All language subtitles for A.M.C_1

Mum!

Mum!

How does this story begin?

It begins like so many stories.

With a boy.

Too old to be a kid.

Too young to be a man.

And a nightmare.

It's got two fundamental constants.

E, the base of the natural
logarithm system,

it's a number,

it's a number that emerges from asking:

What is the mathematical
function or thing,

which describes things,

where the rate at which they change,

is proportional to their magnitude?

Now, if you do that mathematically,

it will give you
this fundamental constant.

Conor?

Are you all right, Conor?

You look tired.

Are you getting enough rest?

Yeah, I'm fine.

'Cause if you ever wanted to talk...

I'm fine.

Ok.

Everyone, eyes front.

Pi is the ratio of the circumference,

and when you put it...

Careful there, O'Malley.
You might fall.

Are you drunk or something?

He'll have to get his slaphead mother
to kiss it for him.

You're always off
in your own little dream world.

What's there so interesting?

Get off!

You've been a good boy.

Remember, O'Malley,

good boys don't talk.

Hey, Con!

Hey, Mum.

What is that?

It's a surprise.

So, this is a VCR?

This is much better than a VCR.

It's your grandpa's
old film projector.

There we go.

I wish you could have known him.

Who?

Grandpa.

Even Grandma softened up around him.

Yeah, all right.

Here we go.

What a bunch of assholes.

Why are they trying to kill King Kong?

People don't like
what they don't understand.

They get scared.

King Kong could just smash them all.

Break them into a million pieces.

Yeah.

Conor.

Mum?

I have come to get you,
Conor O'Malley.

Why don't you run, Conor O'Malley?

Why don't you run for your mother?

You leave her alone!
I'm not afraid of you!

I will visit you again
on further nights, Conor O'Malley.

And I will shake your walls
until you wake.

And then,

I will tell you three stories.

You're going to tell me stories?

I am.

I will tell you three stories,

and when I have finished my stories,

you will tell me a fourth.

I don't know anything about stories!

You will tell me a fourth,
and it will be the truth.

What are you talking about?

This truth that you hide.

The truth you dream.

You will tell me your nightmare.
No.

Yes. That will be your truth.

And if I don't?

Con, I was asleep.

You should be in your own bed, Con.

Just five minutes.

That's not true.
Yes, it is.

Come on, Con.
Just five minutes. I promise.

Five minutes.

Night, night.

I respect that, Lizzie, I do.

But the last thing your father
would want would be for him

to be taken off to America

to live with some strange
woman and her strange child.

We have to discuss this now.

Hey, Con!

There's the little man.

Where did you say you got these?

From a very nice old people's home.

They're clearing it out to make flats,
and I'll be the agent.

Your mother needs a cup of tea.

Green, no sugar.
I take mine black.

What do you think, Con?

He loves it.

Go on.
Ok.

Go on, try something else.

Alright.

You can't just drift, Lizzy.
You have to make some decisions.

I am making all the decisions I can,

and I will decide
when I speak to Conor.

Go and help Conor with the tea
or I'll literally go insane.

You and I need to have a talk.

I'm making tea.

Conor!
I said, I'm making...

We have to...

I'm not the enemy Conor.
I'm here to help your mother.

I know why you're here.

I'm here because 12-year-old boys

shouldn't be wiping down counters
without being asked to first.

You wanna do it?

Less of your cheek.

She's always sick
after the treatments.

She'll be better tomorrow.
And then you can go home.

She'll seem better tomorrow.

She needs to talk about this with you.

Talk to me about what?

About you coming to live with me.
I'm never coming to live...

Listen to me Conor. If your mother...
There's no if!

She'll be better and then you can go.

Lizzy?

Lizzy!

Oh my God!

Hold on, hold on.

Where's the medicine?

Conor!

Conor!

I'm here, darling.
Deep breath.

Conor, please!
Please give me the medicine.

Hurry, hurry.

It's coming.

It's coming.

Here we go. Here we go.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

Deep breath.

It's Ok.

Just don't touch anything.

Trust me, I'll be doing my very best not to.

Our conversation isn't over,
young man.

Oh, yes, it is.

Mum!

What took you so long?

It is time for me
to tell you the first tale.

I don't need a tale.

I need a bus ticket for my grandma.

It is time for me to tell you the...

Where do you think you're going?
I will be listened to!

I am as old as this land and...

What do you know about anything?

I know everything about you,
Conor O'Malley.

No, you don't!

If you did, you'd know
I don't have time to listen

to stupid stories from a stupid tree
that is just a dream.

A dream?

What is a dream, Conor O'Malley?

And who is to say that it is not
everything else that is a dream?

Never mind.

I came to see you because I thought...

You thought I might have come
to topple your enemies.

Slay your dragons.

Or at least help me
with my grandmother.

But all you want to do
is tell me stories.

Stories of how I toppled my enemies.

Stories of how I slew dragons.

Let me tell you a tale
of when I came walking.

Let me tell you of the end
of a wicked queen

and how I made sure
she was never seen again.

Go on, then.

Good.

What do you see?

Nothing.
There are leaves in the way.

Use your imagination,
Conor O'Malley.

What do you see?

I see a spark.
Yes.

And?

No, it's water.

It's watercolor.

Keep looking.

Indeed.

Long ago, before this was a town,

with roads and trains and cars,

this was a kingdom.

Here? We don't even have a Tesco.

It was a prosperous kingdom

with a wise king
who had won peace for his people,

but peace had come at a price.

The king had lost all three
of his sons in battle to giants.

To dragons.

To armies of men
led by great wizards.

This is all sounding pretty fairytale-ish.

You wouldn't say that if you heard
the screams of a man killed by a spear.

The queen was unable to bear
the loss of all their three sons,

leaving the king alone

in despair with the company
of his only remaining heir,

his orphaned grandson.

The child was raised as a prince,

winning the love of the kingdom
with his gallantry and good heart.

His people loved him.

Our future king!

He was nearly a man
when his grandfather took a new wife.

The king felt ill

and rumour began to spread
that she was an evil witch,

that she was bent on taking
the throne for herself

by poisoning the king.

A few weeks later, the king died.

The prince was too young
to take the king's place,

so, by law, the queen would rule
for another year.

The future was uncertain.

The prince, meanwhile,
had given away his heart.

She was beautiful and smart,

and though only a farmer's daughter,
the kingdom smiled on the match.

The queen, however,
she was rather enjoying being queen.

And what better way to remain so
than to marry the prince herself?

What? That's disgusting!

She was his grandmother!
Step-grandmother.

And still a young, beautiful
woman herself, don't forget.

The prince, however,
didn't like the idea either.

He took the farmer's daughter
and they rode away into the night.

They stopped to rest
under the branches of a yew tree.

That's you!

The next morning, the prince awoke.

'Arise, my beloved', he said.

But the farmer's daughter
did not stir,

which was when the prince
noticed the blood.

Blood?

Someone had killed his beloved
in the night.

What?

'The queen!', he cried.

'The queen has murdered my bride!'

The villagers, full of fury
and vengeance, rose up at the crime.

It was then that I came walking.

The queen was never seen again.

Good! She deserved it!

Now, I don't suppose
you can help me with my grandma.

The story is not yet finished.

I took the queen
and carried her far enough away

so the town's people
would never find her.

To a village by the sea,
where she began a new life.

But she killed the farmer's daughter!

How can you save a murderer?

You really are a monster.

I never said
she killed the farmer's daughter.

I only said
that the prince said it was so.

The prince never fell asleep
that night,

but waited for the farmer's daughter
to be lost in her dreams,

and then began his real plan.

What?

He knew her death would start a fire
that would consume the queen entire.

That's a terrible story!
And a cheat!

It's a true story.

Many things that are true
feel like a cheat.

Kingdoms get the princes they deserve.

Farmers' daughters die for no reason.

And sometimes witches merit saving.

Quite often, actually.
You'd be surprised.

So, the good prince was a murderer

and the evil queen
wasn't a witch after all?

No, the queen most certainly
was a witch

and could well have been
on her way to great evil.

Who can say?

Then Why'd you save her then?

Because what she was not,
was a murderer.

She hadn't poisoned the king.

He had merely grown old.

Did the prince ever get caught?
No.

He became a much beloved king

who ruled happily
until the end of his long days.

Oh, yes!

I don't get it.

Who's the good guy here?

There is not always a good guy,
Conor O'Malley.

Nor is there always a bad one.

Most people are somewhere in between.

So how is all this
meant to save me from Grandma?

It is not her you need saving from.

There are always two sides to a story.

How many of you know the saying:

Sticks and stones
may break your bones,

but words can never hurt you?

Now next time, when someone
says something to you...

Good, you're home.

Your mum's upstairs.
She wants to talk to you.

What?

Your father's flying in on Sunday.

Dad's coming?

From America?

Go on. She is waiting.

And pack a bag.

You're coming to stay with me
for a few days.

Go on!

That tree is amazing.

It's been here for thousands of years.

What do you think?

I think Grandma is trying
to turn me into Tina Turner.

She must be a fan.

Why am I going to stay with Grandma?

Are you going back to hospital?

Come here, Con.

This latest treatment's not doing
what it's supposed to.

So they're going to adjust it,
try something else.

That's all?
That's all.

Are you sure?

I'm sure.

Because...

You could tell me, you know?

There.

Everything will be fine, Conor.

You'll see.

Wait! Wait up, Conor.
Where are you going?

Don't touch him.
Don't touch him?

With such a punchable face?

I said don't touch him.

O'Malley and I have an understanding.

I am the only one who touches him.

Isn't that right?

Now tell me,

why is it every time that I turn around,
you're there looking at me?

Getting a bit odd,

don't you think?

Sorry, that was a bit harsh.

Life's not really going
your way today, is it?

I have a house to show.

I'm trusting you here alone
until your father shows up.

I'm not five years old.

This is the correct time.

Not the one on your phone,

or on the computer,

not even on the news.

It was my mother's,

your great-grandmother's.

Perfect time keeping
for over a hundred years.

Conor, pick up your rucksack!

I don't want your father to think
I'm keeping you in a pigsty.

Not much chance of that.

Now, when you go to the hospital,

your father may not notice
how tired your mum is getting, Ok?

So we have to make sure
that he doesn't overstay his welcome.

Not that that's
historically been a problem.

No eggs. You've already
had eggs twice this week.

If you get hungry, there's spinach
in the fridge which you can steam.

Yes, sure.

Don't touch anything.

I'll do my very best not to.

Get in!

Dad.

How you doing? You look tired.

I'm fine.

Mum's on this new medicine.
It'll make her better.

She goes into hospital once
every two weeks and them...

and they pump the medicine
into her bloodstream.

She is sick for the next few days,
but she is better again.

Hey your...

Your sister's doing better.

Half-sister.

Yeah.

I'd still love you to meet her.

I've been talking with your grandma
about bringing you out to LA.

You want me to come to LA?

Yeah, absolutely!

You would you like that, wouldn't you?

Yeah.

We were thinking over Christmas.
You can be back here in time for school.

So you mean just for a visit, then?

Yeah, but it would be great.

I don't want to live with Grandma.

It's an old lady's house,
with old lady's things.

You can't touch anything
or sit anywhere.

You can't leave a mess
for two seconds.

Conor, I know, but...

I want to have my own room in
my own house, my own things.

You wouldn't have that
in America Conor.

There is barely enough
room for the three of us.

I don't care!
Conor, listen.

She is so strict.
Your family,

your life, your friends...

Her house is like a museum!
Your school, all of it is here, Ok?

It'd be unfair to take you out of it.

Unfair to who?

Conor.

Doesn't look like
your grandma's home yet.

She sometimes goes back
to the hospital,

after I go to bed.

The nurses let her sleep in a chair.

Just because your grandmother doesn't like me,
doesn't make her a bad person.

She says you're all start
and no finish.

Well, she is entitled
to her own opinion.

How long are you here for?

As long as I can be.

What does that mean?

We don't have a lot of money and...

Americans don't get a lot of holidays.

You're not American.
No, but I live there now.

I'll come back whenever I need to.

And you are gonna come to LA
for Christmas.

In your cramped house,
where there's no room for me.

Conor!

Why did you come?

Conor, wait!

Conor, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?

There's still loads of time!

As destruction goes,
that was remarkably pitiful.

Now, I have come to tell you
the second tale.

Is this as bad as the last one?

It ends with proper destruction,
if that's what you mean.

It's about a man
who thought only of himself.

A man who wasn't as generous
as he should have been.

A man who gets punished
very badly indeed.

Stories aren't real though.

They don't help anything.

Stories are wild creatures,
Conor O'Malley.

When you let them loose, who knows
what havoc they might wreak?

Oh, yes!

Ok.

Go on, then.

Good.

150 years ago,

the future came.

Factories grew in the landscape
like weeds.

Trees fell,

rivers blackened and the sky
choked on smoke and ash.

But there was still green,

if you knew where to look.

On the edge of this town
lived a stubborn man.

who refused to change.

He dealt in the old ways
of medicine,

herbs and barks and concoctions
brewed from berries and leaves.

Villagers only ever called him
the apothecary.

The what?

The apothecary.

An old fashion name
for pharmacist.

Why didn't you just say?

There was also a young parson
in this village,

An enlightened man.

and a kind one who just wanted
the very best for his congregation.

He preached against the apothecary's
use of the old ways,

and the apothecary's
foul temper and greed

made certain some of these sermons
fell on eager ears.

Much as he tried
to keep on helping the community,

his business sank,

which only made him grow bitter.

On the parsonage grounds
there also lived a yew tree.

That's the hill where you live.

The yew tree is the most important
of all the healing trees.

Why?
Its berries, its bark,

they thrum and burn
and twist with life.

It can cure almost any ailment.

Really? Anything?

Anything that can be cured,
if mixed by the right apothecary.

The apothecary wanted
the yew tree very badly.

But in order to harvest these things,
he would have to cut it down.

And this, the parson would not allow.

The parson had two daughters
who were the light of his life.

He was a caring, loving father,

who'd have done anything
for their sake.

But one day, both little girls
were struck by a terrible sickness,

and nothing the parson did helped.

No cure from the more modern doctors,

no prayer, nothing.

There was no choice,

but to approach the apothecary.

'Will you not help my daughters?'

the parson begged.

'Will you not save two innocent girls?'

'Why should I?', said the apothecary.

'You have driven away my business
with your preachings

and you have refused me the yew tree,
my best source of healing.'

'You may have the yew tree',
said the parson.

'I will preach sermons in your favor.'

'I will do anything if you
would only save my daughters.'

'You would give up everything you believed in?'

said the apothecary.

'If it would save them,
I would give up everything.'

'Then there is nothing
I can do to help you.'

The very next day,
both of the parson's daughters died.

What?

That night, I came walking.

Good! He deserves
all the punishment he gets!

Indeed.

It was shortly after midnight
that I tore the parson's home

from its very foundations.

The parson?

What are you talking about?

The apothecary's the evil one.

He was greedy and rude,

but he was still a healer.

The parson? What was he?

A man of faith without faith.

Belief is half of all healing.

Belief in the cure.

Belief in the future that awaits.

Your belief is valuable,