Revolutionary Road (2008) - full transcript

- So, what do you do? - I'm studying to be an actress. You?

- I'm a longshoreman. - No, I mean, really.

I mean really, too.

Although, starting next Monday,

I'm doing something a little more glamorous.

What's that?

Night cashier at a cafeteria.

I don't mean how you make money. I mean, what are you interested in?

Honey, if I had the answer to that one,

I bet I'd bore us both to death in half an hour.

Thank God that's over.



So much for the debut of the Laurel Players.

And she was very disappointing.

- Frank! Very nice, Frank! - Thanks so much, Mrs Givings.

I can't tell you how much we enjoyed it. You have a very talented wife.

I'll pass it along.

- Frank! - Hi!

She's in there. I'm about ready for that drink.

Couple of minutes.

April? Sweetheart?

- Hi. - Hi.

- You about ready to leave? - Yeah. Yeah.

I've just got to get this makeup off.

Well, I guess it wasn't a triumph or anything, was it?

- I guess not. I'll be ready in a minute. - Take your time.



Listen, will you do me a favour?

Milly and Shep wanted us to go out with them after.

Will you say we can't? Say it's because of the babysitter or something.

Well, the thing is, I already said that we could.

I mean, I just saw them and I said that we would.

Then would you mind going out again and saying you were mistaken?

That should be simple enough.

Don't you think that's a little bit rude, April?

- Then I'll tell them myself. - Okay. Okay. Take it easy.

All right? I'll tell them.

I mean it, baby. You were the only person in that play.

Thank you.

We shouldn't have let you get mixed up in the damned thing, is all.

All right.

What a bunch of amateurs. I mean, you've studied, for Christ's sake.

Could we stop talking about it now?

Sure.

I just don't want you feeling bad about it, that's all.

Because it's not worth it, you know.

It's bad enough having to live out here amongst these people...

- What'd you say? - I said yes. All right, Frank.

Could you just stop talking about it now before you drive me crazy, please?

What are you doing?

April, sweetheart, let's talk about this, okay?

- No, Frank, please don't do that. - Come on, now.

- Don't touch me. - April...

Just leave me alone.

Okay. Okay.

It strikes me that there's a considerable amount of bullshit going on here.

And there's just a few things that I'd like to clear up. All right?

Number one, it's not my fault that the play was lousy. Okay?

Number two, it sure as hell isn't my fault

that you didn't turn out to be an actress,

and the sooner you get over that little piece of soap opera,

the better off we're both going to be.

Number three, I don't happen to fit the role

of dumb, insensitive suburban husband.

You've been trying to lay that crap on me ever since we moved out here.

And I'm damned if I'll wear it.

Number four... April? April!

April.

What the hell are you doing? Get back in the car.

No. I will in a minute. Just let me stand here for a second.

God damn it!

April, can you please just get back in the car and talk about this

instead of running all over Route 12?

Haven't I made it clear I don't particularly want to talk about it?

Okay. I mean, Jesus, I'm trying to be nice

about this thing here, for God's sake.

How kind of you. How terribly, terribly kind of you.

Wait a minute. I don't deserve this.

You're always so wonderfully definite

on the subject of what you do and don't deserve.

Wait a minute! Wait a goddamn... April! Now you listen to me.

This is one time you're not going to get away

with twisting everything that I say, April.

This just happens to be one goddamn time

I know I'm not in the wrong here.

Christ, I wish you'd stayed home tonight.

You know what you are when you're like this, April?

You're sick. I really mean that.

- You're sick! What? - And do you know what you are?

- You're disgusting. - Oh, yeah?

You don't fool me, Frank.

Just because you've got me safely in this little trap,

you think you can bully me into feeling whatever you want me to feel!

- You in a trap? You in a trap? - Yes! Yes! Me, Frank!

- Jesus Christ, don't make me laugh! - Me!

You pathetic, self-deluded little boy. Look at you!

Look at you and tell me, how by any stretch of the imagination

you can call yourself a man?

Damn it!

Jesus Christ!

- Don't look at me like that, April. - Could we please go home now?

Fifteenth floor.

I'm going to need your help this morning, Old Scout.

For the next few hours, you're to warn me of Bandy's every approach

and you may need to shield me from public view

in the likely event I void my stomach.

It's that bad.

Good morning, Jack.

Nothing good about it, I assure you.

Of course, I knew the moment you stepped off the train

what you were looking for.

A small remodelled barn, or a carriage house.

And I just hate to be the one to tell you that sort of thing

just isn't available any more.

But I don't want you to despair.

There is one place up here I want to show you.

Now, of course, it isn't very desirable at this end.

As you can see, Crawford Road is mostly these little cinder-blocky,

pick-up trucky places, plumbers, carpenters,

little local people of that sort.

But eventually...

Eventually it leads up to Revolutionary Road, which is much nicer.

Now, the place I want to show you

is a sweet little house and a sweet little setting.

Simple, clean lines, good lawns, marvellous for children.

It's just around this next curve.

Now, you'll see it. There. See the little white one? Sweet, isn't it?

The perky way it sits there on its little slope? Charming, isn't it?

Oh, yes.

You wanted to see me?

Came for you from Toledo this morning. This is the third one this month.

Sorry. I thought I'd taken care of...

I'm not prepared to have this conversation again, Frank.

- You understand? - I was literally just getting into...

These folks in the provinces look up to us. We need to be efficient.

We can't have this kind of back and forth, and so forth.

- It's just not efficient. Am I right? - Yes.

- What was that about? - Toledo.

Branch manager wants a revised brochure

for the conference on the Knox 500.

"It's just not efficient. Am I right? Am I right? Am I right?"

Sounds like a goodie.

For God's sake. I don't even know what the Knox 500 does. Do you?

Don't insult me.

If you'll look in the inactive file under SP 1109,

you'll find copies of all the stuff we sent to the agency,

that way we can trace the thing back to its original sources.

Listen, I hope you weren't planning on having an early lunch.

No. I'm not really hungry.

Good. I'll check on you later then. All right?

- Okay. - Okay.

You know something, Maureen? You're lucky you met me.

How's that?

I think I can show you the ropes, you know.

There's a certain art to survival at Knox. Really. Let me show you what I mean.

Waiter. Bring me the telephone, would you? And two more martinis.

Wow.

Klondike 5-55-66, please.

Hello, Mrs Jorgensen? Frank Wheeler here. Yes.

I just wanted to let you know that I've had to send Maureen Grube

down to Visual Aids for me.

I'll probably need her the rest of the afternoon. Yes.

You, too. Take care now.

- I never even heard of Visual Aids. - That's because it doesn't exist.

Hi, Helen. Come on in.

I can't stay a minute.

I just wanted to bring these sedum plantings

for that messy patch down by the foot of the drive.

It's like the European houseleek,

only these have the most marvellous little yellow blossoms.

Now, all it wants for the first few days

is just a tiny dollop of water, and then you'll find it absolutely thrives.

Well, thank you, Helen. That's so kind of you.

Would you like some coffee?

Is there something I can do for you, Helen?

I almost forgot.

There is one small favour I would like to ask.

It's about... It's about my son, John. He's been in the hospital.

I'm sorry. Is everything all right?

Well, actually, just for the time being, he's in Pleasant Brook. Psychiatric.

- Oh, I see. - Well, it's nothing serious.

He just got a little run down. Things can just get the better of us sometimes.

- Don't you agree? - Yes. Of course.

It's a marvellous facility

and the treatments seem to be doing wonders for him.

Anyway, they said getting him out for an afternoon

might do him a little bit of good.

I think he finds my friends a little conventional, quite frankly.

I mean, he's travelled. He has a Ph.D. In mathematics.

I suppose you could say he's an intellectual.

It would do him a world of good to meet a young couple like you.

Well, we'd love to meet him.

- Really? - Yes.

We'd love to.

Thank you, dear.

Thank you.

Well, I must be off.

I remember the first day you came off the train.

You weren't like my other clients. You were different.

You just seemed special.

Of course, you still are.

Remember, just a dollop. I must scoot. Toodle-oo.

Bye.

I think you got me a little drunk.

You know what today is?

Monday?

It's my birthday. I'm 30 years old today.

- Happy birthday! - Thank you.

What was the name of that department you made up again?

Visual Aids.

What a joke.

What a joke. Oh, my.

- You want to hear a real joke? - Yes.

- My old man worked at Knox. - Yeah?

He was a salesman in Yonkers.

Once a year he used to take me into the city for lunch.

It was supposed to be a very special, life-advice sort of occasion.

- Nice. - No. Not really.

I used to sit there and think,

"I hope to Christ I don't end up like you."

Now, here I am, a 30-year-old Knox man.

Can you beat that?

I think I kind of lost you...

Your father worked for Knox?

I'm sorry, everything's just kind of going out of focus.

Why don't we get some air, you and me?

Is this you?

Yeah.

- You been to Paris? - I've never really been anywhere.

Maybe I'll take you with me then.

I'm going back the first chance I get, I tell you.

People are alive there. Not like here.

All I know, April, is I want to feel things.

Really feel them, you know.

How's that for an ambition?

Frank Wheeler? I think you're the most interesting person I've ever met.

I guess this wasn't what you had in mind when you went to work this morning?

No. It certainly wasn't.

Do you have a cigarette, Frank?

Yeah, sure.

There you go.

Can I get you a drink or anything?

No thanks, Maureen. Actually, it's...

It's getting kind of late. I guess I'd better be cutting out.

Gee, that's right. Did you miss your train?

That's all right, I'll catch the next one.

Listen, you were swell.

Take care now.

- Frank. - Why are you all dressed up?

First of all, I missed you all day and I want to say I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for the way I've been since the play.

I'm sorry for everything, and I love you.

The rest can wait.

Now, you just wait here till I call you. Okay?

Okay.

All right, Frank. You can come in now.

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, dear Daddy

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, darling.

- I love you, Daddy. - I love you, too.

Frank.

Frank. I have had the most wonderful idea.

- I've been thinking about it all day. - Baby, what's all this about?

Do you know how much money we have saved?

Enough to live on for six months without you earning another dime.

And with the money we could get from the house and the car, longer than that.

"What we could get for the house"?

Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Where are we going to live?

Paris.

What?

You always said it was the only place you'd ever been

that you wanted to go back to, the only place that was worth living.

So why don't we go there?

- You're serious? - Yes. What's stopping us?

What's stopping us? Well, I can think of a number of different things.

For example, what kind of a job could I possibly get?

You won't be getting any kind of a job, because I will.

Oh, right, right.

Don't laugh at me. Listen a minute.

Do you know what they pay for secretarial positions

- in government agencies in Europe? - No, I don't.

Listen, Frank, I'm serious about this. Do you think I'm kidding or something?

Okay, okay. I just have a couple of questions, is all.

For one thing, what exactly am I supposed to be doing

while you're out earning all this money?

Don't you see? That's the whole idea.

You'll be doing what you should've been allowed to do seven years ago.

You'll have time.

For the first time in your life you'll have time to find out

what it is that you actually want to do.

And when you figure it out,

you'll have the time and the freedom to start doing it.

Sweetheart, it's just not very realistic, is all.

No, Frank. This is what's unrealistic.

It's unrealistic for a man with a fine mind to go on working

year after year at a job he can't stand,

coming home to a place he can't stand,

to a wife who's equally unable to stand the same things.

Do you want to know the worst part?

Our whole existence here is based on this great premise

that we're special and superior to the whole thing.

But we're not.

We're just like everyone else.

Look at us. We've bought into the same ridiculous delusion.

This idea that you have to resign from life

and settle down the moment you have children.

And we've been punishing each other for it.

Listen, we decided to move out here.

No one forced me to take the job at Knox.

I mean, whoever said I was meant to be a big deal, anyway?

When I first met you, there was nothing in the world you couldn't do or be.

When you first met me I was a little wise guy

with a big mouth, that's all.

You were not. How can you even say that?

Okay. Okay, so I'll have time.

And God knows that's appealing. It's very appealing.

And everything you're saying makes sense

if I had a definite talent, if I were a writer or an artist.

No. But, Frank, listen. Listen to me.

It's what you are that's being stifled.

It's what you are that's being denied and denied in this kind of life.

And what's that?

Don't you know?

You're the most beautiful and wonderful thing in the world.

You're a man.

This is our chance, Frank. This is our one chance.

Okay.

Okay?

Why not? Why the hell not?

- Good morning, all. - Morning, Frank.

Franklin. Good to see your shining face.

- What's the news? - Fellas, I'm moving to Paris.

Indeed. And I'm moving to Tangiers.

Intra-company letter to Toledo.

Attention B.F. Chalmers, Branch Manager.

With regard to recent and repeated correspondence,

this is to advise that the matter has been

very satisfactorily taken in hand, period.

Paragraph. We wholly agree that the existing brochure is unsuitable.

To this end, we have developed, quote,

"Speaking of Production Control."

Here you go, Mrs Wheeler. These are the traveller's cheques you requested.

- Yes. - Your steamer reservations.

These I'll pass on to the embassy for you.

- Good luck. - Thank you.

September. October at the outside.

I just happen to think people are better off

doing some kind of work they actually like.

- Right. Right, yes. - Absolutely, absolutely.

But, I mean, assuming there is this true vocation waiting for you,

wouldn't you be just as likely to discover it here as there?

I don't think it's possible to discover anything

on the 15th floor of the Knox building,

and I don't think any of you do either.

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!

- Michael. - Daddy, will you read us...

...all the way to here.

We have to take a big boat ride across the sea to get there.

- But I won't know anybody there. - I know. I know. Neither will I.

But remember how you felt when you started school?

And now look how many friends you have.

You'll never guess what they eat in Paris.

- You'll never guess. - What?

- Slimy snails. - Snails?

Slimy snails and icky frog's legs.

Milly, where are you, doll?

You better get changed, they'll be here soon.

- Is that what you're wearing? - Don't you like it?

Yeah, yeah. You look great, doll.

Guess I better haul ass.

Hiya, gang.

What you watching?

Shep?

I was calling you and calling you.

Hi.

Here we go. Just a little something.

- Those look great. I'm starving. - April, I can't get over it,

you look like the cat that ate the canary.

Do you have something to tell us? Just a little bit of news?

Well, actually, Milly, we... Well, we do have some important news, yes.

I knew it.

Honey, why don't you tell them? Go ahead.

We're going to Europe. To Paris.

To live.

- What? - When?

- In September. - But what for?

What for? Well, because we've always wanted to.

Because the kids are young enough. Because it's beautiful.

I mean, really. Shep, you've been there, you tell her.

- Yeah, it's a great city. - Yeah.

When did you make this decision?

About a week ago? It's hard to remember.

We just suddenly decided to go, that's all.

- About a week ago, you tell us now. - We had to get used to the idea.

So, what's the deal, Frank? You get a job over there, or what?

- No, no. Not exactly. - What do you mean, "Not exactly"?

Frank won't be getting any kind of a job, because I will.

So what are you going to do, Frank?

I'm going to study. And I'm going to read.

I suppose I'm going to finally figure out what I want to do with my life, Shep.

While she supports you?

Yes. While she supports me.

In the beginning.

You wouldn't believe what they pay for secretarial work

in those government agencies over there.

NATO and ECA and those places.

And the cost of living is dirt cheap, right?

It's so cheap.

The truth is we just need something different.

We're not getting any younger and we don't want life to just pass us by.

That's right.

Gee, it sounds wonderful, kids.

I mean it. It really sounds wonderful.

- Thank you, Milly. - Oh, Milly.

We'll certainly miss you both. Won't we, sweetie? Golly.

- Sure. - We'll miss you, too.

- Of course. - True.

We should have a toast or something. To Paris.

- To Paris. - To Paris.

To Paris.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

You know what I think?

What?

I think this whole plan sounds a little immature.

Oh, God, I am so relieved.

Me, too. I was thinking that the whole time.

I mean, what kind of man is going to sit around

in his bathrobe all day picking his nose

- while his wife goes out and works? - I don't know, Shep.

I just don't know.

Why are you crying?

What's the matter?

It's nothing. I'm just so relieved.

Shep.

Don't cry. Please. It's all right. Everything's going to be all right.

My God, their faces! Oh, God.

Oh, God!

You know what this is like, April, honestly?

Just talking like this?

The whole idea of going off to Europe this way?

This is the way I felt going up to the line the first time, in the war.

I mean, I was probably just as scared as everyone else,

but inside I never felt better.

I felt alive. I felt full of blood. I felt...

Everything just... Everything seemed more real.

The guys in their uniforms.

The snow on the fields, the trees. And all of us just walking.

I mean, I was scared, of course.

But I just kept thinking, "This is it, you know. This is the truth."

I felt that way once, too.

When?

The first time you made love to me.

April.

Frank.

- What's up? - Bart Pollock's here.

He's in Bandy's office.

Big deal, huh?

Looks like he wants to talk to you.

Hey, keep my name out of it.

Frank. Good to see you. You know Bart Pollock?

- Well, we've never met, but of course... - Good to know you, Frank.

"Speaking of Production Control"?

Frank, this is a crackerjack.

They are tickled to death in Toledo.

Really?

So, this guy Pollock was perfect presidential material in the worst sense.

A million dollar smile and about three pounds of muscle between the ears.

April, you should have heard this guy.

"Frank, this is a crackerjack." What a horse's ass.

Wish I'd seen his face when you told him you were leaving.

Yeah.

Here they come.

- Sorry to be late. - You're not late.

- The traffic was terrible. - Thank you. You didn't have to do that.

- Good to see you. - Wasn't it terrible, Howard?

Well, Route 12.

By the time they finish that stretch of road,

they'll have to start all over again, right?

- And you must be John? - Say hello, John.

Nice to meet you. Heard a lot about you.

- Where are your darling children? - They're at a birthday party.

- Sorry they couldn't be here. - Don't worry.

If I had a certified lunatic coming around my house,

I'd probably get the kids out of the way, too.

Look at all this food. You didn't have to go to any trouble for us.

It's just some sandwiches.

John, would you like a sandwich?

Helen's been talking it up about you people for months.

The nice young Wheelers on Revolutionary Road,

the nice young Revolutionaries on Wheeler Road.

- Would anyone like some sherry? - Please don't bother, Frank.

I'd like some sherry.

And I'll drink Helen's, too, if she doesn't beat me to it.

But, hey, you got a high-ball glass?

Put a couple-three ice cubes in it, pour it up to the brim.

- That's the way I like it. - I think I can handle that.

This egg salad is delicious, April. You must tell me how you fix it.

- You a lawyer, Frank? - No. No, I'm not.

I could use a lawyer.

John, let's not get started again about the lawyer.

Pop, couldn't you just sit there

and eat your wonderful egg salad and quit horning in?

See, I've got a good many questions to ask

and I'm willing to pay for the answers.

Now, I don't need to be told that a man who goes after his mother

with a coffee table is putting himself in a weak position legally, that's obvious.

John, come and have a look out this fabulous picture window.

If he hits her with it and kills her, that's a criminal case.

- Oh, look, the sun's coming out! - If all he does is break the coffee table

and give her a certain amount of aggravation

and she decides to go to court over it, that's a civil case.

Maybe we'll have a rainbow. John, come have a look.

Ma, how about doing everybody a favour? How about shutting up!

Settle down, now.

Maybe I can look into it, recommend someone. What do you say?

So, what do you do, Frank?

I work at Knox Business Machines, actually.

You design the machines?

- Nope. - Make them, sell them, repair them?

- All these questions. - I help sell them, I guess.

I work in the office. Actually, it's...

Well, it's sort of a stupid job, really.

There's nothing interesting about it at all.

What do you do it for then?

Maybe Frank doesn't like being questioned.

Okay, okay, okay. I know it's none of my business.

And besides, I know the answer.

You want to play house, you got to have a job.

You want to play very nice house, very sweet house,

then you've got to have a job you don't like.

Anyone comes along and says, "What do you do it for?"

He's probably on a four-hour pass from the state funny farm.

- All agreed? Ma? - Sorry, Frank.

Don't be. Don't be. Actually, John, I agree with everything you just said.

We both do. That's why I'm quitting the job in the fall. We're taking off.

We're moving to Paris.

Did you know about this, Ma?

How do you feel about that, Ma? The nice young Wheelers...

The nice young Wheelers are taking off.

- John, please. - Steady down, Son.

John. John. How about some fresh air? What do you say?

If that's all right with you?

- I don't know if it's such a good idea... - If John wants to, I don't see the harm.

- Good. - After you.

- I hear you're a mathematician. - You hear wrong. It's all gone now.

All gone?

You know what electrical shock treatments are?

Yes. Yes, I do.

I've had 37.

Supposed to jolt out the emotional problems.

- Just jolted out the mathematics. - How awful.

"How awful"? Why, because mathematics is so interesting?

No. Because the shocks must be awful and,

well, because it's awful not to be able to do what it is that you want to do.

I think mathematics must be dull.

I like your girl, Frank.

Me, too.

So, what do a couple of people like you have to run away from?

- We're not running. - So what's in Paris?

- A different way of life. - Maybe we are running.

We're running from the hopeless emptiness of the whole life here, right?

The hopeless emptiness?

Now you've said it. Plenty of people are on to the emptiness,

but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness.

Wow.

You know, he's the first person

who seemed to know what we were talking about.

Yeah. That's true, isn't it? Maybe we are just as crazy as he is.

If being crazy means living life as if it matters,

then I don't care if we are completely insane.

Do you?

No.

I love you so much.

Tell you something, Frank. That Ted Bandy, nice guy.

Real sport.

Good enough department head and all.

But I'm a little sore at him for the way he's kept you

under a bushel all these years.

- This place okay for you? - It's just fine, sir. Just fine.

One thing interests me, Frank, and one thing only.

Selling the electronic computer to the American businessman.

That's why I'm assembling a team. Men like you.

That's why I'm assembling a team. Men like you.

Not your average salesmen.

It'll mean more money,

and, I got to be honest, maybe more of a time commitment.

But you'll be a part of something exciting, Wheeler.

Computers.

Well, sir, it sounds exciting.

- Bart. - Bart.

Bart, let me ask you a question.

Do you happen to remember an Earl Wheeler? Out of Yonkers?

- Can't say that I do. Relation of yours? - My father.

He worked as a salesman for Knox for almost 20 years.

Earl Wheeler.

Earl Wheeler.

There's no reason you'd remember him.

Well, I'm sure he was a good man.

Listen, Bart, there's something I should have mentioned earlier.

I'm going to be leaving the firm in the fall.

- Another outfit? - No, no, it's not another outfit.

Now, look, Frank. Is it a question of money?

Because if it is, there's no reason

we can't get together on a satisfactory...

Well, I sure appreciate that, but no, it's not the money.

It's... Well, it's more of a personal thing.

I hope you understand.

A personal thing?

I see.

Frank, let me tell you something my father told me.

A man only gets a couple of chances in life.

If he doesn't grab them by the balls,

it won't be long before he's sitting around wondering

how he got to be second rate.

I guess so.

So, do me a favour. Sleep on it.

Discuss it with your wife.

Because let's be honest, where the hell would any of us be

without our wives, anyway?

And, Frank, in all sincerity, if you do decide to join us,

I believe it'll be a thing you'll never regret.

And I believe something else, too.

I believe it'd be a fine memorial to your dad.

Think about it, Frank. Really think about it.

Knowing what you've got, comma,

knowing what you need, comma,

knowing what you can do without, dash.

That's inventory control.

Knowing what you've got, comma,

knowing what you need, comma,

knowing what you can do without, dash.

That's inventory control.

Hi, Frank.

Working late?

Yeah. I got to dig myself out here.

I heard you were getting promoted.

Big shot.

I guess your dad would have been real proud, huh?

Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.

So maybe I should take you for a drink or something?

You know, celebrate.

Yeah, maybe.

I'll just get my things.

I'm going to bring my doll carriage

and my three Easter rabbits and my giraffe

and all my dolls and my doll house and my crayons...

I thought maybe we'd give the doll house to Madeline.

I don't want to give the doll house to Madeline.

But I already explained to you,

the big things are going to be hard to pack.

But she can have my bear,

- and my three Easter rabbits. - No! Just the big things.

Look. Wouldn't you rather go outside and play with Michael?

- I don't feel like it. - You've been inside all day.

I don't feel like it.

Well, I don't feel like explaining everything 15 times

to somebody who's too bored and silly to listen!

- All right, April. What's the matter? - Nothing.

I don't believe you. Did something happen this morning?

Nothing happened today that I haven't known about for days and days.

What?

Oh, God, Frank, please don't look so dense.

You mean you haven't guessed or anything?

April, what are you talking about?

I'm pregnant, that's all.

What?

Frank, I meant to wait till the kids were in bed to tell you,

but I just... Well, I've been pretty sure all week

and today I went to the doctor,

and now I can't even pretend it's not true.

- How long? - Ten weeks.

Ten weeks. Ten weeks? And you wait until now to tell me?

I thought... I don't know what I thought. I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so sorry.

I know. I know you are. All right?

There are things we can do.

We don't have to let this stop us from going, do we?

Remember that girl at school I told you about?

As long as we take care of it before 12 weeks, it's fine.

We've got to be together in this, Frank.

Well, we'll figure it out. All right?

Come here.

Twelve weeks. So we have time to decide, right?

Right.

I love you.

I love you, too.

So, Frank, how's work? They gonna survive without you?

Actually, something kind of funny happened the other day.

I did some dumb little piece of work to get myself off the hook with Bandy,

and suddenly, I'm the bright young man.

- That's always the way, ain't it? - It's incredible.

I mean, I knocked this thing off in a couple of minutes

and now they want me to join their team of "specialist" salesmen.

Morons.

Well, it would be funny if they weren't offering

so much damn money.

So, are you tempted?

Well, it's just kind of ironic, don't you think?

I thought you turned the job down.

Not yet.

It's just an option, that's all.

With the kind of money they're talking, things could be different for us here.

We could get a better place. Travel.

The point is, we could be happy here, at least for a little while.

It is possible that Parisians aren't the only ones

capable of leading interesting lives, April.

So you've made up your mind?

No. No. Like I said, it's just an option. That's all.

And supposing you're right.

You make all this money and we have this interesting life here.

Won't you still be wasting your life toiling away at a job you find ridiculous?

Maybe we let that be my business, all right?

Your business?

You know what? It's too hot for this. I'm going to go get wet.

- You don't want to go, do you? - Come on, April. Of course, I do.

No, you don't. Because you've never tried at anything.

And if you don't try at anything, you can't fail.

What the hell do you mean I don't try?

I support you, don't I? I pay for this house.

I work 10 hours a day at a job I can't stand.

I work 10 hours a day at a job I can't stand.

- You don't have to. - Bullshit!

Look, I'm not happy about it.

But I have the backbone not to run away from my responsibilities.

It takes backbone to lead the life you want, Frank.

Where are you going?

If it's all right with you, April, I'm gonna go use the bathroom. Okay?

What the hell are you going to do with this?

And what do you think you're going to do?

- You're going to stop me? - You're damn right I am!

Go ahead and try.

Listen to me. You do this, April, you do this and I swear to God I'II...

You'll what? You'll leave me? Is that a threat or a promise?

When did you buy this, April?

How long have you had this? I want to know!

Jesus Christ.

You really are being melodramatic about this whole thing.

As long as it's done in the first 12 weeks, it's perfectly safe.

- That's now, April! Don't I get a say? - Of course you do!

It would be for you, Frank. Don't you see?

So you can have time, just like we talked about.

How can it be for me when the thought of it

makes my stomach turn over, for God's sake?

Then it's for me.

Tell me we can have the baby in Paris, Frank.

Tell me we can have a different life. But don't make me stay here. Please.

- We can't have the baby in Paris. - Why not?

I don't need everything we have here. I don't care where we live.

I mean, who made these rules, anyway?

Look, the only reason we moved out here was because I got pregnant.

Then we had another child to prove the first one wasn't a mistake.

I mean, how long does it go on?

Frank. Do you actually want another child?

Well, do you? Come on, tell me.

Tell me the truth, Frank. Remember that?

We used to live by it.

And you know what's so good about the truth?

Everyone knows what it is, however long they've lived without it.

No one forgets the truth, Frank. They just get better at lying.

So tell me, do you really want another child?

All I know is what I feel.

And anyone else in their right mind would feel the same way, April.

But I've had two children. Doesn't that count in my favour?

Christ, April! The fact that you even put it that way!

You make it seem as if having children is some sort of a goddamn punishment.

I love my children, Frank.

And you're sure about that, huh?

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

April, you just said our daughter was a mistake.

How do I know you didn't try to get rid of her,

- or Michael for that matter? - No.

How do I know you didn't try to flush our entire fucking family

- down the toilet? - No, that's not true. Of course I didn't.

But how do I know, April?

Stop. Please just stop, Frank.

April, a normal woman, a normal sane mother

doesn't buy a piece of rubber tubing to give herself an abortion

so she can live out some kind of a goddamn fantasy.

Look, all I'm saying is you don't seem entirely rational about this thing.

And I think it's about time we found somebody

to help make some sense of your life.

And the new job's going to pay for that, too?

April, if you need a shrink, it will be paid for.

Obviously.

Okay. I guess there isn't much more to say then, is there?

So I guess Paris was a pretty childish idea, huh?

I guess maybe it was.

April, we can be happy here.

I can make you happy here.

We've had a great couple of months. It doesn't need to end.

We're going to be okay. I promise.

I hope so, Frank.

I really hope so.

Thank you for waiting. Mr Pollock will see you now.

Thanks so much.

Foiled by faulty contraception.

I can't say that I'm sorry.

You'd have been sorely missed in the old cubicle, I can tell you that.

Wouldn't have been the same without you.

Besides... Well...

What?

The plan always seemed a touch unrealistic, don't you think?

I suppose it's none of my business, really.

No. No. I suppose it isn't.

Well...

They'll be celebrating in the secretarial pool.

Hey! Remember the first time you brought us here?

Absolutely.

You said it takes a special kind of taste to enjoy Vito's Log Cabin.

It's so awful, it's kind of nice.

Look at me. I'm just so happy. Our little gang's back together again.

- Hey, Europe's not going anywhere. - That's right.

April, honey, how about a dance?

Not right now. Maybe later.

- I'll dance. - Okay.

Guess she's still pretty blue about Paris, huh?

Think she'll be okay?

Sure. Give us girls a couple of days and we can get over anything.

Right.

Frank.

Frank.

Frank.

Frank.

Are you okay? Are you okay? Milly?

I'm so sorry.

Excuse me.

That's just great.

How the hell are we supposed to get out now?

Oh, boy.

Don't worry about it, Shep. We can wait. Really.

What about the sitter?

Listen, why don't you drive Milly home, then go home yourself.

That takes care of both sitters. Then Shep can take me home later.

- Yeah, it's fine by me. - Okay, then.

- You... You'll be all right? - Sure.

Okay.

- Good night. - Good night.

Feel better.

I'm sorry you're not going away any more.

I know it was important to you.

Don't take this wrong, but I've been there.

They don't have so much we don't have here.

It didn't have to be Paris.

You just wanted out, huh?

I wanted in.

I just wanted us to live again.

For years, I thought we shared this secret.

That we would be wonderful in the world.

I didn't exactly know how, but just...

Just the possibility kept me hoping.

How pathetic is that?

So stupid.

To put all your hopes in a promise that was never made?

See, Frank knows. He knows what he wants.

He's found his place. He's just fine.

Married, two kids.

It should be enough.

It is for him.

And he's right.

We were never special or destined or anything at all.

Yes, you are.

You're...

You're the Wheelers.

You're a terrific couple. Everybody says so.

I saw a whole other future.

I can't stop seeing it.

Can't leave,

can't stay.

No damn use to anyone.

Come on.

Let's do it.

Let me take you somewhere.

No. Just do it here. Now.

April.

This is what I've always wanted.

I love you.

Don't say that.

No. I mean it, I love you.

Please, just be quiet for a minute.

Then you can take me home.

It's beautiful out.

Yes, it is.

You know what today is?

- It's 12 weeks. - That's right.

Look, this has been kind of a crazy summer.

We've both been under a strain.

I mean, I understand why you're upset.

You know I'm not sleeping with you, and you want to know why.

Well, I'm sorry, Frank, but I really don't feel like talking about it.

All right. Then what should we talk about, April?

Would it be all right if we didn't talk about anything?

I mean, can't we just take each day as it comes, and do the best we can,

and not feel like we have to talk about everything all the time?

I don't think I'm suggesting that we talk about everything all the time.

Look, my point is we've both been under a strain

and we ought to be helping each other out as much as we can right now.

I mean, God knows my own behaviour has been pretty weird lately.

As a matter of fact, there is something I'd like to tell you about.

I've been with a girl a few times, in the city.

A girl I hardly even know.

It was nothing to me,

but it's over now, really over.

And if I weren't sure of that, I guess I could never have told you about it.

Why did you?

Baby, I don't know.

I think it's a simple case of wanting to be a man again

after all that abortion business.

Some kind of neurotic, irrational need to prove something.

No. I don't mean why did you have the girl.

I mean, why did you tell me about it?

- What do you mean? - I mean, what's the point?

Is it supposed to make me jealous or something?

Is it supposed to make me fall in love with you,

or back into bed with you, or what?

I mean, what would you like me to say, Frank?

Why don't you say what you feel, April?

I don't feel anything.

In other words, you don't care what I do or who I fuck or anything?

No, I guess that's right. I don't.

Fuck who you like.

April, don't you understand that I want you to care?

I know. I know you do.

And I suppose I would if I loved you.

But I don't think I do any more. And I only just figured that out.

And that's why I'd just as soon not do any talking right now.

Don't give me that shit, April. Don't give me that.

- You know goddamn well you love me. - You think so?

You know goddamn well!

Anyone home?

I'm sorry dinner's late. Would anyone like another drink?

Don't worry. It's nice to just sit a bit and socialise.

You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble.

With all your packing and whatnot.

I imagine you have a lot on your plate. No pun intended.

Actually, there's been a change of plans.

I thought maybe it was obvious.

April here is pregnant.

- Congratulations. - Oh, April!

I can't tell you how pleased I am!

But I expect you'll be needing a bigger house now, won't you?

Hold it a second, Ma. Hold on a second, Ma.

I don't get this. I mean, what's so obvious about it?

I mean, okay, she's pregnant, so what? Don't people have babies in Europe?

- John... - Suppose we just say

that people anywhere aren't very well advised to have babies

unless they can afford them.

Okay. Okay, it's a question of money. Money's a good reason.

But it's hardly ever the real reason.

What's the real reason? Wife talk you out of it or what?

Little woman decide she isn't quite ready to quit playing house?

No, no, that's not it. I can tell.

She looks too tough and adequate as hell.

Okay, then. It must've been you. What happened?

- John, please. You're being very rude. - No, no. What happened, Frank?

You get cold feet?

You decide you're better off here after all?

You figure it's more comfy

here in the old hopeless emptiness after all, huh?

Oh, wow, that did it. Look at his face.

What's the matter, Wheeler? Am I getting warm?

- All right, Son. I think we'd better be... - You know something?

I wouldn't be surprised if he knocked her up on purpose

just so he could spend the rest of his life hiding behind a maternity dress.

That way he'd never have to find out what he's really made of.

Now look, I think that's just about enough out of you.

I mean, who the hell do you think you are?

You come in here and say

whatever crazy goddamn thing comes into your head,

and I think it's about time somebody told you to keep your goddamn mouth shut.

- He's not well, Frank. - Not well, my ass!

I don't give a damn if he's sick or well or dead or alive,

he should keep his fucking opinions

in the fucking insane asylum where they belong!

- Let's go, Son. - Come on, John.

Big man you got there, April.

Big family man.

I feel sorry for you.

Still, maybe you deserve each other.

I mean, the way you look right now, I'm beginning to feel sorry for him, too.

You must give him a pretty bad time

if making babies is the only way he can prove he's got a pair of balls.

- You fucking... - No! He's not well, Frank!

All right, John. Let's get on out to the car now.

April, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Oh, right. Sorry. Sorry! Sorry!

Ma, have I said "I'm sorry" enough times?

Damn! I am sorry, too.

I bet I'm just about the sorriest bastard I know.

But get right down to it, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to be glad about.

Do I?

But, hey, you know what?

I am glad about one thing.

You want to know what I'm glad about?

I'm glad I'm not gonna be that kid.

Okay, okay, don't tell me.

Don't tell me, let me guess.

I made a disgusting spectacle of myself, right?

Right.

And everything that man said is true, right?

Is that what you're going to say?

Apparently I don't have to.

- You're saying it for me. - Well, you're wrong, April.

- Really? Why am I wrong? - Because the man is insane.

He's fucking insane! Do you know what the definition of insanity is?

No. Do you?

Yes, it's the inability to relate to another human being.

It's the inability to love.

April. April.

April! April!

The inability... The inability to love.

Frank. You really are a wonderful talker.

If black could be made into white by talking,

you'd be the man for the job.

So now I'm crazy because I don't love you. Right?

- Is that the point? - No. Wrong.

You're not crazy and you do love me. That's the point, April.

But I don't. I hate you.

You were just some boy who made me laugh at a party once

and now I loathe the sight of you.

In fact, if you come any closer, if you touch me or anything,

I think I'll scream.

Come on. Stop this, April.

Fuck you, April!

Fuck you and all your hateful, snotty little...

What're you going to do now? Are you going to hit me?

- To show me how much you love me? - Don't worry, I can't be bothered!

You're not worth the trouble it would take to hit you.

You're not worth the powder it would take to blow you up.

You're an empty, empty, hollow shell of a woman!

What the hell are you doing in my house if you hate me so much?

Why the hell are you married to me?

What the hell are you doing carrying my child?

I mean, why didn't you just get rid of it when you had the chance?

Because listen to me. Listen to me, I got news for you.

I wish to God that you had.

April!

April!

April!

April!

April!

April!

- April! - Stay away from me.

- April, listen. - Stay away from me.

Can't I even get away from you in the fucking woods?

April, listen, I didn't mean that.

- Honestly, I didn't mean what I said. - Are you still talking?

Isn't there any way to stop your talking?

I need to think. Can't you see that? I need to think.

Please come back to the house. What're you doing out here, April?

Do you want me to scream again, Frank?

Because I will! I mean it!

Okay. Okay.

Good morning.

Good morning.

Would you like scrambled eggs or fried?

I don't know.

It doesn't really matter. Scrambled, I guess, if it's easy.

Fine. I'll have scrambled, too.

It's kind of nice having breakfast without the kids for a change, huh?

Yes.

I thought you'd probably want a good breakfast today.

I mean, it's kind of an important day for you, isn't it?

Isn't this the day you have your conference with Pollock?

Yes. Yes, that's right.

- Big deal. - I imagine it is a pretty big deal.

For them, anyway.

What exactly do you think you'll be doing in your new job?

You haven't really told me much about it.

Haven't I?

Well, I think this whole thing is about Knox getting ready

to buy up one of those really big computers,

even bigger than the 500.

- Didn't I tell you about that? - No.

Why don't you tell me now?

Well,

you know, basically it's just a big, fast adding machine.

Only, instead of mechanical parts, you see,

you've got thousands of individual vacuum tubes.

I see.

At least I think I see.

Yes, it's really kind of interesting, isn't it?

Well, I don't know.

Yeah, I guess it is kind of interesting, in a way.

You should value what you do, Frank.

You're obviously good at it.

Well, I guess I'd better be getting started, huh?

Listen, though, April, the...

This was really nice.

I mean, it was a swell breakfast. Really, I...

I don't know when I've ever had a nicer breakfast.

Thank you. I enjoyed it, too.

Then you don't... You don't hate me or anything?

No. No, of course I don't.

Have a good day.

Okay, then. So long.

Hello. Milly? Everything all right?

Well, no, I'm afraid I'm not feeling any better. That's really why I called.

If it's not an inconvenience for you, this evening would be great.

What?

Oh, no. No. Not if they're outdoors playing.

No.

Don't call them in.

Just give them each a kiss for me,

and tell them I...

Tell them...

You know. All right. All right. Thank you, Milly. Bye.

I think I need help.

115 Revolutionary Road.

- Frank. They tell you what happened? - Jesus Christ.

Shep, I didn't understand half the things he told me.

He said the foetus was out before they got her here.

And they had to operate to take out the, what do you call it, the placenta?

And now she's still bleeding.

He said that she'd lost a lot of blood before the ambulance came,

and now they're trying to stop it.

He said a whole lot of things I didn't understand about capillaries...

He said that she's unconscious. Jesus.

Okay, Frank, why don't you just take a seat?

What the hell do I want to sit down for, for God's sake?

Okay, Frank. Just take it easy. Take it easy.

- Frank, have a cigarette. - She did it to herself, Shep.

She did it to herself.

I'm gonna get you some coffee.

They were such wonderful people. Weren't they, Shep?

It's just devastating. Poor April.

Thank you.

Frank lives in the city now. Where is it that he works?

- Bart Pollock Associates. - Computers?

Interesting firm.

- Have you seen him since? - No. Not back here.

There are too many memories, I think. Shep has seen him in the city.

Haven't you, sweetie?

Frank is just devoted to those kids.

Every spare moment he has, he spends with them.

Excuse me.

You all right?

I don't want to talk about the Wheelers any more.

Okay.

We don't have to.

We don't have to.

Daddy, Daddy, watch. Watch, Daddy.

I can't tell you how pleased I am

about the little Revolutionary Road place, Howard.

And now whenever I drive past, it gives me such a lift

to see it all perked up and spanking clean again.

All the lights in all the windows.

And do you know? I was just thinking, I've loved that little house for years.

And the Braces are the only really suitable people I've ever found for it.

Really nice, congenial people, I mean.

Well, except for the Wheelers, you mean.

I was very fond of the Wheelers.

They were a bit whimsical for my taste. A bit neurotic.

I never stressed it, but they were often

very trying people to deal with, in many ways.

And actually, the main reason that the little house was so hard to sell

was because they let it depreciate so dreadfully.

Warped window frames, wet cellar, crayon marks all over the walls,

filthy smudges around the door knobs and the fixtures...