All language subtitles for Not Another Happy Ending (2013)[6.1]

Roddy!

School.

Morning.

Get that, would you?

If you're not giving me a lift,
I'll have to get another minicab.

Tristesse Books.

I've got Wuthering Heights
with my year tens.

Hello. Yes?

Tristesse Books?

Tom Duval?

Oh, yeah, come in.

Just down the hall.

No--

No.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Mm-hmm. Yeah.

Yeah. Oh, yeah.
No, he's a wonderful writer.

Very unremittingly bleak.

No, Tristesse doesn't
publish him anymore.

Do you know what?
He had a little disagreement with Tom.

Oh, yeah.
She's one of my favorites. Yeah.

Yeah. She was long-listed
for the Booker, you know.

Right after she was sectioned.

Au revoir! Au revoir!
Au revoir, Monsieur Richard!

No. She-She-- She left--
She left too.

Jane Lockhart.
- Oh--

What are you doing?

I'm so sorry.

I didn't mean to--
I was just touching it.

Not, like, touching it.
That sounds like molesting.

Like I'm some
kind of pervert.

Which I'm not.

So, Young European Publisher
of the Year, Runner-Up.

That's really impressive.

I have a swimming certificate.

Who the hell are you?

Jane Lockhart.

I wrote The Endless Anguish
of My Father.

Oh.

Yeah.

Follow me.

Hello.

I'm busy,
so I'll keep this brief.

I read your novel.
I'm afraid it needs work.

A lot of work.

Please, sit down.

But it has potential,
so I'm going to publish it.

I'm offering you
a two-book deal.

It's going to mean a lot of
rewriting, definitely a new title,

and neither of us
will get rich, but...

I think you have it in you to be a writer,
and, unfashionable as it may seem,

that's what I came here
to find.

I believe you are--

crying.
Sorry.

I didn't mean to start.

It's just--
It's been so long, you know.

So many rejections,
and I have a board.

You have a board?
Of rejection letters.

I call it my Board of Pain.

Well, that's completely normal.

It is?

I'm sorry.
He was like this at university.

Everywhere he went,
crying women.

You lot are supposed to be charming.
Well, charmant, n'est-ce pas?

I told you, never speak in French to me.
No, no, no.

Don't you dare!
No, really!

I've never been
so happy...

in all my life.

Jane.

There is no need to be nervous.

Nervous? Me? No.

No, no, no. I'm not nervous.
Not me. Yeah.

Okay, a little bit nervous.

You'll be fine.

Sorry, it's just usually I need a run-up
before I start editing.

Like, uh, tea, a walk.
Regret in the shower.

Or we could just begin.

Okay. Okay. Yeah.
So, uh, where do you want to begin?

Well, call me crazy,
but we could start at the beginning.

Yeah. Okay. Yeah.

You crazy Frenchman.
What?

I don't know. Right.
Fine.

- So you're in a good mood.
- I'm always in a good mood.

No, you're not.
Yes, I am.

Are you?
Yes.

Oh.

So, first sentence--
I think it's so good.

It's beautiful.

Don't do that!
Come on.

Well, actually,
I'm reading it right now.

"I shut my eyes and sank into the water,
letting it caress over my face and hair"--

Hello?

Oh! I was just,
you know, passing,

and thought it might have come back from
the printer's, and it actually has.

Yeah. I don't know.

"Beneath my feet,
I felt crumbled pages."

I don't believe this.

I'll call you back.

Happy Ending?
Happy Ending?

What happened to The Endless
Anguish of My Father?

What happened?
You know how important this stuff is.

You changed my title--
to that!

I told you, the very first time we met,
I said it must go.

Yeah,
but we never discussed it.

I knew how you'd react,
darling.

0i! Careful.

That's my Young Publisher
of the Year award.

Runner-up!

Oh!

What's wrong with you?

- Who are you?
- What?

All that time we spent together
working on the manuscript.

No one's ever
got me the way you--

I don't know you.

Look. It was a terrible title,
and I changed it.

What's done is done.

Let's move on.
How can it be so easy for you?

Perhaps because I am not
a moderately talented writer...

whose loser dad left her with an
inability to stop worshipping her own pain.

Worshipping my own pain?

Come. Sit down.
Let's talk about the launch.

You know what?

Our deal is one more book,
and then what's done is done.

Let's move on.

"Most childhood summers
are long and blue.

Mine wasn't like that.

And certainly not the summer
when Mum got sick.

I knew if I just went out and saw her
in the sun she'd be all right again."

"She'd taken me to Woolworths
to choose my birthday present,

and it wouldn't be like last year when
Dad just slipped a Barbie under his coat...

and walked right out
the door with it."

Well, it was lovely
to meet you both.

Hi!

Susan. Thank you
for coming down.

One more. One more.
There you are.

And this is to--

Dad.

It's great to be here
to present this award...

for Best New Writer...

to an outstanding debut.

Happy Ending.

Jane Lockhart.

Oh, oh!

Whoo-hoo!

Congratulations.
Thank you.

I'm so--
What we have here is a real writer.

Someone who can go to
some pretty dark places.

But I get it, Jane.
Writers--

We both understand what it is
to face el Toro Blanco--

the terror of the white bull,
the blank page--

and every day we face it,

together.

Right, Jane?
Mm-hmm.

Ladies and gentlemen,
Jane Lockhart.

Thank you.

Ooh!

Oh!

Yeah?
I'm starting the final chapter.

- You'll have the manuscript by the end of the week.
- About bloody time.

Ah, Tom, as ever
my little ray of sunshine.

- Well, moan all you like. I've never been this--
- Annoying?

Happy.

You bastard.
Happy.

So, one more chapter.

Yes. And we never have to
see each other again.

Mmm. Yes.

Better get writing then.

- À bientôt, Jane.
- Au revoir, Tom.

Willie.
I'm off out for a bit.

Sure.

Just looked at the chapter.

Listen. I don't care
what you think.

I'm telling you, this is not
an opening chapter.

It's an ice age.

You can't talk to me like that.

Okay? I was voted one of Scotland's
foremost novelists under the age of 30.

And that's why I won't allow
this piece of crap...

to be published
with your name on it.

You have my notes.
Fix it.

Bye then, Nicola.
See you at the launch.

If you try to make me cry, I'll inform
Inland Revenue about your yacht.

Hi.

Hi.

If we have to talk figures, can you do
that thing where you use vegetables?

Imagine this tomato
is my cash flow.

How many new writers have you
thrown money at this year?

I only throw money
at good writers.

Good Scottish writers.
I'm very patriotic.

And what does it matter?
One hit pays for all the rest.

- And I have a best seller in the wings.
- Mmm. Jane Lockhart. Yeah.

So how's the new book shaping up?
I have no idea.

She won't let me read
a word until it's finished.

Relax.

It'll be just like
the first one.

I read that she was
moving publisher.

Klinsch & McLeish,
with the red and white covers.

That's big-time.
Klinsch & McLeish.

You know what they're called in the trade?
Clench and Release.

They're not right
for my Jane.

For Jane.
So talk to her.

- Persuade her to stay.
- But I don't want her to stay.

After she delivers her new novel,
I want her to go-- far away.

Oh, for God's sake, Tom.

Tristesse Books is on the verge of
compulsory liquidation.

And... I've had an offer.

Well, you're a very attractive--
Shut up.

They want to invest in you.

I don't need
Pandemic Media.

I have Jane Lockhart, and
this time she's going all the way.

Are you sure? Because if she doesn't deliver,
your tomatoes look like ketchup.

She'll deliver.

She might be a miserable
pain in the arse,

but when she's writing,
she's like a guided missile.

Teaspoon.

Willie.

Willie, will you get that?

Willie.

- Hello?
- Thursday or Friday for the manuscript?

Greaseproof paper.

Oh.

Just want to check. You're certain
it will be finished next week?

I told you,
one more chapter.

What are you doing?

- Nothing.
- Are you baking?

Oh, my God.

She's baking.

She only bakes
when she's blocked.

- Largest planet in the solar system?
- Jupiter.

Who did Ali beat to become world
heavyweight champion-- for the first time?

Sonny Liston. Come on. The quiz is gonna
be harder than this. Get serious.

Aye. Who was
Shakespeare's wife?

Hi, Dad.

- Hi, darling!
- Oh!

Who was Shakespeare's wife?

Anne Hathaway.

And at the end
of the third round,

the leaders are Benny Lockhart
and his Jets with 22 points.

Join us for
the second half in 10 minutes.

All right.
I will take something.

Mr. L.
Ah, Tom!

Good to see you again.
Good to see you.

- How are you?
- Aye, good. Where have you been hiding?

- From your daughter mostly.
- Oh, I understand that. Aye.

Never talked to me for years,
but with good reason.

- Hey. What are you having?
- Nothing.

He's not staying.

Come on, Jane.
What are you doing here?

My favorite author is being adapted
by Scotland's most talented screenwriter,

Will Scott.

Huge fan.

Naturally, I want to know
how he's getting on.

Well, I may not be
the most talented, but...

who else you gonna pick, huh?

Where is my novel?
I'm working on it.

So you're not suffering
from el Toro Blanco?

The what?
So you're not B-L-O-C-K-E-D?

Why are you spelling it?
It's nothing to be ashamed of,

and there are plenty of strategies to overcome it.
I'm not blocked.

For instance, stimulants and narcotics.
I'm not blocked.

For a while there, Hunter S. Thompson
was permanently unblocked.

- I'm not blocked.
- Until you deliver that manuscript,

you're still
under contract to me.

So, whatever is going on,
snap out of it, and get writing.

Bye, Jane.

"Bye, Jane."

Oh, he's not gone,
has he?

We never got a chance
to talk about my screenplay.

Hi.
The French really appreciate my work, you know.

Connoisseurs de Cinema.
Oh, aye.

No, we should have him
over for dinner.

Oh. Your wine.

Bathroom.

I know you, don't I?

Where was it we met?

Chapter 2.
I'm in the opening chapter, of course,

but I'd say you only really
get to know me from chapter 2 on.

Darsie?

- What do you think?
- I think I'm talking to my protagonist.

I prefer heroine.

What are you doing here?

Mmm. It's a very
intense narrative.

I personally have suffered a broken
engagement and two bereavements so far.

- Yes, I know. Sorry.
- No, no, no. Please don't apologize.

I think it's gonna make me
a stronger person in the end.

The end?

- Yes. So you're gonna go back and finish it?
- Oh.

I can't do that--
not without you.

Why can't you
finish it, Jane?

Hmm?

What are you afraid of?

Get a hold of yourself,
will you?

Gets me every time.

Three times now.

It's that ending.

Don't talk to me about damn endings.
Do your marking.

Okay.

Being silly.

- Oh. Jane says hi.

That poor lassie.

She must have led such a shocking
life to write like that.

What are you saying?
Oh, well,

the lonely page,
the endless introspection,

the mind plagued
by funky thoughts.

It's how writers tick,
isn't it?

No misery, no poetry.

- Yeah?
- Did you speak to Jane Lockhart?

Yes, she's happy.
Very happy.

Happier than she's
ever been apparently.

And the novel?

Tom? Hello?

Are you still there?

Tom?

I have a problem I believe may be suited
to your particular talents.

Let's say...

a miserable writer,

through the supreme efforts
of her publisher...

and her own meager talent,

becomes successful
and happy.

- Are you listening?
- Hello, sir.

Amber.
Roxanne.

Out on a school night, sir?
This your boyfriend, sir?

Say nothing. Just keep very still.
You don't want to antagonize them.

Can we get back to my problem?
Yeah. Okay.

Yeah. Miserable writer becomes successful and happy.
I get it. And?

And being happy, she is unable to finish
her latest miserable novel.

So, in order to help her,

the selfless publisher embarks
on a course of action...

to return her to the
fragile mental state...

in which she wrote
her highly profitable debut.

You want to make Jane Lockhart's
life a misery...

so she'll finish
writing her book?

That's seriously messed up.

Do they teach you this stuff in France?
We study a broad curriculum.

So, how do we make someone
completely, totally miserable?

Why are you asking me?

I've dedicated the last 10 years to encouraging
young minds, planting hope and aspiration--

Benson, put it away.
Stand in the corner, and face the wall.

Little shite.

Okay, maybe I have some
experience in the field.

The trick is not simply
to upset her.

You have to get her
in the right mood.

It's a special kind of misery you want--
melancholy.

That dull sense of dissociation and alienation
that's the source of every artist's creativity.

It's like drain unblocker
for novelists.

Keats.
Mmm.

John Keats?
Mm-hmm.

Your plan involves
actual poetry?

I think by definition
that makes it a shit plan.

All right. Settle down, you lot.
Settle down.

William Wordsworth.

Wordsworth was, of course,

the first of the Romantics
to use a MacBook Pro.

Okay.

Careful.
You're gonna kill that thing.

You know, it was a
birthday present from my dad.

He showed up out of
the blue with a card...

and a baby money plant,
and he said,

"I owe you, darlin'.

I owe you the world."

And, um--

And then he left,

and I didn't see him again
for six years.

How many p's in "deprivation"?

Just one.

Right.

Coffee cake.
Mm-hmm.

That was your mum's favorite.
I know.

Your mum was a big fan
of cake in general.

She always made a cake
for my birthday.

Aye.

Do you remember
when you were six?

Your mum and I, we took you
to Edinburgh Zoo--

and the monkeys
threw rotten fruit at us.

I slipped in a bit,
fractured my foot in three places.

Damn monkeys
were laughing at us.

- Do you remember?
- Yeah. I remember.

That's in your book,
isn't it?

The Happy Thing.

Ending.
It's called Happy Ending.

And-- And, yeah, the main character does go
to the zoo with her dad, but he's not you.

And, uh, they're not monkeys.
They're penguins.

The penguins
throw fruit, aye?

It's different.
It's a story, not real life.

You know, they're not the same.

Well, whatever you say.

Damn monkeys.

- How's the new book doing?
- Oh, it's cooking.

Aye?
Yep.

And Tommy?

Don't call him Tommy.

His name is Thomas Duval.
He's from Saint-Tropez,

a place they named
a fake tan after.

You call him Tommy, you make him
sound like he's from here, like he's normal,

with his "oui"--
and his stupid stubbly face.

You see a lot of
Thomas Duvals around here?

There's Jean-Claude Darcheville.
He played for Rangers.

Anyway, forget about Tom.

I'm about to sign with a new publisher--
Klinsch & McLeish.

You know,
with the red and white covers?

I liked him.
I liked Tom.

Dad.
I mean, nobody else wanted your wee book, did they?

I mean,
he showed faith in you.

No, he showed faith in my book.

You know he changed my original title?
Did he?

- Yep.
- Was it a good title?

That's not the point.
What was it? What was the original title?

Uh, nothing. Nothing.
It doesn't matter. It's--

Oh, tell me.

I mean, I like that kind of stuff.
You know, stuff that other people don't know.

It makes me feel
closer to you.

Okay. But--
Okay.

I was gonna call it...

The Endless Anguish
of My Father.

For fuck's sake!

The Endless Anguish
of My Father?

I knew it was about me.
I knew it.

Well, no,
it's not about you.

- It's a character I made up.
- People at work looked at me differently when it came out.

I knew it!
I'm away back to the depot.

No, you never read it.

You're not allowed to be hurt until
you've actually read the damn thing.

Do you not think I'm hurt
my own dad hasn't read my novel?

Hey. I will read it.

I'll read it just as soon
as I get over my anguish.

Dad?

Target acquired. Over.

It's a pot plant, Roddy,

not a North Korean reactor.

Just warn me
if either of them comes back.

Roger that.
Understood loud and clear.

That is a solid copy.

Ah!

Right. Time for
some low-level unhappiness.

Mmm.

Twilight Sad.

Hey, Roddy, are you there?

Maverick to Iceman.

We are Oscar Mike.

Five klicks
from extraction point.

We have a clean visual on--
Bollocks.

Uh, Tom? Tom?
Tom, she-she's back.

- What?
- She's coming up the stairs.

Shit.

Damn it, man.
Get out of there.

Abort! Abort!

Oh, that's horrible. She's really upset.
I'm not looking at that.

Yes.

Oh! What was that for?

You're enjoying this
too much.

It's for her own good.

And it's not as if
I actually killed her plant.

- So what do you think?
- I think this is the end of Les Misérables.

Yes. You should write
something like that.

Oh, yeah, thank you.
Great suggestion.

Bit French.
People dying of consumption and all that.

I'm a bit more urban Scotland. Primal Scream.
Unhappy '90s childhood.

- Sorry?
- She wasn't talking to you.

I wasn't talking to you.

Oh.

Willie?
Hmm?

Do your characters ever, uh,

talk to you?

Sure.
All the time.

That's why I've got this.
Drowns out the bastards.

See, when I'm writing,
I like to hear the one voice-- mine.

Charming.

Quite the hero.

Aw. Are you still blocked?

101 Ways to Beat Writer's Block?

Beat Your Block to a Pulp?

What Would Jesus Write?
Seriously?

Okay.

Okay, so what's the deal?
Are you gonna stalk me until I finish my novel?

Yes, I believe
that's how it works.

- Now, can we talk about the last chapter?
- What about it?

I'm a romantic heroine.
I don't want to end up unhappy.

It's not that easy.
You don't really get to choose your ending.

It has to follow from what came before,
or it doesn't feel true.

Please?

I want it all to turn out okay.
Jane,

don't let us down, darling.
Jane Lockhart.

Mm-hmm?

I thought it was you.
Oh.

Shona Heywood, proprietor of Mocha Books.
Wow.

Can I just say
it's such a pleasure...

to meet the woman who helped
pay for my new kitchen.

It is. It's her.
It's her. It's her. It's her.

I just lo-o-o-oved
Happy Ending.

It's so sad.

I can't wait for your next one.
What's it called?

Is it finished yet?

Well, um, it's gonna be, um--
It must be difficult.

I mean,
so much to live up to.

How do you come back after the
extraordinary success of Happy Ending?

Ah-ah-ah. We are
interrupting the muse.

- I'm sure you're eager to get back to the page.
- Oh, yes.

And I have my eye on
a gorgeous bathroom.

Please, take that, with my compliments.
Oh, thank you.

I just need to run that through the till.
No!

Blocked?

Dad.

Come in.
I was just making strudel.

Oh, I can't stay anyway.

Uh--

I just wanted to say--

I had it--
I had it in my head what I was going to say.

I don't suppose
you're ever stuck for words.

Listen.

We don't really
know each other.

And I would like
to-- to get to know you.

And I'm make--
I'm making a mess of it again.

The other day,
in the cemetery, uh--

I was out of order.

I was, and I'm sorry.

I'm really sorry, darlin'.

Right, that's it.
I've said it. And, uh,

I'm going to go and meet the boys
for quiz practice.

I'm off. Right. Okay.
I'm off.

Dad?

It's okay. Look. I know--
I know how complicated all of this is, and, uh--

Can I be on your quiz team?

I think you're maybe
a bit busy for a daft quiz team.

Please.

I'd like to...

get to know you.

- Really?
- Really.

Great.

Great. We need you.

Rory's showing signs
of early dementia.

That would be great.

Welcome to the family.

Thanks.
Thanks so much.

Please excuse Dr. Klinsch.

She does have a tendency to pee her pants
whenever we sign a new author.

- That was just the one time.
- Okay.

So, Klinsch & McLeish.
I-- I can't quite believe it.

I'm gonna be published in one of
those classic red and white covers.

It's obviously not just about the covers,
but they're so pretty.

And your list is amazing too.
I mean, you publish Glen Buchan.

Ah, Glen.
Fabulous writer.

And you know that you have something in common?
Really?

No. What?
You think so?

God, he's up there
with Rushdie and McEwan.

Quite possibly.

No, what I meant was that you were both
discovered by your former publisher.

Tom?
Yes, it didn't last.

They went their separate ways before
the first novel was published-- by us.

Oh. Well, yeah.
Sounds like Tom.

Anyway,
enough of the past.

Here's to the future.

Whew!

It's exciting.

Blocked in this too, eh?

I'm so sorry. Would you excuse us--
uh, me, for just one second?

Where's your bathroom?
Uh--

- Okay, what are you doing here?
- Well, I figured out what's going on.

You can't write the ending
because once it's finished,

you'll have no reason
to see Tom ever again.

Oh, that is such
a load of rubbish.

- Jane, dear?

- Is everything all right?
- Uh, yep. Yep. Fine. I'll just be out in a minute.

Ah.

In case you haven't noticed, I'm about to
leave Tom and sign with a new publisher.

Oh, and one more minor detail--
I'm not writing my ending. I'm writing yours.

And I'm not you.
No, of course not.

And your first novel
wasn't a barely fictionalized account...

of your relationship
with your father.

Oh, and remind me, what's your middle name again?
Jane Darsie Lockhart.

Well, that means nothing. And anyway, I was
thinking of changing your name, so you--

Still here.

Sorry. I'm so sorry.

Ah. Now then, young lady.

Ready to go with a real publisher,
hmm?

Um--

Huh! Let me
get this straight.

You only take on
writers you love?

Writing I love.

How interesting.

No, no, it isn't.

Can we get back
to making Jane miserable?

Fine. If that's
what you really want.

Have you thought about
what will happen if you succeed?

Yeah.

I win.

Yes.
But you'll lose her.

Who cares?
It's not as if she wants to stay.

Motivation,
the heart of self-improvement.

"A"-- Achieve your dreams.
Avoid negative people, things and places.

"B"-- Believe in yourself
and in what you can do.

"C"-- Consider things on every angle and aspect.
Motivation comes from--

One of us really
needs to get laid.

Oh, God, yes.

We should-- next week.

We'll get--
There's a girl at the chippy.

"Q"-- Quitters never win,
and winners never quit.

So choose your fate. Are you going
to be a quitter or a winner?

"R"--

Okay. Here's a thought.
We could kill her dog.

I didn't know she had a dog.
She doesn't.

We could buy her one
and then kill it.

It wouldn't be
a cute dog.

And you don't think that's a little bit--
how can I put this-- psychotic?

Yeah, you're right.
She hasn't got a dog.

But she has got
a screenwriter.

I'm not helping you
kill Willie Scott, am I?

Tom.

- Uh, she wants to interview me?

Damn it.

She's still baking.

Back,
you cupcakes of Satan.

Okay. Here goes.

I hate these things.
Mmm.

Yeah, I prefer
the Routemaster 2670 myself.

It's a bus joke.
Sorry.

No, no. I-- I get it.
It's, um--

It's just I've never really met anyone
else who made a bus joke before.

Hello, Jane.
Oh.

Hello.
What do you want?

I'll tell you
what I don't want.

I don't want a cupcake.

So, two writers living under the same roof--
how's that working out?

Oh--
I bet it's fantastic.

Sharing ideas,
the ebb and flow of discussion.

Willie must be a great boon.
Oh, yes.

- Yes, he is.
- So, what does the big man make of the new novel?

You're right. It's not fair to ask you.
I should ask him.

No, no, no. He loves it.
He just loves it.

Naturally he has notes.
Naturally.

Willie has not asked to read
one single page, has he?

Well, he's very busy
with his screenplay.

Ah, yes. The adaptation.
How's that going?

Terrific.
Oh, it's going terrifically.

You don't know, do you?

He doesn't discuss it
with you.

What's your point?
He's using you.

That's rich,
coming from you.

Come on.
It's common knowledge...

he wouldn't be adapting Happy Ending
if you hadn't insisted.

- Oh, yeah?
- Willie Scott's writing career peaked sometime around 1998.

He's a talentless hack,
without a brain or a conscience...

who doesn't give a damn
about you or your novel!

Um--
Yeah?

Behind you.

Hey.

Willie!

- Is that fruitcake?
- Oh. Yeah.

It's frozen.

I brought a couple of spares.
It's for your nose.

Look.
I'm sorry about Willie.

He shouldn't have hit you,
even though you did deserve it.

He caught me off guard.

Usually I don't go down
after the first punch.

Usually it's about the third or fourth.
Mm-hmm.

How did I get here?

Oh, I made Willie carry you.

No, you didn't.
What? What's wrong now?

It's not very manly,

being carried upstairs
by another bloke.

He's not still here, is he?

No, I sent him outside
to calm down.

Look, Jane.

There's something
I need to tell you.

Something
I've never said before.

What's the capital of Ethiopia?

1,001 Trivia Questions?

What's this for?

Your dad hasn't--

You're on the team.
We're in the finals, actually.

So that was it.

That's what
you needed to say?

No.

No, no, no.

I--

What I meant to say is...

Happy Ending--

Mm-hmm?

At the end, when things became,
you know,

with us--

And the title.

I never told you--

The book--

It's good.

It's like the saddest music
I've ever heard.

What the hell was that?
What are you up to?

I'm not up to anything.
Yes, you are.

All this "sad music" crap and filling
my head with doubts about Willie.

Why would you do that?
Why? Unless--

Unless--

Oh, I know why.

You want me to sign
a new book deal with you.

Well, if you can hear me
through the obvious concussion,

pay attention,
it is never going to happen.

- I have a concussion?
- Oh, get off. Get off this bus.

You know what?

You really think
I'd want you back?

Why?

Why would I do that to myself?

You're distant
at the best of times.

And when you're writing, your characters
were more real to you than I was.

So, no, Jane.

I do not want you back.

I do not want you back.

So, how's the screenplay
coming along?

Hmm?
Your screenplay.

I was just thinking, we haven't
really discussed it much... at all.

And, uh, since, well, I wrote the novel,
maybe I could, you know--

What I mean is, we should have more...
ebb and flow.

That's not a bad idea.

You know the scene in the book
where the father goes on a bender...

and doesn't turn up
for the mother's funeral?

Yeah.

- I remember.
- Would you miss it?

What? You-- What?

You can't--

Willie, I think we need
to talk this through.

I know what this is about, Janey.
You haven't written a word in two weeks.

So you want to talk, instead
of dealing with your blockage.

How many times?
I am not blocked.

There was this writer I knew,

got stuck on a long-lost sibling
story arc.

Thought it was the end of his career, but--
but he beat it.

Do you know how?
How?

He wrote naked.

Yeah.

Yeah, right.
Seriously.

The idea is you release yourself
from the restrictions of the everyday...

so you can express your ideas
in an uninhibited fashion.

Oh, okay. I think you just want
to be able to sit there and write...

while you stare at my tits.

They are great tits.

- Yeah! Come on!

It's not a weapon, Jade.

There's some blood
on this stick.

Yeah, let's pass
to the other team, Shona.

That's it. Well played.
Well played.

Tom.

I've got some business
to take care of.

I want it on record that
this is going too far, okay?

She's only just started rebuilding
her relationship with her dad.

I'm just trying to help her
finish her book.

And she'll thank me
in the end.

First we get rid of Willie,
then we work on papa.

So, Mr. Scott-- Willie--

our senior development executive
has been looking for a--

a very special screenwriter
with a distinctive voice...

for a project which
she has slated for next year.

Yeah? When she heard
you were adapting...

Jane Lockhart's Happy Ending,
she was-- she was excited.

We were-- We were all excited.

Uh, what company
is this again?

I mean, have you spoken
to my agent, or, uh--

Yeah. Thank you, Priscilla.
You too. Ciao, ciao, ciao.

Sure.
She put us right on to you.

Uh, but if you're too busy right now,
perhaps we should just leave it?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. No.

No.
No, no. I'm excited.

It's, um--

You know, it's not just, uh--
just adaptations that I do.

I mean, I have my
own material, you know.

Terrific.
Well, uh, we, uh--

You-You-You can share
all that with our, uh,

Senior V.P. Bob...

and our head of deputy
acquisitions Vonda, who--

They're gonna be
over there next Friday.

You live in London, right?

Uh, well, uh, mainly,
but, you know,

I've got my place up-country
too, you know, obviously.

Well, apologies, but it may involve
dragging you out to the middle of nowhere,

um, but we're scouting
Steven's next pic.

Steven... Seagal?

Soderbergh.

He'll probably drop by
to say hi, if that's okay?

Aye! That would be fine.

Taxi's here.
Oh, where's my ticket?

Oh, it's in your bag
where you put it two minutes ago.

Ah, Jane, this is
an important trip for me.

These people
are working with Soderbergh.

They called me,
and that just never happens.

You're right.
It doesn't.

And it's all because of you.

The truth is they would never
have asked to see me...

if I hadn't been
adapting your novel.

Och, that is rubbish.
Look. You're a great writer.

Yeah, you're right.

- Where's my treatments? Did you tidy them?
- Willie. Breathe.

How you feeling?
Good.

Sharp?
Sharp, aye.

Rory?
Oh, prime, yeah.

Mind you,
I'm a bit worried because...

we don't know what
he's gonna ask us.

Well, it's a quiz.
It's a quiz, Rory.

Oh, right, yeah.

Aye.
Mr. L.

Tom. Oh, hey.
Good to see you.

Hey. Good to see you.

Big night, eh?

Big night. Big night, aye.
This is the final.

The winner gets a holiday
in America...

and two tickets
to Disneyland.

Wow. That's wonderful.
Good luck with that.

Oh, thanks, Tom.
Thanks.

Listen, uh, I know that Jane and you
haven't always seen eye to eye,

but, uh, I'm sure she'll be
really happy to see you here.

Where is she?

Oh, she's not here yet, but, uh,
the quiz doesn't start until 8:00.

Oh, well, plenty of time then.

Oh, plenty of time.

That was quick.

I wasn't expecting you
for another 10 minutes.

Aye. Well, I was just
round the corner. Where you going?

East End, please.
The Walter Scott.

No problem.

Ta-da!

- What do you think?
- Lovely.

Me and the lads
discussed it.

We're gonna
make her captain.

When she was a little girl, every--
every penny her mother gave her...

she put in the piggy bank,

saving up, you know,
to go to Disneyland.

Every birthday it was Mickey Mouse,
Mickey Mouse,

Disneyland,
Mickey Mouse, you know.

Every birthday.

Well,

until the seventh birthday.

Her mother took her to Woolworths
for a present-- a gift--

and, uh, well,
they were late getting back.

I lost it, Tom, you know.

I was, "Oh, I want my dinner
on the table," and--

That was the night
I walked out on them.

If only that was the worst thing
I did that night.

Excuse me.
Where are we going?

The Rabbie Burns.
No, I said the Walter Scott.

You sure?
Of course I'm sure.

Hey.
There's no need for that.

They're both iconic pillars
of our national literature,

arguably responsible
for the over-romanticization...

of Scottish history
that persists to this day.

Easy mistake to make.
All right. Please.

Just please hurry.
Please.

Hello.
It's Benny Lockhart here.

If you leave a message,
then I'll get back to you soon.

Okeydokes. Bye.

Do you know why
they were late back?

Yeah.

Yeah, of course you do, because
it's in the book, isn't it?

Her mother dropped dead
in Woolworths.

Her mother was lying dead
in the pick 'n' mix aisle,

and her...

daddy was spending her
Mickey Mouse money on booze.

I swore I would never touch
another drop after that.

Not a drop.

You look familiar.
You on the telly?

Uh, no. I've done
a few interviews, but--

Oh, no, you're that writer,
Jane something.

Aye. My--
My wife read your book.

Oh, yeah?
Aye. What's it called again?

Happy Ending.
Happy Ending, aye.

She was crying
her eyes out by the end.

And you wrote it?
That's amazing.

God, you must be a right
miserable cow.

Do I know you from--

I'm out of fags.

What?
Just a minute.

Hey, no. Come back!
I need to get to the...

pub.

Hey!

Years later,

I discovered that the police
brought her back...

two minutes
after I'd left home.

Two minutes, Tom.

You know, I realize...

that I can never make it
up to that little girl.

That seven-year-old Jane.

Can't do it.

But if we win tonight, Tom--

Whoa!
If we win tonight,

I'm gonna take her to Disneyland.

Aye. I don't mean
the shite one in Paris.

The real Disneyland.

No offense.
I know you're French.

None taken.

Gentlemen, ladies, can you please
take your places for the quiz final.

She'll be here.
She'll be here.

Nothing's gonna happen.
Not again. No. No.

Help! Help!

You know what?
I'll see you in a second.

- Tom.
- Roddy. Call it off.

Call it off.
Bring her here immediately.

She's gone.

We've lost her.

In Cambuslang.

Sorry!

Captains, last call.

Can you please bring your team lists
to the adjudicator's table.

Benny--

If I don't get your list,
you'll forfeit your place.

Benny, come on.
Come on, Benny.

Two more minutes, lads.

Oh!

Benny, I'm--

- I'm sorry.
- It's okay, son.

- It's not your fault.
- Well, actually--

Aye. Okay. That's enough.
Let's get on with this.

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,
to the grand final--

Dad.

Dad?

Question one--

Who was William Shakespeare's wife?

Oh!

The indisputable winners,

Benny and his Jets!

Whoo!

The fact is...

we're not dog killers.

I mean, what's the worst thing
we actually achieved?

Kidnapping a pot plant.

There's our fatal flaw.

At heart,

we're nice guys.

I'm going to
tell her everything.

I will not do nudity unless
it is essential to the plot.

- Oh, you must be joking.
- Jane?

Just go away!
I've got to talk to you.

- Please, open the door.

Hold on a minute.

- Willie?

You need to hear about our
great deal on home insurance.

Jane?
- Your meringues, Jane.

Have you ever thought about what would
happen if your house caught fire?

- Shit! Shit! Shit!

Jane? Are you okay?
Shit! Shit!

Piss!

Shit!

Oh!

Uh, oh--

Stop looking!

What the hell
are you doing here anyway?

I came to apolo--
Whoa.

Is that my novel?

No, no, no, no, no.
Give it back. Give it back!

I paid good money for this.

I'm going to read it.
No, you don't get to read anything until it's finished.

Okay.

Here.

Thank you.

Good to know you can behave
like a grown-up once in a--

Where's the rest of it?
Oh!

Hey, come out of there!

You thieving bastard!

Give me back my novel!

How could you do that?

I can't believe you.

Even you.

So, what did you think?

It's merely the first couple
of chapters, so who can say?

However,
putting to one side...

that you're a whining,
overpaid author...

who clearly got lucky
with her debut,

I'd say this is
a very good start.

Well,

coming from a never-even-has-been owner of
a third-rate publishing company,

I'd have to say thank you.

Naturally--

I have a few notes.

Naturally.

Uh, for instance--

The first page-- I don't get it.
There is something so good about--

You know, like, uh--

- I am. I was up there,
and it's like--

I'm just gonna
get the phone.

Just one second.
Willie?

Hi, Janey.
Hi.

So how's the trip going?
Did you meet Soderbergh?

There was no meeting.

I've been stuck
in the ass end of nowhere.

Couldn't get a cab. I've been walking
for nine hours in the rain.

My phone died.
I've only just now found a phone.

Oh, Willie.

I'm cold and wet,
and I'm feeling so--

so miserable.

You know,
the funny thing is,

even though the trip
turned out so badly--

You know, it made me
realize a few things.

I miss you, Janey.

You're the best thing
in my life, and...

I love you.

Janey, let's get married.

Okay. All right.

Oh.
There we go.

- He's sick.
- Oh, come on. He's just taking the piss now.

He said he loves me.

- You heard him.
- Actually, I didn't.

Maybe it was in
your vivid imagination.

And I love Willie too.
He makes me... happy.

Any chance
of that cup of tea, doll?

Oh, he's a sweetheart.

Priscilla?

Listen, sweetheart.
Get out the big pen.

It's time to bill the bastards
for my first draft.

I just finished the script.

A lifetime with Willie Scott.

If that doesn't make her
miserable, nothing will.

Look. I know things haven't worked out
for the two of you, but...

surely you don't really,
actually,

totally, completely
want her to be unhappy?

Of course I don't.
I mean,

Oh--

It's tricky, okay?
Whatever.

Which is why Shakespeare...

never left New York again.

- Okay, um, chapter 21.

Uh, read it or...
be punished.

- Yo.
- He's only gone and changed the ending.

Wow. All you did was change her title,
and she thought you were a complete wanker.

That's "Juan Kerr."

He was a 19th century
South American revolutionary.

This is gonna
break her heart.

Yeah, well, great.

Now all you gotta do is make sure she reads it.
Mission accomplished.

Yeah.

You've given it a happy ending.

- And your point?
- The point is Jane's novel doesn't end happily.

Well, who the hell wants to walk
out of a movie feeling miserable?

You have to change it back.
Oh, I don't think so.

That script says more about my love
for her than I could ever put into words.

- She doesn't know yet,
does she?

Do you have any idea
what this will do to her?

To both of you?

I made a mistake,
and I can't take it back.

But, Willie,
if you truly love her,

change it.

What's going on here?
You just don't get her, do you?

Oh, I get her all right.

Every night I get her.

Any way up I fancy.

Hit a sick man, would you?

Huh?

Watch this. Whoa.
Oh!

Oh, oh, oh.

Remind me, does the bridge explode
in the novel?

Hi, Janey, I'm home.

Any chance of
a wee cup of tea?

Willie!

I just don't understand how you
can do this over a dumb ending.

- No. No, you don't.
- Well, if it's any consolation, Janey,

I don't think me and you
would have worked out anyway.

- Oh.
- I just don't get all that...

worshipping your pain stuff.

Daddy issues.

Tom, if she hasn't delivered,
you have to take Pandemic Media's offer.

Mark my words,
never going to happen.

Well, I'll have no option but to declare
you bankrupt and call in a receiver.

You're my relationship manager,
right?

Yeah. So?

So what should I do
about my relationship?

Oh, for God's sake.

Do you love her?

Tom?

Jane.
Hi.

Tom's not here.

He should be back any minute
if you want to wait.

No, I don't think so.
I'm heading off for a bit of a break.

I just came to drop this off.

It's my new novel.
I finished it.

Oh!
Yea!

That's a relief.
Between you and me,

your book's the only thing
stopping this place from going tits up.

So where shall I leave it?
Um--

Just put it on his desk.

Okay.

Bye.

I don't know what to do.

Hold it. Jane.

Jane!

Bastard!

No, I--
I shouldn't still be seeing you.

I finished it.

Leave me alone.
All I want is to be alone!

Jane.

Jane!

Listen.
I know you're in there.

And I know it sounds crazy,
but I was trying to help.

Jane.

Your dad's worried about you,
and so am I.

He told me where to find you.

All you care about is what my book
can do for your damn company.

Well, you got
what you wanted.

Jane, please,
open the door.

Jane, I'm not good
at this countryside stuff.

All right?

I think I saw a bear.

Jane.

I'm sorry.

Thanks a lot.

I deserve that.
I'll just go, shall I?

I'll go.

Putain! Merde!

Merde!

It's eight miles
to the nearest village.

I don't expect to see you
when I wake up.

Good night.

Oh!

What the hell were you thinking?
About the plant?

No, about me, you idiot.

Here's the thing.

You go to some dark places
when you write.

You bring out stuff most people
prefer to keep locked up.

So I thought maybe
if I made you miserable--

I'd be able to finish my novel?
Well, that's genius.

- Yeah, well, I was wrong.
- Of course you were wrong.

You don't have to be miserable to write.
You do it because you have to.

Because it gnaws away at your
insides if you try to ignore it.

Because if you don't write,
then you might as well be dead.

And what do you mean you were wrong?
You got the novel, didn't you?

In Tom and Roddy world the plan was a roaring success.
Not exactly.

The last chapter--
it doesn't work.

It needs a rewrite.

- How much of it?
- All of it.

You all right?

No.

I'm bloody not all right,
and I want more chocolate.

Maybe--

it would help
if we talked it through.

What have I missed?

I think the problem might be that you
don't really get to choose your ending.

It has to follow naturally from what
comes before, or it doesn't feel true.

Oh, he's so insightful.
I want to start with Darsie.

Mmm. Goody.

I don't understand her.
No kidding.

I mean, why is she in love with a
man who betrays her so utterly?

He's emotionally crippled,

has an uncomfortable tendency
for mean-spiritedness--

He has nice... hair.

Okay, so, yes.

Maybe there is an element
of autobiography.

Which means you're the reason I can't write.
Me?

At some point during the last few weeks
it dawned on me that...

when I finished this novel,
we were finished too.

And some insane part of me
doesn't want that to happen.

You're my block, Tom.
But I want you to finish it.

Yeah, of course you want me to finish it.
For what? So you can turn a profit.

I've sold it.

What?

I've sold the business.

No, you can't have sold it.

That stupid company is you.

Get it back.
You can't do this to me.

I'm on the moral high ground here,
and I'm not getting off now.

- You sold it?
- Yeah.

And you can take all the time you need for
the last chapter. I made it part of the deal.

Uh, Tom--

I didn't sign.

With Klinsch & McLeish.
I couldn't do it.

Jane, I've spoken to
my relationship manager--

If I hear the words "sad,"
"beautiful" or "music,"

you're a dead man.

Apparently...

I block you.

And I block you too.

- Mmm!
- What? What could possibly be more important?

I know how it ends.
I'm just gonna get my laptop.

I don't care.

Mmm. You are on fire.

You're pretty hot yourself,
baby.

Uh, Tom?

Tom, what are you doing?

Tom? Oh, my God. Tom!

Oh.

Tom?

Tom!

Why is it that the saddest
endings always seem the truest?

In the stories I told myself,
I was always the heroine,

always reaching
for my happy ending.

It didn't turn out that way.

I won't get to spend
the rest of my life with him.

But I was loved.

And that's enough.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Jane Lockhart will now
be signing copies...

of her chart-topping
new novel,

You'll Catch Your Death.

Whoa.

Well, Darsie,
back where you belong.

Are you actually
talking to your book?

You don't think
it's all a bit tacky?

Tacky?
We have canapés.

Now get signing.

Right, you ready?
Go on. Just do it.

Okay, pay attention, class.
Pay attention!

Jane Lockhart, of course,

follows Charlotte Brontë...

as only the second writer
in English...

to design and build
her own hovercraft.

Hovercraft.

H-O-V-E-R-C-R-A-F-T.

See? They believe
anything you tell them.

So, I thought you said that the
Pandemic Media people were coming today.

Where are they?
You're looking at them.

What do you mean?

They want someone
in the company...

who won't let you get away
with your usual extravagance.

Someone hard-line.

Someone disciplined.

Ah!

Cheers.
Brilliant.

Cheers. Thank you.
Thank you.

You read it.
Yeah.

Her father
was really bad to her.

A nasty piece of work.
No. No, no, no. He wasn't nas--

But...

she forgives him in the end.

Mr. L.!

Oh, if you think
that was bad,

wait till you see what she's
done with you in the new one.

Yeah. Um--

Mr. Lockhart-- Benny--
would you give us a second?

Yeah. Yeah, sure.
Thanks.

- So--
- Mm-hmm?

- Look--
- Yes?

You are, frankly,

about the most infuriating
person I've ever met,

which considering I work in
Scottish publishing, is saying something.

But we couldn't have
got here without each other.

So, Jane, what I'm saying is...

will you--

Could you--

Is that a contract?
Two more books and an option for a third.

Exclusive?
Naturally we'd have to work very, very, very closely.

With lots of notes?
An excessive amount of notes.

Okay, I do.

I mean--
I mean, I will.

I will. I meant--
Uh, uh, um--

Okay, just give it here.

This is really pathetic.

Who is this?

Jimmy Miller.

Should have known.

100 pages
of the bullshit.

100 pages.

I'm not even gonna read his.

Caitlin doesn't turn up
most of the time.

Hasn't even put his name
on the front cover.

Who is this meant to be? Well, I can
tell by his handwriting it's Paul's.

And if Paul thinks he can just draw pictures
and I'll know what he's trying to say,

he's got another
thing coming.

They're all the same, aren't they?
Shona Westwood.

What does she want?

There's nothing in this, is there?
Hasn't even bothered to do it.