All language subtitles for 8½.Women.(1999)

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I'd like to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself

Alone

Get you and keep you

In my arms evermore

Leave all your lovers

Weeping on a faraway shore...

We agreed to
discharge your debts,

in return for your Japanese assets.

Real estate?

- No!
- Insurance companies?

- No!
- Gambling parlors?

No! No! No!

Out on the briny

With the moon big and shiny...

He said that the gambling
parlors belonged to his mother

and that she would be
very angry to see them sold.

Then I think
you have a choice.

Please your mother,
or face criminal charges.

Well, to a man of honor,
that is no choice.

Then he may go to jail.
Please sign here.

Melting your heart

Of stone...

That was physical! I haven't had
a physical confrontation like that

since I was your age, Storey.

His mother is very angry.

Well, his mother
packs a powerful punch.

I'd love to get you

On a slow boat to China...

It's a contract with-
with blood on it. My blood.

- Let me get a new copy.
- No, no, no. I like the drama,

and I sort of respect
the gesture.

I hope you would
punch a foreigner

who bought your mother's
property, Storey.

Perhaps I would check
if he would punch me back.

All to myself

Alone...

Well, the spilt blood might help

to remove his shame.

You should now make
the three monkeys.

What?

You should invoke the three monkeys
every time you make a deal.

Hmm.

The Pachinko Parlors
are not small change.

They are big business.

And you deeply offended
his honor.

- You were rude.
- I wasn't rude.

And whose side are you on?

- You should sell them quickly.
- No. If they can arouse such passion-

keep them.

I do not think, Mr. Storey,
that that is wise.

And I have your
best interests at heart.

They're not mine,
but they have my blood on them.

Well...

we'll keep them for a year.

Fresh assessment next April.

Though you must
manage them, Storey.

Maybe by next year
they'll have your blood on them.

Ear, chin, time one,
time two, prick, foot, hand,

and God.

Sic fatur lacrimans
immitit-que.

The luck of a man
without a woman.

"The quick brown fox
jumps over the lazy dog."

Simato.

Simato.

The luck of a woman
with a man.

Hello, Storey, it's me.

What are you doing in Geneva?
You're supposed to be here tomorrow.

Dad, are you still there?

Do you want me
to call you back?

- It's your mother.
- Oh, how is she? Put her on.

She's not well.

- What's the matter?
- She's very ill.

In fact, she's so ill
she's not moving anymore.

What are you talking about?

She's not breathing anymore.

She's not living anymore.

In fact...

she's dead.

What?

I- I can't talk anymore just now.

Hey, wait, Dad?

When you've thought
about it, Storey, ring me.

10 minutes, five minutes.

I won't go away.

Ear, chin, heart-

heart,

prick, foot,

and God.

Benedictus,

benedicap...

benedancien...

Christian dominum
nostrum...

ad infinitum.

I lived most of my life
with my wife in this bed.

You make it sound as though
you never got up.

I like sleeping.

You were conceived
in this bed.

You weren't asleep then.

No, but I've a feeling
your mother was.

Read to me.

Your mother did.

What shall I read?

Something grand and...

significant.

The Constitution of America?

No.

Your mother wasn't
an American,

and she never needed it.

The Lord's Prayer?

No. I never needed that, either.

Something in Latin?

You don't understand Latin.

Benedictus benedicap

benedancien,

Christian dominum
nostrum, amen.

You see? Mangled rubbish.

I love Latin.

But for some reason,
I was very bad at it.

Shamefully and blushingly
bad at it.

- You were bad at maths.
- Well, that was different.

In moments of stress
the embarrassment

of how bad I was at Latin
really hit me.

Like being laughed at by somebody
you desperately loved.

Where are you going?

Maybe I want to see
that maid,

Clothilde, again
with a coffee pot.

Or maybe I wish
I wanted to see her.

How come that she
can be alive

pouring coffee
and not your mother!?

You aren't-
gay, are you?

No.

Well, I like my own
cock well enough,

but I've never been able
to work up much enthusiasm

for anyone else's.

You've had all this
re-decorated.

It was your mother's idea.
She was spring cleaning.

Don't change the subject.

How come you haven't
got plans to marry?

Perhaps because I'm too much
in love with my own prick

to share it permanently.

It's probably your fault.

My fault?

Ever since I was eight,
and you put that full-length mirror

in my wardrobe door,

and I wanted to be double-jointed
so I could kiss my cock good night

before I went to sleep.

All this narcissism's

rather boring, isn't it?

Find yourself a woman.

Get someone else to kiss
your cock for you.

Let's go to a hotel.

No.

It's too far away from her

and she might want me.

How's that possible?

I might want her.

You've never slept
with a corpse, I take it?

I'd like to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself

Alone

Get you and keep you

In my arms

Evermore

Leave all your lovers

Weeping on a faraway shore.

When I was young
I hated my body,

because it was so thin.

Now I try not
to look at it too much

because it's...

...so old.

Perhaps there was just

six months when I felt
comfortable with it.

When I discovered alcohol
for the first time,

and I'd learned to drive,

and was fattening up
when I just met your mother.

What was that noise?

It's an owl.

Sounds like your mother
singing in the loo.

She sang to let you know
she was in there.

It's a funny thing to do,
don't you think?

If you were oversensitive
about bodily functions,

you'd have thought
she'd have kept

very quiet about it,
wouldn't you?

It's no good.
This is too uncomfortable,

and you make me feel guilty.

Why?

You should have had
brothers and sisters.

Then you could have
discussed sex with them.

But you're my father.

Why can't I discuss
sex with you?

Your interest in sex
got me here.

Why do you keep
saying things like that?

I'm bonding.

Did you ever do it
in the back of a Rolls?

Shut up.

I'm too miserable
to think about sex.

Look at all these
wasted empty bedrooms,

all set up with beds
and bathrooms.

It looks like a hotel
without people.

There used to be people here
enough in the summer

when I was a child.

You should fill
the rooms up again.

What the hell with-
concubines?

Let's go take a look
at your room.

You know...

you're my nearest
surviving relative.

I'll always be nearer you
than your wife.

Shh!

She'll hear us.

She didn't like
to be discussed.

So, this is the infamous mirror

that saw so much of
my son's nakedness?

You're a great deal fleshier than me
when I was your age.

Where do you get it from?
Certainly not your mother.

You've a nice backside.

- I can sit on it.
- You could say that.

You look a stranger
to me, naked.

It works both ways.

Get out of bed.

I want to see what I'll look like
when I'm 57.

55. And there's a corpse
in the house.

She's not a corpse.
She's my mother.

Well, I don't know
what to say, really,

except you look immortal
and I look bereft.

That's not true.

There's only one pair.

You can have the trousers.

Oh my God.

My God, my God, Storey.

Who is ever gonna
hold me closely again?

You're a rich man-

I could think of hundreds.

Money? That's no good.
That's no good at all.

How can you say that?

Who is gonna hold me
and love me...

...for me?
For my body as it is now?

For me as I am now,
like she did?

I thought you said
she was very passive in bed.

Did I?

You've got too many
clothes on.

I've never slept naked.

I hate pajamas.

I didn't know
you could do this.

You can do anything.

Besides, you're my father.

And you're very,
very, very unhappy.

Lift your arm
and lie on your back.

- I'm unhappy, too.
- Mmm?

Sort of.

But not as unhappy
as you are, of course.

- We'll just have to sort it all out.
- Mmm.

Be patient.

Grieve properly.

Remember,
I'm your nearest relative.

And besides

we couldn't make babies
even if we tried.

I want to wear white
to Emilia's funeral.

- She didn't like black.
- You can't. They won't like it.

It's a reputable cemetery.

I have been contributing
to this town for 35 years.

I am a respectable
Genevan citizen.

They can honor
my wife through me

with this little request!

Okay, okay, okay.
So-

let's do this properly.

Obviously, the underwear
must go, too!

If you insist on black,

let's bloody well
go through with it!

So- who's wearing
black underwear?

Hmm? Hmm?

Do I go to my wife's
funeral naked?

She never once,
in her whole lifetime

saw me completely naked.
Well, now's her chance, eh?

Father, don't be
so bloody stupid.

Nobody's going to see
your underwear.

Everybody's probably wearing
white underwear anyway.

But, you idiot,
that is just the point.

Just to show you how
bloody stupid

all this etiquette is.

You want me in black?
Okay, okay, okay.

So I'll wear black.

Don't make such a fuss, Philip.

- I'm wearing a black T-shirt.
- Okay, get it off.

I've got black underwear on.

Is that usual
for a man in your age?

It looks like swimming trunks.

I can go swimming
in the lake afterwards.

What was Emilia to you?
An excuse for a quick dip?

Charlie, lend me your suit.
Go and sit in the car.

Come on, hurry up!

Clean on this morning.

Oh, don't worry.
You'll get 'em back

And they'll be washed
and pressed.

- 60 francs for your shirt.
- What?

- 80 francs?
- No.

100 francs.

No, it's new.

Okay, 150 francs?

God! Whoever paid that
for a black shirt?

- It's a collector's item.
- Bloody is, now.

Benedictus, benedicap,

benedancien,

Christian dominum
nostrum, Amen.

You know,
to make his rigid, tedious,

boring painting seem
at least a little human,

the Mondrian enthusiasts

keep insisting that Mondrian

was a great tango dancer.

Art is supposed to help
in times of crisis.

I'm sure that food, alcohol, and sex

are a better distraction.

Food only makes me retch.

Alcohol only makes
me scared.

And sex?

Your mother's dead.

And with her everything
that's compatible with my prick.

What an extraordinary
thing to say.

Why? It's true.

I know I'm a prude,
but I'm also a good dancer.

I saw a man who danced
with his wife

In Chicago

Chicago is my home town.

Or I used to be.

I used to have a wife.

I'm taking you to the cinema.

- I never go to the cinema.
- A great escapist medium.

I can't stand sitting
in the dark with strangers.

Harmless.

All of us obliged to share
the same emotional experiences.

- It's too intimate.
- Two hours of forgetfulness.

I like to be emotional
in private.

I haven't noticed.

You know, Storey, I haven't
been truthful with you.

When I was a young man-
this is going to shock you-

I, too, often wanted
to sleep with my father.

Is that strange?

The other night-
it was, on my part,

an unpremeditated act.

I was hoping to console you.

And I thought I did.

At least I distracted you.

Well, you've heard
of young men

wishing to sleep
with their mothers,

but not with their fathers, surely?

I mean, there's a name
for sleeping with your mother

- but not with your father.
- Shut up, Father. Not now.

Don't call me Father.

He was like a large pillow-

my father.

He took me swimming
in the lake

practically every day
in the summer.

I watched him closely.

A large man with a large cock.

Big, purple, rubbery.

My mother must have been delighted,
she'd had two husbands already.

All the servants
came down to watch.

I was pleased that they looked,
because after all,

that's where I came from.

You see? You too,
are interested in sexual continuity.

Remember, I was only 10,
perhaps...

13.

Now, contemplating
my father's prick,

I often think that that's what got me
interested in engineering.

What?

Watching his Eiffel Tower,

his Empire State Building...

perhaps made me a good engineer.

Shut up, Father,
and watch the film.

The penis, if you think about it,

is the most enterprising
engineering feat imaginable.

Hydraulics, compression,

propulsion, heat sensitive.

Practically every
engineering characteristic.

Towers, drawbridges,
rocket ships.

No man-made engineering
structure to match it.

My father's involuntary anatomy
instructed my career prospects.

Do I have that much
influence on your career?

What's the matter?

You must excuse me.

I was disturbed
by your frankness.

You are obviously
on a voyage of discovery.

Oh, dear, oh, dear.
Talking sex again.

What else is there to talk about?
Give me another subject.

Death?

That is not a decent
subject matter to discuss.

Watch the film.

- Money?
- Money's not interesting.

Too easy to get hold of.

Too many stupid
people have it.

Money can easily
be buried in the other two.

Buried.

I don't want to talk
about burials.

Why do you think
Fellini kept inventing

all these exciting women?

Do you think
he loved them all?

Did he sleep with them all?
Did he sleep with any of them?

Or did he get Mastroianni
to do it for him?

Dad, I have to go back
to Kyoto.

Oh, stay another week.
I need you here.

Why don't you come with me?

A change of place
will do you good.

I'll see.

How many film directors
make films to satisfy their...

sexuaI fantasies?

I would imagine most of them.

If you don't come
to Kyoto this week,

come for your birthday.

Those women.
All nationalities.

Every shape and size,
every age.

He was just an old Italian pimp.

We know how lecherous
the Italians are supposed to be.

But it's probably
an undeserved reputation.

What's going on?

This woman has been
caught stealing.

Then call the police.

The father won't do it.
He says it is a family matter.

You run a temptation shop.

He's very angry.

She's sold his car
and mortgaged his house,

- to play your machines.
- How could she have done that?

- She forged his signature.
- Whose signature?

The brother's and the father's
and now the fiance's.

This place is a trap
for weak-minded women

with nothing better to do.

They want to beat her-

And they want you to pay them.
She's very simple-minded.

Ask her why on earth she does it.

She's stupid.
What did I tell you?

- Tell her she's beautiful.
- You are beautiful.

- She says you must give her credit.
- No.

You'll end up in jail, and they
don't have these machines in jail.

- They do.
- They do?

The jailers take credit for sex.

Then maybe I should do the same.

Ask her if she'll sleep with me,

then I'll give her credit.

- She agrees.
- You didn't ask her.

She'll accept.

Wouldn't that disgrace her
more than stealing?

Not necessarily.

- You see, her family suggested it.
- They what?

What about her fiance?

Buy him a car,
and he'll forget her.

What am I getting into here?
You make it sound all sewn up.

She says she's staying the night,

unless you want to hear
she's been beaten.

And your pachinko parlor
will be held responsible.

You might lose your license,

and it might affect
your other premises.

- Where's she going?
- I told her you live upstairs.

Jesus!

That's an unrecognizable
blasphemy in Japan.

Do you need an interpreter
in the bedroom?

No, thank you.
Unless you'd like to participate.

- If it helps to get rid of her.
- God, I always thought the Japanese

had an overdeveloped
sense of shame.

Only from our point of view,
not yours.

And you are a foreigner,

so, in this case,
shame doesn't enter into it,

unless we want it to.

Kito, what is she saying?

She says, she doesn't
use contraceptives.

Send her away.
She's a lesbian.

- What? You speak?
- I am not a lesbian.

Of course, I speak English.

But you whispered.

It's an old routine.
I've known her too long.

She's always been a misery.

Kiss me.

I can't believe she's female.

She is a man.

She couldn't hide it.
At least-

how would she know where-

Training, observation,

fulfilling all the female
stereotypes invented by men.

You're too cynical.

Can she- he, be married?

Possibly.
Though you'd never see his wife.

He wouldn't much either-

Work and rehearsal,

dedication.

Are you all right?

What did she say?

- She says, impossible.
- What's impossible?

She says she wants to be
a female impersonator.

Whatever for?

She wants to be
more female than she is.

Strange ambition.

Isn't she female enough?

He has to act. She is.

Tell her she's beautiful.

Tell her.

Is that always the way
you start a courtship?

It's the truth.

Kito said you are
interested in her body.

Watch out, Kito.
What are we paying you?

Watch out, Storey,
I am jealous.

You have no right
to be jealous of a woman

who wants to be
more of a woman

by watching a man
dressed up as a woman.

Complicated, eh?

What we need now
is an earthquake to clear the air.

- My God!
- How the hell did you do that?

- Coincidence.
- Oh, you bring bad luck.

Call up an earthquake
and he will follow you

all the days of your life.

Teach me... all about kabuki...

and I- we...

will help you become
more like him.

Her.

To be more female
than you think you are.

Watch out, kabuki lover,

you are in for some
sexual experiment.

Shut up, Simato!

What are we watching
but sexual experiment!

My feet ache.

I'm not used
to so much walking.

Do I have to walk anymore?

What are you doing?

Doing? I'm not doing anything.
I'm watering my coffee.

I can't make it taste
any worse than it does.

You can't sit there
being miserable.

I can't walk any more.

I've seen too many shrines,
and they're no comfort

- 'cause they're not my religion.
- Oh God, Father.

Why don't you go and lie down?

You're using the word God
an awfuI lot these days.

Is it significant for you?

I hoped it was gonna be
significant for me, but alas no,

for me it is only
etymologically interesting

as dog backwards.

Dad, stop being petulant.

Come, Mr. Emmenthal,

watch TV with us.

TV?

I don't watch it in Europe,

why should I want
to watch it here?

I didn't know you could
do it like that.

But outside of novels

and Swedish cinema-

Dad, where have you been
all these years?

With your mother.

She was passionate
enough, but...

I can see now,
perhaps a little unadventurous.

I bet it was your fault.
You were probably very lazy.

Come to think of it
perhaps with your mother

I was too easily satisfied.

I need some help.

Do you think some re-training?

Is that what you're doing?

Is that the Japanese

Do you have to be Japane-

excuse me, Simato.

How on earth could you
believe that?

I gave it a great
deal of thought.

It sort of excited me,

but anatomically, I was worried.

Well I think we're
gonna have to put you

out of your racist misery.

Is she really Japanese?

And there are some
100 million Japanese woman

who are no longer Japanese.
because-

I don't want your mother's
prejudices broadcast around.

But I am delighted to find
that your mother was wro-

Oh God, I'm gonna be sick.

That's not very complimentary.

I show you my girlfriend's private parts
and you rush off to be sick.

I'm sorry, I was suddenly filled
with such intense

and desperate longing
that all my insides heaved.

Do you know,
I am amazed, in a way,

to think that you can
get sick with grief.

Perhaps it was too much
in-flight alcohol.

That was four days ago.

Slow stomach.

Oh my God! What's happening!?

It's an earthquake.

The third- third for me.
It's the best yet.

Asa nisi masa!

Good God,
there's no one about.

The street's empty.
Can't see much damage.

"All day long, the noise of battle
rolled amongst the mountains

down to the winter sea."

"Lucy in the sky with diamonds."

"Nebuchadnezzar ate grass
"Smells like teen spirit!"

"Oh, yellow 'catchie'
come and have a go

if you think you're
hard enough!"

Get into bed.

We must celebrate
my third earthquake success.

Success?

I've survived
my third earthquake.

What makes you think
they're yours exclusively?

You, Father,
have a lot to learn.

We must make the earth shake

and quake for you.

- Have you shaved?
- I don't need to shave.

Her skin is very delicate.

My beard has hardly grown
since your mother died.

Okay, we'll show you
what to do.

What do you mean?

Could I have a light
less bright,

do you think?

- Let's lose those slippery sheets.
- No, let's not!

Suppose there's another earthquake?
We'd be exposed.

With the experiences
you're about to have,

you're not supposed
to know the difference.

- How can we do it again?
- Find your own woman.

It was a special
earthquake anniversary.

I got carried away.
Simato got carried away.

Don't earthquakes make you feel
very excited, indeed?

No- emphatically not.

The ultimate chance event.

In this country,
you know they are coming.

But nobody,
absolutely nobody-

no expert, no geologist,

no public relations men,
no politician- knows when.

No predictions,
no givable odds.

Amazing.

And besides,
what about mother?

Yes.

Well, that's a very brief
answer for you.

Just what are you doing, Storey?

You said you wanted to educate me.

You keep giving me
the most delightful presents,

and then you take them away.

Think of all those empty bedrooms
you've got in Geneva-

and you once carelessly
mentioned concubines.

I suspect there are
quite a few Japanese ladies

who would like
to come to Europe.

But what would your
mother think?

Don't tell her.

Look out for me.

I want somebody warm-

with a good body temperature.

Did you know that
male temperatures are higher

than female temperatures?

No cold feet.

Literally, or metaphorically.

There's a woman in the Ocean
Fire Insurance Office Company

I've always been intrigued about.

Wears a great deaI of plaid,
though I'm certain she's not Scottish.

I'm sure she's Norwegian.

Do you know any Norse?

Most Scandinavians
speak very good English.

Norse probably disappeared
over a thousand years ago.

Look.

We're under surveillance.

Do I look guilty of anything?

This Norwegian,
Scottish woman

was under surveillance
for embezzlement.

Theresa's her name.
Or Griselda.

If it wasn't Griselda
it ought to have been.

She was good.
Fine fingers.

One day she put
a poultice on my forehead

and my feet in a basin
of cold water with salt.

I wasn't feeling at all well.

Then she made me a complicated drink
that sent me to sleep at my desk.

Was this merely solicitous,
do you think?

Or was she trying
to get to the safe?

She was charged-
and I think, indicted.

I must see what I can do.

You must help me there,
Mr. Expert.

Do you think I'll ever get
to see an in-flight Fellini movie?

I would be curious
about one of those

Jane Austen women,
you know?

Long suffering, dutiful,
but all right in the end.

A plump 19th Century type-
5'4",

ringlets, brown eyes,
long fingers.

Raw sex is the last thing
you're gonna encounter

- in a Jane Austen woman.
- Rubbish. Absolute rubbish.

A long white dress,
that starts under the breasts

and travels on
interminably down

so the legs are
entirely mysterious.

She could have one leg
or two inside that dress.

A Jane Austen woman

could be incredibly passionate
inside that dress.

And you would never know
if she had feet.

Which you could not say
about Mio.

Mio,

this could be your room.

You have a view
of the garden and the moat.

You will feel very comfortable.

The rising sun shines directly
through the window.

Dickens.

God, no.

A Dickens heroine would never
let you see her sitting on the loo.

I think a Jane Austen
heroine just might.

She could end up
like a Thomas Hardy woman.

Victims- start bad,
finish much worse.

Lots of tears.

Clothilde?

Can you go to room four
and ask Mio to get undressed,

and take a bath?

I don't speak the language,
Mr. Emmenthal.

Neither do we.

- I must get Kito to come over.
- No, we mustn't.

She'll have us all audited.

Thomas Hardy was interested
in selling women.

That's auditing for you.
The ultimate audit.

Sell your wife.

I found out her name.

Georgette.

Such a modern name.
It sounds Romanian.

Sounds like someone
who's had a sex change.

- She's a retired nun.
- Retired?

How on earth
can she be retired?

She's bound to enjoy scrubbing.
Look at her hands.

She's must be allowed
to scrub a great deal.

She's like all those
nun paintings.

The starched linen,
plucked brows,

sharp pins in the pink flesh,

and the wet eyes,
the devotional glance.

And modesty that
conceals the body

that still has breasts
and pubic hair.

The contrast is so exciting.

She's certainly a bed maker.

Clean sheets flying
in the air in the sunlight.

She'd be an angel,
making her bed forever.

She owes the bank
140,000 pounds.

How do you know?

Come on. How does
a bank manager know secrets?

Let's tempt her.

Offer her a loan-
high interest.

See how she reacts,

and then more.

Make sure she doubles the debt

and then offer her a way out.

Whiter, much whiter.

Like milk.

Or snow.

And make her lips
very, very small.

So small, I couldn't get
my little finger between them.

Are we doing this correctly,
do you think?

Should we paint her
entire body white, do you think?

Let's do it anyway.

No, Clothilde.

Not here.
It's most out of place.

I tell you what,
take it to bedroom one-

no, six.

In preparation.
A token.

We must find
somewhere to fit it.

Stand it at the end of the bed

And surround it in flowers.

Poppies- Renoir flowers.

- Are poppies in season?
- No, Mr. Emmenthal.

What are Renoir's films like?

He was the director who said,
"Every man has his reasons."

Do we have reasons?

No- you just have lust.

Oh, beautiful.

It smells of canaries.

Lapsang souchong.

The smell of my watch strap
after a game of squash.

- Mice.
- Horsehair cushions.

Brown sugar just unwrapped
out of a damp paper bag.

Burnt eggs.

No orgies,
Don't want to get sexual indigestion.

I can't stand more than one
naked woman at a time.

It reminds me of a pig farm
or a cattle market,

or one of those terrible
concentration camp films.

Good Lord, look at that.

Would you believe it-
in the 1990s?

What's her name?

- Caspar.
- Caspar?

Oh, no, sorry.
That's the name of the horse.

Is he... all right?

What is the name
of your horse doing

on your hospital charge sheet?

He's not my horse.

- He's not your horse?
- Then whose horse is it?

I stole him.

You stole him?

Hey...

why don't you come
and convalesce with us?

We could provide you
with a new horse.

A physiotherapist.

You could do therapy
in our pool.

The horse could do
therapy in our pool.

Where are you going?

- To buy some flowers.
- Flowers aren't gonna help.

Yes, they are.

Clothilde says
flowers always help.

Good evening.

Beautiful.

Excuse me?

You are looking so beautiful.

Thank you.

Pregnancy makes you beautiful.

Don't you think?

You know?

Wake up- having babies?

This is the sixth.

The sixth?

You must have
an understanding husband.

Tsk, tsk... no husband.

Oh!

Artificial insemination?

No, too impersonal.

Are you offering?

No.

I mean- well, I could.
I- I'd like to.

Can I?
And the children?

Three adopted.
Two with their fathers.

You could think about it.

Nice hair.

Do you still go to church?

No.

Do you still say
your prayers?

No.

Do you still believe in hell?

Depends what you mean by still.

I've never believed in hell.

Then you believe
you will not pay for your sins?

Not in hell, only on Earth.

However, I've always
believed in heaven.

Heaven on Earth.

And you, Griselda,
are a piece of heaven.

- But-
- But what?

Now, don't take this
religion too seriously.

- It's a pose.
- No, it is not.

It is a way of life.

Come in.

Griselda's becoming
a nun in her heart

as well as her body.

Then I'm already
jealous of God.

Jealousy?

It'll destroy you.

- "Othello."
- Complimentary tickets.

I'm the financial secretary
of the friends of the Genevan opera.

Obligations to attend.

You bored us all
in Kyoto, Storey,

by taking us to the kabuki.

It's my turn to bore you.
We go to the opera.

The whole firm will go.

Dress up.
The full complement.

Now, please leave us.

Devout, inestimable Griselda

has a higher calling to make.

- I'm taking Clothilde.
- Oh, whatever for?

It's obvious she would
want to come.

I understand the
thoroughbred was worth nearly

half a million dollars.
Owned by a Saudi Arabian.

Now, there are some people
who prize their horses

above their women.

Punishments in Saudi Arabia
can be harsh.

- An eye for an eye.
- A horse for a horse.

A horse for a woman?

No, I don't think,
we need go quite that far.

And as it happens,
we were able to return it.

- Caspar.
- Caspar.

There were questions asked.

And the owners have
a pretty shrewd idea

who stole their horse.

It seems you've done it before.

They did not understand
what a sensitive horse they had.

They had no idea.

He needed affection.

Perhaps.

- Are they downstairs?
- Good Lord, no. I don't think so.

- At least not yet.
- Not yet?

Who are those people?

I am accused
of unethical practices.

And what may they be?

Well, I like having babies.

So I've noticed.

There are many people
in the world

who want to have babies
and can't have them.

So, you perform an unusual
philanthropic service?

I'm good at having babies.

Is it so bad to make a living
at what you're good at?

I see.

This time there is a way out.

I can see it coming.

You can be my husband.

Am I to be responsible
for all six?

No. You can be the father
of just this one.

I have a proposition.

Quite frankly, Mr. Emmenthal,

I am a modern woman.

I do not want to be
deported to Saudi Arabia.

And as long as horses
are involved,

I think I am prepared
for all eventualities.

However, I have one
important responsibility

I cannot relinquish.

- I have a pig.
- A pig?

Horses and pigs

always get on well together.

They are intelligent animals

and like one another's company.

Can you-

can you ride a pig?

Hortense is far too dignified
to be ridden.

However, Hortense and I
have a relationship-

which you might find unusual-

beyond mere affection.

I have no intention
of breaking this relationship.

- I see.
- Neither does Hortense.

Well...

as long as I don't
get too jealous,

and you both
take a bath afterwards,

I can't see that I need
to be difficult.

Kiss me.

That was a husband's kiss,
I suppose.

You could show
a little more passion.

Well-

well, I suppose you better
make you an offer.

We- I, will pay for you

to have babies.

No artificial insemination.

And you have come
to collect this child.

When it's ready, of course.

I'm having no interferences.

Of course not.

In that case,

could you have me moved
into a nicer room?

I think...

blue walls.

I'm sure it's going to be
a boy this time.

And I think I charge
$25,000 for a boy.

It's time now.

Are you enjoying
the music, Clothilde?

I am enjoying
Mr. Emmenthal's smile.

He was so heartbroken
at the death of his wife.

Well, you could always
enjoy his smile at home.

She was good to me.

I would like to repay
her kindness

trying to make
her widower

and his son happy.

I could never take
Emilia's place entirely,

but I would be honored
to take it in part.

Which part?

Whichever part he wishes.

I would like to ask

if I could be allowed to-

no, I can't say this-

Go on, say it.

to wear her hats.

My mother's hats?

That's all?
Just her hats?

In bed.

Nothing else.

I know you, don't I?

At least I know
your father, Philip.

These all your girlfriends?

Oriental specialities?

Best of luck.

You're very restless.

You weren't taking them
to the gents for a fuck, were you?

That one's crying
her eyes out.

What have you done to her?

It's her birthday.

Well, that explains everything.

She's sentimental.

Likes horses.

And especially pigs,

apparently.

Go and get us something to drink.
I have a desperate thirst.

I really did know your father
three years ago.

I held his hand
at a passing-out ceremony

on a very big stage.

I told him where to stand.
He was very awkward.

I always liked the way
he swung his legs.

Always thought
he'd do himself an injury.

I asked him
to sleep with me.

I laid it all on for him.

I brought my toothbrush
and a clean pair of knickers

round to his
hotel room in Utrecht.

Or was it Berlin?

However, he turned me down.

All manner of
ridiculous excuses,

like, he was
happily married.

Wasted a golden opportunity.

However, never say die.

I've looked forward
to French kissing him ever since.

Des-demona

Meet Simon-
the singing cockerel.

Simon has no shame.

He says I will always be
the favorite white woman

he loves to undress.

And he does it
as often as he can,

which is often,
and everywhere.

And in the most
unlikely places.

Only he goes
on tour,

and he has a wife.
Don't you, Simon?

And he makes me wait
for the services of his big black cock,

and the delights of his
magnificent singing voice.

Or is it the other
way around?

So...

how is your father?

Why don't you come and see?

- But he's not black.
- That's true.

- And he can't sing.
- Not that I remember.

We could always cork his face
and pinch his backside,

and he might give you a dark stare
and a little scream.

He used to stroke
his little round belly

with a circular motion.

I'd like to do the same.
Tell him.

What would you say
if I'd like to share the attentions?

Perhaps.

Are you his natural heir?

I am his heir.
Naturally and unnaturally.

- Financially?
- Financially.

What have you got
that I've never seen before?

You're free to go, Palmira.

You are free to go.

I'll be your number four private whore-

for one year,

for 75,000 US dollars.

No possible demands
denied.

Impossible ones
considered.

I have a high pain
tolerance,

but don't abuse it.

The greater your invention,

the greater mine.

I'll look after
the contraception.

Never trust an old man.

Unreasonable?

If I'm sharing your prick,

I want medical checks
every week

with a qualified doctor.

And I want my privacy,

when I need it.

And I want to sleep late.
Very late.

And I want to travel.

So, Philip,

I want to see what
I missed three years ago.

You can have me on approval.

Open the window,
I need fresh air.

Out you go,
Storey Emmenthal.

Let's see what tune
your father sings,

and how he's gonna
sing it with me.

It's okay, it's on expenses.

Whose goddamn expenses?

Tax deductible.

From Kensai,
or from Geneva airport?

From Paris.

But that's hours away
by helicopter.

- I bought, ah-
- Put her in room six.

We'll fix somewhere
for her later.

Giaconda?

Giaconda?

My God! What have
you done with the baby?

What baby?

God, who are you?

Oh God, Kito.

- But you're in Kyoto.
- Oh, stop that.

- Stop what?
- I'm too tired for that.

And you're drunk.

You're not supposed to be in here.

This is Giaconda's room.

I'm only staying a few nights.

I arrived from the sky.

I'll stay a few moments,
just to warm you up.

I'll wait a little bit just in case
Giaconda comes back.

She's probably gone
for a pee.

Pregnant women spend
half the night going to the loo.

Did you know that?

Yes, I did know that.

And with a little help
from you...

I might be able
to experience it, too.

Kito.

Oh, Kito.

You have always
surprised me.

Poor thing.

They say she's only
half a person.

A midget.

I've heard worse.

Much worse.

That she's a mongrel.

A mongrel?
What do you mean?

How come?

If there ever was
a good case for abortion...

- I don't understand.
- Have you been in that room?

No.

There's no number
on the door.

They haven't even
given her a proper name.

They sometimes
call her Giuletta,

after a film
about a waif and stray,

a simpleton
who plays a trumpet.

You don't think for a moment
that it's a child?

God, no.

She sounds Korean.

How would you know that?

Kito says she was born
in a Pachinko parlor,

and deaf because
of all the noise.

Kito loves Storey
to distraction.

I would never believe
anything she says.

Perhaps she's Vietnamese?

A boat person?

What? Who arrived one morning
on the lake from Hong Kong?

I don't think it's a woman at all.

I'll bet it's a man.
A transsexual.

And the half refers
to a half-man, half-woman.

Francois says they
conceived it together-

- The father and son.
- Celeste!

For God's sake,
pull the other one.

Through the backside.

Ridiculous.

Who was the father, then?

Well he was, of course-
the older.

There's more spunk in him
than a cage of chimpanzees.

How do you know that?

I know.

I wanted to be a candidate once,
you know?

Clothilde made it.

But I always suspect
she had an ulterior motive,

being Emilia's favorite
when she was alive.

I went for an audition.

They tried me out,

but they weren't too excited.

I was too willing.

I liked the prison life
too much.

And I loved the clothes.

I even liked the humiliations,
you know?

No...

I don't know.

Hot drinking chocolate,

followed by the ice cubes.

You know the stuff.

Picking up handkerchiefs
off the floor

with your teeth when you're naked.

Gallons of hot water,

string vests,
and wet t-shirts,

and nipple clips.

Shaved belly.

All the cliches.

You've seen them in the cinema,
and read about them in the newspapers.

Standing on your head-

milk bathing-

putting on excess weight.

Sounds like athletic
nouvelle cuisine.

Well, it could be-
in a way.

Goodnight, sleep tight,

Make sure the bugs don't bite.

Goodnight, sleep tight,

make sure the bugs don't bite.

Goodnight, sleep tight,

make sure the bugs don't bite!

There's no wildlife
in this house that's not licensed.

And stop banging the doors!

I have to kiss everyone
on the backside before I go to sleep.

It's an acknowledgement
of possession.

Including the pig?

Hortense has a nice backside,
but it is reserved for Beryl.

Simato, Griselda, Beryl,

Giaconda, Palmira, Mio,

Kito, Giuletta, Clothilde.

Eight and a half women.

I bet you never kiss
Palmira on the backside.

Oh, I'd like to.
My God, I'd like to.

Can't you put a word in for me?

Oh, please?

And she's taken to partially
shaving her belly,

showing evidence
of the most delightfuI kind.

Did you ask her to do that?

My God.

Why does she have to walk around
the house naked like that?

And in the garden.

Simato, Griselda, Beryl,

Giaconda, Mio, Giuletta,

Kito, Clothilde, and Palmira.

Divorced, beheaded, died.

Divorced, beheaded, survived.

Those are Henry VIII's wives.

Catherine of Aragon,
Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour,

Anne of Cleves,

Catherine- something,

- and Catherine Parr.
- Go to sleep.

You know those great passions?
Those unbelievable sexual passions?

Like Anthony and Cleopatra,
or Henry VllI and Anne Boleyn?

Oh, my God.
Oh, my God.

Palmira, Palmira,

Palmira, Palmira, Palmira.

Oh, Palmira, Palmira...

I think you can say with safety

that nowadays,

women have finally
acknowledged their position

of not liking men.

We could say that women
don't like men.

They acknowledge that
they prefer the company...

of their own kind.

I think that we can also say
that most men

don't like other men.

Most men prefer to like women.

So, women are the most liked

by the most people.

Men love women,
women love children,

and children love hamsters.

It's a one-way slide.
There's little going back the other way.

Simato and Mio insist
on speaking Japanese.

Well, that's an improvement.
Mio normally doesn't talk at all.

We'll have to get Kito
to stay here permanently.

The very threat
might make them talk.

Mr. Emmenthal,

I am offering a refuge
to these ladies in need.

This is Sister Mary.
This is Sister Sophie.

This is Sister Iphigenia.

And this is Sister Fatima.

They are here to pray for the house
and all who live in it.

- God!
- The father of Christ.

Griselda,
this is becoming an obsession.

- You started it.
- But my fantasy has no God in it,

just naked nuns.

The fascination of the wimple
and the flesh.

God is everywhere,
Mr. Emmanuel.

It's Emmenthal-
Jesus Christ!

The son of God.

Excuse me, sisters.

I am bound at this moment to pay
certain duties to these gentlemen,

my benefactors who rescued me
from perfidy,

and danger and temptation.

Clothilde has left
the servant's quarters

and taken to sleeping
in room seven.

All your mother's hats
have been taken.

It's a signal that she's ready.

Watch out for Clothilde,

there's something creepy about her.

Far too subservient.

It's unnatural.

You were the one
who was so eager to include her.

I think we should
inaugurate a chapel.

I have plans for where
the 12 stations of the cross should go

in the garden,
and along the drive.

I think we could well create
a religious community.

I could be an example
to others.

An object of suffering.

She's pregnant again.

And this time she isn't certain
who the father is, me, or you.

She wants to abort at once.

Simato's complaining again.

She's sitting on the top step,
demanding attention.

Complaining that I
don't wash my prick.

Says she's frightened
of cervical cancer.

Where did she get
that idea from?

Palmira?

Good God.
My prick gets more washing

Than a dishcloth in a laundry.
Ask Griselda.

She fills her mouth
every morning with soap.

Okay, I've heard enough.

Never used to be
so crude, Father.

I'd like to borrow 800 francs
to buy Mr. Emmenthal a present.

Anything less would not
be worthy of him.

What are you gonna buy him?
He has everything.

I don't think he has happiness.

Goodness, who on earth has that?

I do.

You do?

All right,

for someone that rich,

you can have
a thousand francs,

At 4.5% interest
over three months.

That woman's insides must be
like a traffic accident.

I've never understood Beryl.

Beryl?
Which one's Beryl?

Number five's old room.
The one you knocked off her horse.

Why do you keep
changing their names?

I don't.
Isn't her name Beryl?

This is very good, Clothilde.

Thank you, Mr. Emmenthal.

Don't be so patronizing.

- She's very solicitous.
- Patronizing?

I was paying her
a compliment.

Do you think Clothilde
could be trying to poison me?

You're fantasizing.

If she kills you
it will be with overfeeding.

Did you notice Kito
counting her money?

I've always noticed
her spending ours.

There's a suitcase under her bed
full of us bonds and large Swiss notes.

She's become a moneylender.
Charges interest.

They're moving out of
Emmenthal debt into Kito debt.

Miss?

Miss Kito, we've come
to ask for a loan.

Then she says,
"How do you want to do it?

From the front?
From behind?"

And I say,
"A little from the front,

and a lot from behind."

"Do you want to do it
in the garden,

or by the pool?

Or do you want me to lie
on the grass?" she says.

I say, "Yes."

"Or do you want me perhaps
to stand?" she says.

"Yes", I say.

"Or do you want me to sit
with my heels in the air?"

"Yes", I say.
"Yes to what?" she says.

"Yes to everything." I say.
"Then I will", she says.

And she does, just like that.
My God!

Can she swim?

Can money swim?

Value?

Depends how you look at it.

Metal balls-
no value at all.

To a Pachinko parlor player-

60,000 US dollars,

400,000 French francs,

or nearly eight million
Japanese yen.

- I'm gonna shout.
- Don't.

- You'll lose the stake.
- She's bluffing.

Simato!

Keeping me here, Storey,
is losing your money-

hands over foot.

Oh, for God's sakes,

it's "hand over fist."

What on earth are you doing?

Oh, bloody hell.

Can't you guess?

I'm trying to look like
that boyfriend of hers.

For Christ's sake,
you're ridiculous.

I know.
I'm desperate.

She will laugh you to derision.

I know.

She mustn't leave me.

- I'd be destitute.
- You couldn't compete.

He's her age, has sexual charisma
like a house on fire,

And no doubt,
a 12 inch cock.

Wash that stuff off at once,

And be in my bed
in six and a half minutes flat.

I want my bottom
smacked tonight-

real hard...

with a tennis racket.

Mio wants you to dress up
as a female impersonator.

And then, she says,

she could possibly
love you with enthusiasm.

Good God.
Why all the charade?

If you want life out of her,

do it!

She says you are a man.

Well, of course I'm a man.

But she wanted you
to be a woman.

Complicated, eh?

You dress as a woman.
You've been asked to act,

However badly,
as a woman.

- But you are a cheat.
- Of course I'm a cheat.

That's the whole point
of the exercise, isn't it?

Not for Mio.

She is a disappointed lady.

Listen, listen, listen...

She's known us both
carnally as men.

How can she forget
so soon?

She didn't forget.

Her ability to transform hope

into truth was very strong.

You have been a huge
disappointment.

She's very disturbed.

Take great care of her,
or you'll lose her.

I'm thinking of making a film.

About all this.

Our experiences.

Why make a film
when you can live it?

Most films are about people longing
for something they haven't got.

And what most people haven't got
is sex and happiness.

And we've got both.
Well, at least... I have.

See what I mean?

Oh hell. Who'll give you
the money, anyway?

You would.

Do you think
she's trying to tell us something?

Okay, I've done my stint.

Now I want freedom.

I was the first.
I gave you all the inspiration.

It was my idea.
I want out.

- This is what I want.
- This is what I want.

- No more patriarchal patronage.
- No more patriarchal patronage.

- No more male stereotyping.
- No more male stereotyping.

God! I want the fever
Pachinko parlor

in the Kyo district
of Kyoto.

And I want it tomorrow.

- Today!
- Today!

My God, she's fantastic.

I'm in love.

I don't want to hear
about her.

I can't get near her,
except to look.

Which is a disaster
because it starts me trembling.

- I am an earthquake.
- Then you've got what you wanted.

All this jealousy's
wearing me out.

I used to be happy
once upon a time.

We don't want Palmira to feel
she's getting the upper hand.

Though now you're in love
with her, she obviously has.

She was the only one
we didn't choose.

And now, she's queen.

I want a plan to keep her forever.

We could always get her singing boyfriend
to come and live here.

Then we'd never ever get a look-in.

I'm too miserable
to be here anymore.

Let's go to Kyoto.

It's the earthquake season.

I want to be shook up.

I'm missing something.

Mio!

Mio!

Mio!

Mio?

Mio!

Mio!

It's like Shelley.

Japanese Ophelia.

Beautiful orientaI lady
in the lake.

She was the very best.
The most submissive.

- She was my first wife.
- Oh, come on. That's not true.

You forget my mother
much too soon.

In the circumstances
then, she was my second wife.

She was never your wife.

Everything but a license
and a tax exempt form.

She was the first
woman after 35 years

that I consistently
made love to.

She had such a beautiful
opening number.

So small, so delicate.

Such a beautiful color.
It was like-

plum blossom.
It was like-

pushing your prick into
a plum blossom flower.

Shut up!

You hate flowers.

And plums repeat on you.

She looks
more beautiful now than ever.

Why on earth did she do it?
She had all she wanted.

No, she didn't.

We took away all her shoes.

Because they were
rotting on the lawn.

Or was that a suicide matter?

We'll get her some shoes.

There you are, Mio.

As many shoes as you like.

Get walking, Mio.

You're going in the lake.

Did you know...

whatever the event,

we're all supposed to react
to every disappointment

in exactly the same way?

First, shock-

"Oh, my God."

Then, self-pity-
"Poor me."

Then, anger-
"You bastards!"

Then, apathy-
"Oh, what the hell."

Then, some sort of resurrection
of the spirit-

"I'll never let the buggers
grind me down."

It's the same
with Mio's death.

"Oh, my God. Poor me.
You bastards!

Oh, what the hell? I'll never let
the buggers grind me down."

Giaconda's pregnant again.

We're gonna lose her.

Take her to the airport,
and put her on a plane.

Any plane.

I couldn't stand another
baby problem with her again.

Father, she's just too fertile.

Sticking pins in dark corners
is not for me anymore.

Stick a pin
in the plane timetable.

Saarbrucken.

Oh, no.
That won't do.

Grenoble!

That's even closer, you fool.

Venice?

No. She can't swim-
she doesn't like film,

or art.

- Bangkok?
- Not bad. A bit obvious.

Sex capital of Asia.

No, I'm not sending her there.
Poor obstetrics.

How do you know that?

I'm not having my child
dragged out with forceps,

dropped in a wok of noodles,
and called Chang-Lee.

Well, it may be my child.

Well, are you having your child
dragged out with forceps?

You were.

I watched your little yellow face

squashed up like an overripe lemon.

I swear, you even had pips.

If you're so keen
on the delivery of this baby,

why don't we keep it?

Punta del Foro.

Well, where the hell's that?

Well, it sounds warm
and South American.

She loves kiwi fruit,

doesn't drink tea,
suffers from asthma.

There's bound
to be clean air.

Sounds right.

And they'll love children.

Everyone loves children.

Do we love children?

Cathay Pacific.
First class- $2,000 one way.

Done.

We are going on a trip
to New York.

You'd like that.

Here's $5,000.

Buy some baby clothes.

And order a cot- no two,
in case it's twins.

And you'll need nappies.

Buy 1,000 nappies, then you
won't have to do any washing,

- just throw them all away.
- That's not very ecological.

Well, recycle them, then.
Here's another $5,000.

- Buy a recycler.
- What's that?

Whatever they are, you're bound
to find them in New York.

Mr. Emmenthal.
We've been watching you.

- Who are you, the vice squad?
- You sound guilty.

We understand
you help women in financial trouble.

Do I?

We too,
are debt collectors like you.

Am I a debt collector?

And we're convinced
you're harboring one of our clients.

She's responsible
for a series of confidence frauds.

She operates often
with a black opera singer.

She has various names.

- Laura Dekkar, Theresa Deklar-
- Theresa van Rijn.

Her specialty is offering
sexual services

and sexual rewards
to elderly bankers

and wealthy
financial people.

We understand you're the chairman

of the Emmenthal financiaI services,
and Consolidates Bank Geneva.

As debt collectors, we can offer you
2.5% of recovery costs.

I am Laura Dekkar.

Though now
I call myself Palmira.

- What? But-
- No buts.

I'd like to do this
for you, Mr. Emmenthal.

It's a little I can do
to repay your kindnesses.

To make you happy.
I have done my business here.

Drink your milkshake.

I'll go and pack and leave.

I understand where
your love truly lies,

Mr. Emmenthal.

But- Clothilde.

What was that about?

What was all that about?

- Clothilde.
- What about Clothilde?

They've taken her away.
I was desperate, Storey.

What do you mean, they've taken her?
Should we call the police?

Well, I couldn't let them take Palmira.

It all happened so quickly.

She didn't even get her coat.

She volunteered.
I could never let them take Palmira.

Who were they?
What were they doing?

Well, they-

They were filmmakers.
They were filmmakers.

They were gonna make her
into a famous film star.

They were gonna make
a film about Renoir called-

I don't remember.

You sold her.
You sold Clothilde?

All this makes
my stomach churn.

To think that they
might have taken Palmira.

You once told me

to think about the women
in Thomas Hardy.

Yes, I did. But remember,

the mayor of Casterbridge
regretted selling his wife

For the rest of his life.

Okay, here's the deal.

- Kito for the Pachinko.
- God, that's no deal.

Then blood on your hands.

Plus, an indecency trial,
then a kidnap trial,

followed by a
keeping-a-bawdy-house trial.

Then probably
a tax exemption subpoena,

and a visit by
the health authorities.

The inland revenue, customs.

Possible accusations of illegal
consenting with minors.

Breaking ethical laws...

Sexual harassment.

- Trading babies-
- Hey, Simato.

Hey, yourself.

I want a signature,
legally binding,

handing over this establishment,

lock, stock, chips,
machines and barrel.

What's barrel?

For storing beer.

- Kito has the papers ready.
- As always.

Sign here in front
of witnesses.

What witnesses?
They're not watching.

And... I want a bonus.

Strip to sign.

Strip to sign?
Whatever for?

Naked to the
negotiating table.

Naked!

So I can see
no pranks and ruses.

Quaint English. They make
an unpredictable linguistic duo.

A man in socks is vulnerable.

He probably won't
play tricks.

Think of it

as being the last time for me

to see your cocks.

We go out
where we came in.

I remember doing you
the same favor years ago,

when this little
adventure started.

Bend over.

You did it voluntarily.

Bend over!

Kito is the witness.
Thank you, Kito.

My pleasure.

Enemies unite in adversity.

Now make
the three signature monkeys.

Okay, you can go.

Goodbye, Philip.

Goodbye, Storey.

Good God. I don't know
that that was so bad.

It's sort of...

cathartic, the naked exposure,
don't you think?

Well, you couldn't do it
voluntarily, could you?

It's under duress,

so, somehow legitimate.

Circumstances beyond
our control.

I think I enjoyed that.

My God!

Struck down by an earthquake.

At least it wasn't our fault this time.

Where was she going?

A Pachinko heaven
for chartered accountants.

What's the matter?

My God.

Are they getting closer?

She warned me.
Never call up an earthquake.

He will follow you
all the days of your life.

Head, face,

chest, belly, sex,

legs, feet,

and God.

- Benedictus, benedicap-
- What are you doing?

I'm trying to undo her warning.

But your sympathies for Kito
were never strong, Storey.

She joined us
because of me, not you.

It's my fault.
I'm to blame.

She was determined to be useful.

In her little pajama suit.

Well, she loved you
desperately, Storey.

What are you doing?

I've had enough.
Griselda must go.

She's so "mother superior" now.

She's got a mind like a sewer.

Getting me to confess impossibilities,

Like your mother
and my wife slept with priests.

Where did she get that from,
I wonder, Storey?

She starts as a novice,

scrubbing convent floors,

puts on a wimple,
shaves her body,

Becomes a nun in appearance,
then in deed.

Now she wants
to become a saint.

I'm going to kill her.
She wanted a martyr's death.

She's only done
what you wanted.

Taken your fantasies,
and run with them

to the point
of logical exhaustion.

- Oh, Father, for God's sake.
- No, for mine.

She's not in her room.

She's gone, and she's
taken the children.

Where's she gone,
I wonder? Heaven?

Nah, they wouldn't let her in.

We would like
to establish that a friend-

an acquaintance of ours
is presently there

to set our minds at rest.

Because- because this person
was very dear to us.

- Is it possible to speak with her?
- Sister Concordia?

Concordia?

She was trouble and strife.

No, this Sister Concordia
is beside me now.

I have allowed her to write down
her answers for you.

You are allowed
three questions only.

You must keep them very short.

- Okay.
- Question one?

Do you have
there presently,

a sister Griselda
of Fontenay, Geneva?

We have no Griselda here.

We have novice Sister Concordia.

And she's under
a preferred vow of silence.

- Question two.
- That doesn't count!

All right, all right,
all right...

Does this novice Sister Concordia
have a foreign accent?

Norwegian, Swedish,
Scandinavian?

If she is under a vow of silence,
how can I know?

Jesus!

The son of God.
Was that a question?

Can we be certain
that Sister novice Concordia

will keep her vow of silence?

"You can provide eternal
and everlasting silence

with an annual donation
of $25,000

to the children's charity
of Santa Lucia."

Let her go.
Let her get away.

I admire her independence-

- taking nothing.
- That's not true, she's taking a horse.

Perhaps she's running to Austria.

She was Austrian, wasn't she?

I've always had severe
problems with Austrians.

They're negative people.

Musical, churchy, uptight

authoritarian.

Always insist that their
dustbins are very clean.

And then there was one.

Correction-
one and a half.

How do you want to do it?

Oh, my God!

From the front,

or from behind?

What do you do,

and how do you do it, Palmira?

Oh, my God!

Heaven...

ecstasy...

paradise...

Monte Carlo.

Monte Carlo?

In the garden,
on the grass?

In the pool?

Or here?

This is never
going to get better.

Do you want me to sit down?

Or stand up?

Do you want me to lie down
with my heels in the air,

toes pointing east and west?

Yes.

Yes to what?

Yes to everything.

Then I will.

I think I'm going
to quit while I'm ahead.

- Would you mind very much?
- Yes, I would. You're being selfish.

I love you, Palmira.

I love you.

You can't do it simply
by holding your breath.

I love your laugh, Palmira.

"Asa nisi masa."

Pardon?

Fellini's spell, "81/2."

Philip...

Why did you reject me those
three years ago in Berlin?

Or Paris?

Palermo?

Naples or somewhere else?

Luxembourg, perhaps?

I was always frightened
of the possibility

of too much pleasure.

Okay, that'll do.

A good answer.

I love you, Palmira.

Hey, Philip...

Stop sleeping on the job.

Okay...

all right...

I love you, too.

Goodbye.

Storey!

Palmira?

This is the first time I've been
officially invited into this room.

Officially?

That means you've
been here unofficially.

No matter.

It's all over now.

What's all over?

Your father's dead.

Rubbish.

No, he isn't.

He's still sleeping.

I'm going to make breakfast,
now that everybody's gone.

Father, wake up.
Your toast is burning.

Get out of bed at once, Father.

I won't tell you again.

Wake up, father.
Your bloody toast is burning.

Okay...

it's breakfast.

His toast.

I ate it whilst
it was still warm...

and now,
he's growing cold.

Now I suspect I shall
get bored here, Storey.

Very bored.

Now the old man is dead.

Silence.

No reason to stay anymore.

The king is dead.

Long live the king?

I doubt it.

You don't do...
anything I like, Storey.

Your body's too simple.

Not enough lived in.
Too straight.

Too unused.

There's no excitement
in you for me...

Mr. Emmenthal... Junior.

My most favorite
white woman in the world,

that I would like
to undress.

It has been one year, 72 days,

four hours,
and 20 minutes,

since I last kissed

this magnificent landscape.

And...

Shall I sing that for you?

No, not in front of the children.

Pachinko, Pachinko,
Pachinko, Pachinko.

How are you today?
Have you eaten enough?

Porridge, muesli,
baked beans?

No toast?

Okay...

We're going to
re-christen you today.

Our oriental period is over,

and Giuletta no more.

No, don't worry.

It's traffic vibration.
Sit still.

It's a thunderstorm.

Yes.

We don't get
earthquakes in Geneva.

At last!

Oh, benedictus...
benedicap...

benedancien...
Christian dominum nostrum!

Amen!

I'd like to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself

Alone

Get you and keep you

In my arms evermore

Leave all your lovers

Weeping on a faraway shore)

Out on the briny

With the moon big and shiny

Melting your heart of stone

I'd love to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself

Alone.

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