Metroland (1997) - full transcript

The phone's ringing.

What time is it?

5:30.

It's a wrong number.

Might be something important.

It's woken Amy.

I'll get her.

There, there, there.

- Hello?
It's about bloody time!

- Who is this?
- Who do you think it is?!

Toni!



- How are you, old bastard?
Bloody hell.

Do you know
what bloody time it is?

No... shit, no.

No, I don't, mate.
Sorry.

It's not even 6:00.

Shit, I should be in bed.

I was.
Where are you?

Bugger if I know, mate.

Are you in England?

Yeah, definitely England.
Without a doubt.

This is a surprise!
What's it been?

- Like five years?
- Yeah, something like that.

So, what,
we're going to meet?

Yeah? Tomorrow, lunch?



Lunch, yeah.
Yeah, sure.

All right,
I'll come over at 1:00.

- Okay.
- Yeah? All right.

Ciao for now.

It can only be bad news
at this time of the morning.

That was Toni.

He's not gone
vegetarian, has he?

Nah.

He didn't say.
I doubt it.

Knowing Toni,
he could have aligned himself

with some vegan
terrorist faction...

the Popular Front for
the Liberation of the Frozen Pea!

I'm sorry, I should have
asked you first.

For God's sakes,
stop apologizing!

It's only Sunday lunch,
he's not moving in.

- Is he?
- He really likes you, you know?

Gosh!
I feel somehow validated.

- It's just...
- What?

I never understood why he had
to be so angry all the time.

He was always angry.

We both were
We were part of the Anger Generation.

You, angry? Come on!

- Petulant, perhaps.
- Anyway, he's a writer.

He believes
in telling the truth.

He's not a very good writer.

No, he's not successful.
That doesn't mean he's not good.

That doesn't
make him Proust, either.

You always defend him.

Of course, I do.
He's my best friend.

- Stop.
- Ne bouge pas.

Comme ?a.

Don't look at me like that.

Chris!

Chris!

Chris!

I know you want
to sleep with other women,

and I understand.

It's nothing
to feel guilty about.

In fact, I want you
to have affairs.

It'll be good
for our marriage.

And of course,
I'll still cook your dinner,

and do your washing
and ironing.

I'm quite tired, Chris.

It's the weekend.

It's Sunday tomorrow.

I'm not really in the mood.

- We never make love anymore.
- We make love constantly.

I can't even
remember the last time.

Yesterday morning.

We used to do it
three times a day.

That was when we were new
to each other.

Anyway,
it only happened once

and you complained about
being sore for a week afterwards.

Sore, but very smug.

Matey!
Come here, you!

You're ruined!
You're ruined!

Now, Africa, Chris.
You must get yourself to Africa.

Black women...

I was in Italy,
went to Spain.

Spun me around, really.
Ended up in New York.

I kept meaning to send a postcard.
You know how it is.

Why did you come back?

It's difficult
to talk about.

- Not bad news, I hope.
- No, it's okay.

What's up, mate?

This is really hard.

Do you want me to leave
you two alone for a minute?

No.

No, you stay.
It concerns both of you.

You can hide from the truth for only
so long before it all gets too much.

It's time I faced up
to the way things really are.

You see, Chris...

I had to come back because...

I love you.

I always have.

You're the only person
in the world for me.

I'm sorry, Marion.

I know this must come
as a bit of a blow...

but Chris and I were
meant to be together.

Very funny!

Your faces!

What's her name?

Her name's Kali,
as in "California."

It's where her folks are from,
only she spells it with a "K."

You should have
brought her along.

No, we believe in having
separate friends.

I met her in a creative
writing course in Pasadena.

- What were you doing there?
- I was teaching it.

I didn't know
you went in for that.

Which, teaching
or seducing students?

Huh?

No, I don't
if I can avoid it.

But you've got to subsidize
your poetry somehow.

If poetry's going
to mean anything,

you've got to take it
directly to the people.

That is pure paranoia.

Anybody who wants to
can read poetry.

Yeah, but they don't
want to, do they?

'Cause they're told what?
It's a minority taste.

Late night slot...

pigeon fancying...

goat fucking...
whatever it is.

I see loads of poetry
in the shops.

You don't see poetry
in the shops.

You see golfing limericks,

and jolly historical ballads...

dead unthreatening stuff.

There's nothing vital,
there's nothing...

- Hey, hey, hey!
- Nothing about what's happening now.

Sorry, baby.

What you actually mean is,
nobody stocks your books.

Exactly.

Bastards.

Chris?
Huh?

What do you get up to
on your walks?

Nothing.

I think about...

What about?

I don't know,
serious shit...

the past, future,
meaning-of-life stuff.

I make a few...

- mental lists.
What kind of lists?

You know,
some people count sheep.

I make lists.

"Chris Lloyd, a Story So Far."

Healthy, not poor,
not deformed,

not starving.

- Not asleep.
- Not asleep.

Married... yes.
Children... one.

Job... one, house... yes,
mortgage... yes,

car... arguably.

And so on and so on.

Until the panic subsides.

What have you got
to panic about?

Nothing.

It's what worries me.

- I love you.
- I love you back.

And your friend.

Toni hasn't changed, has he?

Toni's incapable of change...

like the dinosaurs.
And look what happened to them.

- Marion?
- Mmm?

Would you still love me,
no matter what I did?

- Why? What have you done?
- No... nothing.

It's a rhetorical question.

Would I still love you,
no matter what?

No matter what.

You must be joking.

What kind of yield
do you expect?

A good few pounds,
I suppose.

Dig up these escapist flowerbeds,
you'll triple your output!

Yeah, well, I'm sticking
a few veg on the table,

not provisioning
the bloody Ukraine.

Good to see you, mate.

This is really
something, Chris.

What is?

This.

You've got the lot, haven't you?
Everything a man could want.

- I'm impressed.
- Are you taking the piss?

Is this it?

Bloody hell,
if you're asking me

am I happy with the vegetable
patch, the flowerbeds,

the wife and baby,
the job and the mortgage,

the answer's yes.
I am, strangely enough.

- I believe you.
- There's nothing wrong in any of that.

Okay, no problem.

I'm just surprised,
that's all.

Chris Lloyd, happy
ever after in Metroland.

Who'd have thought it?

We're already calling them
the "Sexy Sixties."

Sexy, saucy, sixties.

It gives you a hard-on
just saying it.

Yeah, Brigitte Bardot,
Anna Karina, Fran?oise Dorleac...

think of the sex
they're having in France!

If we were in Paris now...

Strolling down
the Boulevard Saint-Germain...

Stopping, chatting with friends,
kissing on both cheeks...

Pernod, coffee with Sartre and
de Beauvoir at Les Deux Magots.

Not much point being a boulevardier
in the suburbs, is there?

No boulevard, and Acacia Avenue
doesn't have the same appeal.

There's one thing to be said
in favor of nuclear war...

at least this place
would go up in smoke.

Metroland would disappear
in one brilliant, blinding flash!

A million sand wedges
melted into scrap.

Smoldering mountain
of occasional tables.

Middlesex's topiary
incinerated in an instant.

Could you throw us
our ball back, please?

Only the bloody English.

Tennis in the rain.

Poor sods.

What will they end up doing?

- Bank managers.
- They can't all be bank managers.

Of course they can.
Metroland was built for bank managers...

actual bank managers,
retired bank managers,

student bank managers,
baby bank managers.

It's like "The Invasion
of the Body Snatchers,"

- instead of aliens... bank managers.
- Yeah.

Not me.

This one.

Epater la bourgeoisie?

Excuse-me, sir.

My friend and I would like
to sleep with your wife.

- Sorry, old man?
- We'll drop by to fuck her

Saturday afternoon.

- Parlez-vous anglais?
- No.

I think I can help you.
Let me translate for you.

The young man
wishes to know...

if he might come to tea
on Saturday afternoon

with a view
to mowing your lawn.

Merci!

Those silly games
we used to play.

What's so silly about them?

They might be childish,
but at least we had the right idea...

sticking one up the bourgeoisie's
fat complacent bum!

Those were great days,
weren't they?

You're talking like
it was 100 years ago!

It feels like it was!

- Does it?
- So when will I meet this Kali?

Kali and I are having a party.
Why don't you come along?

Soon.
Just don't wear that.

I haven't been
to a party in ages.

You know what it's like
having a kid.

No, I don't actually.

So, are you in love
with her, then?

In love?

What?

- What's wrong with that?
- It's just the way you say it.

You sound like my dad!

Yes, things are going
all right with Kali.

She's a smart girl.
You'd like her.

We have a non-monogamous
relationship now.

Christ!

- She's all right about that?
- It was her idea!

Neither of us wants a relationship based
on possessiveness or jealousy.

Or any of that shit.

She just...
you just...

- go off and...
- I just... yeah!

Whenever I feel like it.

You've been unfaithful
to Marion, yet?

Are you serious?

I'm very happy
with my wife.

Yeah.

No, I haven't
been unfaithful.

That was interesting.

- What was?
- That strenuous...

denial.

What does that mean?

"No, but I wouldn't mind a bit.
No, but I nearly got some."

No, it means
"No, because I don't want to."

- What about sex?
- We have plenty of sex.

All right,
I'm only asking.

I'm sure Marion sticks
her heels in your ears

- and drains you as dry as a loofah.
- Kindly, kindly...

keep your disgusting similes
away from my wife!

You're only human.
You've been together eight years now.

Don't you ever wonder
what it'd be like

to go to bed
with another woman?

Of course.

Of course!
Everybody does.

That's just fantasy.

That has nothing
to do with actual life.

I don't lie in bed thinking,

"Oh Christ, I hope I have it away
with somebody else before I die."

I would never do anything
to hurt her.

She might not mind.

We've won an award!

Christopher Lloyd, Advertising
Design Awards winner gold!

Now, this is it.
This is more like it.

I thought
you'd like that one.

- I'm impressed.
- It's not exactly Cartier-Bresson.

You always were
a good photographer.

Not quite good enough.

Could have been.

Whatever happened to that book
you were going to do?

- Do you remember?
- Oh yeah.

I thought it was time
to get serious about the career

when Amy came along.
It's still on the back burner.

What's it about?

Well, it's...

- It's in here?
- I'm not saying.

It's in here?
I'm sitting on it!

- No, don't.
- Chris' deep dark secrets!

- You'll laugh.
- What's the matter? I won't!

Friends since the cradle.
It doesn't matter what it is.

I promise you. However ludicrous,
trivial, obscene...

I'm not going to laugh, am I?

- Let me see.
- Watch out.

What I'm planning is...

a photographic history
of travel in London,

the premise being sort of the
extraordinary within the ordinary.

Everybody's so familiar
with the trains

and they cease to see
anything special about it.

This is one of the ideas
I've got for the cover.

- It's just a rough thing.
- Fuck me!

An illustrated guide
to the Metropolitan Line.

- An enticing prospect!
- Thanks, you bastard.

- Come on, I'm sorry.
- Don't overdo it.

It's just one
of a lot of ideas.

It's a great idea!

I look forward to it,
honestly.

What's happened to you, Chris?

What do you mean?

You know what I mean.

A punk concert?
- He's got a friend in the band.

- You hate punk.
- No, I don't.

Yes, you do!

You know you'll hate it.

You're only going
because Toni wants you to go.

I happen to be
very interested.

They might have an age policy...
"Middle aged swingers strictly banned."

I'm not that old.

You've developed
this very annoying habit

of constantly telling me
how I should be feeling.

What I will and won't like.

I am capable of independent
thought, you know?

How long's Toni
staying around this time?

I don't know.
He didn't say.

What's he living on anyway?

Dole and savings, I guess.
He doesn't seem to be short.

He's probably taking that
Kali woman for all she's worth.

That's a very...
aggressive way of putting it.

Just an educated guess
based on what I know about Toni.

- You've never liked him, have you?
- No, I like him.

I just don't have a rose-tinted
view of him, that's all.

You can sound very cynical
sometimes, Marion.

Don't tell me
you've only just noticed.

Yeah, well, anyway,
I'm gonna...

I am gonna go to this gig.
It will be an experience.

It'll be something...
different.

It'll be fun.

Nice shirt, wanker!

Hey!

Wonderful, aren't they?

Yeah, very talented.

Take a hit!

Go on! A big one!

Hello.

Hello.

Hello there.

Chris loves you.

I saw you!

What are you doing?

- Chris, you all right?
- Yeah!

This is fun!

This is fun, Toni!

You always knew
how to have fun, didn't you?

I always... I always...

I always felt
a bit dull next to you.

What's the secret?

No secret.

No, really, what is it?

What's the secret, Toni?!

Your problem is you're busy doing
what other people want you to do...

your parents,
Marion, everyone.

- The trick is to do what you want.
- Sod what he wants.

What about me?
Are we shagging or not?

I should know better
than to try screwing old men.

Fun!

I'm having fun!
Yeah, this is it.

Come on, then.

Up you go.
Up, up, up.

From now on, I'm going
to do what I want.

Of course, you are. Come on.

No, really.
Come on. Let's get you home.

I'm gonna do what I want.
No, Toni,

I mean it.

Taxi! Taxi!

Hey, stop there!

In you get.

Chris, Chris, Chris,

- you do not want sex.
- I bloody do.

No, you don't.
You're going to bed.

You are in the first stage

- of a three-stage hangover.
- Marion.

- Oh, Toni...
- I say, sir.

I say, I've never seen
the likes of it.

I said the sofa.
Go on. Get out.

Out, out.

- Jesus Christ!
- Private.

- Chris, come on.
- Yeah.

Come on.

start feeling randy.

And stage two is pass out...
halfway through.

No. Feeling ran...

rubbish! Rubbish.

Anyway,
I want it to be you

- that I make love to.
- It's me.

- No, it's not.
- It's me, darling.

No, it's eight pints of lager
with an erection.

- No.
- Yes, it is. Get into bed.

Stage one.
Then stage two.

- What's stage three?
- Stage three, my dear,

is wake up with
a blinding headache.

- Bollocks! I feel absolutely fine.
- Into bed. Bed!

- No, I feel... yeah.
- Into bed. Come on.

Go on. In, in.

I'm going
to get the baby.

- Oh, Chris, for God's sake.
- Are you coming back?

How you feeling?

Fine. Thanks.

I phoned the office
and told them you were ill.

I got to get going.

Thanks for the sofa.

Everything okay?

Fine.

You and Toni...

you had a row
or something?

Course not.

Saw you snapping away
on the platform.

Interested in trains,
are you?

Not really.

Just there's not much else
to photograph around here.

It's very fancy.

Got it for my birthday.

I retired today.

They gave me a whiskey decanter.

42 years in
the same company,

and nobody's noticed
I never drink.

This is the last time
I'll ever make this journey.

This used to be a grand line.
Used to have ambitions.

Did you know there was
a pullman car

right up until Hitler's war started?
It was called the Mayflower.

It wasn't just ambition
with the Victorians, you see.

There was confidence as well.
Confidence in ambition.

Can you imagine?

They wanted to join
the Metropolitan Line

up with Northampton and Birmingham.
Have a great link through

from Yorkshire and Lancashire
through Quainton Road,

through London joining up
with the old Southeastern

and through a Channel tunnel
to the continent.

Monumental.

Is that when they started
calling it Metroland here?

That bloody nonsense.

No, that was just a name made up
to please the estate agents

during the war before Hitler's.

Catchy name to make it
sound cozy.

Cozy homes for cozy heroes.

25 minutes from Baker Street

and a pension
at the end of the line.

Turned it into
what it is now...

bourgeois dormitory.

Aren't you bourgeois, then?

Course, I am.

So are you.
I shouldn't wonder.

No, I'm not staying
in Metroland.

I'll live in Paris
and take pictures.

French never could run
a decent rail service.

You see, it doesn't matter
where you go.

Metroland isn't a place,

it's a state of mind.

Oh, Amy.
Aw, sweetheart,

what are you doing?

Marion!
There's a good girl.

Marion!

Sorry, love, she's just...

taken everything down.

Daddy's had a bad day.
Come on.

- Stop now.
- Ne bouge pas.

Comme ?a.

The camera...
no more. No more.

You taught me
to say what I'm feeling,

now you're blaming me
when I do.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Yes, but I was teaching you
to be sincere, not cruel.

Chris?

If you're going to look at dirty
pictures of your old girlfriends,

at least have the style
to do it openly.

Sex with me
was always wonderful, Chris.

Better than it is now
with Marion.

No, that's not true.

- That's just nostalgia.
No...

you gave me multiple
orgasms every time.

Did I?

You never said.

Mmm.

You were a fantastic lover.

Marion doesn't
appreciate you.

You might be right
about that.

Face it,
you don't desire her anymore.

No, I do.
Just not in the same way.

You never stopped
desiring me.

Yeah.

I didn't fall in love with you
either, though, did I?

Are you sure?

Maybe you were just
too young to know.

Maybe you just
lost your nerve

and ran back to where
you felt comfortable.

- What do you mean?
- I thought you came to Paris

- to be an artist.
- I did.

So what are you doing
10 years later living a mile

from where you grew up,
and in a job you despise?

Face it, Chris...

- you've become your parents.
- That's not true.

Oh, really?
Why didn't you stay in Paris?

You should be with them, in the street.

You could take
some good shots.

I'm an artist,
not a journalist.

How's the lady today?

Very well.

Unfortunately.

Do you have a light?

Merci.

- Ciao.
- Ciao.

- Who's that girl?
- What girl?

Uh, with the plastic leopard
and dark hair.

Plastic leopard, dark hair
and stunning?

Yes.

No idea.

Chris...

don't waste your time, okay?

Don't you mess with girls.

All they'll do is
rip your balls off.

Look at me!

Tell me...

do you make a living
with your pictures?

No, not me.

'Cause I could use some help
on the weekend.

Unless, of course,

you are above
that kind of work.

No! Yes!

Thanks, Henri.

"Africa's where
it's happening, Chris.

Vibrant culture.
Great people.

Thinking of hanging out here
for a while.

Or maybe heading
down to Afghanistan,

'cause apparently, they grow the best
pot in the world there.

You wouldn't believe
the skirt out here.

The American girls.

Jesus, even you could score."

"I'm working on getting to Paris.
Just not sure when.

Don't start the revolution
without me.

Eat the rich.
Love, Toni."

You're meant to be here,
you bastard,

not bloody Afghanistan.

It's done.

What?
- This morning, the lady told me

her chocolate was cold.

And it suddenly hit me.
I went down to the basement,

I grabbed an axe
and I cut her in pieces.

You should have seen
all the blood!

- You killed your wife?
- Not quite...

but it doesn't hurt to dream.

Bonjour.
- Bonjour.

- Did you take those pictures?
- Yes, I did.

They're great.

They're not too bad.

I'm Chris.
Chris Lloyd.

Nice to meet you.
I'm Annick.

- Annick.
- So you're English?

- I am.
- I can hear it.

- "Alexandria Quartet."
- Yes.

So you're reading
Mountolive?

- In English?
- Uh-huh.

I'm practicing.

I love speaking
English, but, uh...

you know, I make
so many mistakes.

No... it sounds
good to me.

- Did you read the first two?
- Yeah, of course.

I mean, if I started reading
a quartet on the third book,

- I might get a bit lost.
- Yeah, right. Absolutely.

You'd have to be really stupid
to start on the third book.

- Of course.
- Which you're not, I'm sure...

stupid... I mean.

- Would you like another drink?
- Yes.

- Right.
- I'd like that.

That's how it starts with girls...

a glass of wine and boom...

your cock in the mangle.

I love to drink
a little bit.

- Makes me less inhibited.
- Yeah, me, too.

Trouble is, I get
so uninhibited I pass out.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

You keep staring at me.

I'm sorry.

Have I got something
on my face?

No! No, not at all, um...

It's just you're so...

oh, God. Sorry.

No, I'm just...

what I'm trying to say is,
you're really...

Well read?

Yeah, exactly.

- Annick.
- Hmm?

Let's go.
We're late.

I'm coming.

It was real nice
meeting you.

- Yeah.
- Bye.

Annick! Do you want
to see a film on Friday?

- There's a new Bresson.
- Friday, um...

- yes, at, 6:00 here?
- Yeah.

Bye.

- So what did you think?
- Oh, I think it is so, so sad.

It's so true, you know?

And lots of little things.

- Lots of humor.
- Humor...

maybe.

Ah, no...
you mean, sad humor.

You're absolutely right, yeah.

- Not the funny sort.
- No.

- "The Human Comedy."
- Yes.

Not the kind of humor
you laugh at.

No, no.

Well... so...

- Let's walk.
- Yeah.

- Yeah, where to?
- I don't know.

Who cares?

- What?
- Oh, no, sorry.

No, I just wish my friend Toni
was here to see this

'cause we always dreamed
about being boulevardiers.

- Now I'm about to be one.
- Quite.

Oh, the gutters!

So French.

Ah, that's the Palais Royal.

I had lunch there
with my boss.

Oh, nice.

- You're very clever.
- No, I'm not.

You think so?

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.

You're mad.

Sorry.

Slowly. Slowly.

Slowly.

- Is it the first time?
- Huh?

- Is it the first time?
- No.

No, I've slept
with loads of women...

er... well, you know, some.

Well, one or two.

Um, shall I...

shall I put something on?

Yes.

- Please.
- Okay.

Oh, shit.

No, I can't...

Let's try.

Okay, give it to me.

God.

Dear, dear.

No. I'm going to do it.

It's okay.

- Did you come?
- No.

Oh, God. Sorry.

Oh, no, it's okay.

I usually don't
the first time.

Oh.

I like the sound of that.

Implies there's
going to be a second.

Oh, I hope so
if it's what you want.

Well, yeah, I like to sell
my women into slavery

after ravishing them
usually, but, um...

- Is that right?
- in your case,

- I'm prepared to make an exception.
- Mmm? I'll be back.

Look, I'm sorry.

You've probably noticed.

I'm not very experienced.

Have you been with many men?

Oh, thousands.

Silly.

I never thought the sound of
a flushing toilet could be sexy,

but I guess it depends
who's doing the flushing.

Very funny.

At least I can
keep you entertained

while you're not coming.

Pour toi.

We're here.

Mmm...

- How are you feeling?
- Wonderful.

You don't have to speak English
if you don't want to.

No. I want to improve.
I want to.

I want to... what's the word?

- "Impress" on you.
- You do impress on me all the time.

Your English hardly needs
improving at all.

- Your English is wonderful.
- Oh, liar.

Tell me what you're feeling,
but not just generally like...

exactly.

Fine.

Normal, I suppose.

Okay, now, I want really
what you're feeling.

Tell me.

Uh, I don't know.

I don't know.
You go first.

Well, okay, let's try.

Well, I'm amused
and surprised

that I have a beautiful
English boyfriend and, um...

guilty about what my mother
would say about the sex.

And, um...

anxious for
her opinion of you

and, uh...

maybe a little bit worried

that I'm not quite
clever enough for you,

and that you might
want a girlfriend

who's more
than just a secretary.

That's it.
Now you try.

Right, um...

well, I'm content...

peaceful, tranquil,

with, um...

an undercurrent
of turbulence.

My God, what was that?

The weather forecast?

Please.
I mean, it's not a test.

Don't look so worried.

No, no.

It's... in England,

when you ask somebody
how they are,

it's just... words.
It's just a courtesy.

The last thing in the world
that you expect

is that they're going
to actually tell you.

Yeah.

You're so direct.

Where did you learn
to be so sincere?

What do you mean, "learn"?

Either you say what's truthful
or you don't.

- That's it?
- Yes.

You look so scared.

How do I know
if I'm in love?

You always know when your house
is on fire. That's all.

Right arm around the wicket.

Four balls to come. Play.

It's a glorious run.

Joy of the century.

Sorry.

- Oh, it's a good one.
- Putain!

God... sorry.

Are you okay?

Why are the Brits so British?!

I came here so I wouldn't
have to deal with that!

I think the natives
are getting restless.

- Why, what did he say?
- Something unflattering

- about the English, I think.
- Go screw around somewhere else!

- Did you get any of that?
- Maybe he wants to take our picture.

Do you think
he's putting on an act?

Do you think
he's English himself?

Are you?

He certainly acts
like the real thing.

Well, speaking for myself,

I could do with a "vin rouge."
Any takers?

Come on.

Are you coming?

Why not?

Monsieur... madame.

So, why were you pretending
to be French, then?

You know the bloody
English abroad...

they're always complaining.
It's either the food or the beer,

or the terrible service...
"Oh, aren't the Parisians rude?"

And shouting, as though that's
going to make them understood.

Why would I want to be English?

Well, surely there must be something
you like about us?

I can't think of anything.

- Don't you miss home?
- No, of course not.

Oh.

What?

- Don't you believe me?
- Of course I believe you.

Bonjour. "Le monde,"
s'il vous pla?t.

Journal anglais?

- Do you want this one?
- Non.

What are you doing today?

- Nothing special.
- Okay.

Then, see you.

And I've started thinking

in French, you know?
I feel French.

I'll wave my hands about
when I talk, you know?

I have, uh...
sex in the afternoon.

If that's not French,
I don't know what is.

I belong here, you know?
I feel like I'm at home.

But?

It's... it's not
that I miss England exactly,

but there's... one part of me

that feels like it's being
disloyal to the other.

Maybe you're just homesick.

No.

Lonely?

- Hardly.
- Oh, yes, you've got Thingmy...

what's her name?
Anyway...

what's she like, this girl you're
having a relationship with,

as you put it?

Her name's Annick.
What's wrong with putting it like that?

You don't have to tell me about her.
It's none of my business.

No, I don't mind
telling you about her.

She's really... direct

and emotional, and sincere...
everything.

We've got this real
connection between us.

- We never lie to each other.
- What? Never?

No. Never.

Don't worry. I'm not trying
to embarrass you.

I'm not embarrassed.

What are you going
to do, then?

Do?

For a living.

Take photographs.

- Does it pay well?
- I don't know.

I haven't actually
sold any yet.

Oh.

How are you going to provide
for your family then?

What family?

The one you'll have one day.

Bloody hell.
Give me time.

Why?

Well, 'cause I'm 21.

I'm still...
you know...

still having relationships.

What, more than one?

Well, not simultaneously, no.

Anyway,
marriage is a relationship.

Yeah... so?

You said you were going
to have relationships

and then get married, as if
they were two different things.

No, I didn't say I was
going to get married.

Well, no, I suppose
you didn't technically, no.

Bloody right, I didn't.
I'll never get married.

- Oh, I think you will.
- Why?

You're not original
enough not to.

Chris...

does Annick know about me?

She knows I see friends.

Does she know you see
this particular friend?

Not specifically, no.

It's never come up.

It's no big deal,
though, is it?

It's not as if...

we've got anything to hide.

I thought you never
lied to her.

I'm not lying.

If she asks me,
I'll tell her.

Well...

if she doesn't know I exist,
how can she ask?

Fair enough.

I'll tell her then,
shall I?

Don't start reading things
into these conversations, will you?

What do you mean?

Well... if you analyze
them too much,

you might just get the idea
that I fancy you.

Do you?

I'll see you then.

What shall we do tonight?

I don't know.

See a movie?

How about the new Truffaut?

This English girl I met
said it's pretty good.

That's settled, then.

Yeah.
She really liked it.

Good.

Yeah...

Marion, this English
girlfriend of mine

said it was one
of her favorite films.

Are you trying
to tell me something?

What do you mean?

Is this the famous
English tact?

No.

Merely pointing out that,
apparently, the film is quite good.

Good.

- Who told you that?
- A friend.

An English girlfriend?

Well, not "girlfriend."

You know, I mean, a friend
who happens to be a girl.

You've got French
boyfriends, haven't you?

Yes, but I don't mention them
three times running

unless I have
a very good reason.

Well, I'm just explaining
that she's a friend.

Um... we see each other
from time to time

and... I've been meaning
to mention her to you. That's it.

You've been meaning to mention
that you're sleeping with her.

No. Of course not.

- I sleep with you.
- Or that you want to.

No. Hold on.
This is getting ridiculous.

I'm not being...
what's the bloody word?

I'm not being perfidious.

You know, Albion
is always perfidious.

- They teach you that in school.
- No, I'm not...

I'm trying to be honest.

I don't want to hide things
from you.

Are you sleeping with her?

No.

Are you in love with her?

Of course not.

I like you.

Thank you very much.
So kind. Of course you do.

No, I mean,
I really do.

I love being here,
being with you and everything.

I love it.

I like you a lot.

How rational!

How measured!

How English you are!

You say it as if
you'd known me for 20 years

rather than a few months.

You taught me to say
what I'm feeling.

Now you're blaming me
when I do.

I thought... you know...

- I'm sorry.
- I was... I was...

I was teaching you
to be sincere, not cruel.

I'm sorry. Not 'cause
I've done anything wrong.

I haven't, but
I'm sorry because...

you've misunderstood
the situation.

No. No.

Why are you...

Annick...

why are you crying?

Huh?

Is it because
I mentioned that girl?

I don't know.
Tell me.

Is it because you think I don't
love you enough, or something?

Is it because you love me?
Tell me.

Annick?

It's all right.

God save the queen.

Oh... perhaps he has been
"malade," huh?

- He looks healthy enough to me.
- Perhaps he has been sulking.

He's not a sulker.

Perhaps he work hard.

Perhaps his duck,
she has given him the elbow.

Oh, perhaps that, yes.

Anyway, how could we let you
spend the evening by yourself?

We thought
you might be ill.

I thought you might not
like me anymore.

I made a terrible mistake.

Annick...
meant everything to me.

I loved her. I loved her.

I realize it now. I don't want
to go to bloody England.

I hate England.
I'm staying here.

I'm going to stay in Paris.
I'm going to be an artist.

I don't want a wife.
I don't want bloody kids.

I don't want responsibility.
I don't need any of that.

Well, at least
we know where we stand.

Attagirl.
It's Mummy, Amy.

Watch what you're doing
with those hands.

Oh, that's great.
Yeah, that looks lovely.

On this beach,
sun coming down,

music playing,
campfire and the women...

unbelievable.

Incredible.

Do you ever think about...

somebody else when you're
having sex with Kali?

Of course.

Who doesn't?

Me.

Until recently,
just lately.

- Whenever I make...
- Fucking.

Yeah, with Marion...

Annick keeps popping up.

It's not that
I physically want her.

If she walked in the door right now,
I might not fancy her at all,

but I've just been thinking
about the past a lot.

And I'm wondering
what that says

about...
me and Marion.

To be honest, we haven't been
getting on that well recently.

Are you going to leave her?

No, I haven't even
thought about that.

It's just I feel...

Trapped.
You feel trapped.

Quite frankly, Chris,
I'm not surprised.

Look what you've done
with your life.

No wonder you're bored.

Oh, and I suppose your life is
something wonderful by comparison.

I do what I want to do.
I'm proud of my work.

Can you say the same?

I'm your oldest friend, Chris.

I know what's going on
in your head.

I can read you
like a book.

You keep thinking to yourself,
"Did I make the right choice?"

Well, did you?

Toni did ask you, you know.

Of course he did.

"Come to Toni's party.
Dress informal. Wives optional."

Rubbish.
He wanted you to come.

Well, someone's got
to look after Amy.

We could have got
a babysitter.

We never go out together.
We haven't been to a party in decades.

You always say
you hate parties.

Yeah, well, I want us
to have fun.

You mean, you want you
to have fun.

Well, go on.
I'm not stopping you.

What I really hate is that you feel
this need

to drive a wedge
between me and Toni.

Like you've got something
against there being anybody

who knew me before you.

I think you'd better go.

I hope it's fun.

Lloydy!

Hey, how you doing?

What did you do,
raid an art gallery?

What are you doing
with your trousers still on?

- Where's Kali?
- Downstairs, I think.

Bit of a sausage roll
crisis going.

Listen, go down
and cheer her up.

She just had an abortion.

It was her decision,
you know, but I agree.

Who wants to bring
another little bastard

into this shit heap, huh?

Except budding bourgeois
fat cats, of course.

Enjoy yourself,
for fuck's sake.

Prawn volauvent?

They're part-raw,
part-incinerated

barbecued-sushi-effect
sort of thing.

I know you.

You were staring at me
in the hall.

- Not staring, exactly.
- You were checking me out.

It's all right.
I was doing the same to you.

I'm Joanna, by the way.

Chris.

Are you a friend of Toni's?

That's one way
of describing it.

Has anyone ever told you
you have a nice face?

"Nice"? Ugh.

I suppose my mother
might have mentioned that.

You can get me a drink,
if you want.

Oh, can I?
Mind if I get myself one?

Hello again.

Hello.

I was wondering
where you'd gone.

I was looking for you.

So now that you found me,

- what are you going to do?
- Do?

Well, you're interested,
aren't you?

I know I am, so I assume
we're going to fuck.

Oh, I...
don't know about that.

- I'm married.
- I'm not prejudiced.

No, it's not that easy.

If you're worried about
getting involved, don't.

I'm not into that shit.

You're a married man.

You got it all
out in the open.

Well, good for you...
on both counts.

Can we go to bed now?

Well, that wasn't
so difficult, was it?

I want you to have affairs.

It'll be good for our marriage.

I'll still cook your dinner

and do your washing
and ironing.

It's a little more practical
if you're within reach.

Have you got any Durex?

I'm not on the pill.

No...

it's not the kind of thing

you carry around with you
when you're married, really.

You'd be surprised.

Toni keeps them in the bathroom cabinet
just under the sink.

Right.

Chris?

- You okay?
Good old Joanna.

Go on, Joanna.

You go for it, man,
all right?

- What are you doing?
- I'm going home.

Why?

Because Toni put you
up to this.

You sleeping with him?

Sometimes.
I'm not a whore.

I decide who I sleep with,
not Toni.

But he suggested
it might be a good idea,

provided you didn't find me
too repulsive, right?

He wanted you to be happy...
he cares about you.

- I'm really touched.
- What difference does it make?

Whatever Toni did,
the point is

- you still wanted to sleep with me.
- I wanted to, but I didn't.

- 'Cause you were scared.
- Possibly, yes!

Isn't that as good
a reason as any?!

- Hi.
- Hi.

Joanna found this
in the spare bedroom.

- Joanna?
- A friend of Kali's.

Watch this husband
of yours, Marion.

Quite the raver on the dance floor
when they put the oldies on.

It was his wild streak
that I married him for.

What the hell
are you doing here?

I know what you did.

About what?

That whole bloody little
adolescent game with Joanna.

It wasn't a game.

I was giving you
what you said you wanted...

helping save you from yourself.

If you've said anything
to Marion...

What are you frightened of, Chris?

Upsetting the cozy
middle-class-applecart?

Losing your perfect wife
and your neat little flowerbed?

- Have you said anything?
- What's happened to you, man?

You've just given up...
down the line.

Come on, what went wrong?
Paris wasn't that long ago.

It's been nearly bloody
10 years since Paris...

- most of my adult life!
- New definition of "adult":

"Time in which you've sold out."

A few years of freedom, then back
to the safe job and the tennis club.

Yet another triumph
for the bourgeoisie steamroller!

What are you doing here?! What the
fuck were you doing with Marion?!

- Why don't you ask her?
- I'm asking you!

Let's just say Marion doesn't share
some of your inhibitions.

For Christ's sake,
stop it!

Stop it, Chris!
Stop it!

Stop it!

Get off!
Stop it! Stop it!

Did you sleep with Toni?

Is that what he said?

Not precisely.

And what do you think?

I want you to tell me
you haven't.

Does it really matter
if I have?

The way you've been behaving,
I wouldn't have thought you cared.

Of course I care.

He made a pass at me.

More than once.

I turned him down.

But I...
I nearly said yes.

I was tempted.

He happens to be
rather attractive.

I really don't know
what's going through him.

I don't understand him.

Oh, Chris...

you're such
an innocent sometimes.

Don't you see?
He's jealous of you.

Jealous?

Toni's jealous of me?

Yes.

And if you can't see why...

then we really have
got a problem.

Hello, darling.

Hello, sweetheart.

Good girl.

You all right?

Marion?

- You know Toni's party?
- Mmm?

Something happened there.

There was this girl.

Well, what's
important is...

she tried
to get off with me.

I'm glad I'm not
the only person in the world

who finds you attractive.

She really tried
quite hard.

I can't say
that I blame her.

Just thought
you ought to know.

- Is this a confession?
- No.

Course not.

- You didn't sleep with her?
- No.

I just want to get everything
out in the open...

with the circumstances.

But I was wondering...

how would you feel
if I had?

I suppose that depends
on the circumstances.

I expect we'll
find out one day.

What?

You'll probably sleep
with someone else sooner or later.

- It's too interesting not to.
- No. I don't see why.

I don't think either of us
went into this marriage

with ridiculous expectations.

I do know what it is
to be sexually bored.

Do you?

Are you?

Sometimes...

but mostly not.

The thing is, Chris,

it isn't what you think it is.

It doesn't prove anything
and it doesn't disprove anything.

Yeah. Well, you know, it's...

a hypothetical situation
anyway, so...

Well, not entirely.
I...

Since we're discussing it,

I might as well tell you that...

yes, I have been
unfaithful to you once,

and, yes,
it was only the once

and, no, I haven't been
tempted to since

and I don't think
I will be now.

Fuck!

Was that better?

Better than what?

You did sleep with her,
didn't you?

- That girl at Toni's party?
- I told you...

Well...

she was all right,
I suppose.

But who wants fast food
when you can eat at the Ritz?

Listen, I just came
to say goodbye.

Yeah. Yeah, back
to the States, I think.

What are you
going to do?

I don't know,
maybe some screenwriting.

Kali's people are in the film game.
I might, you know...

Going to stay at their place in Malibu.
It's lovely, yeah.

- So, when are you coming back?
- I don't know.

I'm leaving it open-ended.
Listen, Chris...

why don't you come?

- You're serious.
- Of course I'm bloody serious.

Why don't you just
let it all go, huh?

Doesn't your heart just sink
at the thought of it all?

Knowing what, you're going to spend
the rest of your life here...

knowing how every day is
going to begin and end,

day after monotonous day
until what?

You keel over with a heart attack
well before your time?

The thing you don't
understand, Toni,

the thing
I didn't understand...

is that I like it here.

I like my life.

I'm content.

- Making lists again?
- Yeah.

What about "happy"?

What about it?

When you're drawing up your lists,

what do you put in the column
next to "happy"?

"Happy:

if not now...

never."