Obsession (1981) - full transcript

[music playing]

[chatter]

Some day I'll understand.

Some day.

"Count Dracula and
His Vampire Bride"?

Ugh.

"Body Shop."

Nah.

"Bed of Satin."

Three X's.

That's it.



Who goes?

Odds.

Even.

You.

You want to go, I'll--

No, no, no.

You won, you go.

[chatter]

Oh such tinkling voices,
dainty [inaudible].

[laughter]

WOMAN (IN FILM): You're a
sadist, that's what you are,

a sadist.

Please, what are you
doing in the closet?

Come out!



Oh, I don't believe it.

MAN (IN FILM): [inaudible].

WOMAN (IN FILM): Look, satin.

Did you ever do it on satin?

Oh.

I like that.

Oh, I feel so--

Here, take some of mine.

WOMAN (IN FILM): [moaning]
Oh, do it, do it.

No, don't stop.

Oh, oh yes.

Oh, oh yes.

That's it.

Oh, no!

Yes!

No, no, yes.

Yes.

Oh yes!

Boy, must be a porno
"Gone With the Wind."

I can't bear those films.

There's nothing erotic
about those films, nothing.

Get off it.

You've never even
seen a dirty movie.

But I have.

Oh yeah, where?

In Italy.

You're such a liar.

My cousin showed me one.

It was so ugly.

Excuse me, I'm sorry.

Did I snore?

Huh?

Hey, how'd you get in here?

Excuse me.

As a matter of
fact, how did I?

Hi, Dad.

Hi, Sarah.

Smitty and Ruspoli upstairs?

Yeah, they're in your room.

Thanks.

How was school?

Obscene.

Good.

Obscene!

Good, good.

MRS. NORTON: Is that you, Sarah?

Hi, Mom.

MRS. NORTON: Hi darling.

Hey, those are my
[inaudible] jeans.

I got a pair too.

And don't say they're too tight.

You're supposed to
be my mother, remember?

I've got a great
ass for a girl my age.

You're crazy.

You aren't waiting
for me, by any chance?

I want to hear about
that movie, shot for shot.

Don't rush me.

Hi, Lieutenant.

Hi, kid.

Shot for shot.

Well, first I want you
to swear upon this Bible--

That's not a Bible, that's
the Oxford Dictionary of Verse.

It'll do.

We'll remain a sworn
secret between us

and us alone, so help you god.

Now swear I never
went to that movie.

You never went to that movie.

OK.

[chatter]

PAUL: What is that supposed
to-- no, you tell me.

Forget it.

Sarah, I don't need to
hear that, all right?

And I'll tell you
something else.

Forget it.

[inaudible] All right.

Forget -- I don't need
you running my life.

All the time you--
where are you going?

Hey, hey, wait a minute.

I don't need you every
minute of the day

to tell me what I got to do.

I do what I like.

You didn't pay for
your schnitzel sandwich.

Does he have
something contagious?

Can I sit for a minute?

Sure.

May I?

Haven't we--

Yeah.

Right!

You're the dirty old man.

My name is Ashley St. Clair.

Now that's a name right
out of "Gone With the Wind."

Miss?

Can I offer you something?

Cappuccino, please.

Boyfriend trouble?

Not anymore.

Love isn't easy, is it?

Oh, brother.

No.

Well.

You couldn't be
a dirty old man.

How would you know?

You slept through
the best parts.

Thank you.

How old are you,l anyway?

- How old are you?
- 16.

60.

60?

Excuse me.

Like one?

I'm crazy about them.

I know you!

You're the painter, you're
Ashley St. Clair, right?

That's what I said.

Ashley St. Clair.

Intense.

Like, how much would
you charge to paint me?

I haven't painted
in ten years.

Why not?

I mean, what do you do?

Spend a lot of time on a
boat, worrying about why I

haven't painted for ten years.

Well, I think
you should paint.

It'll keep you out
of dirty movies.

What about you?

That was my first one.

No, I mean what do you do?

I go to school at
Marybourne, very chi-chi.

And I write.

Little prose things that my wimp
teacher calls undisciplined.

Now that's encouraging.

You must let me
read them sometime.

Would you?

Sure.

Family?

My dad teaches Egyptology--

What?

--at the University.

Egyptology, he's
in that for tombs.

And I have a gorgeous mother
who tried to run my love life.

I hope that isn't one of
your little prose things.

It's a letter from
Paul, we've split.

I'm free.

Well, thanks, Mr. Sinclair.

Ashley.

Ashley, how do you
call anyone Ashley?

Well, try it.

Ashley.

Ashley.

I guess you could
get used to it.

So long.

Hey, he's back.

(WHISPERING) Would you really
like to read some of my stuff?

Sure.

How will I be able to--

I'm in the book.

Now that's what I call chic.

He's gone.

Thanks, Ashley.

Are you gay?

No.

I always like to
know if a guy is gay.

[chatter]

[music playing]

[phone rings]

Hello?

Oh, no, no.

It's still early.

Well, I called because
I thought if you ever

did get to reading my stuff,
and if I ever did call,

you wouldn't know my name.

If you did call, I would
know, because right here

on the folder it says
"personal and confidential

for Sarah Norton's eyes only."

No matter what anyone says, you
have a responsibility to write.

You have an absolutely
natural talent.

Well, sure.

Same place, I'll buy
you another cappuccino.

No no, Paul covers
that place like the CIA.

Well, perhaps you'd
like to come out here.

On Sunday?

Do I have to
wait until Sunday?

Well, I've got tomorrow
morning off from school.

All right.

Goodbye.

[music playing]

Hi.

Hello, there.

Are those your horses?

ASHLEY ST. CLAIR:
No, just friends.

I wasn't sure you'd come.

I always come when
I invite myself.

What are you doing to the tree?

This is to keep the
rabbits from the bark.

Cardboard will keep them away?

Well, it isn't the
Brandenburg Concertos.

I don't get it.

Well, the story goes that
Bach dedicated the concertos

to the Margrave of Brandenburg,
who not only never had them

performed, but gave
the manuscripts

to his gardener to save
his trees from the rabbits.

Ah, that Bach.

He tastes so good.

Come on in.

This is it.

Nice music.

Vivaldi.

Ashley, are you
telling me the truth

about my stuff, what you read?

You're going to be a writer.

Don't ever doubt it.

Now, you tell me the truth.

Why did you give
them to me to read?

After all, we'd only met.

I felt as if I should.

Aren't we going in?

[flute music playing]

Let me turn this down.

Drink?

Fruit juice?

Cola?

Could I have some
white wine, please?

Oh.

I've never been in a
painter's studio before.

This is where it all happens.

And what doesn't happen,
as the case may be.

This place-- all of
this, and you don't use it?

You don't paint?

How come?

It's a long, dull story.

Why are you so mad at Hamlet?

Why are you
changing the subject?

The subject and
object of this visit

was to talk about your writing.

But now?

Hamlet.

Was a skunk.

So you say.

But he had a few
family problems.

OK.

Who hasn't?

But he's supposed
to be dying of love.

And what does he do?
Sends a girl off to a monastery.

- A nunnery.
- A nunnery.

Same difference.

Then he disappears and
let's a girl go nuts.

If that isn't a
Danish skunk, what is?

[inaudible] He wasn't in a
position to offer her much.

Then he should have let
her alone in the first place.

Let's have a look
at that folder.

I made some notes.

You really took the trouble?

Let me ask.

Your friend, Paul, was it?
- Exactly right.

Paul was it.

You didn't patch things up?

Paul is permanently
a dead issue.

Perhaps.

But it occurred
to me there might

be some connection
between him and the way

you feel about Hamlet.

This man is very lovable
but completely whacked.

Maybe it comes from
being alone too much.

Will you let me come again?

Yes.

I'd like that very much.

Ah, that Bach.

He tastes so good.

Toke?

Not now.

Well?

I spent the day with a man.

I have the strongest
kind of feeling for him.

Who?

He's a real man.

I mean, older.

For instance?

30?

Older.

35?

60.

You have the strongest kind
of feeling for a man who is 60?

Aw, Jesus, Sarah.

He's robbing the cradle.

No.

You're robbing the grave.

That's 60?

You see much?

Excuse me.

[banjo music playing]

[clapping]

Is that how you
dressed when you painted?

Not quite.

But there was an
artist who took off all

his clothes when he painted.

You just made that up.

No.

Have you reached
William Blake in school?

Blake.

Wasn't he--

A divine madness.

Shall I tell you a story?

Make us some pomegranates.

What I love most is to
hear you tell stories.

Blake lived in
the Regency period.

Aside from a certain
decadent aristocracy,

that was a puritanical time.

The devout parishioners
returning from a nearby church

on Sunday were horrified
to see Blake painting

in his garden stark naked.

He was pretty old then--

65.

Very old.

He couldn't stand being
locked indoors enclosed.

He moved his tools
out into the garden

so he could feel the
sun, while he worked

against the deadline of death.

One day, it rained.

And the proper people of
the town stared tight-lipped

and tight-assed at the spectacle
of Blake-- again, stark naked--

with a servant holding
an umbrella over his head

as the old man painted.

Painted.

Well, there was one young girl.

One deeply passionate
young girl.

She understood him.

She adored him.

She would steal
away from her family

and run through wood and
field to watch him work.

She had long, raven black hair.

And running through the
wood to get to his place,

her hair would get tangled
in bramble and bush.

And he thought her a
wild, beautiful vision.

And he fell in love with her.

He talked to her
from his garden.

He loved her to madness.

His madness and hers.

How did it end?

The impossibility of it
all drove her to suicide.

She drowned herself just
like the girl in Hamlet.

I don't want to go to school.

I don't want to go home.

I just want to be with you.

Now, this easel spins around.

All you do is step on
the pedal and spin.

This was a collage
in the making.

Now, where would you put this?

I'd put it here.

Well, how about there?

Oh, yes.

Now he's really moving.

Mm-hmm.

This was for the big stuff.

That is big.

Get on.

Huh?

Come on, get on.

Come on.

Now, hold on.

Hold on.

Holding.

All right?

Ready.

You are the most
perplexing, intriguing girl.

Did you do that?

I don't get it.

No, I did not do that.

That's tar paper.

It was left here by the
farmer who built this barn,

and couldn't take it down.

And I love it.

I love all the things that
went into it's making.

The dust, wheat, hay.

Picasso said, dust is
the artist's friend.

Dust, smoke, things that settle.

And the artist will
utilize any tool.

Now, you go and light that
candle on the table over there.

Take end.

Over your head.

That's it.

Now, come on here.

[inaudible] Now, I'm
going to make a flower.

The most beautiful sounds
and the English language

are the names of flowers.

Columbine, Veronica,
Violets, Rosemary,

Aster, [inaudible], Licinius,
and of course, Forget Me Nots.

A rather contrite little flower.

Hold this.

What's this?

A blowtorch.

That's right.

Now, this, too, can
be an artist's tool.

Light it.

OK.

[inaudible].

Ah, that Bach.

There's a play called,
"The Lady's Not For Burning."

This could be a poster for
it or Stravinsky's fire bird.

Or she could be a phoenix
symbol for the artist's talent

that burns itself out and
has to rise from the ashes

over and over again.

Sarah.

Sarah.

You're so beautiful,
and fun, and alive when

you talk about painting.

And you're not working.

This is where you're
going to paint me.

I'll give you a million dollars.

I'll write an immortal poem
and dedicate it to you.

I'll love you forever.

[music playing]

(SINGING) Oh, when the saints.

Oh, when the saints come--

Hello, Sarah.

Hey, Dad.

What did I do?

That was for nothing.

(SINGING) Oh, when
the saints-- hi, Mom.

Hi, Sarah.

I invited Paul for breakfast.

Sarah.

Sarah.

Why don't you talk to him?

He's terribly hurt.

I have nothing to say to him.

Then talk to me.

I am your--

Mother.

Not my sister.

Why do you always have to
make me feel older than God?

I have a great idea.

Why don't you divorce
Dad and marry Paul?

"Women's Wear Daily"
would love it.

I want peace negotiations
between you and your mother.

I can't stand her obsession
with my private life.

Sarah, don't be dumb.

I refuse to have
a dumb daughter.

She's concerned.

Grant her the right
to be concerned?

Begrudgingly.

Well, you've got a
16th birthday coming up,

and I want it to be nice.

Now, will you end
this war for me?

OK.

[speaking italian]

Good.

Now, I want your ham sand which.

You got it.

Daddy?

Mm-hmm.

Did you ever have an
affair with a young girl?

Sarah, I'm old enough
to be your father.

C'mon, professors fool
around with their students

all the time.

Did you?

Now who's obsessed
with who's private life?

Me.
Where you ever attempted.

No.

You swear?

No.

Well, did you?

No.

When you did, how
much older were you?

Gimme a break.

I love you, too.

Ashley?

Hmm?

Will you take me
on your boat one day?

My boat is not here.

It's in Antigua
in the Caribbean.

Will you take me
there some time?

We could rent a boat down at
the marina one of these days.

Would you like that?

Great.

Girlfriends-- Ruspoli and--

Smitty.

Smitty.
You can invite them.

Would they like to come?

If they'd like to come?

They'd drop dead to come.

Are you writing?

SARAH NORTON: Trying.

Trying to write about us.

To tell you the
truth, more about me.

The way I see us.

What do your parents
say of my painting you?

SARAH NORTON: They
don't say anything.

They don't know.

Where do you
tell them you are?

I tell them lies.

What would they
say if they knew?

Well, my mother would
say, Sarah, how wonderful.

I'm coming with you.

Do you want her to come?

I'll think about it.

No more today.

Go home.

- May I?
- Sure.

Not much there.

Wow.

Who is she?

ASHLEY ST. CLAIR: Claudia.

Who's Claudia?

Someone I've known
for a long time.

Someone I'm close to.

Was she your lover?

And more.

When everyone else gave up
on me, she was always there.

Are you going to marry her?

No.

She's a business woman.

Has an art gallery in New York.

We both have our own lives.

We prefer it that way.

OK.

Does she have other lovers?

Never asked.

You know what Columbo
would say about that?

Who's Columbo?

SARAH NORTON: Who's Columbo?

Are you from Mars?

He's a detective on TV.

I'm crazy about him.

What would he say?

SARAH NORTON: Claims he
loves her but never asked.

Maybe this guy uses
a chastity belt.

How old is this Claudia anyway?

ASHLEY ST. CLAIR: 44.

Well, no contest.

See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Do you feel close to me?

Yes.

Tomorrow.

Are you out of your mind?

[phone ringing]

Aldridge Gallery.

Claudia?

It's Ashley.

And here she is.

Ashley.

What are you doing so far away?

Missing you.

Why don't you come
up here to Toronto?

I'd love to.

Next weekend?

Claudia, I'm painting again.

He's painting again.

Oh, my dear.

You're wonderful.

You're steadfast.

I admire you.

I'm glad he's painting again.

I'm glad for him.

I'm glad for you.

But 10 years.

Even then, his painting
toward the end--

In the end, you
just stopped trying.

You made a fortune out
of Ashely St. Clair.

I didn't stop trying.

People stopped caring.

Claudia, you have a gallery.

You know what's happened
in the art world.

Ashley simply didn't
move with the times.

Oh, Como.

Call Madeline.

Tell her I'm on my way.

COMO: Yes, sir.

Claudia, I'll tell you what.

You want my contract with him?

I'll give it to you.

I'd take it if my gallery
had half as much clout

as yours, you son of a bitch.

Can I drop you somewhere?

Harold, you've got to try.

Let's see what he's got.

A break?

It's finished.

Can I see it?

Come.

Tell me what you think of it.

I don't know the difference
between the Sistine Chapel

and the Burger King.

What do you think?

In the 10s.

It's no good.

You can't pick up the
brush after 10 years

and expect it to be good.

An Israeli painter named
Marika said in well.

An artist has to be on
the alert like an army.

You can't go to
sleep for 10 years.

And when artists stop
working, they find sick ways

of destroying themselves.

You know what one painter
did a few years ago?

He slit his wrists.

Sprayed his blood all over the
canvas until he dropped dead.

It's no good.

It's no good.

Then make it good.

Do it again.

And if you have to,
again and again.

Don't send me away, Ashley.

Perhaps you'd like this.

It would make a handsome gift.

It's charming, Hank.

Did you find the artist?

Yes, I did.

Just give me a moment.

What are you staring at?

I'm sorry.

I've seen you somewhere before
starting at me just like that.

I'm a painter.

Would you consider
sitting for me?

I'd like to paint you.

What the hell for?

You paint?

Yes.

Will you be here next week?

It ain't for me to decide--

him upstairs.

SARAH NORTON: Ashley?

I'm late.

You look marvelous.

Just for you.

SALESMAN: Ashley?

Come look.

Monkeys.

They were all the rage in the
French courts of the period.

Intense.

ASHLEY ST. CLAIR:
Would you like it?

Excuse me.

I'd love it, but
it's too expensive.

Anyway, where would I put it?

I'd have to hide it.

Hmm.

I hadn't thought of that.

So let's-- oh, Ashley.

Look.

Look at all those hats.

This one's gorgeous.

SALESMAN: It's a Borsalino.

Can I try it?

Sure.

What a strange face.

It gives me the creeps.

Me, too.

And the Borsalino.

I'd die for this hat.

It's yours.

And it becomes you.

That looks awful.

- Try it.
- Nah.

Come on, try it.

It's not bad.

That's what I like about you.

An open mind.

[bagpipes playing]

Do you want to
get me arrested?

They might even
put us in solitary.

That was good.

Who taught you to cook?

I read a book.

- Weren't you lonely?
- Not now.

I have a proposal to make.

Look, I started all this.

I picked you up
at the patisserie.

I collaborated.

I invited myself
to your house.

I received you.

I asked you to paint me.

For which I shall
be eternally grateful.

What's the proposal?

A heart to heart talk.

It's time.

I know that certain
people shouldn't

get all tangled up together,
but they can't help it.

They do because they--

Have an affinity.

Right.

Eating with a man is
intimate, isn't it?

Mm-hmm.

Are you attracted to me?

I mean, physically?

Yes.

Have you thought of
going to bed with me?

Yes.

Let's.

Obviously, no.

Is it because you
think I'm a virgin?

Because if you think I am--

You are.

I am.

Look, you've got to help
me with this burden.

You remember what Ben Johnson
wrote about the last living

virgin in Venice?

He was thinking of me.

Help.

My-- I don't think my
heart could stand it.

What's the matter?

Is something wrong
with your heart?

Well, sometimes it
behaves strangely.

Like now.

You're kidding, aren't you?

Yes.

Because sometimes
I spy on you jogging.

You do?

I do.

And you look great,
and strong, and young.

You crazy kid.

Don't say that, Ashley.

Please.

Give me your hand.

This is no crazy kid speaking.

I love you.

I'm in love with you.

When we meet again--

if ever we do meet again--

I'll reintroduce myself.

My name is Ashley St. Clair.

I'm a painter, and
I'm 60 years old.

SARAH NORTON: I don't care.
- I'm 60!

I don't care.

I wouldn't care if you
were in a wheel chair.

I love you.

Sarah.

Kiss me?

Just once.

SARAH NORTON:
Anymore work today?

I don't think so.

I'll collect my things.

CLAUDIA: Darling?

Claudia.

I, uh-- I wasn't expecting
you until the 15th.

This is the 15th.

Oh.

I've been working.

And for some reason, I
thought it was the 14th.

I want to see.
- Yes.

There.

Unbelievable.

You're working on both of
these at the same time?

This now?

What's going on, Ashley?

I'm painting.

Yes, darling.

You are.

And that's wonderful.

Claudia, this is Sarah.

Sarah, Claudia.

Hello.

SARAH NORTON: Hello.

I have to run.

No need to go.

She has to run.

Thank you for lunch.

Great shoes you've
got there, lady.

Great shoes.

I thought she was just a kid.

She is.

How long have you known her?

About a month.

Oh, you goddamn fool.

You're a perfect age to
play the horse's ass.

You're in love with
her, aren't you?

Yes.

Oh, you goddamn fool.

Sarah?

Sarah?

Sarah?

Can't you knock?

Don't be such a little creep.

I have a message for you.

Someone called Ashley phoned.

He seems anxious to talk to you.

I don't want to
talk to any Ashleys.

What's wrong?

SARAH NORTON: Nothing's wrong.

Sarah.

SARAH NORTON: Nothing's wrong.

Who's Ashley?

A painter.

Not Ashley St. Clair?

What have you got to do
with Ashley St. Clair?

Answer me.

He paints me.

Since when?

Mother, could you please leave
me alone for a little while?

My god, Sarah.

He's old enough
to be your father.

He's old enough
to be your father.

Look darling, I know
how attractive older

men can be to girls your age.

Believe me, you'd be
surprised how well I know.

But I also know that
you're getting--

Please, I'll talk
to you about it later.

I swear I will.

Just leave me alone.

Oh my god, Sarah.

Mother?

When did he call?

A few minutes
before you got home.

[phone ringing]

Oh, Sarah.

Thank god you phoned.

I-- no, no, no.

She went back to New York.

She-- she didn't
think she should stay.

Please come.

(SINGING) [french]

ALL: (SINGING) [french]

Hopeless.

We try it again.

[laughter]

A poem written in my youth.

In this world
since God began it,

there's nothing sweeter
than a pomegranate.

A measure of my
love, my last one.

Hey, where are you?

Away.

Away.

What do you see there?

I see you offering
a pomegranate

to someone your own age,
and I'm kicking the bucket.

Hey, Lieutenant.

A day like this, a sky
like this, and this guy's

talking about
kicking the bucket.

Come here.

I promise never to die
on a day like this.

Yes.

Yes, by god, I like them.

What those sons of bitches did
was to make me feel I should

apologize for what I did.

For I knew how to do.

One crapulous critic
called me an illustrator.

I let it get to me, by Christ.

SARAH NORTON: You were
just a crazy, mixed up kid.

All those years lost.

All that time lost.

Nude with cigar.

Get dressed.

You painted
Claudia in the nude.

Get dressed.

My body's as good
as Claudia's any day.

Get dressed.

Don't be mad at me.

You know I'm just
jealous of Claudia.

Tell me, why the cigar?

I felt naked without it.

I'm never going to
leave you, Ashley.

Get.

Tomorrow?

Right after school.

I'll break all speed records.

Hello.

Hello.

Paul, you look terrible.

What are you doing here?

You-- you screwed
that awful perv.

You take your clothes
off for everybody but me.

Don't [inaudible].

[screaming]

[interposing voices]

Stop it!

Stop it!

Leave me alone!

Sarah!

I saw!

[screaming]

I saw.

Let me go.

Let me go.

Oh my god.

[screaming]

Let me go!

Stop it!

Sarah.

[screaming]

[crying]

Ashley!

Ashley!

Ashley!

Ashley!

Ashley!

Paul took my key.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Oh my god.

Get back to the studio.

Call an ambulance.

Run!

The boy has a fractured skull.

Will he--

We'll pull him out.

Kids.

Paul is going to be all right.

Oh my god.

His parents are not here.

They're in Spain.

I know.

I asked your
parents to call them.

Yes, I phoned them.

DOCTOR: That's her over there.

I think her parents phoned.

They're going to take me away.

Don't be afraid.

I'll tell them.

Sarah--

I'm all right, Mother.

We'd like to be left
alone with our daughter.

Don't go, Ashley.

Mr. St. Clair is leaving.

Mr. Norton.

You are a disgusting old--

Don't you talk
to him like that.

Sarah.

I'll ring you tomorrow.

SARAH NORTON: Let
me out of here!

Goddamn you, let me out!

No.
Not--

Let me out!

You're staying--

Let me out!

Sarah--

I want to get out!

Michael!

Sarah--

You don't let me free,
things will never be the same.

I trust you, Sarah.

You've only to promise
never to see him again.

No.

Are you on the pill?

Can you imagine if
you became pregnant?

Let me out of here.

Not until you've promised.

No.

Then you'll stay
here until you do.

You'll do all your studies here.

And if you refuse, we'll
call in a psychiatrist.

Home sweet gulag.

You take all your meals here.

Mom, Dad, I won't eat
until you let me out of here.

Sarah?

No, Mother.

No.

We love you.

I can sit here forever
as long as you pay me.

Excuse me.

Hello?

Could you tell me
how Sarah is, please?

This is Ashley--

[phone ringing]

Hello?

[doorbell]

Mr. Norton--

Don't ever come here again!

[doorbell]

I just want to know
if Sarah is all right.

- She's fine.
- Will you please tell her--

Nothing.

Get out.

Let me assure you--

Don't try.

You've confused the
hell out of her.

All I ask is that you--

You can't ask anything.

For god sakes, will
you leave her alone?

She's only a child.

Will you please let
me make a suggestion?

Mr. St. Clair, you may
be older than we are,

but we don't need your advice.

Now, it's obvious
we can't appeal

to your sense of decency,
but maybe, just maybe you

have a sense of the ridiculous.

Because you are
ridiculous, Mr. St. Clair.

Get the hell out of here.

You want to die
on your birthday?

Please, Sarah.

Talk to us.

Rosenkranz and Guildenstern.

Hi, Dr. Reid.

Out.

So long, Sarah.

Out.

Bye.

You're nuts.

Think I need a shrink?

I think you need a
good kick in the pants.

I think you'd all be
more concerned about Paul.

Paul is fine, and he's eating.

When his parents
get home, they'll

probably throw me in jail.

It'd be better than this place.

No they won't.

He's admitted he attacked you.

He's been mainlining methedrine.

- Did he tell you?
- Yes.

Well, he's growing up.

It seems as if everyone's
growing around here too fast.

Sarah, why did you
stop seeing Paul?

He would have stopped
seeing me anyway.

Why?

You really want to know?

Yes.

Because I wouldn't
let him sleep with me.

Well, that's as
good a reason as any.

Which brings us to--

Sarah, what about
this old gentleman?

Boy, is my mother a low life.

Yes.

And among other things,
she wanted me to ascertain

that you are still a virgin.

How do you do that?

Radar, forceps-- Jesus.

Sarah, your virginity
or non-virginity

is of no interest to me.

But you must eat.

Try force feeding, doc.

Sarah, you're
going to be sick.

Very, very sick.

Now, I supervised your
entrance into this world,

and I am damned if I am
going to supervise your exit.

And I don't--

Dr. Reid, if you
want to treat me well,

you're going to have to
treat me like a woman.

Now, I don't want to be sick.

I don't want to waste away.

That old gentleman
happens to mean more to me

than anything else.

And the next time I
eat will be with him.

Happy birthday.

That's all very enlightened.

Well, what would
you do in our place?

DR. REID: I tell you
what I'd do in her place.

I'd make a promise never
to see that man again,

and then I'd break that
promise just like that.

Would you like us to reserve
them a suite at the Plaza?

- I don't like the Plaza.
- Oh, Emily.

Come on.

We're all friends, but
please save us the wit today.

I have got to
make you realize.

Crazy as it seems, but
this is not slight stuff.

I saw a woman up there.

A woman deeply in love and you
have got to let her live it.

Doctor, you need a doctor.

And Sarah needs to eat.

Locking her in up there.

It's inhuman, unfeeling,
and probably illegal.

She loves you.

I'd think you want
to keep it that way.

Emily, wait a minute.

I want to invite you to a party.

Now, don't try and
stop me Philippa.

Smitty, Daniella?

You get off your
little asses and move.

She's 16 today.

We're going to have
a party tonight.

And you know the kids from
school she'd want to invite.

So go-- No move.

Music-- bring that weird
quartet and the cute

girl with the flute.

OK.

Hey, Philippa.

Now, who can we find who
will make us a wonderful cake

on such short notice?

The Fleischers.

Mr. St. Clair?

Only us here, honey.

Where's Mr. St. Clair?

He went to New York yesterday.

What?

Take a look.

There you go.

Aw, Jesus.

Jesus.

[instruments warming up]

ALL: (SINGING) Happy
birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday, dear Sarah.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday, dear Sarah.

Happy birthday to you.

- What am I going to tell her?
- Nothing.

For tonight, you
keep your mouth shut.

Bravo.

[applause]

The door is open, Sarah.

Can I spend the
night at Smitty's?

Yes.

Thanks.

[MUSIC PLAYING - "HAPPY
BIRTHDAY"]

You know where she's going.

Oh, yes.

He just walked out?

No note, no message--

nothing?

You know, it's the
nicest thing he could do.

Do you have any money?

Not much.

Why?

How much does it
cost to go to New York?

Oh, come on, Sarah.

No.

I'm not going to let
you go to New York.

That's crazy.

I'll tell your mother.

How much?

Sarah, listen.

You don't know New York.

It's a big place.

You'll get lost.

You'll get mugged.

How much does it cost?

[music playing]

The question is not
whether I like them.

You never did
respect my opinions.

The question is can I sell them?

I don't think I can.

Those are good
paintings, Harold.

I don't say they aren't.

Ashley, the past 10 years,
I've been one of the strongest

galleries in the world.

A gallery with a definite
voice, a definite character.

Any buyer anywhere who
wants contemporary work,

work in the mainstream,
automatically

thinks of the Boutelle Gallery.

I can't go back to the
well-made portrait.

I can't go back to the figure.

You owe Ashley
some loyalty, Harold.

He helped you make
that strong gallery.

Sadly, Claudia, loyalty
is unprofessional.

Friendship is one
thing, business is--

Harold, the only friends
you ever cared about

were the ones who
made money for you.

And even then you
stole from them.

How dare you.

You would sell my paintings
to the Malay Gallery

in Dusseldorf, 40% commission.

And Mr. Godellia was the silent
owner of the Malay Galleries.

Artists are not blind.

They are not stupid.

They just know they have to
live with people like you.

I'll try to forget this.

Every time I sold
here or in Dusseldorf,

you made money, too.

Harold, he didn't mean--

He did mean.

I'll send for the
paintings tomorrow.

Come on, Claudia.

Ashley, I do want
to forget this.

Let me make you a
retrospective next year.

We'll collect all your
finest work over the years--

Retrospectives
are for painters

with one foot in the grave.

Ashley, maybe
it's not a bad idea.

No!

You'll have to wait
until I'm dead for that.

Both of you.

You're going to get
Mr. St. Clair back.

Sarah?

Sarah?

Ah, that Bach.

Excuse me.

I know this is your house.

It's very nice.

I didn't know where else to go.

It's OK.

Maybe I'm on your side.

Be my guest.

Take her to bed with you.
Telephone her father.

Do anything that
comes in your head

that's definite, so long as she
knows where the hell she is.

I'll be at Marika's.

Don't do that to people!

You don't do that to people!

You don't do that to people!

You don't just disappear.

And on my birthday.

Was that your present to me?

Yes.

Well, I think it
was a rotten present.

What are you, some kind
of hit and run driver?

I guess I can go back now.

I don't think I have
anything else to say.

The only one who had the right
thing to say in all of this

was your father.

He had the right words.

Get out.

That was honorable.

I tell you.

It's "Gone with the Wind."

The honorable Ashley St. Clair.

Yes, sir.

Honorable is why you
didn't sleep with me.

Get her all excited, but
don't sleep with her.

No isn't honorable.

But please tell me, sir.

Was it honorable to make
me fall in love with you?

You knew what was happening.

Why didn't you stop it?

You and your charm, your
Brandenberg, and your god damn

rabbits.

Is that what you do?

Go around charming little kids?

Making little kids fall in love
with you and then disappear?

Sarah--

Don't tell me how old you are.

I know it and I don't care.

I know the numbers, all of them.

When I'll be 60, you'll be 104.

We'd make a great couple.

Boy, do you owe
me an explanation.

I'll try, Sarah.

I'll try.

Yes, I could have stopped it.

I didn't.

What happened?

I saw a young girl.

She made me laugh.

And I was amazed and
flattered that she

wanted to go to bed with me.

And she awoke something
in me that made

me want to go to work again.

Then I watched myself
fall in love with her.

16.

60.

Oh--

60.

I don't think there was
a minute with you, Sarah,

happy as it was--

I was happy.

I don't think there was a
minute when I could free

myself from watching myself.

I kept saying, what
the hell are you doing?

I saw this old idiot
making a fool of himself

over a young girl.

And yet, every time you came
on that silly little bike,

my heart would lift again.

When you stood
there to be painted,

when you offered yourself--

I'd say, she's young.

She's lovely.

Take the gift.

Time's running out.

Take it.

You know what I
think it was, Sarah?

If I didn't make love to you,
it wasn't because of honor,

or morality, or any of that.

I was afraid of what
would happen to me.

I was thinking of myself.

I couldn't face not
holding onto you.

I couldn't face the ridicule.

I couldn't face
Claudia's ridicule.

I didn't have the
strength to face

your eventual,
inevitable regrets.

And yet, I let myself say it.

Resolves and resumes all this--

I love you.

Sarah, I love you.

That isn't a nice
thing to say now.

What do you want from me?

What do you want
from me, Ashley?

I can tell you
what I want from you.

I want you to go on loving
me as I go on loving you.

I'll tell you why.

This collision, this accident,
this beautiful dirty trick--

we once talked about affinity.

I could never measure
what you gave me

or what I gave you, except
all the love I had to give.

But I want you to think of the
short life we had as-- as--

worthwhile.

You're going to be a
beautiful, talented woman.

Me-- whatever new life you
make, whatever is left of mine,

I want us to go on
loving each other.

When I'm married and have 18
kids, I'll go on loving you.

I'll go on.

[MUSIC PLAYING - "CIRCLE OF
TWO"]

LYRICS: Pennies you
toss in a stream.

Tarnished and left
to turn green.

Daydreams that
start with no end in

view forming a circle of two.

Poems that cover the page.

Paintings that crumble with age.

Teardrops that
cling to the morning

dew forming a circle of two.

Love, love lingers
on when it's over.

I can't get over my
moments with you.

Love, it tosses your
whole world around.

Up and then down, spinning
around in a circle of two.

Love, it clouds up your
mind if you let it.

And I'm glad I let it.

I've learned something new.

Love tosses your
whole world around.

Up and then down,
spinning around.

Half of me, half of you.

Forming a circle of two.