely to find it.

So, it was
this otter and her pups.

Now, I had a hell of
a time tracking them

because they turn
white in the winter.

After a few shots of the
especially vile whiskey

brewed by Black Jack himself,

Neal began to hold forth.

He'd chosen
Montana subjects
to spin his lies

about shooting,
hiking, trapping.

Probably, I figured,
to impress the only
other client at the bar,

a ploy that was
beginning to pay off.

Anywho, she tried to lose me
again and again...

She went by the name
of Old Rawhide.

About 10 years before, she'd
been elected beauty queen
of Wolf Creek.

She had ridden bareback,
standing up through the
100 inhabitants, mostly male.

Her skirts flew high,
and she won the contest.

I couldn't
feel my hands.

I'm thinking
about my dog, Sport,
that's with me.

I'm thinking
if it gets any colder,

I may have to slit him open
and stick my hands in

to keep them
from freezing.

It would have been
a tough thing to do.

Hell, I did it before
up at the Yukon.

God knows
I love that damn dog...

She still wore
the divided skirts
of a horsewoman,

although they must
have been a hardship
in her new profession.

And there on a branch,

waiting to jump
on their first deer,

is the goddamn otter.

Hey, buster.

What's an otter doing
on the top of Rogers Pass?

I thought
they swam down
in the cricks.

Jack,

why don't you
bring this lady
a whiskey?

Well, I got to shove off.

And don't forget, old boy.
Friday, fishing.

What?

What say?

They said I'd find you
at your other office.

Yeah. Deadline.

Can't work there.

Hmm.

You come for a drink?

A favor.

Uh-oh.

Go fishing with me?

Sure.

Well, that's marvy,

because Jessie's
got a brother who's in
from California and...

Oh.

I'm not gonna lie to you.
He's a world champion
peckerwood.

Bait fisherman?

He didn't say.

Good Lord.
George!

He's gonna show up
with a coffee can
full of worms.

Red can,
Hills Brothers.

I'd lay a bet on it.

I promised Jessie.

Are you getting serious?

- What?
- You son of a bitch,
you're getting serious.

You and Jessie.

Well?

I don't know.

Then I guess
we got to do it.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

As I live and breathe.

Buster here wants to fish.

You're late, Neal.

Yeah, I didn't
get in till late.

I didn't get in at all,
but I was here.

- Neal, Paul.
- Paul, Neal.

Neal, in Montana,
there are three things
we're never late for.

Church, work
and fishing.

Righty-o.

Anywho, this is...

- We've met.
- We've met.

Don't go away.

Watch the first step.
It's a lulu.

So, you ready to...

Neal.

- Neal!
- What?

Fishing.

Buster wants to fish.

Oh, Neal, what
about the bait?

Dumb Dora.

We're not going to catch
anything anyway.
It's too damn hot.

May he catch
three doses of clap.

Sure glad
I didn't go home
and get some sleep.

Where is he?

- Oh, God.
- Jeez.

I'll catch up.

Yeah.

I know, you got 20.

Couldn't you find him?

The hell with him.

Well, I thought we were
supposed to help him.

How the hell do you help
that son of a bitch?

By taking him fishing.

He doesn't like fishing.

Doesn't like Montana.
Sure as hell doesn't
like me.

Yeah.

Well, maybe what
he likes is somebody
trying to help him.

You've sank
the beer, yeah?

You bet your life.

Yeah.

Okay, let's go.

Oh, jeez,
I can taste it.

Should we kill him?

Shit.

Damn it.

Holy Christ.

This is not good.

Well, she's got a tattoo.

Initials?

No.

"Love."

- I can get in myself.
- I don't need help.

Hey, you got anything
to drink, buster?

Buster's the one
with the red ass.

I'm in deep trouble.

Yeah. You want me to come
and protect you?

Yeah, I'm sure
Mrs. Burns would love
to meet the girlfriend.

I ain't burned.

The sun don't bother me.

Yeah.

Hey, Norm, what do you think
about me spending the night
with you and the folks?

We come back here tomorrow,
wipe this day off the books.

It's a deal.

Come on, buster.

I'm as dry as dirt.

Hark,
fair Juliet speaks.

Good luck.

Shh!

Sweet Jesus!

What have you done
to my boy?

Don't!

He fell asleep
in the sun.

My Lord in heaven.

It's all right.
It's all right,
honey.

We'll fix it.
We'll fix it.

You left him alone,
Norman?

He was...
He brought someone,
and...

I think you better go home.

I need a ride home.

Better hang on.

What are you doing?

I don't think you...

They send trains
down here all the time,
you know,

without a schedule.

You're not...

I don't think they
can see us in here.

Well, thanks
for the flight.

You know,
you're funny.

Oh, how am I funny?

You don't like
my brother, do you?

No, I do not
like your brother.

Look, I don't know
any card tricks, Jess,

but I like you.

And I want to
see you again.

Hey!

Hello, Jess.

Hey, Paul.

How's your brother?

You both left him alone.

Well, I'm sorry about that.
That was my fault.

Well, you're not forgiven.

Well, is Norman forgiven?

Norman's not funny.

Ooh.

And I hung fresh towels
on the washstand for you.

Did you remember
to powder my toothbrush,
Mother?

No!

Now, let Paul tell
his latest story.

Oh, yes. Which one?
The murder, the wreck,
or the fire?

I think
they should put you
on the church beat.

I agree. I agree.

Quote,
"The Reverend Maclean

"had a nice roast
while dining
with his family.

"All except
for the poor,
elder son

"enjoyed it immensely."

Norman,
what's the matter?

He's not funny.

Pardon me?

He's not funny.

Well, there are more important
accomplishments, Norman.

Mmm-hmm. It's all right
if you're dull, Norman.

No.

We're very proud of you.

- Yes.
- Well, I do have one story.

No murder, no mayhem.

I interviewed
the President.

- Calvin Coolidge?
- The President?

Yeah, Calvin Coolidge.

- Mr. Coolidge?
- Yeah. Uh-huh.

- When?
- A few days ago.

He was in Dakota,
fly-fishing.

Fly-fishing!

Fly-fishing in a suit
and tie, white gloves
and patent leather shoes.

So I asked him...
I went right up to him.
I said, "Excuse me, sir,

"can you tell me
what they're biting on?"

He turns around,
looks at me and says,
"The end of my line."

"The end of my line."

Then a bunch of the locals
came running over,

tied on some new-fangled fly
the size of a chicken.

Old Cal, he
heaves it out there.

Figured if he can't catch
a trout, by God, he's gonna
scare one to death.

Did you get a picture?

Oh, yeah.
Be in the Sunday paper.

"Closed-mouth Cal
communes with the crappies."

Mother, that was amazing.

He usually only eats
what he can hit on the road.

Now that was funny.

- You know, I do worry
about you, Paul.
- I'm going to run over to...

Hmm?

What?

What?

Oh, I was just
going to say,

thought I'd go out and
meet some of the old pals,
being in town and all.

Don't you wait up.

I plan on
eating the rest of this
when nobody's looking.

I understand he's changed
the spelling of our name.

MacLean,
with a capital L.

Now everyone will think
we're Lowland Scots.

Howdy, Norman.

Hi there, Mr. Sweeney.

Who do you know at the
University of Chicago?

Chicken in a car,
car won't go.

That's how you
spell Chicago.

"...not in entire
forgetfulness

"and not in utter nakedness,

"but trailing clouds of glory
do we come

"from God,
who is our home."

"Though nothing can
bring back the hour

"of splendor
in the grass,

"of glory in the flower,
we will grieve not.

"Rather find strength
in what remains behind."

"In the primal sympathy which
having been must ever be."

"In the soothing
thoughts that spring out
of human suffering."

"In the faith that
looks through death."

"Thanks to
the human heart
by which we live.

"Thanks to its tenderness,
its joys, its fears.

"To me the meanest
flower that blows..."

"Can give thoughts

"that do often lie
too deep for tears."

Good luck, Son.
We'll be rooting for you.

There's sandwiches in here.

It was one week
exactly before I spoke
to Jessie again.

She called to tell me
that Neal was going
back to California

and that he would appreciate
me seeing him off.

We love you, dear.
We love you.

We love you.
Good luck.

Though I was surprised
by the invitation,

I asked only one question
of Jessie.

Did she want me to come?

And she answered yes.

I love you.
Don't forget
to write.

If he came back next summer,
would you try and help him?

If you wanted
me to, I would try.

Well, he's not
coming back.

At least he's got
friends out there.

Who, Ronald Colman?

Why is it the people
who need the most help

won't take it?

I don't know, Jess.

God.

I don't...

I don't cry, Norman.

Can I show you something?

Only if it's
something good.

Read.

So what do you think?

What do I think?
I think it's the berries!

You do?

Yeah, to get away!
Chicago!

God, it's heaven.

- Have you ever been?
- No, no. Not anywhere.

Helena.

God. Congratulations,
Norman.

Truth is, I'm not
sure I want to leave.

Montana? Why?
It'll always be here.

Not Montana.

Then what?

What?

I'm not sure
I want to leave you.

They keep closing
this place, right?

Little do they know,
I just come from there.

Dining my liquid lunch.
You gotta watch it, Fred.

I'm telling you,
they're after you.

You got it right...

Well, now.

Give us a couple
boilermakers, Fred.

Two up.

Well, here's
to the heart,
God damn it.

Oh, Lordy.

Mmm.

I'm in love
with Jessie Burns.

Jesus Christ, Norm.

With all the fish
in the river?

Not like her.

Oh, right.

Not like her.

Congratulations.

I'm real happy for you.

Well, God damn it,
let's get the hell out
of here and go celebrate.

Done.

♪ Bananas today

♪ We've got
homegrown potatoes

♪ And vine-ripened
tomatoes ♪

It's a stinker.

What?

It stinks.

What do you mean?
It's a classic!

Oh, really?

Yes.

♪ We have no bananas

♪ We have no bananas today ♪

Where are we?

Where we going?

Lolo.

Yup.

No.

Figured you felt
lucky tonight.

I could use
some of the luck.

Jesus Christ.
Don't. No, don't.

Don't be the
professor tonight.

Norm.

Preacher.

Hello, Frank.

Well, my gal Sal.

Sal! Hey, Sal?

Get a drink
for my brother.

Bourbon.

In fact, how about
a round on me?

He's in love.

Hang on.

Take care
of him, Sal.

Not a good idea,
Paul.

Fellas, got
a chair for me?

Not for you, Paul.

Now you know
I'm good for it.

What do you want?

What?

Cards? What?

What do you want?

Nothing.

A buck. I know
Paul says he's paying,
but...

Okay!

Okay, okay.

No, no.

No. Just games.

Only games.

Let's go. Now.

Come on, we're
getting out of here.

Righty-o, oh, oh.

Bye-bye, sonny.

I'm not leaving.

What?

These hands are hot,
Norm. I can feel it.

What are you talking about?
You can't go back in there.

Norm, it's fine.
I'll be fine.

They won't even let you play.

Oh, yes, they will.

With what? You are
in debt up to
your goddamn neck!

Norm, it's my debt.

Okay? It's my debt.

Jesus Christ.

Norm!

Hey, Norm!

Norm.

Hey.

I was thinking.
We never got to go
fishing again.

Maybe we could
go tomorrow.

And we could get Dad
to come along.

Okay?

You ask him.

Okay.

6:30.

Boy, something
smells good out there.

Morning, everybody.

It's the muffins.

Perfect!

We're so glad
you could make it, what
with work and everything.

I wouldn't miss it.

What are
you working on? Do you have
any new stories to tell us?

A story? Mmm.

All righty.

Oh, jeez.

I have one.

What?

I've been offered a job
at the University of Chicago.

Yes?

Teaching literature.

What?

Starting fall term.

I'm going to take it.

Norman.

I am pleased.

Yes, I am pleased.

Well.

A professor.

A real professor.

Damnation.

I'm proud of you.

Now, you be sure
to take pictures.

We're gonna
catch some big fish.

Yes, we are.

Let's go!

Remember those
rocks we used to build
our fireplace?

They had holes in them.

Those were big rocks.

Yeah. Nearly
a billion years old.

Half a billion, Norman.

Come on.

Well,

I believe
the high road will
suit me better.

Oh.

True.

There was a time.

You'll make a killing.

He'll make a killing.

Let's fish
together today.

Good.

What are they biting on?

What?

What are they biting on?

Louder!

I said...

Bunyan Bugs!

Want me
to bring you one?

No, I'll come and get it.

Bunyan Bug,
stonefly number two.

Thank you,
O merciful professor
of poetry and trout.

I'm going to ask
Jessie to marry me.

Yes.

Quite a day.

Why don't you come
with us to Chicago?

It's 2,000 miles away.

They've gotta have more
than a dozen papers there.

You'd be right
in the middle of things.

What do you say?

Come with us.

Oh, I'll never
leave Montana,
Brother.

There!

Oh, me.
Oh, my.

Look at that fish!

Oh, my.

Unbelievable.

At that moment,
I knew, surely and clearly,

that I was
witnessing perfection.

You...

You are a fine
fisherman.

Only need three more
years before I can
think like a fish.

You're already
thinking like
a dead stonefly.

- Here, pictures.
- Mother's pictures.

- Hurry up.
- One.

Two.

My brother stood
before us, not on a bank
of the Big Blackfoot River,

but suspended
above the earth,

free from all its laws
like a work of art.

Three.

And I knew just as surely
and just as clearly

that life is not
a work of art

and that the moment
could not last.

And so when
the police sergeant
awakened me one morning

just before Jessie and I
left for Chicago,

I rose and asked
no questions.

He drove me back home
down the length of the river

so that I could tell
my father and mother

that Paul had been
beaten to death
by the butt of a revolver

and his body
dumped in an alley.

Is there anything else
you can tell me?

Nearly all the bones
in his hand were broken.

Which hand?

His right hand.

As time passed,
my father struggled
for more to hold onto,

asking me again and again
had I told him everything.

And finally I said to him,

"Maybe all I really know
about Paul

"is that he was
a fine fisherman."

"You know more than that,"
my father said.

"He was beautiful."

And that was the last time
we ever spoke
of my brother's death.

Indirectly, though,
Paul was always present
in my father's thoughts.

I remember the last
sermon I heard him give,
not long before his own death.

Each one of us here today
will at one time in our lives

look upon a loved one
who is in need and ask
the same question.

"We are willing to help,
Lord, but what, if anything,
is needed?"

For it is true
we can seldom help
those closest to us.

Either we don't know
what part of ourselves
to give,

or, more often than not,
the part we have to give

is not wanted.

And so it is
those we live with
and should know

who elude us,

but we can
still love them.

We can love completely

without complete
understanding.

Now nearly all those
I loved and did not understand
in my youth are dead,

even Jessie.

But I still
reach out to them.

Of course, now I'm too old
to be much of a fisherman,

and now I usually fish
the big waters alone,

although some friends
think I shouldn't.

But when I am alone
in the half-light
of the canyon,

all existence seems
to fade to a being
with my soul and memories,

and the sounds
of the Big Blackfoot River,

and a four-count rhythm

and the hope
that a fish will rise.

Eventually,
all things merge into one,

and a river runs through it.

The river was cut
by the world's great flood

and runs over rocks
from the basement of time.

On some of the rocks
are timeless raindrops.

Under the rocks
are the words,

and some of the words
are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.