Original subtitles

It'll ring.

You don't know that.

How could you possibly know that?

You don't know anything.

- Sorry. - Eh...

I've got a son.

You've got a son?

Jesus, Chace.

All this time?

How old is he?

About 12.

You've got a 12-year-old son, and you...

Why didn't you tell me?

This is about your son, not mine.

Bullshit,

Fletcher, that's bullshit.

All this time, you've known the pain in here?

- And you've said nothing? - I was ashamed.

- Of your son? - No.

Of me.

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx www.addic7ed.com

Hey.

Yeah.

...President Nixon has ordered

the attorney general, Elliot Richardson,

to fire special Watergate prosecutor Archibald Cox,

after Cox announced that he'll continue his court battle

to hear the presidential tapes in the Watergate case.

President Nixon's attorney...

...arguing that the Constitution...

Chace?

What?

It's not the worst,

but it's not good.

We have no proof this is Paul's ear.

These are Paul's freckles.

Lots of people have freckles.

I washed his hair as a baby,

kissed him when he went to sleep at night,

kissed him in the morning,

tucked his hair behind his ears every... when he went to school.

This is my son's.

Then I suggest you pay the ransom.

Can I keep these?

Yes.

Strange decision,

removing an ear.

It's not definitive.

A finger comes with a print.

Better.

Perhaps they'll send a finger next time.

Maybe it's a metaphor, Paul.

Maybe they're trying to get someone to listen.

- I don't follow. - No.

No, you really don't, do you?

- Paul. - Hmm?

Gail's been waiting quite some time now.

All right.

Very impressive picture, Gail.

I'm more of a Renaissance era man, myself.

Well, there were certainly many instances of mutilation

in those pictures, now that I think about it.

Hello, Paul.

Hello, Gail.

Are you sure that the ear belongs to Paul?

I couldn't be more certain.

Whatever the rights and wrongs

of his behavior, sir,

he's your grandson.

They're sending him back in pieces.

I implore you.

Please.

Help him.

I have attempted to resolve this situation

on a number of instances.

I went to Italy, and put myself at considerable risk,

so that I could negotiate a very fair deal

that the boy's father refused to accept.

There's really nothing else that I can do.

The key to resolving this situation

lies with your ex-husband.

And you tell him

that he should come to his senses.

Where's the head gardener?

That's me, mate.

As of today.

The other bloke did a moonlight flit.

Gail's waiting downstairs.

It-it doesn't even look like a human ear.

Gail wouldn't know an ear from a piece of prosciutto.

Honestly, Paul, that's a vile thing to say.

Well, she wouldn't.

Remember when he dressed up as Jesus?

One of the photos they took was a close-up of his face.

We matched the ear to that.

It's not a piece of prosciutto.

Well, I'll leave you to it.

He made a beautiful Jesus, didn't he?

Yeah.

Huh.

You look, uh...

It's, uh, it's good to see you.

It's good to see you, too.

It's been a long time.

Yeah.

Please, accept your father's loan.

See, that's-that's the problem exactly, it's a loan.

Now, he's offering to lend me my money from the trust

at-at four percent above the base. My own money.

He stands to make a profit... the bastard stands to profit

off the kidnapping of our son.

I know.

But how much more of him do you want to see hacked off

and put in the post?

Please.

Put your name on a piece of paper...

No! No, no, no. I can't.

- Sign the damn thing. - No, no, no, no, no, no.

- Please. - I can't.

You don't understand. If I sign, then he has got me.

I mean, don't you remember the phone calls day and night?

The visits, the-the repayment schedule,

the bullying that slowly, slowly sucks the life out of you

until you are in a garage at a party, stabbing yourself

to death in the chest with a barbecue fork.

It killed George. It-It killed him.

And I-I can't do it, it'll kill me.

It's our son who will be killed, Paul.

I can't... I can't do it.

Of course any assistance that I can give,

but I'm sure you've seen the news.

President Nixon has a lot on his plate right now.

I can appreciate that.

Do you have children, Ambassador Annenberg?

A daughter.

Forgive me...

you had a son.

I did. Yes.

He died.

Around the time that I first met your father.

And is that why you came to me?

Because you thought you had an angle.

Yes.

I've run out of options, sir.

You know what it's like to lose a son.

I'm losing mine.

Every day, he's slipping away from me.

I feel it, sir. I feel it in my bones.

All right.

Mr. President, as a mother,

I am begging you to...

I am appealing to you

with all my heart.

My son is in great danger...

You are my last hope.

Please help me.

Please, God, let these be the right words.

Thank you.

Because people have got to know

whether or not their President's a crook.

Well, I'm not a crook.

I've earned everything I've got.

A fax for you, Mr. President.

What are they throwing at me now?

I'm appealing to you as a citizen of the United States.

When do they not?

I have no more options.

As a citizen, one is supposed to be able

to appeal to their president.

As a friend of my father-in-law,

Mr. John Paul Getty,

and as a human being, please help.

I don't know what else to do.

What's wrong with the man?

I don't know. Something's very wrong.

And at what point does one say "That's enough"?

- Patrick, don't. - Just a question.

If an ear turned up in my post, I'd bloody well pay up.

I know you would.

Look, I'm no billionaire.

The only things I own in the world are

a biplane with an oil leak

and a house with dicky plumbing.

I can't even guarantee you a hot bath.

- Patrick, please don't. - But I love you.

Only you. And the dog.

With all my heart, Penelope.

Come and live with me. Please.

Please.

This had better be good.

I regret I am unable to say, sir.

I've about had it with your regrets, Bullimore.

Who the fuck is it?

The President of the United States of America, sir.

Oh.

Mr. President.

I hear you have a problem in...

- Wyoming. - Indians.

Of the red variety, sir.

Getting in the way of my drilling.

Expensive?

It's costing me millions.

Well, the cavalry just arrived.

Is this an offer of help, Mr. President?

Maybe.

Let's just talk about this grandson of yours first.

Ho.

Ho!

Ho.

I believe an apology is in order.

Well, I don't think that I have anything to apologize for.

Not from you.

From me.

I was wrong.

You were wrong?

It does happen.

I propose a compromise.

Wha... A compromise?

Paul! You continue

to repeat everything that I say.

Yes. I will pay

half the ransom personally.

Personally?

I'm sorry.

My own money.

And... the other half?

A loan from the trust.

Oh, well, we have been here before.

Interest-free.

Well...

I see.

We have a deal?

Yes, yes, I, uh... I-I think we do.

Penelope.

Be anything else, or...?

Let Gail know.

How many millions will you make from your Nixon deal?

Considerably more than I loaned my son.

Extraordinary.

He made no attempt to negotiate at all.

The boy has learned nothing.

But I have. Finally.

I couldn't leave until I knew Little Paul was

going to be all right.

But now he is. I can say good-bye.

Good-bye, Paul. And good luck.

Tell Fifty the money's coming. It'll be here in two days.

Do you understand?

At least do me the courtesy of a yes or a no.

Yes.

And tell the mutilating bastard to leave my son alone.

It's not too late. You could still get rid.

If I have to choose between my baby and him,

- it's not much of a contest. - But it's not just him, is it, darling?

It's all this, it's us.

We have fun, don't we?

We did.

Thank you, Bullimore.

Kensington, please.

There goes another one, Bullimore.

Indeed, sir.

Breach of contract.

You see?

Will there be anything else, sir?

No, nothing.

Hmm?

A pen?

The money goes in white suitcases.

Wear white clothes.

You have to drive a white car.

That's a white car.

No marked bills and no invisible ink.

Hey.

Five minutes. Five minutes is all.

Sure, five minutes.

I just want to see the sun, that's all.

- Hey. - Yeah?

I'm sorry.

- Your ear. - What? No need to apologize.

No, no. My son...

- It was a bad thing. - Francesco?

- He's your son? - Yes.

Oh, shit.

I asked him to do that.

To cut your ear?

Yeah, I begged him, man.

I-I thought it was, you know,

it's-it's the only way to make my family pay attention.

It's all good, really.

Don't blame him.

They said to keep going until stones hit the car.

What if they miss us?

Then they miss out on $5 million,

and that ain't gonna happen, trust me.

How are we for gas?

Not so good.

We'll stop at the next place.

Shit.

Just go to the next town.

They're bound to have gas around here somewhere.

Gas, gas, right there.

Ah, damn it.

Ciao.

Petrol. Uh... petrolina.

Um... fuel.

We can pay well.

Allora, benzina?

White suitcases on a white car in a snowstorm.

Reckon only the Lord can see us now.

Thank you, Lord.

Money.

- Evening. - Money.

Hey, whoa, whoa.

Easy, easy, easy. Cut the shit.

- Give me the money. - Where's the kid?

Where's the Getty boy?

Let me explain to you how this is gonna work.

No kid, no money.

Where's my son?

Where's Paul?

We will tell you where he is when we have the money.

Fifty?

We will not release the boy without the money, understand?

That's not what we agreed!

You know that!

But this is what is happening.

Paul is not here, okay?

How do I know you won't cut his other ear off?

Or slit his throat?

Or set him on fire?

If I give you the money, what keeps you from doing that?

This is me. My face.

You don't get the boy alive,

you go to the police and say my name.

Stefano Nizzuto.

Take it.

Huh?

You will continue the road to... towards Reggio Calabria.

After a ruined church, there is a pay phone.

We will call the pay phone and tell you where the boy is.

Hey!

Hey!

Allora...

They always pay in the end.

My great-grandmother started

a delivery business in San Francisco

just after the earthquake.

She sat her office right down in the middle of Chinatown.

Off-limits to white people at the time.

Hmm.

Got her the concession to deliver all the Chinese mail

- just off the boats. - Nice.

Yeah.

She was scared of nobody.

Answered to nobody.

Did things her own damn way.

She'd disown me.

- Hey. - Hey.

Allora...

It'll ring.

What if it doesn't?

What then?

"He shall cover thee with his feathers

"and under his wings shalt thou trust.

His truth shall be thy shield and buckler."

Faith.

According to the Psalms.

A great bird.

"Under his wings shalt thou trust."

Isn't that something?

Gail, no matter what the rights and wrongs of the past...

you're the only one who has had faith.

You stood by your boy in beating heat, freezing snow.

Everyone else has been frail

and selfish with their children.

And I count myself to be among them.

God forgive me.

Look, Gail, if I am wrong and that phone don't ring,

you still will have proven yourself to be a woman

of courage, faith and love.

But it's gonna ring.

No disrespect...

but you're kind of strange, Chace.

I've been called worse.

But you're the kindest man I've ever met.

Hmm.

See?

- I fell asleep. - It's okay.

I didn't.

It's not gonna ring.

It'll ring.

Pronto?

You talk, we find you.

- We kill you. - I understand.

Time to get out.

Come on, out.

What about your girlfriend?

Hey. I'm freezing here.

Your mother, she's waiting.

Near... that gas station.

Back there.

Uh, hello?

Wait.

Help! Hey, don't...

don't do that.

Help!

Please, come on. Don't do that, please.

Please.

Paul? Paul!

- He's not here. - We'll find him.

He's not here!

Paul?

Paul!

Paul!

Mama.

Oh, my baby.

Oh, my boy.

Oh, my boy.

My boy.

Oh, my God.

Come on.

Synced & corrected by kinglouisxx www.addic7ed.com