Original subtitles

Here she is. Come on, come on, come on!

Stop it, come on.

You deserve it. You are a hero.

No, I'm an idiot. How do you even know?

Matthew was in here earlier. He was up there and he saw you.

- Hell no. - Tea's on the house.

- No, I need coffee. - Oat milk?

- Cookie? - No, thanks. Yeah.

Forgive me. I'm unaware of your achievements.

Nothing you'd be interested in.

- Try me. - I went to jail.

What do you wanna talk about this week?

Very funny.

I'm guessing you broke the law in some way.

I don't really want to hear about it.

Were you looking for attention? Was it a cry for help?

A desperate world requires desperate measures.

- You were arrested for protesting. - Yes.

Okay, I'll bite. Protesting what?

The new chemical plant up in Orchard Hills.

That hasn't even opened yet, has it?

We're not gonna wait for it to open and pour that shit into the reservoir.

You know there's gonna be shit or you fear shit?

There's always shit.

I don't think either of us know how chemical plants really operate.

So you believe in the people who make money off the shit-pouring?

No, I don't believe in anyone. I have no view.

But I know there'll be jobs, though. Although, wait.

You don't need a job. You have plenty of money.

What good are jobs if there's no planet?

I absolutely agree with you. No planet, no jobs.

In the meantime, people have mortgage payments to make, and you don't.

We can't go on living like that in the short term.

That's kind of what life is.

Well, we have a fundamental difference of opinion.

You think if we can make it through the rest of the week as we are,

we might as well stay married until we die.

- Yeah. - Thank you.

When I was in prison...

- Man ! - What?

You're going to dish out prison wisdom now?

How long were you in for? Like, three hours?

"When I was in prison, I was thinking,"

that's what I was going to say.

I was in there long enough to have a thought.

Yeah, maybe not two thoughts, but how was it in there? I've never been.

Really?

Don't say it like that. You know I haven't. How was the food?

I wasn't there for meal time.

That should be the title of your prison memoir.

"I wasn't there for meal time."

"The incredible true story of how one white suburban woman"

"survived an afternoon in the slammer."

- Can I tell you my thought? - Your prison thought? Sure.

I want to find a way of having a loving, close, post-divorce relationship.

Okay.

Even though we haven't decided whether we're divorcing or not.

I guess either way it's useful.

"Either way"? There's still two ways?

The other way being a loving close marriage, right?

Sure, that's a goal. Ambitious, but a goal.

"Ambitious"? I kind of thought we had that.

That's why you keep finding things out because of the lack of closeness.

How was I supposed to know that when you said you were going to New York,

you are actually staying in a spiritual commune somewhere?

You couldn't have known.

We were way too far apart for me to tell you.

- That's what I tried to tell myself. - When?

When I was fooling around in the New York apartment.

- If only we'd been closer. - Bullshit.

We should never have bought that place.

It's not the apartment's fault. It's what went on there.

But we have been close in the past.

Come on!

If you subtract the New York City apartment years,

and then when all that stopped when I didn't like or trust you very much...

I'm more likable than you think.

... and then the recent past when I've been on my journey...

- Which I want to join. - No, you don't.

Okay, not all of it. I'll skip out some parts of it.

I'll be like a cheating marathon runner,

someone who sneaks out from behind the hedge halfway through.

I don't want to cheat.

I wouldn't be actually cheating. There are no actual rules.

Your "journey" is not recognized by any sporting body.

You don't think I have my own rules?

The whole point of the journey is doing it, not pretending you've done it.

I'll be honest about the shortcuts I take.

There are no shortcuts.

If it's important to be with someone who,

I don't know, has read the complete works of Dickens,

I don't want someone who's seen the movie "A Christmas Carol".

You know, one of my favorite movies...

Or the black and white "Great Expectations".

Sorry.

I know I don't have much you haven't heard before.

I didn't mean it to sound like that.

But you knew what I was going to say.

Yes. David Lean, 1946, Alec Guinness.

- It's in your top ten. - Not much we can do about that.

Top ten hasn't changed for a few decades.

You know I don't like new movies that much.

I guess that works metaphorically, too.

The top ten of anything hasn't changed in the last few decades.

Yeah. Who says it has to?

Nobody, of course. But don't you get bored?

Bored of not going to prison?

- Those aren't the alternatives. - You sure?

How do people do it? How do they stay married?

A lot of people don't.

Do you really have to walk lockstep with someone to survive?

It's like being with a toddler.

Just your attention gets distracted for a moment,

and suddenly, your marriage is miles away.

You're shouting at it.

Asking the security in the mall

to make an announcement over the loudspeaker.

I can't even remember what clothes it was wearing.

I think now you're talking about a couple of our parental low spots.

Would you hate it if we got divorced?

Of course I would.

No, I want you to think about your answer.

This isn't a rhetorical question. I'm not trying to trick you.

Would it kill you if we split up?

- How bad would you feel? - Well... pretty bad.

How bad?

You want how bad on a scale of one to ten?

If that helps.

- What? - It's clearly not a ten.

It may be a ten. You asked me to think about the question.

If it was a ten, you wouldn't have to think.

You'd be, you know, there's no 11, no 100.

If I had said ten, you'd have told me to think harder.

Okay. So what's your answer?

- Ten. - Bullshit.

See? Now the not thinking is being held against me.

Try again.

Okay.

Seven.

Seven? It went from ten to seven?

Well, if I'd said nine, you wouldn't believe me.

What happened to eight?

Let's say the death of a parent is a ten.

Come on.

What? It's supposed to be the big rite of passage.

Was it for you?

Okay. My experience wasn't typical.

Nobody's is.

The deaths of my parents were an eight and a seven.

The time had come, especially for my dad.

And neither of your parents scored higher than a four

because you didn't like them very much.

My father was a five.

Five?

I apologize.

They weren't especially lovable.

I know, and I'm not blaming you for it.

I'm saying we shouldn't assume

that the death of a parent is a ten for anybody else.

The question is

would it kill me if we had to stay together?

Well, why is that the question suddenly?

I want to compare scores.

If it would kill me to stay together, ten on a scale of ten,

when you're only a seven.

Do you see what I'm saying?

You're saying that if you score eight, nine or ten on this question,

a question you yourself are asking and grading,

you get to walk out of the marriage.

I'm going to be scrupulous.

Okay, Ellen,

how much would it kill you to stay married?

On a scale of one to ten.

It would be a seven.

Jesus Christ, you are maddening.

Any other number we might have got somewhere.

So we go to extra innings

Why does everything have to be a sport?

I'd like to ask Steve and Cindy to take this test.

- Please don't. - Yeah, I think I should.

Please don't.

Yeah, I think it would be enlightening.