Excuse Me (2012) - full transcript

Tonight we'll take a closer look at
what's turning into a dramatic ...

We're having technical problems.
but we're working on them.

Helene-mouse?
Come have a look.

You're on TV.

Look!
You're on TV.

- What does it say?
- "Technical mishap."

- What?
- Where were you 22 years ago?

- Why?
- I'm just curious.

I don't remember.

Credit card?

- Where were you 22 years ago?
- In jail.



Okay, forget it.

Jesper, would you take over the till?
I want to talk to Helene.

It's not like I didn't warn you.

No ...

What are you up to with those
middle-aged guys, anyway?

- They could all be your dad.
- Yes.

So could I, for that matter.

No!

- Oh ... there's a line building up.
- A line?

EXCUSE ME

- That'll be 168.
- My boss will pay you.

- How much?
- 168.

168?
You live 3 blocks away!

- I had to take a drive. My nerves ...
- And the ending?



I was up all night, but had an anxiety
attack and called the doctor and ...

- For fuck's sake.
- You're 18 short.

Do you have a 20?

- Sorry.
- Give me a break ...

If anyone bitches about 'The Stag',
back me up. I sweated blood.

Beate is sure to say it's perverted
and that I need to get laid.

Calm down.

The whole family finally together!

Here we are!
I've been looking forward to this!

This looks great.

Do you have a sweetheart now?

- Why?
- Today is cookie day.

You come home without them, so I
assume you've been up to silly things.

Well, I haven't.

No?

What's wrong with the girl?
She seems deranged.

I got fired.

Again?

Still, you could've
remembered the cookies!

Was it something with a sweetheart?
Were you fooling around?

You can tell me the truth, you know.

I'm just looking out for you.

I don't want anything
to happen to you.

I know, Mom.

You're such a pretty girl.

- Goodnight, Mom.
- Come on, little man.

- "Shall we lay down?
- Oh, we're talking now?

- Don't you understand?
- No.

- We must get through it together!
- The stag.

- Do we need to talk about that?
- It's blocking us.

Us?
No. You!

It's blocking you!
I'm past it.

- I want you to feel me."
- Thank you! Terrific!

That was terrific!
We're on a roll! Do you feel it?

Excuse me ...

... do you have any idea at all
as to where this is going, Erling?

- Allan.
- Of course! Allan. Sorry.

I was thinking along the lines
of a rifle hidden under the couch.

And I like it when it snows.

Great. Let's get cracking and
see if it ends up with snow or murder.

I'm sorry, but this isn't
what I signed up for, Morten.

You said this
would be my comeback.

You said that this
was written for me!

- Am I right?
- Sure.

This is about an old fool
and his bizarre attraction to a stag.

- I'm sorry, Steen, but it's true.
- You're on contract, Beate.

I've put my summer house and my
marriage on the line for this place.

And you're the main attraction.
I'm sorry, Steen, but it's true.

Isn't this
what you want to show off?

Morten has this sick notion
that people will rush here to see it.

Whatever. You signed
a piece of paper, darling.

I guess my only option
is to kill myself. Again.

I'm a laughing stock.

Initially I thought you wanted to fuck
her, but you want to show off her scar.

- It's not that simple. I owe her!
- For what?

It's a long story, and now
I've made promises I can't keep.

- Can't you hay-roll out of it?
- I have small children.

We have dwarf rabbits.

I had rabbits, too.

Will you do me a favour?

- Fuck her.
- Me?

Damn straight!
Give her a solid spray coating.

That would be good for all of us.

Oh, my God!
You're kidding me!

- What are you up to?
- I'm going for a run.

- Didn't we have an agreement?
- Yes, I have to find work.

- Little Bear says he wants to come.
- It never said that.

- He just did!
- It can't run that far.

Well, if you have other plans.
What a coincidence!

You have a new sweetheart -

- and then one of my old flames
turns up in the paper. Isn't that funny?

- Well, isn't it?
- Is it him?

'Is it him?
Is it him?'

- Is that all you can think about?
- Why tell me, if it isn't him?

Maybe because ... I once had a life,
if that interests you in any way.

The Doomed Theatre

Little Bear!

Little Bear!

Little Bear!

I was on the phone with Steen
all night about the damn stag.

He says he can't get an erection
from a stag.

This is my dad's hunting rifle.

When I was a boy,
there was this huge stag.

My dad was obsessed with it.

Then one day,
he came face to face with it.

He took aim, pulled the trigger,
but the rifle jammed.

- It jammed?
- At least that's what he said.

He became a laughing stock
and drank himself to death.

I got fat and shy.
And that's why ...

... I'm not rewriting 'The Stag'.

Allan, come here.

If you can't, or won't,
write the damn thing ...

... then make me a fire.

Not a crappy little trash can fire.
An all-consuming mother of a fire.

Or ... a death.

At least the insurance
will save my summer house.

- And your marriage.
- Yeah.

- A fire or a death.
- What do you think?

- Death is good.
- Steen or Beate?

- Beate practically volunteered.
- I have a better idea.

The Stag.

Put the fucking stag to death
once and for all.

And finish the damn thing.

Little Bear?

Little Bear?

Hi, excuse me ...
It's my dog.

Come here, Little Bear.

Does it do tricks?

Sure.

Sit!

Back, back.

Back, back ...

Walkies.

Thanks for the show, Little Buddy.

Thank you!
Stop it now. That's enough.

Shall we carry on with the text?

If we have a text, that is.

Morten.
I'm the director of this place.

- Helene. I'm sorry ...
- Can you be here tomorrow at 3?

Tomorrow?
Sure.

- What for?
- I'd like to talk to you.

- I think I know what it is.
- I doubt it. 3 o'clock.

Well, well. You just went over
to the fancy theatre?

- Why did you go there?
- You showed me the paper.

And then you go throw yourself
into the arms of a stranger.

If it's him, he's not a stranger.

I never said it was him.

You never said it wasn't.
So I assumed it could be.

I thought we were
past all that.

They probably just need an extra.

But they'll have to pay you.
And no nude scenes.

No, of course not.

And nobody touches your hair!

Goodnight, Mom.

And not a word about you know what.
Goodnight.

Where's your dog?

- My dog?
- I need a dog for my play.

Oh, shit!
You thought I had a part for you.

Your dog will be part of the family.
You bring it to the theatre every day -

- and that makes you part of it too.

Okay?

Imagine my little man
on a real stage!

Are you mummy's little actor?

- So, can I take it?
- Of course you can take him.

Just don't make
a fool of yourself.

- Who's in it?
- Steen Storgaard.

Oh my!
Big Steen?

- Do you know how he got that name?
- No.

Good.
You don't need to know.

- Anybody else?
- Beate Franck.

Well-well!
Fancy!

Your plate!

- It's a dog.
- Yes, that's a dog.

- We haven't talked about that.
- What's to talk about?

Just put 'dog' instead of 'stag'.

God damn it!
This has nothing to do with 'The Stag'.

It's about who's calling the shots.
And that seems to be Beate and Steen.

You're dancing to their tune!
You're the dog, I'm the dog shit!

This has nothing to do with 'The Stag'.
I'll kill the bastards!

The dog is my decision,
and mine alone.

I'll kill the fucking dog, then!

I'm sorry.
I'm sure the dog is nice enough.

Morten is right about the stag.
It's a bit forced.

No one can relate to a stag.
Everyone knows a dog. It's silly.

A dog it is, Allan.

"You see the true me."

"I see myself in you."

"You show me who I am.
I can feel my blood."

- "I can feel my sex ..."
- Uhm ... from the top, Steen.

Okay.

"You see the true me."

"I see myself in you.
You show me who I am ..."

No, no ...
I'm not buying it, Steen!

Well, it's really hard!
His balls are just dangling ...

Give me something to work with!

- Imagine yourself as a dog.
- I've got this, thank you.

What did you say?

You're a dog looking at your best
friend through your own dog eyes.

- Sweet, Helene ...
- Try getting on all fours.

Why not.

"You see the true me."

"I see myself in you."

"This works for me."

"I see myself in you."

Don't ever do that again.

I'm sorry ... Dad.

What?

I'm sorry.

You're here to take care of your dog,
and that's it!

Yes.

I hope you didn't make
a fool of yourself.

No, Mom.

Hm ... Goodnight.

"I try to live the way you want me to."

"I try to love what you love.
I constantly fail."

"But worst of all ..."

- Please, get off the stage, sweetie.
- Yes.

Stay!

Is that supposed to be Beate?

Didn't she slit her wrists?

Not funny, I know.

I'm feeling sick again ...

Come on, little man, come!

DOG

"Only when I look into your eyes
do I know I'm lying."

"I'm lying.
Help me."

You're supposed to meet my dog.

It was Morten's idea.

Shall I leave him here?

Argh, I said 'him'.
I usually say 'it'.

- What's the difference?
- My mom says 'him'. I say 'it'.

I had rabbits as a boy.

My dad would practice
on them in our back yard.

Shooting them, that is.
With this.

Wanna try?
Out the window?

How does it end?

I know.
Shall I tell you?

It's so obvious.
Would you like a clue?

I can't believe
you haven't thought of it.

I think that's all for today.
I have work to do.

- There's a photo shoot today.
- You have to leave now.

Thank you
for letting me meet your dog.

Why the hell would I care what
your mom calls that stinky mutt?

Come, Little Bear.

- That's one super dog.
- Super duper.

Yeah.
Super duper.

But the dad stuff ...
That wasn't super duper.

Because I'm not.
Your dad, I mean.

No.

- But the dog sure is super duper.
- Yes, you mentioned that.

It's super duper.

We don't really need you anymore.

The dog will be brought back and forth
in a cab, so ...

... we don't need you anymore.

- Little Bear?
- And the girl? She scares me.

- How old is she? 20?
- Something like that.

'Something like that', Morten.

You were 19.

And now I'm 39 -

- and damn lonely in my 180 m2 flat
with a sea view.

- Fuck me.
- I have small children ...

You betrayed me, you asshole.
Fuck me!

Don't betray me again!

Little Bear?

Little Bear!

Little Bear!

Little Bear ...

Hello? Helene?
Helene?

Are you okay?

Where's Little Bear?

Little Bear?

Little Bear.

Little Bear!

Little Bear?

Little Bear?

- Hey! Stop! What have you done?
- I didn't do anything.

Found it!

You're not going anywhere!

- What the hell? Did you kill it?
- No!

Killing it and dumping it in
a container? Are you insane?

I haven't done anything!

What did you do to the dog?

You killed one of my actors?!

What the hell were you thinking?

Ouch, damn it!

You reimbursed the Rialto Theatre
when Niels Rodin had a coronary.

We open in 2 weeks, damn it!

Okay, I'll know for next time.
If there is a next time!

No insurance money. Dead dogs
don't count, it has to be a dead actor.

Any volunteers?

Helene, you shouldn't be here.
Go home.

Let her stay!

We have two options.

Either we shut down the play,
no insurance payment, no pay -

- and close down the theatre,
or we find another dog.

- It's too late for that.
- There are circus dogs, trained ...

No way, Morten.

Is a dead dog gonna tear down
what we've spent 30 years building?

I'm not even discussing this!
You signed a piece of paper!

Paper, paper, paper!

Don't you see?
She did it!

I can play a dog.
I know how it moves.

Get up.

What do you think, Steen?

Damned if I know.

- Steen?
- I'll have to sleep on it.

- Did you come by car today, Steen?
- I guess so.

There.
You're not going anywhere.

So ... this is where you live?

- Yes, with my mom.
- Right.

- Shall I explain about the dog?
- She's at work.

I see.

She answers the phone
at Save the Children.

- So, do you have your own room?
- Yes, of course.

I bet it's cosy.

- Not really.
- I'm sure it is. May I see it?

Nice ...

How were you going
to play a dog again?

Could you show me?

No, not my coat ...

God damn it, stop!

You asked for it!

No!

- A Chinese man?
- Yes.

There's a Chinese restaurant out back.
But I think it was Beate.

- Beate?
- Yes. She wants out of the play.

Or Allan. He still
hasn't come up with an ending.

Or Morten. He thought
the insurance would pay up -

- but a dog doesn't count,
it has to be a real dead actor.

Maybe it's for the best.

You didn't ask about
my doctor's visit.

How did it go?

Cancer.

- Again?
- 'Again'?

It's no picnick, you know.

At least
the dog has been taken care of.

But what am I going to do with you?

Or Steen, that bastard.

- Ouch! God damn it!
- He raped me!

- Hell no!
- He raped me!

Helene! you called me dad and
claimed Beate killed your dog.

- And now Steen has raped you?
- Yes! In the ass!

Jesus! Listen!

Steen has agreed to give you the part.
You'll play the part of the dog.

Do you hear me?
You'll play the dog.

Would you like that?

And become a real part
of the family?

There, now.
Apologize to Steen.

- Apologize.
- I'm sorry.

- We do as you wish.
- You do understand, right?

No, I don't.

Yes, you do. You do understand.
We must get through it together.

We all find our own way.
Too bad it's such a pain in the ass.

On the other hand, poor Steen.
Big as he is.

Helene!
The dog's up. Come.

I'll be on stage
almost the entire time.

I'll do my own hair, I promise.

That's just great, Helene.
Go for it!

- Shall I ...
- Yes, of course. It's a dog.

Okay, Beate ...
Beate? It's your cue.

Oh, right ...
I'm sorry, from the top?

Yes, from your 'woof', Helene.

- Argh, damn it.
- It's okay, Beate! Don't force it.

- Morten, a 10-minute break?
- No! We just took one. Let's go.

Ah, hell!

I don't know how to work with this!
And what about the damn ending!?

Allan?! Do I have to write
the damn thing myself?

You're angry.
Use it.

You feel desire and hate
at the same time. You ...

... you feel powerless.

I don't feel a damn thing, Morten.
Not a damn thing.

Yes, you do ...
You feel abused.

It might be easier
if she didn't have to feel so much.

You feel abused.

Why all this 'feeling' stuff?
She has to understand it to show it!

Let's take a 10-minute break ...
Uhm, no. Let's make it 5.

- Again?
- Yes! Again.

Christ ...

- But I'm right.
- Yes, you're right.

But you have no right to be right!

It's me or the chemo.

Will you trim it in the back for me?

- You're staying home today.
- But we have rehearsals ...

There are plenty others who are dying
to make fools of themselves.

Please don't.

Get out of my way.

Give me the scissors.

Give them to me.

Are you dead?

The ending?

- Read it!
- What for?

It tells you
how the ending should be.

Thank you.

But no thank you.
Please, leave.

You don't have to tell anyone
it came from me.

Okay.

- You're nice enough, Helene.
- Just like my dog was 'nice enough'?

That was the very first thing
you said to me.

Okay, then you're just nice.

So are you.

Get out!
I'm working. Get lost.

That's too bad.
For all of us.

Ouch! Damn it!
She bit me!

- Don't stop!
- She bit me!

Carry on, Steen!

Thank you.
Great rehearsal.

Don't ever do that again.

The thing
you did to Steen ... the biting.

Do it at the dress rehearsal, too.

And at every performance.

Morten?

- Not the 'dad' stuff again.
- No!

- I need a place to stay.
- Is that my problem?

Only if you need me.

It's very nice of you to let me stay
with you, Beate.

Yes. Morten seemed to think
it was a good idea.

It's still very nice of you.

Maybe it's my punishment.

Take whatever you need.

This is it.

And this isn't a transit hall.
No overnight visitors.

Someone's here to see you.

My mom?

Remember!
This isn't a transit hall!

Well-well, what a fancy visit.

The ending ...
can we talk about it?

- May I take it with me?
- Nope.

Visiting hours are over.

What's going on here?

- She said you'd discussed it.
- It was trivial.

- Who asked you?
- There's plenty of time to change it.

It would look ludicrous, if I ran around
in a dog suit with a clip-on tail.

What did you have in mind?

The ending.

Would you take this seriously, please?

Right.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

We're working.

Hang on.
Allan?

- Will you do me a favour?
- Right now?

Later.
I'll find you.

Dead? I thought we were
just fetching your clothes.

- You don't know my mom.
- Dead?

If so, how would she have ...?

She may have hanged herself
from a wire.

Or maybe she slit her wrists
and is lying in a pool of blood.

Morten's sick of paying your cab fare.
He says you're cheap.

- Nonsense.
- Then why do you do it?

It's just a little anxiety.

- About what?
- Everything ...

Open spaces, busses, people ...

... my own body and ...
I don't like to move about.

And I don't like my own heartbeat.
It reminds me that ...

That you will die?

I like listening to mine. I want it
to beat hard and fast all the time.

That's why I run.

Stop!
A bakery!

- Dress rehearsal?
- Yes.

Pre-dress rehearsal.

Sure.
If I feel better, I'll be there.

- I'll leave a ticket for you.
- Thank you, sweetie.

You're sweet.

- Why is your hiding place a secret?
- It isn't.

The director found a place for me.

How generous.
With anyone we know?

Yes, with Beate.

How fancy!
Congratulations.

- Just for the duration of the play.
- Who knows.

- It might turn into something more.
- I don't think she likes me.

Don't try to protect me.
I'm not a child.

- I'm sorry, Mom.
- 'I'm sorry, Mom'!

- I'll go pack.
- Isn't she sweet?

So, are you her sweetheart?

- No.
- No? Oh.

Oh, well if you were,
I just wanted to warn you.

Okay.

She probably didn't tell you,
but she killed her baby brother.

- No.
- Yes. She suffocated him.

She was 4 years old.
Poor little mousy.

It screamed and screamed, the little
devil. She wanted peace and quiet.

But, well ...
Suffocating your own brother ...

- It was all blue.
- Where were you?

And when she was 10 or 12
there was this one night -

- when I woke up to her threatening
me with a pair of scissors.

That's why
she must be locked up at night.

To protect her.

From herself.

But if you're not intimate,
it doesn't matter.

I'm sure a starving writer like
yourself could eat another cookie.

Say something.

What?

Anything.

- Your mom sure had tales to tell.
- Say something else!

She asked me
if I was your sweetheart.

So?

Am I?

What do you think?

I'm way too old for you.

- And too fat.
- You're too afraid.

- Beate says it's no transit hall.
- She's right, it's not.

- That's what I'm saying.
- Yes.

Moron.

It takes one to know one.

Are you coming?

We should be going.
The dress rehearsal is today.

And what will you do,
if I say no?

What would I have done?

No.

The question is
what I should have done.

When I was you.

We have to go.

One hour till curtain.

Pardon me ...

- May I have my dress rehearsal tie?
- Yes.

Dry-cleaned and pressed.

Bye.

I needed a puff. One last puff.
I knew you had some.

No problem.

It's funny ...

... I used to think
you and I were meant to be.

- I thought it was always Morten.
- Been there, done that.

- But me?
- Why not?

It's quite a come-back, huh?

I get written out of my own play,
and now I'm thrown to the wolves.

People only come to see these.

I didn't even cut
in the right direction.

Any serious suicide candidate
knows to cut lengthwise.

Aren't they expecting you
in wardrobe?

And afterwards, Erling?

- Allan.
- Oh, right. Fuck. I'm sorry.

Allan!

Allan.

Hey ...!

What are you doing here?

I have something for Morten,
but now I can't find it.

Curtain's in 20 minutes, you know.

I'm ready.
Completely ready.

You don't look ready.

I am ready.

I'm not ready.

- Not even remotely ready, Helene.
- I know.

You don't even know
your lines, Beate.

Go to wardrobe and rehearse!
The rest of us are waiting!

That's easy for you to say.
All you do is show off your ass.

At least I have an ass
people want to look at.

Watch out.

- What's going on?
- Beate's missing.

My mom isn't here.

- What's going on?
- Beate's missing.

- I'll go call it off.
- God damn it.

Thank you.
Thank you.

Dear friends and family.
I have some bad news.

We've had a ...

... technical mishap, so we have
to cancel the performance.

I'm terribly sorry, but that's
just the way it is sometimes.

Fuck it!
This is too much!

Crap!

One of you must have been the last
to see her or talk to her.

- I saw her right before curtain.
- Did you talk to her?

I asked why she wasn't in wardrobe,
and she said she wasn't ready.

That was obvious.
She didn't even know her lines.

Shouldn't we find a way to get this
back on track with or without her?

- I know all her lines.
- That's it!

Go back to the apartment
and call the minute Beate returns.

Do you hear me?

Is that diva bitch gonna tear down all
that we've spent 30 years building?

Go!

Maybe she's dangling from a wire
or lying head first in the oven.

Shall I go with you?

I'll see you in a minute, okay?

It's just a technical mishap,
we'll soon be up and running.

It's a very special play, so there's
really something to look forward to!

Okay.
Thanks, bye.

- Reporters. They're psyched.
- Are we going on?

'Are we going on?'
The million dollar question.

So, are we?

Christ! The media is all over me.
"What's going on? Where's Beate?"

- "Are you going on?"
- Well, are we?

I'm not throwing away
this opportunity.

I called Pernille. She'll step in
if Beate doesn't show.

The bloodhounds will devour you.

The papers, the tabloids, all of them.
They smell celebrity blood.

You betrayed her.

You dragged her from the closed ward
and forced her to showcase her scar.

You then had an employee
'give her a solid spray coating'.

- There's plenty of dirt here.
- Okay.

Okay.
I have something to show you.

This is from the Chinese restaurant's
surveillance camera.

It's our back alley.

Shit!

Damn.

Why didn't you show me this earlier?

We were in the middle of rehearsals.
It would've shut us down.

If they go after me,
I'll use this.

She's totally nuts.
She's capable of anything.

Who are you talking about?

Why aren't you at the apartment
waiting for Beate?

Allan promised to come with me.

Maybe she's in the tub
soaking in her own blood.

- You think about it a lot.
- What?

Death.
Spectacular deaths.

You also thought your mom had died
in all kinds of weird ways.

Why do you need
to be locked up at night?

- I do things in my sleep.
- What things?

Silly, weird things. Emptying
the fridge and peeing in pots.

- What else?
- I don't know!

Your mom told me
about your baby brother.

Is that why you're in the front seat?

- Now you're afraid of me, too.
- What happened to your brother?

I don't have a brother!

I never did! Who are you
gonna believe? Fucking moron!

Would you close that door?

Hey ...!

Beate?

Beate?

No!

Beate?

Beate.

Beate.

Ta... taxi.

You owe me 18 kroner.

Don't leave me ...
I'm afraid of open spaces.

- Please, let me in. I have anxieties.
- Nonsense.

I have anxieties, man!

No!

No ...

What a mess you've made.
I'll only tell you once:

You slept at home last night.

Do you understand?
You slept at home.

I heard it on the news.

We have to get home before someone
turns up here asking questions.

No, we have to do the play.
Beate's back.

- Look at me.
- Where is she?

Look at me!

They found Beate ...

... in the harbour.

Drowned.

They think it's suicide, and that's why
you spent the night at home.

Do you understand
what I'm telling you? Go pack.

Go pack!

And take off that silly getup!

She was torn to shreds
by the harbour shuttle.

Her face was ... a mess.

The police think it's suicide
which would be great for you -

- if it weren't so bad for me.

How do you mean?

Some people think
I pushed Beate over the brink.

But did I, Helene?

No ... of course not.

I didn't think so.

Then who did?

- I don't know.
- Well, you should know.

Look! You're on TV.

I wanna go home to my mom.

I'm sick.
I'm sick up here!

Yes, you're sick.
You need help.

And I'd like to help you, Helene.
Shall I help you?

Yes.

You didn't mean to kill Beate,
you just wanted to play her part.

- Just like with the dog.
- But then things got out of hand.

Am I right?

- Not even close.
- What are you doing here?

I'm here to pick up my child.
Come, mousy.

Your 'child' just killed Beate
and threw her in the harbour.

That's possible.
It's even likely.

But that won't do you any good,
because she slept at home.

That's why I lock her door.

Lock her door?
How sick is that?

And just how sick are you?
Let her go!

- Jesus, Allan!
- Get over there.

- Morten, say something to him.
- Get over there!

- Put down grandpa's rifle, okay?
- I'm angry, and I'm feeling generous.

The first gift ...

... is from Steen.
It's an apology.

Allan!

Apologize to Helene.

- No way.
- We're busy, Allan!

There are more gifts.
And this one's for you, Morten.

But I didn't do anything.

You practically killed Beate. We even
have a piece of paper to that effect.

Give him this.

Read it.

Go on! Read it!

What the hell ...
Can't we talk about this?

There's not a damn thing
to talk about.

I have more gifts.

And this one is also for Helene.

Helene, would you like
this pile of shit for a dad?

- I never said it was him.
- Get over there.

- You never said it wasn't!
- It could have been anybody.

- I had a life, you know.
- Helene?

Would you like to have
these poor suckers for parents?

Helene?

- Helene?
- Princess mousy?

Helene?

You'll think of something.

Ouch!