The Shipping News (2001) - full transcript

Ain't got all day.

Dad, I can't.

Ain't got all day, boy.

- Come on, boy.
- Help.

You can do it.

Come on...

let me see you move your arms.

Kick your legs.

You can do it.

Come on.

You're not trying.



Nobody's gonna make
it easy for you.

It's up to you.

I used to imagine

that I'd been given to the
wrong family at birth

and that somewhere in the world

my real people longed for me.

From where my father stood

my failure to dog-paddle

was only the first
of many failures.

Failure to speak clearly.

Failure to sit up straight.

Failure to make friends

every time we moved

to another dreary upstate town.



In me...

my father recognised
a failed life...

his own.

When I got admitted to
the junior college,

my father figured it
was a clerical error.

When I dropped out a year
later, he wasn't surprised.

Quoyle. Quoyle.

Job not stimulating
enough for you?

No. I mean, yes.

I mean...

this is the best
work I've ever had.

I stumbled into adulthood

learning to separate my
feelings from my life...

counting on nothing.

I got used to being invisible.

Until... someone noticed me.

I'm sick of this shit.

Where you going, Petal?

Let's go.

Wake up. Go.

What's your name?

Quoyle.

Are you all right?

I'm starving, Quoyle. Aren't you?

I sell burglar alarms.

Really?

That... That must be
interesting work.

I'm an ink setter.

I work for the Poughkeepsie News.

You haven't touched your food.

Oh.

So, what do you think?

You want to marry me, don't you?

Huh?

It's 8:05.

I think I'm gonna
fuck you by 10:00.

What do you think of that?

Oh, my God.

That was the biggest one yet.

Yeah... I'm always
hungry after I get laid.

I guess because I burn
up so many calories.

You live in a dump, Quoyle.

I love you.

Oh...

I love you.

Nibble, nibble,

little mouse.

What'd the doctor say?

If I end up with stretch
marks, sue his ass.

Yeah, but, Petal, Petal,
is everything okay?

Petal? Petal?

Petal, you're the only
woman I've ever loved.

You're... You're the only one.

How do you make an Alabama Slamma?

Where are you, sweetheart?

Alabama, that's the point.
Look, look up the recipe.

It's on the fridge where
I keep the Mr Boston.

If you come home, I'll
make one for you.

Oh, Christ, never mind.

I'll have a vodka.

Oh, oh, it's okay, Bunny, honey.

Oh, I know...

All right, baby.

Has your friend gone?

My "friend."

Oh, shit.

Don't do that. Don't touch me.

Stop doing stuff...

creeping around, cleaning up.

Look...

it's no good.

Find yourself a girlfriend.

I don't want a
girlfriend; I want you.

Your funeral.

Listen, you going to
be home for dinner?

Don't expect me.

- Bunny's missed you, and...
- Hey, Petal.

Hey, Bunny rabbit.
Petal's gotta run.

That's so pretty.

Here. So's that.

Thanks.

Beautiful.

Oh, shit.

- Sorry.
- That's okay.

Hi, this message is
for Daniel Smith

confirming your appointment
with Dr Davis today at noon.

Quoyle? This is your father.

Lost your home number.

It's time for your mother
and I to put an end to it.

I left instructions with the
undertaker... Dayton & Sons.

Told them to notify my
sister, Agnis Hamm.

Not much of a life.

Nobody gave me nothing.

Other men would've given
up and turned into bums,

but I didn't.

I went without so you
could have advantages.

Not that you done
anything with them.

What, were they sick or something?

Oh, come on.

They must've left something.
What's their house worth?

No, Petal, the bank is taking it.

There's nothing left. There were

medical bills and
funeral costs and...

It's all gone, honey.

You wanna marry me, don't you?

- I won't have to go to school?
- It's an adventure.

Who goes to school when
they're on an adventure?

Is Daddy coming?

No. Daddy is boring.

Daddy's boring?

That's right. You're
a very clever girl.

There's Frank. Come
on, he's waiting.

Hey, big guy.

Goodbye.

Hey, hey, hey. Whoa, whoa,
whoa. What about my pay?

What about my pay?

You owe me for three weeks.

Yes, Quoyle.

Q-U-O-Y-L-E.

Quoyle.

She didn't leave me a message or
anything... a note somewhere?

Only for you to pay me.

What? Yeah, Bunny.

Bunny. Yes, that's,
that's her name.

She's, six years old.

And Petal. Petal, yes...

Agnis Hamm. Half-sister
of Guy Quoyle.

I'm your aunt.

This is a really bad time.

So I heard. I'm here
to visit his ashes.

No, I mean this is a
really, really bad time.

She's never done
anything like this.

I mean, she's walked out before,
but she's never taken Bunny.

I don't understand.

The potato chips won't
do you any good.

- Drink your tea.
- Huh?

Tea's a good drink.
Keep you going.

Do you think maybe you could
stick around for awhile?

Sorry, just passing through.

On my way to Newfoundland,
where our people come from.

You ever been there, nephew?

Only I want to say
farewell to Guy first,

if you'll tell me where he is.

Oh. Sorry.

He's the one on the left.

Petal, hello. Is that you? Hello?

Mr Quoyle?

Oh. Yes, it is.

This is Investigator Danzig
from the New York State Police.

Oh, Jesus, have you found 'em?

- Yes, sir.
- Yeah?

Ow. Jesus. God damn it.

Hang on a second. Hello?

- Yes, sir, I'm still here.
- Oh, thank God.

- Hello. Can you hear me?
- That's not a problem.

Yeah. How's Bunny?

You know what? I think
she's gonna be all right.

Oh, Jesus, good. And, and Petal?

Mr Quoyle, we'll talk about
that when we get there.

Huh. You're gonna, you're
gonna bring her here?

- Yes, sir.
- Okay. And you have the address?

- Yes, we do.
- Oh, good.

And Petal?

Relax, sir, we'll be
there as soon as we can.

Okay, thank you. Thank you.

They're gonna bring Petal;
they're gonna bring Bunny.

They found 'em.

The cop said he's got something
to tell me about Petal.

I hope she didn't
get in any trouble.

She's got such a temper on her.

There's just no
telling what she...

The convertible went over
a guardrail in Jersey.

Fortunately, your daughter
was no longer travelling

with Mrs Quoyle and, and
her male companion.

She was mercifully
killed on impact,

I can promise you.

Look, there is something else.

Seems she sold your daughter

to a black market adoption
outfit for $6,000.

There was even a receipt,
if you can imagine.

That's how we tracked her.

Daddy.

- Daddy.
- Hi, sweetheart.

Who's that?

That's your Great Aunt Agnis.

Where's Petal?

Mummy.

Mummy?

Maybe I could stay
just a day or two.

"Your loved one has
not left your heart

"or your thoughts

but is sleeping peacefully."

She's sleeping?

Yes. Peacefully.

In heaven.

With the angels.

If I was asleep, I'd wake up.

Why are you so scared, Daddy?

What do I do?

It takes a year, nephew...

a full turn of the calendar,
to get over losing someone.

That's a true saying.

The move'll help. You'll see.

What place on Earth
could be better than...

the place your people came from?

Smell that clean Northern Sea?

I'm not a water person.

At least the girl is.

I hope we're doing the
right thing, Aunt.

I thought I'd never
come back here.

But the older you get,

there's an ache, a pull...

something you've
got to figure out.

Like you're a piece in a puzzle.

It takes some time to get
used to the rock beneath you.

It's a place like no other.

The people who came
here came by accident.

Those that stayed learned
strange things can happen...

omens and restless spirits...

magic.

We Quoyles, we left
it 50 year ago.

Hard times.

We're nearly there. Quoyle Point.

Named after us. You.

Well, I don't understand.

It's May, there's so much snow.

Up here, forget everything you

thought you knew
about the weather.

I was born in that house.

Empty 44 years...

Look at that roofline.

Straight as a ruler.

Look.

I wonder who that is.

It's your grandfather,
Sian Quoyle.

Died before I was born.

Died young... 12 year old.

Twelve?

Then he couldn't have
been my grandfather.

You don't know Newfoundlanders.

Who's this?

It's my father and...

and you.

I never did care for that hat.

Oh. My Lord, the table.

The blessed table.

There's no way we can live here.

It's all fixable.

We'll get a carpenter.

Oh, well, it might be
cheaper if we just build

a whole new house on the Riviera.

Only I wasn't born on the Riviera.

Daddy?

What?

Why did you wake me up?

I wanted to see if
you were asleep.

Are these cables so the
house won't blow away?

So far so good.

They say it rocked in storms
like a rocking chair.

Made the women sick, so
they lashed it down.

They're moaning.

The house is sad.

What?

You should let it loose.

I'm here to apply for a job.

Come on in.

Listen here. Listen here, my son.

I'm going to need
clarification on this.

I got Doris Koontz down as
runner-up in "cakes and muffins"

but her entry is listed as
"strawberry rhubarb cobbler,"

which I believe ought
to be under "pies."

Name's Tert Card...

managing editor, rewrite
man, and snow shoveller.

You'll have to do
without the boss.

Himself, Jack Buggit, has
called in sick, as per usual.

Which is why I am occupying
his office, Billy Pretty,

and no bones about it.

Come in.

Name?

Quoyle.

I just got here yesterday
from New York...

Ah, you're a Quoyle,
are you? Well,

I should've seen that right off.

Sit down.

Prior experience as a journalist?

Washington Post? London Times?

Oh, oh, no, I'm not a
journalist. I'm an ink setter.

I had that position...

Gammy Bird.

Are you in my office, Tert?

No, no, no, Jack.
I'm just conducting

a job interview here at my desk.

Job interview?

Yeah, there's a Mr Quoyle here.
Says he's an ink setter.

The fella's a Quoyle, you say?

And no mistake.

Have him meet me at the
dock in, one hour.

That bronchitis of yours
cleared up already?

Much better. Thanks
for your concern.

Okay, Jack.

Quoyle. Over here.

Step lively.

Hello there, Mr Buggit.
The man at the...

The name's Jack. Come on, get in.

I'm not a water person.

All Quoyles is water people.
Boats is in your blood.

That's why I'm hiring you.

I need somebody to cover
the shipping news.

You'll get a list from
the harbour master...

what ships go in
to Killick-Claw...

But, Mr Buggit, I'm an ink setter.

Pay attention, me old son.

I don't need no ink setter,
I need a reporter.

And you'll do local car wrecks.

Take the picture, write the story.

We run a front-page photo
of a car wreck every week,

whether or not we actually
have a car wreck.

Now, there's a knack for taking

photos that make you
feel something.

If there's a dark
patch on the ground,

it reads blood whether it's
motor oil or Diet Coke.

And you want something human,

a child's mitten, a purse,

a baseball cap lying in the road.

See, that's what makes it human.
That's what makes the reader feel.

- Jack, I'm no reporter.
- Jesus sweet Christ.

You think any of them
tomcods knew how to write

when I hired them?

I get a feeling about
people, that's all.

Welcome home, Guy.

I can't do it.

I mean, even if I
knew the first thing

about writing, which I don't, I...

Car crashes... I
can't cover those.

Why not?

You know why not.

We face up to the
things we're afraid of

because we can't go around them.

Car wrecks are a fact
of life up here.

Come winter, a drive into town
will be damn near impossible.

We'll buy us a boat.

Look, I already told you,
I'm not a water person.

They dragged it here.

What, honey?

The house. They dragged it here.

You must've had a
dream, sweetheart.

Who told you about that?

A long time ago, on Gaze Island,

the old Quoyles couldn't
make a go of it there,

so they lashed the house with
ropes and they dragged it.

Yeah, they dragged it.

Across the ice, clear
to the mainland.

Right here.

This is from the "News of
Your Neighbours" column.

"The pole on the corner
of Main and West streets

"has a sign on it that
says it's illegal

to place anything on that pole.

"We see the postman has
landed in the clink

"for throwing the mail
in Killick-Claw Harbour.

"He said he had too
much to deliver

"and the folks could take a
dip and help themselves.

Guess it helps if you can swim."

This is professional stuff. How
am I supposed to write this?

You can't. You'll get it wrong.

Here now, miss. Don't
you talk to your

father like that.
Course he can do it.

Petal says Dad never
gets anything right.

Yeah, well, it'll work out.

Hello. You must be Quoyle.

B. Beaufield Nutbeem.

I head up the foreign
news department.

Steals every story off
that goddamn short wave.

Which Tert takes the
liberty of rewriting

in his own mystical tongue.

Only to save you from charges
of plagiarism, Nutbeem.

Mr Billy Pretty, an old fish
dog and local landmark.

Edits the home news page... poems,
baby photos, household tips.

There's your desk, Quoyle.

Is there, a computer?

Well, do you see one?

No, I just... I see
everyone else...

Keen powers of observation.

I can see why Jack snatched
you off the job market.

Gammy Bird.

Huh.

Right on to it.

Well, Quoyle, you
lead a charmed life.

Two minutes on the job, and
you got your first car wreck.

As far as I can tell, the
site is really fresh,

about 10, 15 minutes, at the most.

You got two victims...
one male, one female.

Not one vital sign between them,

so we're gonna wait till
the police come now.

The rate of speed
we estimate at 65,

so there's nothing unlawful here.

There's not a whole lot
you can do, right,

when a moose decides
to get in your way.

That's for sure.

The driver most likely
had his chest crushed

before the car hit the water,
so at least that's a mercy.

Yeah. Yeah.

Well, there's that, and the moose,

which is a gift really,
when you think about it...

out of season like that...
a moose that size.

Oh, Lord, yes.

Billy, I suppose we could
split it four ways, right?

How much could you fit in
the station waggon there?

I'll take the hind quarter.

I know we're gonna want to use...

some of those recipes from
the "Home Page," you know?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

He's new, is he?

New fella.

There you go.

It's wrecks like that
that sells papers.

Oh, Jack knows his readers.

Now, mind you, there's more
people down under these waters

than are killed on the roads.

You'll want to get yourself a
nice little boat before long.

Something that fits the water.

I just don't want to think
about a boat right...

Who's that?

- Why?
- Oh, I was just curious.

I've seen her around.
She's very tall.

I mean she... she's
got good posture.

She seems very...

Her stride is different.

It was grief that caused
her boy to be not right.

She was carrying him when her
husband was drowned at sea.

Like I was saying, there's
more life lost that way.

How's your car wreck
coming, Quoyle?

If I wanted War and Peace,

I would have hired William
bloody Shakespeare.

"The policeman ate breakfast
at the Codcake Diner

before he arrived at
the accident scene"?

Yes?

Your spelling is fine,

and I've seen plenty
worse grammar.

But... But finding the
centre of your story...

the beating heart of it...
that's what makes a reporter.

Now, you'll have to start by
making up some headlines.

You know? Short, punchy,
dramatic headlines.

Now, have a look. What do you
see? Tell me the headline.

Horizon Fills with Dark Clouds.

Imminent Storm Threatens Village.

But what if no storm comes?

Village Spared from Deadly Storm.

- How was your first day?
- What's all this?

Nephew, we can't fix
up the house proper

on a journalist's wages,
so I've un-retired.

- From what?
- Boat upholstery.

All us Quoyles have a
feeling for boats.

Who... Who's this?

That's Dennis Buggit,
master carpenter.

Ah, only till I gets
me lobster licence.

I'm a fisherman in me soul.

Buggit, huh? You
wouldn't be related

to my boss down at the Gammy Bird?

Yeah. My dad.

Tomorrow I'll run two-by-fours
under your second storey.

Oh, and, I was you,

I wouldn't sleep in
your upstairs tonight

unless you want to wake up
downstairs with a thud.

Yeah.

Yes, boy.

What? What? What
is it? What is it?

A ghost. The window.

A skinny ghost, and a white dog.

I didn't dream it.
Don't say I did.

I won't, I won't,
sweetheart, okay.

There's a ghost there.

Okay, okay, okay. Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

Oh, excuse me?

- This is our first day at school.
- I don't like these kids.

Bunny. She's in the
after-school...

They're boring.

Boring, boring, boring.

Bunny, that's enough.

I'm sorry. She's... She's
not usually like this.

Not usually like what?

I hate going to new places
where I don't know anybody.

I don't know anybody.

What's wrong with him?

Bunny, that is... There is nothing
wrong with him, all right?

This is Herry. When
he was being born,

he didn't get enough
air to breathe...

and that makes him a little
slower than most people.

What's your name?

Bunny.

A bunny rabbit.

- That's what my mother calls me.
- Is Mummy at work now?

No, she's asleep with the angels.

I am a bunny rabbit.

Oh, you certainly are.

Boing, boing, boing, boing...

Which of those women
are in charge here?

Neither of them.
They're just mums.

Oh, because somebody
really ought to

be paying more attention to them.

I mean, look at that. There's
scissors on the ground.

I mean, somebody
really ought to be

supervising them, don't you think?

Yeah.

Better get back to work.
Supervising and all.

I'm Wavey Prowse.

I run the place.

They are having entirely
too much fun, aren't they?

It's a constant
problem around here.

Bumbling Dad Humiliated
at Day Care.

Quoyle.

C'mon over, Quoyle.

Order's up now. Come and get it.

Aye, sir.

Hey.

You've been to the
harbourmaster's.

Yeah, boats in, boats out.

Not exactly the stuff of legends.

Sometimes there's a
story behind the story.

What can I do you for, then?

Oh, I'll have, whatever
they're having.

- What are you having?
- Squid burger. It's good.

All right, then. You want
some fries with that?

Okay.

All right, then, be back.

Have you got yourself a boat yet?

No.

You ought to get Alvin
Yark to build you one.

Or you could buy Nutbeem's.

I built a Chinese junk.

Sailed it up from Brazil.

Unfortunately, I missed
Manhattan by a mile or two

and got stranded here when I
shipwrecked by Gaze Island.

I've almost finished my repairs.
I'll be sailing away soon.

She's ugly, and... the only
thing I've ever loved.

Your story tugs at me bladder.

Excuse me.

What is it between those two?

You have to understand
about the curse.

Jack Buggit's father,
his grandfather,

his great-grandfather,
all died at sea.

Jack is... sensitive.

Especially about the sea.

"Sensitive."

It's what they call people
around here who, "know" things.

So, Dennis is forbidden the sea.

But being free,

Newfie and 21, he goes anyway.

- What? And that's enough?
- Death storm.

A massive wave cracks her
steel hull amidships,

a one-inch crack from
starboard to port.

Men go in the water.
Dennis is lost.

After about a week,

they come to Jack and tell him
the search is to be called off.

Jack stands like a stone.

Then he turns... quick, the
way he does... and says...

"He's alive...

and I know where."

So, off he goes, out to sea

on his own, in just a skiff

and finds Dennis.

Can you imagine the odds?

Finds him. Finds him. Both
arms broken, 99% dead.

The boy comes to.

And Jack says to him,
"If you ever step foot

in a boat again, I'll
drown you myself."

And do you know what Dennis said?

- Say it fast.
- He said...

"All fishing licences
are spoken for.

I'd appreciate it if
you gave me yours."

Jack looked in his eyes, and
they never spoke again.

Quoyle... you got the "Shipping
News" written up yet?

Oh, yes.

There's nothing here.

Boats in, boats out.
What else is there?

If I knew, I'd write it myself.

I took a chance on you,
Quoyle. Don't let me down.

Go get the aspirin now.

Oh, shut up.

I had as much to drink
last night as you did.

Excuse me.

Do I know you?

I'm a... I work for
the local paper.

I do the... the "Shipping News."

I was just... Is this your boat?

That's a boat. This
is a Botterjacht.

She was built for Hitler.

- He was the original owner.
- Really?

I just wanted to ask you
a couple of questions.

The finest Botterjacht
ever built in Holland.

Tell him what happened
in Hurricane Bob.

And she's incredibly heavy.
40 tons of solid oak.

Tell him.

She broke free of her moorings
and pounded six boats...

expensive ones... to rubble.

Wham.

Now tell him who let
our insurance lapse.

Wham.

Oh, it took six

very expensive lawyers
to weasel us out of it.

Jesus. An inch from bankruptcy.

Moral of the story? When
you marry a tour guide,

confine his authority
to mixing the drinks.

- Did I come at a bad time?
- Yeah.

Ten years ago
would've been better.

Wife Fires Artillery
on Hitler's Boat.

- Hello.
- Hi.

- Hi.
- You guys need a ride?

Thanks, but, Herry likes to walk.

Oh. Well, it's a
nice day for a walk.

Mr Quoyle, about the other day?

I'm sorry we got off
on the wrong foot.

No, that's, that's all right.

I was way off base.

I admire anybody that
works with kids.

That's the hardest job
in the world, you know?

- I'm a journalist, myself.
- Really?

Have you seen our local paper?

Strictly fish wrap.

What?

I'm the new reporter there.

Oy... oh...

No, I'm sure...

That'll be...

- Good luck to you.
- Oh, thank you very much.

- It was nice to see you again.
- Nice to see you.

- Bye, Herry.
- Bye.

Dennis?

Bunny.

What are you doing?

She's boring. Boring.

How was Bunny when you
picked her up from day care?

All right. A little snotty.

What's that?

Robert Burns.

Someone gave that to you.

Someone that you're missing.

Six year ago today.

Leukaemia.

We weren't married,

but that's a technicality.

- That your boat?
- Yeah, I just bought her.

- One question remains... Why?
- Well, she's a speedboat.

It's a shit boat. Wallowing,
cockeyed bastard.

- It'll sink in a bathtub.
- Makes you cry to look at her.

Just a coffin, boy.

Let me know when
you're serious. I'll

take you down to see Alvin Yark.

He'll make you up a
sweet little Rodney.

You don't have the sense God
gave a doughnut, do you?

I'm going home.

The best you can do is bury it

some dark night.

What in hell a name's this?

"Hitler's Barge."

That's, a vessel in port. It
goes with the "Shipping News."

So, what about the
motorcycle accident?

Oh, I'm still working on that, but
I think this is a better story.

What do you mean?

You didn't do the one
Jack wanted you to do?

You did one that he
don't know you did?

Well, this is worse
than your boat.

Jack even sniffs this, he'll
cut you up for lobster bait.

I think I'll run it.

And he crawled off the grass onto
a branch, and he made a cocoon,

which is like a house, except
it's for a caterpillar...

- Hey, Bunny.
- I'm reading.

He thinks I know how.

Oh, oh... no, no...

Go on, get the pig.

See you tomorrow.

- Oh, bye, Sarah. Bye, Patrick.
- Bye.

Hey, can you hold these
rods together for me?

You have to hold them
flush against each other.

- Okay.
- Thanks.

Be careful, honey.

I want to see if it can fly.

Well, not in the
house, sweetheart.

Throw it up in the
air, high as you can.

- Okay.
- And count till it comes down.

One, two, three, four, five.

Hey. Have you been
to flight school?

- Not really.
- No? Oh, my.

Aunt?

- Hey, guess what?
- Just keep it down.

This is my assistant, Mavis Bangs.

- Oh, hello.
- How are you?

Did you read my article
on the Hitler boat?

What?

Silver and Bennett Melville
were clients of mine.

They pulled anchor last night
without paying a penny

for all the work we did
for them. The buggers.

Now, you find out where they're
to, we'll give you the Pulitzer.

What, you make juju beads
out of lobster feelers?

Oh, that's pretty
remarkable, missus.

Now, where do you
export these? Haiti?

Oh, well... I'll tell you
what. I'll, do my best.

I'll try to get you a bit of ink
in the next edition, how's that?

Well, you know, these things take
some time to work out, you know?

- Card?
- Hold on.

If you're going to
shanghai me office,

Tert, you best conceal
the evidence.

- Oh, no, Jack...
- Nah.

This, Hitler boat...

You assign it?

Nope, sir. It wasn't my idea.

Get me Quoyle.

Quoyle... he wants you.

Mr Buggit, it was what you said...

Have a seat.

I got four phone calls last night
about the Hitler boat... four.

People enjoyed it.
Mrs Buggit liked it.

Of course, you don't know
nothing about boats,

but that's entertaining, too.

So, listen here, me old son, I'm
giving you a weekly column.

A story about a different
boat every week.

Human stuff.

Who owned the boat, who lived
and died on her, who drowned,

who was saved, who
lost his fortune,

who had his heart broke.

You follow?

Tert.

Jack?

Order this boy a new computer.

And buy him a real one, not
one of them Japan clones.

- You got that?
- Huh.

Oh, Mr Buggit, I don't
know what to say.

Did I not tell you?
My name is Jack.

Jack.

IBM, please.

Get back to your work, Quoyle.

I... B... M.

Lumbering Idiot Stuns
Crowd... For a Change.

Herry Prowse.

Look how well your kite is doing.

Are you making it dance
with your thoughts?

Your kite is doing so much
better than Mr Quoyle's.

Do you think Bunny's strange...

I mean, mentally?

The skinny ghost
with the white dog?

She told you about that?

Maybe she's sensitive. The way
some folks are around here.

And what about the necklaces?

Do you know how many
of those she makes?

And I found her bashing her baby
doll's brains out with a hammer.

A baby doll doesn't have
brains. It's a toy.

Do you know she's... saving
a room for her mother?

- Did she tell you that?
- Yeah.

Is she strange, that's all? Is she
okay? If you had to take a guess.

That little girl's the only
friend my son ever had.

So she's strange, you bet.

It crashed.

All right. There you go.

Do you know how he died?

My husband?

It was a calm night when
Herold took the boat out.

There was no sign of any storm.

Storms can be sudden around here.

He wasn't the only one
whose boat went down.

It was four years ago...

and it's yesterday.

Look how high we're up.

Huh. Beat you to the car.

Did I blow it, or can
you still be my friend?

Your friend? Sure.

Is this yours?

The ghost brought it.

Then he ran away.

The skinny ghost
with the white dog?

Don't say I dreamt it.

Ah, you're getting the hang of it.

Now, coax her a wee
bit to starboard.

Attaboy. You're a Quoyle...
There's seawater in your veins.

How are things with your girl?

Oh, Bunny's just still
adjusting, I think.

Oh, I was talking
about Wavey Prowse.

Sorry... sorry. Whoa.

Jesus. Sorry.

I... Wavey and I are just friends.

Fine. Don't have to
drown me over it.

This is where I grew up. That's
my poor old father there.

And that's where your house stood.

Before they dragged
it across the ice.

Yes, sir. Before they
was driven away.

Driven away by what?

You never knew? Ah, well.

It's neither here
nor there, right?

The point is, they made a
new place for theirselves.

No, by what? Driven away by what?

Oh, that's old stuff, boy.

It's in my blood.

You ought to be able to tell me.

Well, they come to Gaze Island
centuries ago, they did.

The old Quoyles was rackers.

They were, they were
pirates, sort of like.

You see them cairns?

Fires used to burn in them

to guide the ships at
sea like lighthouses.

Now, the Quoyles
would move the fires

to fool the ships.

They'd lure them into the rocks so
the Quoyles could grab their loot.

Oh, they was a savage
lot, the old Quoyles.

Then they went too far one day,
they... nailed a man to a tree

and they cut off his nose

to draw the nippers and the
flies that ate him alive.

And that's when the Quoyles was
given their walking papers.

Jesus.

Now, there's still
an old Quoyle down

in one of these coves somewhere.

They say he slept with his
wife after she was dead.

Anything else I should know?

That about covers it.

♪ When the knitting
pins you is abreast ♪

♪ Hold the tiller to the west ♪

♪ Behind the pins you must steer ♪

♪ Till the old man's
shoe does appear ♪

Pull, pull.

Show me that necklace.

See, if you make the loops bigger,
you don't have to make so many.

Okay.

Good morning.

Can I talk to you for a minute?

- Where's that chair from?
- Excuse me?

The chair that you're sitting in.

Where's it from?
Where'd you get it?

It's not from around here, right?
It's foreign, it's exotic.

I don't want pirate's
loot in this home.

Billy Pretty told me all about it.

It's a good thing
somebody finally did.

I don't believe in
dwelling in the past.

No? Then what are we doing here?

Making a future.

Well, well, well. If it ain't the
second coming of the Quoyles.

Taking a long and hearty meal
break, I can't help but noticing.

Hope you've got a good idea
for your next story, Quoyle.

I'd hate for Jack to think that
it was just beginner's luck.

Let the man digest, Tert.

Mind you, if I was the esteemed

author of the "Shipping
News" column,

I'd pick up the McGonigle
Oil Field story.

Petro-dollars; a
golden flood of jobs.

You write a story
about that, I'll put

it right there on the front page.

Thank you for stopping by, Tert.

Yeah, thanks, Tert.

- Aw, gee.
- What was that all about?

Oh, he owns Mobil Oil.

Ten shares.

What about your column?

- What about it?
- You said you'd read it to me.

Yeah, I will, once
the game is done.

"There's a 1904 photo hung
in the Killick-Claw Library.

"Eight schooners heading out
to the fishing grounds.

"Their sails are
white and beautiful.

"But nowadays you're
just as likely to see

"a big black shape
of an oil tanker

like the ruptured Golden Goose.

"Last week it leaked
14,000 tons of crude

"onto the seabirds, fish
and boats at Cape Despot.

"There will be more
and more tankers.

"They will get old and corroded,
and their tanks will split.

"And there will be less
fish, and less fishermen.

Nobody hangs a picture of an oil
tanker on their wall, do they?"

What do you think?

I think when Tert Card sees
it, he'll stay up nights

thinking of cheap shots
to pay you back.

I think he won't stop
until you're fired.

I think I haven't been
so proud of a friend...

since I don't know when.

What do you think?

Pretty impressive, huh?

Like I said, nobody
hangs one of those.

Well... your column's
front page stuff.

Only now it's more
a caption, is all.

"More than 3,000 tankers
proudly ride the world's seas.

"Even the biggest take advantage

of Newfoundland's deep water
ports and refineries."

Spelled it all perfect, so
as not to embarrass you.

"Oil and Newfoundland go
together like ham and eggs.

And like ham and eggs, they'll
nourish us in the coming years."

Even put your name on it.

"Let's all hang a picture of
an oil tanker on our wall."

Man of your principles...

I understand the only honourable
course is resignation.

And if you're off to see Jack
Buggit, you're gonna have to swim.

For I runs the Gammy
Bird, every inch of

it, which he'd have
to do without me.

And if you think he's going
to choose you over fishing,

then you're dumber
than a doughnut.

If that's possible.

Jack?

For Christ sakes,
Quoyle, cut your motor.

All right, what's the emergency?

Can't it wait till
I'm done fishing?

It's about my column.

Card, he printed it not
the way I wrote it.

Well, so?

You disapprove how Card
runs my newspaper...

enough to lose your job?

Yes or no?

Yes.

So, this is what Jack and I think:

We want to run Quoyle's
wrong-headed oil spills story

because controversy sells
papers, and papers sells ads.

But the oil tanker picture stays.

You should have seen Tert's face.

- Yeah?
- Oh, it was a beautiful thing.

That's all right, I've seen it.

Oh, it's great.

Let's see what the special is.

How do you feel about
ordering to go?

- You ever had that before?
- No, what is it?

Seal-flipper pie.

Yeah, it's made from, like, the
knuckle part of the flipper.

The slimy cartilage part.

Yeah, it's good, though.

I mean, it's a good choice if
you like that sort of thing.

I... You know, I'm really
not all that hungry.

I just wanted, you
know, to come and sit.

- I had a big lunch today.
- Yeah.

They say you're not a
real Newfoundlander

till you've had a piece
of seal-flipper pie.

- That's what they say?
- Yeah, that's right.

Good. That's surprising.

I never eat it, myself.

You never eat this?

This is horrible.

Here, I got you some
real food. Look.

Christ. I knew
somebody was out here.

Oh, for Christ's sake.

He's still burning off the fever.

Any feeling yet?

Little tingles.

- You're lucky.
- I'm fine.

I'll be ready to get
right back in that water

in another 20, 30 years.

Do you know how close
you were to dying?

I'll get my uncle, Alvin Yark,
to build you a proper boat.

And learn how to use it, okay?

Okay.

Good.

Were the eyes open or closed?

I don't know. Just said it
was a disembodied head.

What'd the police
have to say about it?

Still working on it.
A little late to

return the head to
its owner, though.

Hello, nephew.

"Mrs Silver Melville was
arrested early today

"in Lanai, Hawaii, for the
murder of her husband,

"socialite and raconteur,
Mr Bayonet Melville.

"'He pushed me once too often,
' Mrs Melville confessed,

"'so I finally pushed back."'

Good for you, my dear.

Well, he probably deserved it.

- Hey.
- Hey.

Don't get your hopes up.

You're the first man
who ever cooked

for me. You got a lot of leeway.

How are they?

They're both asleep
in Bunny's bed.

Should we trust them?

I can do this. You
just don't think...

- Oh, no. No, I know. Here.
- I can't...

Let me do that, all right?

There you go.

- Can you feel that?
- Yeah.

Through your bandage?

What?

Your husband, he never...

He never cooked you a meal?

Why are we talking
about my husband?

Because I understand.

You said, "It's four years
ago and it's yesterday."

I understand that.

My husband's not who we're
talking about, right?

I'll go get Herry. He wouldn't
like waking up in a strange bed.

- Hey.
- Huh?

Who are you?

Huh? Yeah.

I tied magic in these knots to
protect you from the house.

No good ever come from the old
place. Never, never... never.

You... you have no...
business in the Quoyle house.

- I get you out of there.
- But I am a Quoyle.

A Quoyle?

I was a Quoyle before
you was anything.

Leave the house.

Tell... Agnis hello from...

Cousin Nolan.

You know why Agnis come back?

To show she ain't afraid
of the place no more.

Because I know what
she's done. I know.

She got rid of the
baby she was carrying.

What could she do?
What? She was only 12.

And it was her own brother
that done it to her.

No. No. No. No.

Please. No. No. Please.

- Does that belong to you?
- Sorry.

There's still hot water in the
kettle, if you want some tea.

I've started looking for a
place for me and Bunny.

You sure you're going to
be okay at your shop?

I said I would, didn't I?

I think Silver Melville was right
to chop her husband's head off.

He probably deserved it.

I think more women
should do what she did.

Maybe some should have done
it to their own brother...

my father.

Cousin Nolan dropped
by last night.

I always thought if anyone
knew, I'd be turned to stone.

Shit.

Here.

Tea's a good drink.

It'll keep you going.

When someone hurts you
that much, how do you...

Does it ever go away?

Is it possible?

Her name was Irene.

The love of my life.

You look happy.

So, yeah, it is possible.

Agnis tells me we got
to move for the winter.

It'll be a three-hour drive from
here to the point. All the ice...

Me and Bunny, we're going to have
to find a room in town somewhere.

I'll have the usual,
please, Annie. Thank you.

Well, if it's a place to stay you
need, you can have my trailer.

- Timing's perfect.
- What are you talking about?

My boat's ready.

If I stay here any longer, I
might begin to like the place.

I'm throwing myself a
farewell party on Saturday.

- Departure to follow Sunday.
- The rootless traitor.

Regrets soon after, no doubt.

Quoyle of the north.

Quoyle of the north.

Have you and Wavey
done the dirty yet?

She's the grieving widow.

Grieving for Herold Prowse.
Oh, that's a good one.

Let me tell you something
about old Herold Prowse.

It's like a party game in town...

to look at babies and see
if they look like Herold.

Hey. Hey.

Everyone. To Nutbeem.

To Nutbeem.

We all loves our
fucking Nutbeem, what?

Lets us keep him here then.

Got your chainsaw, Neddie?

Nutbeem.

Hoh-oh-oh.

What's wrong?

I'm a Quoyle.

I'm one of the Quoyles, pirates
and looters and murderers.

My father raped his little sister,

and then he taught me how to swim.

Stop that. Jesus, you
smell like a brewery.

Stop it.

Go on, Herry. Go on.

Stop it.

Herry.

Sorry, Herry.

I'm sorry, Petal.

I'm so sorry.

I meant Wavey.

Good. I feel much better.

When were you going to tell me
about your fucked-up marriage?

I'm scrambling eggs. Are
you gonna be able to eat?

No.

Listen, I'm...

Maybe I should just go.

You forget where the door is?

He ran off to Winnipeg
with some little bitch.

She was barely out of high school.
Is that fucked up enough for you?

Herold, my husband, he didn't die.

Not that he didn't deserve to.

He left me when I was eight months
pregnant... no good to him in bed.

So I took his 15-footer
out into the bay,

cracked the hull with a
hatchet and sunk her...

and pretended he was drowned...

and played the grieving widow and
packed my bags to leave town.

But then a funny thing happened.

All these folk I
grew up with, they

put their hearts
around me and Herry

so we wouldn't be alone.

And I just couldn't leave.

I'm sorry, Wavey.

You're always sorry.

You're looking dishy, Quoyle.

I'm afraid my offer to let
you stay in my trailer

will have to be retracted.

Sorry about that.

And your boat.

I'm some disgusted
with the human race.

I never would have made it anyway.

Storms would have
blown me to bits.

You boys saved my life, I imagine.

I've gathered up my savings,
and I'm flying back to Brazil

where the water is
swimming-pool green.

You and Bunny can stay
with the wife and me.

To Brazil.

Brazil.

- Brazil.
- Brazil.

We can stay with Aunt
Agnis over at her shop.

Barely enough room
there for myself.

You'll like it at
Dennis' house, sweetie.

No, I won't.

- Hi, Quoyle. Hi, Bunny.
- Welcome, weary travellers.

- Our home's your home.
- No, it's not.

- Come on in.
- Bunny.

Come on in, sweetie. I made
a big seal-flipper pie.

- What's that?
- Weather light. Storm coming.

Big one.

The house... the house...

house.

I...

What is it, Quoyle?

What?

It's gone.

- What?
- The green house is gone.

I didn't dream it.

Don't say I did.

Yeah? Oh, hi, Mum. Some storm?

What?

Oh.

Yes. Yes, of course.

What's a wake?

It's to say goodbye.

Mr Buggit is sleeping
with the angels.

He was a hard man,
but he was fair.

Another one for the Buggit curse.

Dennis...

Yeah, I'm still looking
for my dad's navy medal.

I found it.

Don't you worry. It's
going to be all right.

Thank you.

Mum.

What?

Good.

I found it... in his
desk at the office.

Would you write something for
the Gammy Bird about Jack?

Yes, I'll try.

Jack is... Jack is all right now.

You all know... we
are only passing by.

We walk over these
stones a few times.

Our boats... sail for a
little while on the waves

and then they have to sink.

Jack knew that better
than anyone. Right, Jack?

Yes, boy.

He's awake.

- Jack. Jack.
- Get a doctor.

Oh, Jack... oh, Jack.

- Oh, Jack.
- No, no.

Come here, son. I beat the curse.

The fishing licence is yours.

Sweetheart, you ready?

I want to have a wake for Petal.

Why didn't we have a wake?
Why didn't we wake her up?

It worked for him.

Honey, Mr Buggit wasn't really...
It's more like he was in a coma.

From the cold water. It's
like he was sleeping.

- Petal was asleep.
- No, honey...

You said she was asleep
with the angels.

I know what I said, but
she's not sleeping.

- You said. You said.
- Honey, honey, listen to me.

I know what I said. Listen
to me. Listen to me.

I just... I was too scared
to tell you the truth.

Petal is dead.

And you know that. I
know you know it.

It's okay.

Is it because of me?

- What?
- That she drove away.

Well, why would you say that?

Because... Because I'm boring.

No, honey, it's not
because of you.

And you are anything but boring.

Come here. You just come here.

Hon...

You believe me, don't you?

You still don't
believe me, do you?

About the house.

I told you so.

It's all right.

Worse things have
happened to both of us.

Maybe one day we'll build
a summerhouse out here.

Summer.

Do they have summer here?

Oh, you'll know it's summer when
the partridge berries are out.

And we can make partridge berry
duff and sweet berry okie.

- Will you show me how?
- I will, yeah.

I will.

There are still so many
things I don't know.

If a piece of knotted string
can unleash the wind,

and if a drowned man can awaken,

then I believe a
broken man can heal.

Deadly Storm Takes House.

Leaves... Excellent View.