The Proposition (1998) - full transcript

Coming Sister.

Sister?

I'm looking for Father McKinnon.

- Father.
- I'm Father McKinnon.

Good morning.
What can I do for you?

My name is Thurman.

Hannibal Thurman.
Do you remember me?

Well it's...

some years ago as I recall but...

you are the business associate of
Arthur Barret.

Arthur Barret is dead.



He died of a stroke 2 days ago.

In a list of instructions before his death.

He...

said you would explain...

everything to me, whatever that means.

This is a codicil to his last
will and testament.

I didn't know it existed until yesterday.

- I'm a priest, not a lawyer.
- Father...

It states that I'm obliged to answer
to you although I am not a catholic...

and that I need your blessing
before I can assume...

Legal custody of his two sons.

And the boys, they must be what...

- 16 now?
- Yes.

And are they like him?



Yes. One is.

The other, he's a rebel.

Very much like his mother, Eleanor, was.

But they are both Barret's,
if that's what you're asking.

Stubborn and proud.

You have my blessing Mr. Thurman.

Father...

- is that it?
- That's it.

Father...

I repeat...

Arthur insisted that you
explain everything to me...

and I would assume, that as
a man of the cloth...

you will honor his wish.

Very well.

Sit down Mr. Thurman.

I assume as a lawyer you can...

recognize a logical
motive when you see one.

Then perhaps secrets aren't logical.

I don't know why it had to
happen in this way.

It just did.

St. Jude's parish was
my first assignment.

But it was my last choice.

I didn't want to go there.

It was a rich parish...

with good living quarters
and a wealth of opportunity.

All my friends in seminary envied me...

but big religion and big money
was the last thing I wanted.

But my father's influence in the
Church quickly squelched all that...

and landed me in Boston.

This was my father's way,
of keeping tabs on me...

keeping his hand in the game
of controlling my life.

They say all is fair in love and war.

I suppose this was his way
of getting even with me...

for becoming a priest.

A rich parish obligated me to remain
close enough to the upper crust...

so that I would never loose my
way back home when the time came.

But despite my father's scheme...

I was determined to make
the best of my new home.

I would work hard, help the needy...

and serve God.

And with any luck...

I'd be able to avoid the one person
in Boston I had no desire to meet...

Arthur Barret.

Your attention, please.
Attention everyone.

Eleanor, I believe you have
an announcement to make.

Thank you, Hannibal.

I think all of you know
my husband well enough...

to know that...

if humility were a cup of tea,
his cup would runneth over.

So, I would like to take this
opportunity to do brag for him...

and to tell you about...

his appointment to President
Roosevelt's foreign finance committee.

They couldn't have picked
a better man for the job.

Congratulations!

Thank you my dear.
What can I say to that...

except to add that what gives
a man the right to brag...

are not so much his accomplishments but...

the friends that he has to share them with.

Madame?
You have a telephone call.

- Is this it?
- It might be.

- Hello Mark.
- Eleanor, hello.

- Do you have news about the book?
- Wonderful news...

- Scribner's are picking it up.
- Not really.

No. That's wonderful.

Yes.

- What did he say?
- Scribner's is mad for it.

Yes, they want to publish it this fall.

Can we expect this on to be
banned in Boston too?

I certainly hope so.
I've got my reputation to uphold.

- Eleanor?
- Come in.

- Are you ill?
- No. I'm just counting.

Syril...

- I think this is it.
- It's a beautiful day.

But is it "the day"?

Well, well. Let's see.

- One, two...
- Good morning.

- Syril.
- Arthur.

I love you.

Did you sleep well?

Me too.

Though I had a marginal night's sleep...

I had a wonderful dream this morning.

Tell me.

I dreamed that I was holding our baby.

I was feeding it from a bottle.

- Was it a boy or a girl?
- I don't know.

I gave it to you when it
came time to change it.

That's terrible.

Not at all.
It was a beautiful dream.

What is it?

It's the 12th day.

Our odds are best if we try
today or tomorrow.

Well then.

It would appear that
everything is in place.

Tonight we'll make the dream a reality.

Do you have to go
to the office this morning?

Mr. Thurman will be
right with you Mr. Martin.

Greetings, Mr. Martin.

How good of you to come back
on such short notice.

- Of course.
- I've been reviewing your file.

- Very impressive young man.
- Thank you, sir.

I imagine the top student at Harvard...

- has had an offer or two.
- Three, actually.

- Have you been tempted yet?
- Not really.

I've been holding back...

I was genuinely hoping for an
invitation to come on here.

- Really?
- Yes, sir.

I am not embarrassed to admit
that Arthur Barret has been...

an idol of mine. His reputation
at Harvard is legendary.

How flattering for him, and for us.
I'm glad to hear you say that.

I've always said that
desire and motivation...

are two thirds of any successful
employment equation.

- And the other one third?
- Resolve.

The ability to do what it takes...

to achieve one's goal
no matter what the cost.

- Are you such a man, Mr. Martin?
- I assume so, yes.

Assume?

I can't be absolutely certain.
I've never been tested.

An open mind. Good.
I like that.

I believe Mr. Martin,
what I am about to propose...

is just such a test.

However...

before I begin I must tell you that
what I'm about to divulge...

must never leave this room.

- Do you understand?
- Yes. Of course.

I must have your word, sir.

Complete discretion and confidentiality.

Very well, you have my word then.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Good afternoon, James.

- Good afternoon, ma'am.
- Do you know what time it is, dear?

I know, but Virginia Wade
kept going on and on.

I know it takes a good deal of
planning to feed over 500 people...

but, bless her heart, she even
had Father Dryer napping.

Where are you going, now?
You've got to get ready.

I've got to get something to eat.
I have butterflies.

That makes two of us.

What you have to understand
about Eleanor...

is that she cherished above all else...

a room to call her own.

A place to explore...

to nurture and develop free thought...

uncharacterized by a man's
influences and convention.

It was a temple for no religion.
And no expectation save one...

to be at peace with herself.

Eleanor's God was as much female as male.

Thank you.

Is she nervous?

Of course.

What is she doing now?

Getting ready I presume.

Anything I can do?

Yes.

Be husband enough to stand beside her
and hold her hand while it happens...

that or call it off.

Don't condescend to me, Syril.

- I won't stand for it.
- Then don't allow this to happen.

It's an abomination.

This child will ruin your marriage.

How can you say such a thing?

I love Eleanor more than my own life.

Is this supposed to prove it?

Yes. This is the one thing
I cannot give her.

It's the only answer.

- I badly need an heir.
- I know, but believe me...

you are making a grave mistake if
you allow her to conceive this baby.

God forgive me for saying this, but...

- that was spoken like a man.
- Good.

It will open your ears
and command your respect.

I'm sure it serves your male vanity...

to assume you can control any
situation that you put your mind to.

- But you're mistaken.
- How?

You are about to give an educated
woman complete control of her life.

For a man in your position,
that's a dangerous thing.

Eleanor has always had complete
freedom to do as she wishes.

Haven't I given her everything
she's ever asked for?

What's the problem with
my giving her a baby?

Would you care to rephrase that?

No.

I want you to stay awake all night.

Available to you should she need you.

Of course.

If there's nothing more, I'll go to her.

There is one thing.

This cannot happen in either
one of our bedrooms.

Eleanor asked to have one
of the guest rooms made up.

What's he like?

He's young...

Young like I used to be.

You want me to do what?

We prefer the term impregnate.

But yes, you must serve as
Mr. Barret's surrogate.

Good God! You're serious!

Yes. But in the interests
of accuracy...

we would like to employ you.

And you would be generously compensated.

Yes. Indeed.

Good idea. I'll join you.

I have a few questions.

- Such as?
- Why?

Because Mr. and Mrs. Barret
want a child desperately...

and Mr. Barret cannot conceive.

Call me old fashioned, but...

- what about adoption?
- Adoption is out of the question.

Mrs. Barret wishes to experience
the real thing...

from the moment of conception to birth...

- She feels it's her right.
- Yeah. I understand.

No. I doubt that.

But I do think we can both grasp the...

Logic of her desire to have
a child of her own blood.

When?

- Tonight.
- Tonight?

I'm sorry for such short notice...

but you know how these things go.
Mother nature and all that.

Wrapped in her own thought...

Eleanor meticulously prepared...

to exercise the ultimate privilege...

of being her own person.

Contemplative, focused...

and quietly confident with her decision...

she knew in her heart that she was ready.

But do not judge this scene too quickly.

For this was not the ritual
of a pampered princess...

so much as it was attention to detail...

by the author of a master plan.

In the end, I could only
sympathize with Arthur.

What a cruel and unusual punishment!

To know whatever went on behind her door...

had nothing to do with him.

Her man.

Shall I give you the details?

You mean I don't have them already?

- Are you being snide with me?
- I'm sorry...

you don't expect me to take this
proposition seriously, do you?

I come to this firm in good faith...

seeking respectable employment...

and you insult me with this sordid
scheme of fornication.

If that's how it sounds my
presentation has not been effective.

It's not your presentation
that needs examination...

it is the virtue of your mission.

My mission is to help
my oldest and dearest friend...

in an intensely important
and delicate situation.

I was honored that he chose me to do it.

My God. What kind of a man
is Arthur Barret?

The kind of a man, Mr. Martin,
who has the ability...

to achieve his goals
no matter what the cost.

Then he is either a very strong man
or a very stupid one.

There are some thing in life
which are better left undone...

no matter what the cost.

I'm very sorry we have
offended you, Mr. Martin.

I can only hope...

that in time you'll come to see the
great compliment of this proposition.

- Compliment?
- Yes. Think about it.

You were selected to surrogate his child...

Arthur found your profile,
meaning your intellect...

your personality, even your appearance...

desirable attributes for a child
of his own to inherit.

In a sense...

Arthur Barret idolized you.

Gee, I hadn't thought of that.

I'll be honest Roger-
May I call you Roger?

- Please.
- I'm not sure I'd pass up the money...

just for making love to a beautiful woman.

I guess we never actually
progressed to talking money.

Not that it matters, but...

- how much are we talking about?
- 25,000.

25,000 dollars?

Did I mention how beautiful she is?

- Beautiful?
- Ravishing.

You know, Roger...

I'm not sure Arthur was right
about you after all.

- No?
- No.

Now that I think about it,
you must be some sort of damn fool.

Well, very good luck to you.

- Hello, Mr. Thurman.
- Mr. Harrington.

Harrington?

- Hello Rog.
- What are you doing here?

Applying for the same position
as you I expect...

that is if it is still available.

- Yes.
- No, no!

The truth is I've had second
thoughts about your offer.

- Really?
- I accept.

Perhaps I wasn't thinking clearly
because I was so...

- flattered.
- Flattered?

It seems the position has
been filled Mr. Harrington...

however we'll keep your
information on file...

should Mr. Martin's services
not work out.

- Thank you, I'm sorry.
- Thank you.

Well, Rog, congratulations are in order.

Good luck with it.

Luck, right...

Thank you. You won't regret this.
I can almost guarantee...

that she will enjoy it.

It was obvious to Hannibal,
that young Roger Martin...

was in way over his head.

- Mrs. Barret?
- No.

I believe Mrs. Barret
is expecting me.

Roger Martin.

I'll inform her that
you have arrived, Mr. Martin.

- Please come in.
- Thank you.

Well.

- Well what?
- What of him?

How does he look?

- Pubescent.
- Oh stop, Syril.

Arthur said he was 24.

Still, the poor baby thinks this is a date.

- What do you mean?
- See for yourself.

He's right down there.

Hello, Mrs. Barret,
these are for you.

Hello, Mrs. Barret...

You're right. He was so much older
looking in the picture.

I won't be surprised if you have to...

- What?
- Show him where it goes.

- You don't think he's never done it?
- I don't know, didn't see his resume.

Good evening.

Good evening.

- Mr. Martin, I presume.
- At your service Mrs. Barret.

- No... what I mean to say is...
- I know what you mean, thank you.

How lovely.
Are they for me?

Yes.

- Sorry.
- It's nothing, just a scratch.

I've cut you!
I can't believe it.

- I'm fine.
- I knew I would botch it...

and we're not even at the hard part yet.

I did so want everything to go well,
I thought I might be good at this...

- Roger.
- I'm not cut out for this...

- this is for someone big.
- Roger!

Yes, Mrs. Barret?

Is it that uncomfortable for you?

God yes.

Unbearable?

At this moment, I would just
as soon vanish and die.

You're a very sweet man.

In light of your obvious misgivings
if you feel you must go...

- I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Barret.
- Not at all.

As a Catholic priest...

my orientation as to the
definition of bonafide miracle...

has always been:
Divine intervention...

plus a little more.

So in this instance, a timely
flat tire might raise...

a few superstitious eyebrows...

it's hardly food for thought for
those of us professionally trained...

to recognize the hand of God.

When in the pursuit of miracles
timing is everything.

It was beginning to look as if
the hand God was attached...

to a damn good wristwatch.

Something wondrous happened.

It was a tough decision
but he reasoned it out.

The miracle of life is fraught
with compromise.

The key to success is not
so much pride as it is...

dignity in accomplishing one's goals.

And so, Roger realized that he
simply couldn't bear the thought...

of having that beautiful,
desirable, rich woman...

stand in he warm mansion and watch him...

change that tire in the rain.

He decided to make love to her instead.

Roger?

- Yes, Mr. Barret?
- Is everything alright?

Yes. Why do you ask?

You've been in there for nearly 20 minutes.

Oh?

- May I come in?
- Well you know...

if you could...

- Hello.
- Hello, Roger.

Are you ill?

- No.
- Is there a problem then?

A slight one, but if I could
just have a few more minutes...

- Tell me.
- I'd rather not.

- Is it me?
- No, it's me.

Well what then?
Perhaps I can help.

Well it seems that I have...

an...

you know...

- An erection?
- I'm sorry.

You've been hiding for 20 minutes
because you have an erection?

It's the anticipation I'm afraid...

And you feel somehow that
I'll be offended by that?

Well, yes. I don't want you to think
I'm some sort of sexual animal.

Mr. Martin, we're counting on it.

Now, please, can we get on with this?

I'll be right there, Mrs. Barret.

- Eleanor.
- Eleanor, Eleanor.

I don't believe it.

- Ready.
- Me too.

What's the matter now?

We've got a problem.
I'm going down.

It's the...

Roger, there are no problems.

Only solutions.

- Roger.
- Yes, Mrs. Barret.

Not that it really matters but...

I believe it's usually customary
to take off your socks.

Damn! I knew that.

When Roger Martin emerged into
the bright morning sunshine...

he stepped toward
that flat tire like a new man.

His head was high and his step
was charged with affirmation.

He was a stud.

- Thanks for that.
- That's very generous, but no.

- Thank you.
- Right.

Stupid.

Father Michael.

You asked me to flag Arthur Barret?

They make a very handsome couple.

His wife is Eleanor.

Yes. The writer. She's brilliant.
I've read some of her work.

Don't admit that to the cardinal.

What about him, Father?

I heard he can be something of a tyrant.

Tyrant?

I don't know who told you that.

- I doubt it was anyone in Boston...
- Father Dryer, a minute please.

In nomine patris et filii
et spiritus sancti.

Introivo ad altare dei.

Ad deum que letifican juventuten mean.

I am very pleased today to announce
a new addition to our staff...

Father Michael McKinnon,
comes to us from London, England.

He'll be in charge of our charity
programs for the poor.

I would encourage you all
to introduce yourselves...

and to make Father Michael feel at home.

Jesus tells us...

I watched Arthur Barret...

like a competitor sizes up his opponent.

But I found myself,
drawn to Eleanor instead.

And as unimportant and
trivial as it seemed then...

that's what I remember most about
the first time I saw Arthur Barret.

- Good morning.
- Good morning, Arthur.

- Good morning, Eleanor.
- Good morning, Father.

- I enjoyed your sermon very much.
- It was a fine mass, as always.

- Thank you.
- Father McKinnon...

it gives me pleasure to introduce two
of my favorite people in the world...

Arthur Barret and his wife Eleanor.

Welcome. I'm delighted
to have you joining us...

my wife is particularly glad.

Indeed. I'm a firm believer
in the charity program.

In that case, I would appreciate
any advice you have to offer.

- Why don't you come by our house...?
- Tuesday.

Tuesday.
We'll have dinner and discuss it.

Tuesday sounds delightful.

I will need to check the
parish diary. May I call you?

I warn you, she'll talk
fundraising all night.

Only if my husband will let me
get a word in edgewise.

Please remember, Father...

there can be no more important
event on your diary...

than an invitation from the Barrets.

- If you know what I mean.
- Of course, Father.

Did you really expect
a miracle the first time?

Somehow I honestly think I did.

What am I going to tell Arthur?

Tell him the truth.

Tell him you have to try again.

How can I?

Arthur.

- I thought you were working today.
- I was.

- I've started my period.
- I'm sorry.

How can you be so understanding?

- What would you have me say?
- Something.

Anything other than ask me if I was
alright the morning after.

- You never said a word about it.
- I try not to think about it.

It's a painful subject for me.

I try to focus instead on
what will come of this...

our child.

You're so good.

I want you to know that
I did not and wouldn't...

- kiss him like that.
- Eleanor, please.

Just let me say it.
I wanted to tell you...

how lonely that night was for me...

how I tried to imagine your face...

- and body.
- I know. I was lonely too.

I wanted to ask, but...

I couldn't bear to hear one detail.
I'm not that strong.

You're stronger than I ever imagined.

No, I hand picked that man for this...

when he left our house that morning...

I hated him.

Him? Or was it me you hated?

I hated him...

for being able to give you
what I never can.

I suppose I will always...

hate him for that...

as much as I will envy him.

I'll call Hannibal in the morning.

Roger?

What are you doing?

Come up, please.

- Is something wrong Mrs. Barret?
- Well yes. What are you doing?

I'm trying to make love to you.

I'm very flattered...

but this is not what this is about.
We should both remember that.

- My husband is my lover.
- Him?

How can he be a lover to you
when he can't even get it up?

Arthur is sterile, Roger, not impotent.

Well, same difference?

He still can't be a whole man to you.

I think I finally have you figured out.

- You have?
- Yes.

I've been reading your novel.

"If we face the fact that we go alone...

and that we belong to
the world of reality...

not only to men and women...

then the dead poet that was
Shakespeare's sister...

will put on the body she
so often laid down."

Virginia Woolf.

You quoted her in the preface of your book.

It's dedicated to her.

She's talking about a day when women
will be recognized as equal to men?

I think she's talking about a day
when gender won't matter.

But Shakespeare didn't
really have a sister, did he?

It's a metaphor.

Still...

you don't believe the sister would be
capable of the same sort of genius?

Given the same opportunities,
yes. I think she could.

Yes. And speaking of opportunities...

I think I love you, Mrs. Barret.

- Oh God! Where did that come from?
- I think about you constantly.

Constantly.

Does that bother you?

- It concerns me, yes.
- Why?

Because I don't want you
to be hurt by this.

I was thinking, perhaps we could...

prolong our arrangement...

if I was to withdraw early
every now and then.

What have we done to you Roger Martin?

Your husband has made me very rich...

and you have made me very happy.

- Roger...
- I don't expect you to love me back.

But you should know that
when we do this tonight...

I won't be having sex.

I'll be making love.

Her decision to remain beneath him
was the biggest mistake of her life.

For though she understood
those ramifications...

it was suddenly clear to her
that Roger Martin did not.

She felt she could bear
risking her own soul...

to have a child this way...

but now another person's
spirituality was involved.

Shrouding this event
in business was supposed...

to relieve such danger...

but Roger Martin professed love.

She closed her eyes and tried
not to think about it...

but even in darkness...

one thing was as clear Eleanor
as the light of day...

she now felt responsible
for Roger's unrequited love.

Take a deep breath now.

Exhale. Good.

Excellent.

Congratulations, Mrs. Barret.

Is there anything you can do
about this wretched nausea?

Not much.
Light tea and soda crackers.

Try not to get too hungry
or overeat. Just munch.

I had no idea being pregnant
was so difficult.

Some of my patients tell me...

that being pregnant is much more
difficult than getting that way.

That's what you think?

Beg your pardon?

Well?

She'll be fine.

Harold. Out with it.

Yes, Arthur. Your wife
is definitely with child.

Congratulations.

Good Arthur.

Syril, could you get that!

- I'll get it.
- Oh, thanks.

- Barret Residence.
- Mrs. Barret, please.

Mr. Martin, I'm sorry but
Mrs. Barret is indisposed.

- Would you leave another message?
- No, I would talk to her.

I'm tired of this obvious brush off.

- Mr. Martin...
- And don't Mr. Martin me.

I know my rights, she's carrying my baby.

I suggest you leave
Mrs. Barret alone, Mr. Martin...

and never call this house again.

- Do you understand?
- How dare you?

It's breaking his heart.
I should talk to him.

You should do no such thing.

It'll only aggravate the situation by
showing his persistence will pay off.

Let Arthur take care of it.
He'll know what to do.

- Excuse me, you wanted to see me.
- Yes, come along.

- How long have you been with us?
- Nearly four months sir.

- Why, sir?
- I spoke with Arthur Barret and he...

asked me to express his regrets that
you're unable to adjust your agenda...

- so you can have dinner with him.
- That's very thoughtful of him.

You're missing the point.

When you arrived at St. Jude,
did I not make myself clear...

as to exactly how I felt about
the Barrets and their importance.

- You did, Father.
- Then, I can only assume...

since you are a bright man with
a promising future in the Church...

that for the past 4 months you've
not been trying to dodge them...

but rather you've been engaged
in one life or death situation...

after another and have had
no choice but to cancel.

Fortunately, Mr. Barret
is a patient man...

and has now asked if they can adjust
their schedule to yours.

You're invited to dinner next week.

Which night would that be, sir?

Whatever night he chooses.

- Is that clear?
- Perfectly.

Good.

The Barret estate was magnificent...

but it could not compete
with my father's house.

Mr. and Mrs. Barret this has been
a really wonderful evening...

thank you so much for
sharing your home with me.

You're not leaving?

- It's still early.
- He's right, please stay longer.

You're very kind, thank you.

If ever humility was lost

in a moment of weakness...

this was it.

They say that Wall Street
will never be the same.

You're the financial expert.
Do you agree?

I agree that long range investment
will never be the same.

Americans want to take
their profits quickly...

they'll never stay in for the long haul.

So then it makes sense that large
sums of American investment money...

have found their way to Germany.

Every instinct should have told me
leave well enough alone...

but alas, foolish pride won out.

I was sliding down a path
I could not resist.

- The Nazis, huh?
- Yes. I'm afraid so.

You appear to be an astute student
of the investment game, Father.

If I may be so bold, where
do you get your information?

From a select few who...

have already invested in Germany
rather than Wall St.

- No. Name one.
- Samuel Barret.

What is this?

Arthur don't!

Arthur please!

No. Come on, the charade is over.
This is about something else.

You've led this conversation to
that name. I demand to know why?

I didn't intend to come her and
have this conversation...

but I do know that you hate your
older brother and he hates you...

- What business is that of yours?
- I'm his son.

Excuse me.

Mr. Barret, there's
a problem developing.

- What is it?
- I think you should just come.

Please, sir.

- I demand to see her right now!
- What the devil is going on here?

I'm here to see Mrs...
to see Eleanor...

and if you don't let me through
I will force my way through.

- Is that so?
- I mean it.

Well, Father...

you've proven a fascinating guest,
next you'll not even be a priest.

I am a priest.

If you're really a Barret,
why do you go by McKinnon?

I took it when I entered the Church.
It was my mother's maiden name.

Why couldn't you just be
honest from the start?

Because from the start,
I've been trying to avoid...

all of this.

I'd heard a great deal about
Arthur Barret, mostly bad.

I couldn't resist seeing
for myself if it was true.

Stuff your money!

I haven't been able
to see her or talk to her.

I think at the least I deserve
to see the mother of my own child.

What you deserve you have received.

Now you will collect yourself.

You will honor your contract...

you will return to your automobile,
which my money purchased no doubt...

and you will never set foot here
again or so help me God...

What will you do?

Expose me as the father
of your pregnant wife's child?

I suggest you think again
Mr. Barret...

or you may just expose yourself
as your wife's pimp.

Wouldn't that be a presidential
piece of gossip.

If you ever threaten me again,
or approach my wife...

or try to lay claim
to our child, I will kill you.

Do you understand me?

I'm sorry. Everything is alright.

As for you, Father McKinnon,
or whatever your real name is...

I am in no state of mind now
to deal with your motives...

or those of my brother,
who obviously sent you here.

But I will expect a full explanation
from you when next we meet.

- Mr. Barret.
- Leave my house!

Or I will have you thrown out.

Mrs. Barret.

Arthur.

Try not to worry...

I will deal with this.

Maybe I should talk to Roger
try to reason with him.

That would be useless.

He's in love with you.

And he's threatening to expose us.

- That would destroy us.
- It certainly would, and he knows it.

- Hello?
- Hannibal...

our problem has gotten worse...

Martin was just here.
He won't let go of it.

Did you know that Sam
and Julia had a child?

I knew.

Father McKinnon!

- Mrs. Barret?
- May I speak with you a moment?

Certainly.

Does your husband know you're here?

- Certainly not.
- Then, why are you here?

Because I love him Father and
I protect the ones I love.

I don't understand.

It should be quite obvious.

Arthur is one of the
president's key advisors.

What if the press finds out that
his brother is a Nazi sympathizer?

- I'm very worried about a scandal.
- A Nazi sympathizer?

- I said my father was that?
- You implied it.

Well, you have no need to worry...

money and sympathy are two very
different things for my father.

He'd invest in the devil if he could
reap his profits before Judgment Day.

Believe me your husband's
reputation is very secure.

The other night you said things
didn't go as planned...

- Now is how you'd hoped they'd go?
- I apologize for the other night...

Father Michael.

- I'm sorry, may we discuss...
- How thoughtless of me.

This is one of the distressing aspects...

of our obligations to the poor.

Did you know them?

No, it's a paupers cemetery.

Most of the people who find
their way in here...

don't have even names to leave
behind them, much less friends.

Unless you care to be
a friend to one of them.

- Yes. If I may.
- Certainly.

Does their anonymity make your
job more bearable, Father?

I honestly don't know. I'm not sure
if it's a blessing or a curse.

How so?

I can never forget a face that
I've put into one of these graves...

but I find I can easily forget those.

Makes me wonder if Our Lord
has a selective memory also?

You know what he said...

it's easier for a camel to pass
through the eye of a needle...

than for a rich man to get to heaven.

I'm not sure it's even that
complicated in my case.

I think it's just God's way
of keeping me humble.

What do you think?
Is it working?

If you have to ask,
you already know the answer.

Father, excuse me.

- Thank you, Andre.
- Yes, Father.

Look out Mrs. Barret!

Andre, get Father Dryer.
Quickly!

Arthur.

It's not good.

She's suffered a massive hemorrhage.
She's lost a lot of blood.

- And the baby?
- No...

The baby was crushed in the fall.

Good news is...

She's come through the hardest part.
Tonight will tell the whole story.

- Does she know about the baby?
- Yes.

Well, finally.

She's been asking for a priest.
You're Father McKinnon?

- Why no...
- That would be me.

She's been asking for you
ever since she came to.

I don't think she'll allow herself
to rest until she's spoken with you.

- Is the baby alright?
- No, our baby is lost.

None of this would have happened...

if you had not come here. She had
no business going to that cemetery.

- It was an accident.
- No business!

Damn you!

Mrs. Barret.

It's Father Michael.
I'm here.

- It's my fault.
- No, it was an accident.

Father, listen...

it was all my fault.

What are you talking about?

What do you mean?

I fear he did it.

Did what?

Murder.

- What are we looking for, Father?
- I don't know exactly.

By the looks of him,
he ain't been dead long.

- Where'd he come from?
- Your office.

He was in the room where the
paupers are put.

This one ain't ours.

My associate's been out all week,
I've been pulling both shifts...

- I'd have seen him.
- I don't understand.

We found him in the room in this
box toe tagged, "nameless".

No, this ain't state built.

We stencil "coroner" on our coffins.

Keeps the employees from stealing
them for fire wood.

Are you absolutely sure about this?

Yeah. I'd remember this one
if I did him alright.

Just look. His tongue is
still all swelled up.

What does that mean?

It means that unless
this gentleman ate rat poison...

the poor devil was murdered.

Arthur wants to see you
before he leaves this morning.

Tell him I'm not feeling well.
Just tell him.

I'm sorry, Arthur.

How long can this go on?

No.

She cannot hide from me any longer.

How dare you barge in here?

Eleanor...

has it come to this,
that you're hiding from me?

Are you frightened of me?

- Should I be, Arthur?
- How can you say such a thing?

Do you think I'm angry with you
for going to see that priest?

I don't know anything anymore,
especially about you.

My God. You think I did it?

Did you?

Did you kill him?

Damn you for asking.

I won't be controlled.
You understand?

I will leave you if you don't tell me
the truth right now!

Leave me?

Where will you go?
You have no property of your own.

I'll find a place.

Will this new home match the beauty
of the home we've created here?

It doesn't matter.

- Will this new home have servants?
- Stop it!

Who will draw your bath with
its bubbles from Paris?

Speaking of Paris, will you travel?

- Don't push me, Arthur!
- Pushing is it?

Pushing to ask you how you
will make your living?

- I'll write, of course.
- We both know what women earn.

Especially female intellectuals...

concerned with women's rights.

You'll write, but you'll
do laundry to survive!

Fine. I'd rather starve
than sell my soul!

Now that you mention it...

Where will you go to worship God?

You might own Father Dryer, but you
don't own me. I'll find another Church.

Not as a catholic you won't.

Don't you understand? I will
never ask the Church for a divorce.

I will never give you up.
How can you think that?

Stay with me, Eleanor.

In your heart of hearts
you know that I am innocent.

All I've ever done in the name
of sin was to love you...

more than God.

Alright, Arthur.

- You won't leave me?
- No.

I swear, Eleanor,
you'll believe in me again.

I believe, Arthur...

I believe whatever
happened to our marriage...

and to Roger Martin, was
probably my fault to begin with.

It did not occur to Arthur that he
should try to relieve her guilt...

or offer to share the blame
nor did it occur to Eleanor...

that she had just committed
the same mistake as all women...

since the beginning of time.

She had not only forgiven a man his ways...

but had taken responsibility
for them as well.

She closed her eyes
and said goodbye to her female God.

You did what?

I asked the police to talk
to Arthur Barret, that's all.

I thought you should know in the
event that he mentioned it to you.

Forgive me, Father Michael,
for what I am about to say.

Are you out of your mind?
You are standing there saying...

that you have involved one of the
most influential Catholics in Boston...

not to mention one of our parishioners...

in a murder investigation
without provocation?

- The police say there are suspicious...
- I see, the police tell you.

Have you taken a personal interest
in the persecution of Arthur Barret?

Of course not.

Come with me.

Do you know who bought
his headstone, his plot?

Arthur Barret.
And that coffin?

- Why would he do this for a stranger?
- Because he is a generous man.

Which is why he has also
paying for the funeral...

and for the proper
preparation of the body...

and for the new suit that
this poor stinking corpse...

- that you dug up is now wearing.
- Well, he's a hell of a guy, sir.

How astute of you, Father Michael.
Now I ask you...

- are these the acts of a murderer?
- I don't know yet...

- but in fairness to Roger Martin...
- Whatever she told you that night...

- you will treat like a confession.
- It wasn't a confession.

And if you pursue this matter further...

I will bring charges against you
for the violation of that trust...

and I will have you removed from
Arthur Barret's congregation.

- Arthur Barret's congregation?
- Yes. His more than yours.

- Do I make myself clear?
- Perfectly, sir.

There's another piece of information
which may come to light.

Well, let me guess...

you're a protestant heretic
sent here to ruin my life.

Worse, I'm Arthur Barret's nephew.

- Mrs. Barret.
- Good afternoon, Father.

- I'm sorry I'm late.
- I'm surprised you're here at all.

Arthur left for Germany last week.
I've had a million things to do.

You've heard by now, Roger Martin's
death has been labeled a suicide.

- Yes.
- Tell me...

that night at the hospital, were you
offering me your confession?

I think it was a bad dream.
I was delirious.

Delirious enough to tell the truth?

How can you tolerate that?
She's obviously Arthur's spy.

Syril is more than a spy.

She was a ragged street urchin.
Your grandmother took her in...

and educated and refined her.
She helped raise Arthur.

- The Barrets made her a somebody.
- In a word: yes.

And she's protected our privileges
zealously ever since.

Can't say I blame her, she knows
what it's like not to have anything.

It's strange that my father
never mentioned her.

- Your father was in love with her.
- What?

Of course Sam wouldn't marry her.
You know the Barret way.

So instead, he ran off with
Arthur's fianc?e.

Julia McKinnon.

- My mother was engaged to Arthur?
- Yes.

The brothers had a terrible fight
and parted ways forever.

But for Syril and Arthur
a partnership was formed.

They protect each other to this very day.

So you've known all along
who you were dealing with.

- That makes sense.
- Nothing makes sense anymore.

I've come to you on faith.

- Do you like horses?
- Yes.

I'm well enough to ride again.

I usually take my exercise by
the old mill pond, do you know it?

I do, yes.

Was it naive to believe that I could
contend with a man such as Arthur?

- With Arthur no, his power yes.
- How do you separate them?

I don't know. But it's predictable
that one should ask the question.

Did you know it's possible for
someone who's reached heaven...

to fall back through the eye of a needle.

I do now.

- It's such a beautiful day.
- Indeed it is.

Do you think Roger Martin knows
it's a beautiful day too?

Well, you don't waste much time.

I assume you've come all the way
out here to hear my confession.

You assumed wrong.

I've come out here
to be your friend. Really.

He was more than an acquaintance.

- Are you saying you had an affair?
- No.

Arthur can't have children.
So we hired Mr. Martin as a surrogate.

You mean that he and you...?

More than once, I'm afraid.

But finally we were successful
and our business was finished.

Business?

- Does that term offend you?
- I don't know yet.

Go on.

Well, that's it.

I became pregnant, and...

Roger thought that he fell in love with me.

He wouldn't quit.
He threatened to expose Arthur...

- and claim the baby.
- So Arthur had to ki...

I'm sorry.

- That came out all wrong.
- I just need to know why.

- Why would he have to kill him?
- It's you, Eleanor.

You're the one person in the world
he respects enough to fear.

Love's enough to kill for.

Why?
What gives me this power?

Forgive me. I have to go.

Where are you going?
You can't leave me hanging like this.

I'm so sorry but I do have a job,
or rather a vocation.

I'm scheduled to hear confessions.

But I have to admit nothing will top this.

- Hello?
- Hello Michael.

- Is it a bad time?
- Is this a bad time?

Who is this?

This is Eleanor.
You left me hanging today...

I figured if you cost me sleep
I could at least pay you back.

Considered yourself paid in full.

Why do I get the feeling
you're not all caught up...

in the ritual of religion?

You were never once judgmental
as I was telling you my story.

You mean like a good priest would have?

Yes, exactly like that.

Well, because...

my God does not live exclusively
in the Church.

You know, he goes fishing.

He has the occasional headache.

He stubs his toe sometimes.

But I don't think that
He blames us for being human.

Then why a priest?

Because my father couldn't buy the company.

My God used to be a she.

Used to be? Right.
And was she pretty?

I don't know...

but it is predictable that
you would ask that question.

"Touch?".

So out with it Michael, what gives
with this power over Arthur?

I got to go. I'm sorry.
Bye.

Eleanor, are you awake?

Splendid. I'm wide awake
and there was nothing to do.

It was going to be a very long night.

- Has she gone to him everyday?
- Yes.

Is she with him now?

I believe so.

- Are they lovers?
- No.

But I predict if this
continues they will be.

I lost her.
Just like Julia.

Damn it, Syril.
Tell me what to do.

Decide what you want.

And live with that.

I want Eleanor...

but I want a child too.

Then they should be lovers.

Finish it, Arthur.
Allow her to give birth to this baby.

Your baby.

Isn't what all of this was
about in the first place?

I can't remember what
this was about anymore.

But this does change things now.

And you know it.

But for the better.

- Now a true Barret will be born.
- I can't.

I saw how happy you were when
Eleanor was carrying that child.

The baby will bring you
back together again.

- All she needs is a push.
- You have pushed enough.

Now, get out.

Don't worry, Arthur.

I can't stay very long, Arthur's home.

Was his trip successful?

No. He said he won't do
business with the devil.

Does that mean he's a man
of good conscience again?

Is that unbearable for you.

Arthur and I are like strangers
on a very large elevator.

We hug the walls, trying to
politely avoid each other.

What do you suppose God does
on a rainy day?

I think She probably
catches up on her reading.

Thank you for that.

- I'm sorry.
- I'm sorry. It's me.

No. It's both of us.

What now, Eleanor?

Now we say goodbye.

Bless me, Father...

I confess...

to God Almighty...

and to you Father...

that I have sinned.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.

I said, Bless me Father, for I have sinned.

Syril?

What are you doing here?

- I'm trying to confess.
- You're not even a catholic.

- All the more reason to confess.
- Confess to what?

A mutual friend of ours has sinned...

and is about to sin again.

- What?
- You heard me, Father.

- When?
- Tonight.

What was that?

The storm might have blown
a window open, I'll see to it.

Syril, I can't do this.

- What are you talking about?
- I won't do this again.

Mr. Harrington to see Mrs. Barret.
I believe she's expecting me.

You're late Mr. Harrington...

possibly too late.

Eleanor?

Who is it?
Michael, what...?

- Eleanor, are you alright?
- Yes.

- Can I come in?
- No...

I'm not feeling well right now.

But your young man is here.
He's waiting downstairs.

Send him my apologies
and tell him we have to postpone.

Syril sat by the window
in darkness all night...

watching the elements,
considering their source.

Appreciating the power of their fury.

More than once...

as thunder rolled and lighting

streaked across Arthur Barret's
lawn, she smiled...

and relished the similarities
of secrets and storms.

The bigger they are,
the more dangerous they become.

- For you Father.
- Andre.

Would you take care of this?

Rome? I don't understand.
Why are you doing this to me.

Because I've just had a chat
with Eleanor Barret.

Need I say more.

She's waiting in the sanctuary
to say goodbye.

How kind you came to say goodbye.

- It's best.
- For you or for me?

- For us both.
- I didn't ask for your help.

I thought what happened
was strictly between us.

- It was.
- You think...

I'll fall apart like Roger,
unable to live without you?

Not me, your child.

I'm pregnant.

What?

I'm going to have a baby.

It's your baby.

My baby.

But will it ever be Arthur's baby.

Don't you see? Women don't
own things. We don't know how.

We're talking about a human soul.
Nobody can own a baby.

When a young woman out
of wedlock gets pregnant...

what's the first question
her father asks her? Who's...

- That's just a phrase.
- It's the truth!

How will you feel when you baptize
your child in Arthur's arms?

How's he going to feel when you lay
his hand on his head at communion?

Please, don't blame me for trying
to protect him from that.

You've fallen in love
with him again, haven't you?

Haven't you, Eleanor?

I lost my way, but not my faith.

Well aren't you the fortunate one.

- You don't mean that.
- Of course I mean it! Look at this!

I threw away my father's life
when I entered the Church...

I compromised my judgment
when I came to Boston...

and threw away my conscience
that night in your house.

I will face the consequences with my God...

but please, Eleanor,
don't have me sent away.

Let me face God here.

Look, the baby will be yours and Arthur's.

I will lay no claims upon it.

- Don't make this child your sacrifice.
- It won't be my sacrifice.

But it might just be...

my salvation.

What about Father Dryer?

He's a good priest but he runs a business.

Just convince him it's my soul
you're buying not his.

You want to threaten him
with Arthur's money?

Yes.

Very well, Father McKinnon.

Together we stand.

In our witness to our faith in God...

and a commitment to the work
of the Kingdom on Earth.

Such a call can be frightening
and daunting...

How does one tell the tale of healing?

Or measure progress from within?

True to his honor, Arthur kept
his promise to Eleanor...

as ever so patiently, day by day...

he set out to mend her troubled heart.

She in turn gave him access.

Through it all one thing is certain...

their focus never changed.

For just as they thought a baby
would make their lives complete...

they now felt sure
it would turn their lives around.

Father Michael!
Father Michael!

- Come please.
- What is it, Andre?

- Hello?
- Who is this?

Father McKinnon.
Who is this?

Dr. Jenkins.
Where is Father Dryer?

He's out of town,
at a conference. What is it?

I'm at the Barret estate,
Mrs. Barret is in a very bad way.

- It's barely been 8 months.
- She asked for Father Dryer.

You best come quickly in his stead Father.

- What's happening?
- She woke up in great pain...

she thought her water broke.
It was blood, another hemorrhage.

- And the baby?
- So far, they're alive.

- They?
- Twins. That's the trouble.

The uterus was damaged in a fall.
The stress of two is too much.

She might not make it.

Eleanor.

Which God do you bring me today?

Which God would you like?

Today...

- I'd like the perfect One.
- You shall have him.

I'm sorry, Michael, I didn't want you to...

Save your strength.

What will you do?

What?

What will you do with
the babies now that I'm dead?

Doctor!

Eleanor, can you hear me?

She's unconscious.

- Tell me what you want Arthur?
- What?

Oh for God's sake!

She's gone and there's nothing I can do.

Tell me what to do about the babies?

She's gone!
Now. I need to know now!

Eleanor! Wake up.

Tell me what to do.
I can't do this without you.

- Arthur, the babies need your help.
- Do it.

Tell him. Tell him.

- Doctor, just do it.
- Stay close father...

I'll need your help.

Aspirate him Father.

- How?
- Set him down quickly.

Take your little finger and
scoop out his mouth.

- He's not breathing.
- Tilt his head back.

Breathe into his mouth.
Don't blow too hard.

That's it.

Doctor this isn't working!

It's not working?

- Help him.
- I'll take care of it.

It's alright.
It's alright.

Well Arthur...

you have twin sons.

Once again you have
my deep condolences, Arthur.

And my congratulations.

She was a fine woman.

Thank you, Harold.

You've done a good thing here.

As for you Father McKinnon, many thanks.

I intend to come back for them.

I will fight you.

They're mine Arthur.
Eleanor told Father Dryer.

- He'll never admit that.
- No...

but Syril knows the truth.

Tell him I was with her that night...

that you allowed me to stay.

Tell him.

Is there nothing I can say?
Is there nothing I can do?

No. If you challenge me,
I'll expose it all.

- Michael, please.
- There will be no negotiation.

I'll go back to England after
her funeral, I'll get a governess.

They can stay with Syril until then.

You bastard.
You are just like him.

I had come to have my moment
alone with Eleanor.

Arthur.

We'll be alright.

I often wonder how different
my life would be now...

if I had made them aware
of my presence a moment sooner.

Why did you do it, Syril?

Why did you kill that young man?

Arthur, no.

Roger came to see Eleanor
that night, didn't he?

- No.
- Didn't he?

Yes.

You were at the theater.

He was going to destroy you.

- I had to protect you.
- Protect me?

Yes. He was beside himself.

He was screaming he'd expose you
the next day. I lied.

I told him she was in the bath and to wait.

I gave him a drink of whiskey.

Laced with arsenic?

I did it for you. To save you.

Save me?

You have killed me.

I have nothing now.

Absolutely nothing.

I love you like my own son.

I know.

Believe me, I know.

Now give me...

one last moment alone with my wife.

I'll love forever.

Arthur... sir...

May I ask, what you just said to her?

Please, I do so need to know.

Why?

Because she deserved so much...

and because, too late...

and to my eternal shame...

I see how much you deserve.

Please, tell me.

Only the truth...

that she would never be forgotten.

I said there would be no negotiation...

but if I may, I should like
to make a bargain with you.

Oh God, whose goodness is
always to have mercy...

and to spare...

we humbly beseech Thee, that the
soul of Thy servant, Eleanor...

whom Thou hast this day
commanded to depart this world...

I said goodbye to Eleanor...

knowing that now she
would always be with me...

I would never forget her face.

You needn't feel guilty for this.
The sun shines here too.

I don't feel guilty Michael.

She might have appreciated
it more your way.

Thank you.

Eleanor once told me...

that above all else...

Shakespeare's sister would have been
a humble, patient, forbearing soul.

Even after the way she was denied.

Especially because she was denied.

Every Sunday Arthur would take
his place at that communion rail...

and stand proudly hand in hand
with his twin sons.

May God always bless you, Hannibal.

Then I would touch the head of the child...

whose very first breath
was drawn from my own.

May God always bless you, Michael.

He named him Michael.

Imagine that.

It does not escape my sense of irony...

to admit that yet another woman's story...

so clumsily told by a men...

has ended tragically.

Although the paths of our lives
may turn unexpectedly...

and end all too soon...

I can only believe that the journey
is never in vain and...

perhaps it is this very journey...

which gives life hope and meaning.

They say that a sinner
is someone who knows God...

and a priest is someone in search of Him.

I began to know God through Eleanor.

It was she, who taught me about faith.