All language subtitles for A River Runs Through It 1992eng

Long ago, when I was a young man,

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

And I said, "Yes, I do."

Then he said, "Someday, when you're ready,
you might tell our family story.

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

In our family, there was no clear line
between religion and fly-fishing.

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

where Indians still appeared
out of the wilderness

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

My father was a Presbyterian minister
and a fly-fisherman.

And though it is true that one day a week
was given over wholly to religion,

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

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

that all first-class fishermen
on the Sea of Galilee were fly-fishermen

and that John, the favorite,
was a dry fly-fisherman.

The poor without Christ
are of all men the most miserable.

But the poor with Christ
are princes and kings of the earth.

In the afternoon, we would walk with him
while he unwound between services.

He almost always chose a path
along the Big Blackfoot,

which we considered our family river.

And it was there he felt his soul restored
and his imagination stirred.

Long ago, rain fell on mud and became rock.

Half a billion years ago.

But even before that, beneath the rocks,

are the words of God.

Listen.

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

we might hear those words.

Even so, Paul and I probably received

as many hours of instruction in fly-fishing
as we did in all other spiritual matters.

As a Presbyterian, my father believed
that man by nature was a damned mess

and that only by picking up God's rhythms
were we able to regain power and beauty.

Ten and two.

To him, all good things, trout as well
as eternal salvation, come by grace,

and grace comes by art,
and art does not come easy.

Norman.

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

On a metronome.

He began each session
with the same instruction.

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

between 10:00 and 2:00.

If he had had his way,

nobody who did not know
how to catch a fish

would be allowed
to disgrace a fish by catching it.

So it was with my formal
education, as well.

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

I attended the school
of the Reverend Maclean.

He taught nothing but reading and writing

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

Half as long.

So while my friends
spent their days at Missoula Elementary,

I stayed home
and learned to write the American language.

Again. Half as long.

Good. Now throw it away.

Norman! Norman!

Wait for your brother!

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

Every afternoon, I was set free,
untutored and untouched till supper,

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

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

It was a world with dew still on it,

more touched by wonder and possibility
than any I have since known.

God damn it, open up the door!

Hey, what the hell is going on?

Hey, where are you guys going?

Chicken!

Come on, move out of the way.

But it was a tough world, too.

Even as children,
we understood that and admired it.

And, of course, we had to test it.

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

- Get him, get him!
- Give him a shiner!

Don't be a sissy!

Come on!

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

- Go on!
- Lots of blood.

Paul was different.

His toughness came
from some secret place inside of him.

He simply knew
he was tougher than anyone alive.

Grace will not be said
until that bowl is clean.

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

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

Grace.

Oh, God,

who art rich in forgiveness,

grant that we may hold fast
the good things we receive from thee

and as often as we've fallen to sin

be lifted by repentance
through thy grace. Amen.

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

Minister, I guess.

Or a professional boxer.

You think you could beat Jack Johnson?

I don't know.

I think you could.

I'd lay a bet on it.

- What are you going to be?
- Professional fly-fisherman.

- There's no such thing.
- There isn't?

No.

I guess a boxer.

Not a minister?

In 1917, World War I came to Missoula,

taking with it every able-bodied lumberjack,
leaving the woods to old men and boys.

So at 16, I did my duty

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

It was a life of timber and toil
with men as tough as their ax handles

and more mountains in all directions
than I would ever see again.

Being too young to join me,

Paul took a job as lifeguard
at the municipal swimming pool

so that during the day
he could look over the girls

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

Fishing.

Be thou my vision.

Oh, Lord of my heart.

Naught be all else to me.

Save that thou art.

Thou my best thought.

By day or by night.

Waking or sleeping.

Thy presence my light.

Preacher, come on.

Preacher! Come on, Preacher!

Shut up.

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

coming down a mountain
at 60 miles an hour?

Oh, shut up! Again with the forest fires!

I've got a great idea.

I know how we can go down in history.

How's that?

We borrow old man Seifert's rowboat,
and we shoot the chutes.

You can't shoot the chutes, Pauly.

- You can try.
- You can die trying.

They'd bury you with full honors.
Tell him, Norm.

Well, we would be the kings of Missoula.

Yeah, kings. And we'd be famous.

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

I'm doing it.

- I am.
- You'll die.

No.

Let's do it. Come on.

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

Let's go!

- What?
- All right.

Yeah!

All right.

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

Let's go!

I got the oars.

Whose idea was this, anyway?

Where we going, Pauly?

This way!

Don't work too hard, Chub.

Row your boat.

Goddamn rowboat! I need a woman!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

Okay, we'll put in upstream.

Okay.

Flip it.

Okay, hop in.

Come on, we can all fit.

- I don't think so.
- No, I...

Hey.

All right. Just me, Norm and Chub.

Jeez, Pauly...

Okay.

Then I guess it's just the Macleans.

You guys be careful!

You ain't going over, Pauly!

They'll pull to shore.

See you in heaven!

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

Come on, guys!

See you later, boys!

Otter on the right!

On your right, watch the right!

Right.

Watch it.

On your right, on your right!

Right!

Hang on!

Oh, jeez.

- Lean!
- Hey!

Maclean!

Pauly!

Hey, Chub!

Maclean!

What the hell?

Son of a...

Jesus Christ!

Crazy son of a bitch!

- You guys okay?
- Where's...

Preach, you okay?

Sure.

You will go to church this day
and pray for forgiveness.

Your mother spent the
night sick with worry.

Did you give any thought to her feelings?

Mrs. Campbell called.

Who gave you the boat?

- We...
- Borrowed it.

Borrowed?

Boys, what have you done?

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

Yes, sir.

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

What you making?

Know what you need on that?

Ham, cheese and sardines. Delicious!

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

Boy, can you believe those guys?

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

I should write an article.
"Macleans conquer chutes."

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

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

Chub. "Jeez, Pauly."

What a skeezicks.

I don't want any goddamn sardines!

No, stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

Stop!

You hit her, you son of a bitch!

- You knocked her down, you bastard!
- Son of a bitch.

Please, I slipped, I slipped, I slipped!

I just slipped. That's all.

That was the only time we ever fought.

Perhaps we wondered afterwards
which one of us was tougher.

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

they can't be raised again.

So, we returned to being
gracious to one another

as the church wall suggested.

I then saw something remarkable.

For the first time,

Paul broke free of our father's instruction
into a rhythm all his own.

Okay.

Okay.

They're both marvelous.

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

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

The year ended
with my acceptance into Dartmouth College.

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

any college in the world I could get into.

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

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

Well, do your best.

I will.

All aboard!

Hey, Norman! Norm!

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

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

To the son of a Montana minister,
Dartmouth was more than an education.

It was a revelation

exposing me to a world
I had only guessed at.

As part of my degree, I was required
to enlighten incoming freshmen

on the wonders of the Romantic poets,

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

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

giving my bluenose brothers
a lesson in Front Street poker.

In all, I spent six years at Dartmouth,
away from home nearly all that time.

On the other hand,
Paul stayed home for college,

unwilling to leave the fish
he had not yet caught.

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

and moved to that town,

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

It was not until the spring of 1926
that I finally did come home.

Dinner is in half an hour.
So, you have time for a bath.

Do I look thin, Mother?

Do I look old, Norman?

No, you look...

Wish Paul could have been here tonight.

He's working late.

Norman?

Would you come in?

I'm sorry Paul won't be here.
The life of a newspaperman.

Well, you know how Paul likes to...

I do.

Sit.

I also hear that he...

Well, I hear everything, don't I?

Lord forbid my flock keep me in ignorance.

Yes, you can bet
that everyone from here to Helena

knows the details
of your education, Norman.

It is an achievement.

So, to what use
shall you put this achievement?

Well, I've been considering
the Forest Service.

- As a career?
- No.

No, for the summer.

As a break.

Well, that's a good idea.

- The body fuels the mind.
- Yes, that's what I was thinking.

And after?

I'm not absolutely sure yet.

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

Have you considered an advanced degree?

The law?

- Medicine?
- No.

The ministry?

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

Have you?

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

No, it's early, but...

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

Yes.

And did you find that experience rewarding?

That is to say,
do you feel this could be your calling?

My calling?

Dinner, gentlemen.

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

Yes, pee in their pants.

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

- Paul Maclean?
- In there.

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

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

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

Oh, I'll take that one.

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

I'll take it! You take the Anaconda.

I'll interview the grieving widow.

But I'm the boss, Maclean.

Fine by me, boss.

Brother!

Well, look at you.

Boys, this is my big
brother, the professor.

- Gentlemen.
- Hi!

Come on.

- We go with it.
- Sit.

Thanks for coming to see me last night.

Yeah, damn. I am sorry about that.
Wanted to be there.

Wanted to hear the old man say,

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

Jeez, the professor.

We should celebrate.

Yeah.

A little early for me.

The East is making you soft.

Is that right?

Do much fishing out East?

None.

None?

Well, what do you say? Big Blackfoot.

You set?

Yeah.

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

- No, that's all right.
- No, no, no, no. It's a good hole.

Too tight! Try a roll cast!

The fish are out further!

Just a little further.

Cast your line into the current.
It'll give you a better base.

Add some distance.

You're just rusty, that's all.

He called it shadow casting,

keeping his line above water
long enough and low enough

to make a rainbow rise.

And I realized that in the time I was away,
my brother had become an artist.

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

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

- John L. Sullivan?
- Yes, the John L. Sullivan!

The last bare-knuckle champion
of the world.

It was then I knew I was home,

standing on the steps
of the Missoula library once again,

late at night,

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

and listened 100 times before

and who had, in my absence, become men.

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

The number increasing rapidly

the further one gets
from Missoula, Montana.

Amen.

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

Hey, where's the gargle?

Yes, pass this way.

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

Every girl you need to know will be there.

Without Mama.

Find you a little sheba.

Well, gentlemen, it's been swell.

Don't say no.

Where you going?

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

With a poker table.

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

"Does your husband misbehave,
grunt and grumble, rant and rave?

"Well, shoot that brute some Burma-Shave."

- The road to where?
- Lolo.

Little hot spring!

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

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

that made me feel most at home.

And in the glow of awakened memories,

when the deepest feelings
of the heart are all astir,

we are reminded of the poet who sings,

"Backward, turn backward
Oh, time, in your flight.

"Make me a child again, just for tonight."

Recognize anybody?

- Well...
- You been gone too long, son.

Jessie!

Who's that?

Who?

There.

Yeah?

Little infatuation?

Chub, who is that?

Jessie Burns. From Wolf Creek.

She got a brother who went to Hollywood.

Jessie Burns.

Excuse me, would you like to dance?

Oh, God, would you be a dûr
and get us a drink?

Jessie, who's that?

Here you are.

- Here you go.
- Oh, great. Lifesaver.

How ladylike.

I have to be careful
or I'll wipe off all the powder.

Phantom of the Opera.

You know, I heard
Louis Armstrong sing this song once

in a little speak
in Greenwich Village, New York.

Really?

Best jazz in the world.

Colored jazz, you know? The real McCoy.

Not like Paul Whiteman
or the Clicquot Club Eskimos, you know.

My mother loves the Clicquot Club Eskimos.

Does she?

Dance?

Yeah.

Yowsa, yowsa, yowsa!
Let the fireworks begin!

Guys, come on.

Jessie, come on.

Jessie, come on. Jessie.

Look at that!

Wow!

What a wonderful idea.

What better lesson for those girls
than a trip to the reservation

to learn a real Christian lesson of giving?
Don't you think?

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

Oh, thank you, Eva.

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

Do you know those Indian children
don't even have shoes, Norman?

You waiting for the phone?

No, I don't have to.

No, no. You go ahead.

Okay.

- If you need to use it...
- No, no, no. I have work to do.

Okay.

Hello, Mrs. Hatcher.

Hello, Mrs. Hatcher, I'd like...
She's fine.

I'd like... Yes, they're fine.
Everybody's fine.

They're all fine, Mrs. Hatcher.

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

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

Thank you.

Hello.

Is Jessie there?

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

Hello.

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

No, we didn't get a chance.
The fireworks started and, well...

We talked about music.

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

Yeah, that's me.

Yeah, I was just a little nervous.

Well, because you were so je ne sais quoi.

And I thought maybe I could come over

and listen to the Clicquot Club Eskimos
with your mother.

Yes.

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

Well, how about Saturday or...

8100?

Okay.

Okay.

Then I'll see you then.

Bye.

- That was a good meal!
- I'd like to do that again!

Hey, here they are.

Brother.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Jessie, this is my baby brother, Paul.

And this is Monasita.

Mabel.

Hi.

Shall we?

What do you say, Pauly?

- Hey, Pauly.
- Murph.

- Preacher.
- Preacher?

How are you, Murph?

Long time, long time.

Good to see you.

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

No Injuns. Period.

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

Me neither.

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

Just get us a table for four.

Last time, Paul.

- Hello, Judge.
- Paul.

You can get him back.
Get drunk and dance naked on his table.

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

- Molly, my darling.
- Hi, Paul.

They've got some swell hooch here.
They even wash the glasses.

Drink?

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

I'll have a martini, Paul. It is Paul?

Righty-o.

The usual for Norm, gin and prune juice.

Make that a double.

Excuse me? I'd like to order a drink, too.

Whiskey. Double.

So, what are you doing now, Mabel?

I sell bait.

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

You think I should get it bobbed?

No, no, not in a million years.

- Well.
- "The candle burns at both ends.

"It will not last the night.

"But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends,
It gives a lovely light."

That's nice.

How about to my editor, the old...

The old curmudgeon. Excuse me.

He took me off the Anaconda story today.

- I'm a reporter at The Bee.
- I know.

- How do you know?
- I'm famous.

- Fishing newspaperman.
- You know he fishes, too?

I thought everybody knew.

Brother, you been away a long time.

I'd say so.

- Anyway, it seems my editor...
- The old curmudgeon.

Yes, exactly, has been getting calls.
No names, just threats.

Real threats?

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

Well, what did they say?

What did they say?

- What did they say?
- You'll have to cut it out of him.

The usual.

Some of the boys gonna have to come down
and pay me a little visit.

Fit you with a pair
of concrete galoshes, see?

Exactly.

I have to dance.

Hey, hey.

Watch out.

Wow.

And now the Muskrat Ramble.

I'm nowhere near as good as my brother,
but would you do me the honor?

I'd love to.

"Dear Jessie,

"As the moon lingers a moment
over the bitterroots

"before its descent into the invisible,
my mind is filled with song.

"I find I am humming, softly,
not to the music, but something else.

"Some place else.

"A place remembered.

"A field of grass where no one
seemed to have been except the deer,

"and the memory is strengthened
by the feeling of you

"dancing in my awkward arms.

"Norman."

Yes?

- What's wrong?
- Norman?

It's okay, Mother.

Who is this?

I'm Norman Maclean.

No, he doesn't have to post bond.

He covers the police beat
and has friends here.

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

What did he do?

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

Why did he hit him?

It says here a remark was passed
concerning the Indian woman he was with.

Well, then the guy deserved it.

We're picking your brother up
too much lately.

Is that right?

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

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

Is he hurt?

No, he's not hurt. He's just sick.
He drinks too much.

Down at Lolo they don't drink too much.

You better go in and get your brother.

I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

I just had a drink about an hour ago.

It went right through my head.

No matter where I go.

By land or sea or boat.

You can always hear me singing this song.

Show me the way to go home.

If you need any money, Paul,

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

She lives past the slaughterhouse.

I can help.

Turn here.

Come here, Jeannie! Come here!

I got it.

Look at that!

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

Not bad.

Are you all right, Norman?

- Clara, was that your jelly?
- Yes, it was, Ethel.

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

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

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

- Nice to have you back.
- Thank you.

Her daughter's turned into quite a beauty.

There she is, over there, 20 only a week
ago. She's bright as a light, Norman.

Mother.

Mr. Murchison, how are you?

How are you?

How are you?

- Quite well, thank you.
- Good, good.

- And this is Paul?
- No, this is Norman.

Norman.

Oh, Norman.

- You're looking good.
- Yes, hasn't he grown up?

Oh, yes.

Paul's here. Come on.

I'm sorry, Mother, I can't.

I have to meet Jessie Burns' family
at the station.

Her brother Neal's coming
in from California.

Well, now.

So I'm late.

Should we have this girl
over to dinner, Norman?

Perhaps, Mother.

- Hello.
- Howdy.

Mother.

Come on.

Hi, Paul!

- Well, well.
- Hey, Maclean!

Hello, Paul.

- Hi, Sam. Let me borrow those a moment.
- Sure, why not?

- Hello, Father.
- Son.

That's a humdinger!

First shot and he bangs it right up there.

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

and still managed to do badly.

This is Norman.

They were Methodists,

a denomination my father always referred to
as Baptists who could read.

Pop.

- It's a pleasure.
- My mother.

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

Jessie tells me that you're a poet.

Are you related
to the fishing newspaperman?

That's my brother.

- Jessie says you just got your degree.
- Yes.

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

Flapperism.

Science, I believe. Wasn't it?

But she dropped out.

Aunt Sally!

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

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

He's a Presbyterian.

Oh, Neal!

He's here, he's here!

Let's go.

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

what a Davis Cup tennis player looked like.

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

How you doing? You look great!

Neal, this is Norman.

Norman, my brother Neal.

Hello, boy.

Did you sit up all night on that thing?

I met some nice people on that train.

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

What do you think about this tie?

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

- Let's go eat.
- Good idea.

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

and I've got baking chickens at home.

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

Mrs. Miller's still alive?

Not the homemade beer.

Boy, it was a good year.

Over the lips, past the gums,
look out stomach, here she comes.

What's the first station out there now?

When I traveled that way,
San Berdoo was there.

San Berdoo and a lot of sand and a lot
of desert, a hell of a lot of desert.

We came back to Salt Lake City
and had to change at Salt Lake City.

There was a hotel that...

- Served oysters.
-...served oysters.

- Yeah.
- Norman, do you drink? Does he drink?

A little bit.

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

The fiam-damn-"fly.

Hear, hear.

Down the trenches.

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

At least he still has his appetite.
Thank God.

So how long do you plan to stay, Neal?

Sport. Sport, come here.

I don't know. I miss the ocean.

What's it like?

It's big and it's blue.

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

Damn it! Bad dog! Bad!

Jeez, Ma.

Well, you get him so excited. Sport.

Anywho, what was I talking about?

- The water.
- The ocean.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

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

Ramon, me, Ronnie Colman.

Ronald Colman?

Ronald Colman?

I love Ronald Colman.

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

Yeah.

I can't picture Ronald Colman
riding on waves.

Some Kodak, huh?

Well, Ma.

It's been a long trip.

Maybe you could go fishing
with Norman sometime.

Yeah, that's a good idea.

Yeah.

Wonderful, wouldn't it be?

Fishing.

You do fish?

Of course, he does!

He has a pole and everything.

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

You betcha.

When would be a good time
for you, Norman?

Friday.

Friday's good. Friday's good.

Yeah, that's... What time?

6200.

A.m.?

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

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

My pleasure.

Maybe Paul could come, too?

That would be nice.

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

- Can I come?
- Not this time, honey.

- Next time, okay?
- You got chores to do.

Why don't you go with Neal, Norman?

You know, make your plans.

Oh, yeah.

The only plan Neal had in mind
was a trip to Black Jack's bar,

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

where any honest policeman
would be unlikely to find it.

So, it was this otter and her pups.

Now, I had a hell of a time tracking them
because they turn white in the winter.

After a few shots
of the especially vile whiskey

brewed by Black Jack himself,

Neal began to hold forth.

He'd chosen Montana subjects
to spin his lies

about shooting, hiking, trapping.

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

a ploy that was beginning to pay off.

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

She went by the name of Old Rawhide.

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

She had ridden bareback,

standing up through the 100 inhabitants,
mostly male.

Her skirts flew high,
and she won the contest.

I couldn't feel my hands.

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

I'm thinking if it gets any colder,

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

to keep them from freezing.

It would have been a tough thing to do.

Hell, I did it before up at the Yukon.

God knows I love that damn dog...

She still wore
the divided skirts of a horsewoman,

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

And there on a branch,
waiting to jump on their first deer,

is the goddamn otter.

Hey, buster.

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

I thought they swam down in the cricks.

Jack, why don't you
bring this lady a whiskey?

Well, I got to shove off.

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

What?

What say?

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

Yeah. Deadline. Can't work there.

You come for a drink?

A favor.

Go fishing with me?

Sure.

Well, that's marvy,

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

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

- Bait fisherman?
- He didn't say.

Good Lord. George!

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

Red can, Hills Brothers.
I'd lay a bet on it.

I promised Jessie.

Are you getting serious?

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

You and Jessie.

Well?

I don't know.

Then I guess we got to do it.

As I live and breathe.

Buster here wants to fish.

You're late, Neal.

Yeah, I didn't get in till late.

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

Neal, Paul. Paul, Neal.

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

Church, work and fishing.

Righty-o.

Anywho, this is...

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

Don't go away.

Watch the first step. It's a lulu.

So, you ready to...

Neal.

- Neal!
- What?

Fishing.

Buster wants to fish.

Neal, what about the bait?

Dumb Dora.

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

May he catch three doses of clap.

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

Where is he?

- Oh, God.
- Jeez.

I'll catch up.

Yeah.

I know, you got 20.

Couldn't you find him?

The hell With him.

Well, I thought we were
supposed to help him.

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

By taking him fishing.

He doesn't like fishing.

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

Yeah.

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

You've sank the beer, yeah?

You bet your life.

Yeah.

Okay, let's go.

Oh, jeez, I can taste it.

Should We kill him?

Shit.

Damn it.

Holy Christ.

This is not good.

Well, she's got a tattoo.

- Initials?
- No.

"Love."

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

Hey, you got anything to drink, buster?

Buster's the one with the red ass.

I'm in deep trouble.

Yeah. You want me to come
and protect you?

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

I ain't burned.

The sun don't bother me.

Yeah.

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

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

It's a deal.

Come on, buster. I'm as dry as dirt.

Hark, fair Juliet speaks.

Good luck.

Sweet Jesus!

What have you done to my boy?

Don't!

He fell asleep in the sun.

My Lord in heaven.

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

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

You left him alone, Norman?

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

I think you better go home.

I need a ride home.

Better hang on.

What are you doing?

I don't think you...

They send trains down here all the time,
you know, without a schedule.

You're not...

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

Well, thanks for the flight.

You know, you're funny.

How am I funny?

You don't like my brother, do you?

No, I do not like your brother.

Look, I don't know any card tricks, Jess,
but I like you.

And I want to see you again.

Hey!

Hello, Jess.

Hey, Paul.

How's your brother?

You both left him alone.

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

Well, you're not forgiven.

Well, is Norman forgiven?

Norman's not funny.

And I hung fresh towels
on the washstand for you.

Did you remember
to powder my toothbrush, Mother?

No!

Now, let Paul tell his latest story.

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

I think they should
put you on the church beat.

I agree. I agree.

Quote, "The Reverend Maclean

"had a nice roast
while dining with his family.

"All except for the poor, elder son
enjoyed it immensely."

- Norman, what's the matter?
- He's not funny.

Pardon me?

He's not funny.

Well, there are more important
accomplishments, Norman.

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

No.

We're very proud of you.

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

No murder, no mayhem.

I interviewed the President.

- Calvin Coolidge?
- The President?

Yeah, Calvin Coolidge.

- Mr. Coolidge?
- Yeah.

- When?
- A few days ago.

He was in Dakota, fly-fishing.

Fly-fishing!

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

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

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

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

"The end of my line."

Then a bunch of the locals
came running over,

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

Old Cal, he heaves it out there.

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

Did you get a picture?

Oh, yeah. Be in the Sunday paper.

"Closed-mouth Cal
communes with the crappies."

Mother, that was amazing.

He usually eats what he
can hit on the road.

Now that was funny.

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

What?

What?

I was just going to say,

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

Don't you wait up.

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

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

MacLean, with a capital I.

Now everyone will think
we're Lowland Scots.

Howdy, Norman.

Hi there, Mr. Sweeney.

Who do you know
at the University of Chicago?

Chicken in a car, car won't go.
That's how you spell Chicago.

"...not in entire forgetfulness
and not in utter nakedness,

"but trailing clouds of glory do we come
from God, who is our home."

"Though nothing can bring back the hour
of splendor in the grass,

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

"Rather find strength
in what remains behind."

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

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

"In the faith that looks through death."

"Thanks to the human heart
by which we live.

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

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

- "Can give thoughts...
- "Can give thoughts...

- "...that do often lie too deep for tears."
- "...that do often lie too deep for tears."

Good luck, Son.

- We'll be rooting for you.
- There's sandwiches in here.

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

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

and that he would appreciate
me seeing him off.

We love you, dear. We love you.

We love you. Good luck.

Though I was surprised by the invitation,
I asked only one question of Jessie.

Did she want me to come?
And she answered yes.

I love you. Don't forget to write.

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

If you wanted me to, I would try.

Well, he's not coming back.

At least he's got friends out there.

Who, Ronald Colman?

Why is it the people who need the most help
won't take it?

I don't know, Jess.

God. I don't... I don't cry, Norman.

Can I show you something?

Only if it's something good.

Read.

So what do you think?

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

- You do?
- Yeah, to get away! Chicago!

God, it's heaven.

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

Helena.

God. Congratulations, Norman.

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

Montana? Why? It'll always be here.

Not Montana.

Then what?

What?

I'm not sure I want to leave you.

They keep closing this place, right?

Little do they know, I
just come from there.

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

- I'm telling you, they're after you.
- You got it right...

Well, now.

Give us a couple boilermakers, Fred.

Two up.

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

Oh, Lordy.

I'm in love with Jessie Burns.

Jesus Christ, Norm.

With all the fish in the river?

Not like her.

Oh, right.

Not like her.

Congratulations.

I'm real happy for you.

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

Done.

Bananas today.

We've got homegrown potatoes.

And vine-ripened tomatoes.

It's a stinker.

What?

It stinks.

What do you mean? It's a classic!

Oh, really?

Yes.

We have no bananas.

We have no bananas today.

Where are we?

Where we going?

- Lolo.
- Yep.

No.

Figured you felt lucky tonight.

I could use some of the luck.

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

Don't be the professor tonight.

Norm. Preacher.

Hello, Frank.

Well, my gal Sal.

Sal! Hey, Sal?

Get a drink for my brother.

Bourbon.

In fact, how about a round on me?

He's in love.

Hang on.

Take care of him, Sal.

Not a good idea, Paul.

Fellas, got a chair for me?

Not for you, Paul.

Now you know
I'm good for it.

What do you want?

What?

Cards? What?

What do you want?

Nothing.

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

Okay!

Okay, okay.

No, no.

No. Just games.

Only games.

Let's go. Now.

Come on, we're getting out of here.

Righty-o.

Bye-bye, sonny.

I'm not leaving.

What?

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

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

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

They won't even let you play.

Oh, yes, they will.

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

Norm, it's my debt.

Okay? It's my debt.

Jesus Christ.

Norm!

Hey, Norm!

Norm.

Hey.

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

Maybe we could go tomorrow.

And we could get Dad to come along.

Okay?

You ask him.

Okay.

6230.

Boy, something smells good out there.
Morning, everybody.

It's the muffins.

Perfect!

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

I wouldn't miss it.

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

A story?

All righty.

Oh, jeez.

I have one.

What?

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

Yes?

Teaching literature.

What?

Starting fall term.

I'm going to take it.

Norman.

I am pleased.

Yes, I am pleased.

Well.

A professor.

A real professor.

Damnation.

I'm proud of you.

Now, you be sure to take pictures.

We're gonna catch some big fish.

Yes, we are.

Let's go!

Remember those rocks we used to build
our fireplace?

They had holes in them.

Those were big rocks.

Yeah. Nearly a billion years old.

Half a billion, Norman.

Come on.

Well,

I believe the high road
will suit me better.

True.

There was a time.

You'll make a killing.

He'll make a killing.

Let's fish together today.

Good.

What are they biting on?

What?

What are they biting on?

Louder!

I said...

Bunyan Bugs!

Want me to bring you one?

No, I'll come and get it.

Bunyan Bug, stonefly number two.

Thank you, O merciful professor
of poetry and trout.

I'm going to ask Jessie to marry me.

Yes.

Quite a day.

Why don't you come with us to Chicago?

It's 2,000 miles away.

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

You'd be right in the middle of things.

What do you say?

Come with us.

I'll never leave Montana, Brother.

There!

Oh, me. Oh, my.

Look at that fish!

Oh, my-

Unbelievable.

At that moment, I knew, surely and clearly,

that I was witnessing perfection.

You...

You are a fine fisherman.

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

You're already thinking
like a dead stonefly.

- Here, pictures.
- Mother's pictures.

- Hurry up.
- One.

Two.

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

but suspended above the earth,
free from all its laws like a work of art.

Three.

And I knew just as surely and just as
clearly that life is not a work of art

and that the moment could not last.

And so when the police sergeant
awakened me one morning

just before Jessie and I left for Chicago,

I rose and asked no questions.

He drove me back home
down the length of the river

so that I could tell my father and mother

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

and his body dumped in an alley.

Is there anything else you can tell me?

Nearly all the bones in his hand
were broken.

Which hand?

His right hand.

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

asking me again and again
had I told him everything.

And finally I said to him,

"Maybe all I really know about Paul
is that he was a fine fisherman."

"You know more than that," my father said.
"He was beautiful."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it is those we live with
and should know who elude us,

but we can still love them.

We can love completely
without complete understanding.

Now nearly all those I loved

and did not understand
in my youth are dead,

even Jessie.

But I still reach out to them.

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

and now I usually fish the big waters alone,
although some friends think I shouldn't.

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

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

and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River,
and a four-count rhythm

and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one,

and a river runs through it.

The river was cut by the
world's great flood

and runs over rocks
from the basement of time.

On some of the rocks are
timeless raindrops.

Under the rocks are the words,
and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.