Masters of Sex (2013–2016): Season 2, Episode 3 - Fight - full transcript
Dr. William Masters is fascinated to delivered a rare hermaphrodite baby boy, shocked that the bully father insists to have "it's" male genitalia removed 'rather daughter then sissy'. Masters now enjoys a hotel sex affair under aliases with Virginia, whom he explains about the false appearances of boxing, its part in his childhood and his abusive father who abandoned him in boarding school.
Previously on
Masters of Sex...
I'm starting a new
job at Memorial hospital.
With the money
comes Bill Masters,
and with Bill Masters
comes the study.
Will Virginia
be joining you?
It may not be possible
for you to come over
to Memorial for a while.
My name is on that study.
I know the structure,
the methodology of the study.
I helped to
develop it with you.
We could
have an affair.
But what we have between us
is so much more than that.
We have the work.
Of course we're not
having an affair, Virginia.
We never were.
I'm a happily married man.
And I think it would be a
mistake to, uh, to end it now.
Mrs Holden,
nice to see you again.
Enjoy your evening.
Dr Holden.
Ripped By mstoll
Henry!
Henry?
I'll be right there!
What is keeping
your brother?
His hair.
His...
Diane Delmonico told him
he looks like Howdy Doody,
so he's trying
a centre part.
What's daddy's address?
You're writing him a letter?
You're staying
at his place tonight
It's not for him.
It's for the
tooth fairy princess.
Look.
If it falls out
when I'm at Daddy's,
she might not know
where to come pick it up.
So you're leaving
a forwarding address.
Smart, huh?
Very.
Only, the tooth fairy
isn't a princess, honey.
She's only a fairy.
Oh, no. She is.
She's a fairy princess
that specialises in teeth.
And is there
a tooth fairy prince?
Mom.
Men can't be fairies.
There's only one kind of
prince, the handsome prince.
Hmm.
And what if,
just supposing,
a prince was rushing
to rescue his princess...
Okay.
And he fell off his horse.
His steed.
His steed,
and he got trampled,
and his face ended up
horribly disfigured.
I guess that
could happen.
But the princess would have
had to see him before,
back when he was handsome.
And she would know
he was the one
she was gonna end up living
happily ever after with.
And that's just
inevitable, huh?
The "happily
ever after" part.
I don't know
what "invetible" means.
Ah! At last!
Something you don't know.
Um...
Fated, inescapable, or
something that has to happen.
Anyway, the princess
would end up kissing him,
and his face would
go back to normal.
Daddy's address?
8573 McLaren Avenue.
Henry, please!
All right, all right!
So, you know why
I think you like fairy tales
so much, bunny rabbit?
Hmm?
I think that
you like knowing
how things
are going to end.
Fundal pressure on the
next contraction, nurse, please.
Yes, Doctor.
Very good. Here we go.
Bulb syringe.
And the mother?
Vitals steady.
What do you
have there, Maureen?
It's a...
Um...
Dr Masters?
What is it, Doctor?
Can you say it
again, please?
Slower this time.
Adrenogenital hyperplasia.
Wait.
I should, uh...
Take the baby, Nate?
I want to write that down.
Why?
For me and for
when people ask.
Nobody's going
to ask, Francine.
Nobody's going to know.
And I'm not holding it,
so don't ask me again.
It's not an "it,"
Mr Bombeck. It's a boy.
The blood test conclusively
shows the XY chromosome.
A boy, Nate.
Like we wanted.
You think I wanted that,
something you'd pay a nickel
to see on the boardwalk
in Atlantic City?
I understand
the physical ambiguity
is, uh, off-putting,
Mr Bombeck,
but eventually, the surgery
will take care of that.
Eventually? Eventually?
You're... You're telling me
you're expecting us
to leave this place with
a kid that looks like that?
The baby's
otherwise in good health.
He'll be released.
And in the meantime,
a surgical plan
will be formulated.
We can't take
him home like this.
People will see.
We've both got mothers
itching to change diapers.
If you explain, you don't
think they'll understand?
Hell,
I don't understand.
So the sooner
he looks like
it's supposed to
look like down there,
the better it is
for everyone.
Not for the child.
There's no advantage
to operating on a newborn.
What do you do?
Just...
...sew up the...
You know, opening?
The reconstruction is
more complicated than that
Well, how's it even
going to look down there?
His... His thing?
Can you
make it look...
Can you make it
look normal?
There's a very wide
spectrum of normal,
uh, as far as
genitalia's concerned.
And I'm not
performing the surgery.
You should get a doctor
who specialises
in paediatric endocrinology,
someone who's performed variations
on this procedure many times.
So, you're not
really the expert, are you?
I'm not, no... Not on this
particular, uh, condition.
You're not even
the top dog here, right?
One of the...the nurses
told us you're new.
To the hospital, sir,
not the profession.
So you can't tell me
with any kind of certainty
if this kid's plumbing
is going to work, will it?
That's so far
down the road, Nate.
You don't know a thing
about it, Francine!
I'm asking you,
will he be able to perform?
Not in a freak show,
in the bedroom.
In some cases, hormone therapy's
necessary, testosterone treatments.
In other words, he's going to
need shots to be a real man.
Erections aren't the
totality of manhood.
If you'll excuse me, sir,
let me make a few calls.
You know
who thinks that?
Men with a little
bit of girl in them.
Nate!
I'm sorry, Doctor.
I want you
to cut it off.
- Sir, what... What did you say?
- Nate...
You can
sew a prick on him
the size of the
Empire State Building,
and it still won't
make him a man.
He'll never be a man, so...
Cut it off.
Let me tell you how this
is gonna go, Mr Bombeck.
You and your family are gonna
leave here in a few days,
and you're gonna take some
time to become informed...
Let your mouth catch up
with your mind.
And you will come to accept
that your son... Your son...
Has a condition that can
and will be corrected.
And when you come back here for
the surgery that's gonna ensure
that his outsides
match who he is inside,
you're gonna thank me
for protecting your child
from your own
poor judgement.
unanimous conclusion
that Durelle would
have to come storming in
at Archie Moore
early in the fight.
Any better?
Jesus!
...right hand
to the jaw!
Get up!
ANNOUNCER; s, s...
...7, 8...
Up at nine,
but staggering.
Hello.
Just fixing your picture.
I'll be out of here.
Jesus!
I'm sorry.
It's only the first round.
I see.
Of how many, exactly?
15.
If he makes it that long.
Been knocked down
two times already.
Three.
Well...
Got it up and working.
Oh, not necessary, sir.
Y'all have
a good night, now.
One minute
left in the round!
One minute!
Durelle trying to,...
Tries to move in
and going...
So...
Are we going to
get to work, or...
Down three times.
If Archie Moore
lasts this round,
it will be
boxing's modern miracle.
Fine. Then I'm going
to take a bath.
Fix me one of those drinks.
I'll try to catch up.
10 seconds.
Archie Moore...
You know, "Hello,
how was your day?"
is also a good opener.
Perhaps you would
like me to go first.
Terrible, my day.
Yours?
Without incident.
Until five minutes ago,
when a man I barely recognise
threw me up against a wall
and had his way with me.
Make note of it.
Subjects, vertical.
Penetration, standard frontal.
Male affect, angry.
I'm not angry.
No?
I'm...
What?
You hungry?
I could call room service.
What happened
today, Bill?
I delivered a baby with
ambiguous sexual genitalia.
Ambiguous?
What does that mean?
You can't tell what it is?
It had both
a penis and a vagina.
It happens in utero,
depending on the foetal genitals'
exposure to testosterone.
In its absence, in a boy, the
genitals remain feminised.
With a girl, an abundance
of testosterone
causes the clitoris
to grow into a penis
and the labia fuse
to form a penile urethra.
It's rare,
but it happens.
In med school,
I saw a few photographs.
Over the years, I've read a paper
or two on the condition. But...
...I'd never seen it
firsthand before today.
The tests say it's
a boy, which is lucky,
because sometimes
the genetics aren't so clear.
What happens then?
Well, from
a surgical standpoint,
it's easier... Much easier
to make it into a girl.
So that's. ..
That's what they do?
They... They just make it a girl
on the basis of convenience?
Yes.
And fear.
This, uh, father wasn't a man
who could handle ambiguity.
Let's put it like that.
He's a bully.
I could see it in the way
he spoke to his wife...
How cowed the woman was...
How he just expected
his bidding to be done.
"Cut it off," he told me.
As if you'd alter
your son's genetic destiny
for the sake
of expedience
because he wasn't hung
to your satisfaction.
How did you leave it?
I put a call in to
a specialist in Chicago.
We have an appointment
to speak in the morning.
Round 3.
Waiting for a chance
to get that crushing right
hand home once again,
a chance that has
not come his way...
Maybe they just
need to name him.
And once he has a boy's name,
he'll be a boy to his father.
Isn't that what every
man wants, a son?
From a
near-disastrous first round
that all began
with a tremendous right...
Unless it needs to be
a certain kind of son,
male through and through,
like these two,
pummelling each other
like a...
A butcher
tenderising meat.
Male like that.
I wouldn't want
that kind of son.
Or, for that matter,
that kind of man.
You're not like that.
You're not.
I'm ordering.
Bill, in the meantime,
would you mind turning
the water back on?
I can't pass up a soak in
a tub free of bath toys.
Good evening.
Yes, room 412.
Uh, I would like
to order two filets,
baked potatoes...
Butter, no sour cream.
Oh, medium well for me
and for my husband,
he likes to say,
"The chef can just walk the
cow through a warm room."
Oh, yes. Very much
the life of the party.
Thank you so much.
Dinner's on its way.
...in favour of Durelle,
a Canadian boy.
But Moore will be
able to fend off
that pungent attack
coming by Durelle.
Doesn't seem
like a fair fight.
The coloured fighters
obviously outmatched.
Well,
he's the champion...
The one getting the stuffing
knocked out of him.
He's the champ?
That one?
Archie Moore.
The old mongoose.
He said he'd retire from fighting
if he didn't keep the title.
He's got 15 years
on that kid...
Yvon Durelle,
the fighting fisherman.
Apparently, he's been
hauling lobster traps...
To get in shape.
He's the crowd
favourite, hmm?
Listen to them.
It's a good thing
for Moore.
It's what's spurring
him on, in part...
People rooting
against him.
Gives him more to prove.
Now, you see that?
That's, uh,
that's his signature move...
The Armadillo Curtain.
See how he crosses his
arms across his chest?
That's not the
usual fighting stance.
Can throw
an opponent off.
And then see? The right
jab comes out of nowhere.
But Durelle's
not falling... What?
I didn't know you knew
anything about boxing.
Yes, well...
I've never seen you so much
as glance at the sports page.
Well, we don't have
breakfast together, do we?
I learned to box
at boarding school.
It was the first thing I did
after I unpacked my suitcase.
Headed down to the gym
and asked the coach
to teach me how to fight.
Why?
What's that?
Why first thing?
I don't know.
I was enamoured
with the sport.
Was it something that you
enjoyed with your father?
Enjoyed? No.
For Christ's sake!
He didn't take
you to the fights?
Well, then how did you
get interested, then?
I don't know.
Just the usual.
The schoolyard
scrapes and then...
I just wanted to learn
how to hold my own
in case there
was freshman hazing.
And was there?
Were you picked
on as a child?
Never lost a fight.
What was the worst fight that
you ever got... Just the usual.
There's really not an interesting
story here, Virginia.
I promise you.
Durelle's
left got home,
but that right that
came sometime later,
again, glanced off the
glove of Archie Moore.
Come on.
...amazing display
of boxing...
After weathering
the storm...
Where would you
like it, Dr Holden?
On the table is good.
Very good, sir.
...Durelle,
and regaining his
strength and his clarity.
Moore starting to move on
after Durelle in round 4.
Durelle came in with a...
Jesus! Get up!
And Moore
is down again.
Durelle just took him
out with a right hook.
We got a few bets
going in the kitchen.
Where's your money?
On the kid. Archie's
way past his prime.
I wouldn't
count him out.
Really?
You think those legs
are gonna hold him up?
Archie Moore wobbly.
Moore trying to hold on.
Will both of you be
having wine tonight?
I can pour it.
Thank you.
Very good, sir.
Uh, it's Elliot, sir.
Sometimes they
put me on the door.
I brought Mrs Holden
that umbrella last time.
Yes,
thank you for that.
How's her mother
doing, if I may ask?
The same.
It's hard to know
what to wish for, isn't it?
My mother lingered
fora longtime,
but she was in
terrible, terrible pain.
Yes, well...
Will you and your wife be wanting
a breakfast tray in the morning?
Uh, we both
have long drives,
so we like to be
on the road early.
Thank you for
your trouble, uh...
Elliot
My pleasure, Dr Holden.
Now, you just give a call
when you're done,
and I'll get this out of
your way lickety-split' sir.
...dramatic
thing this is
here in this ring at the
forum in Montreal, Canada.
Archie Moore
defending his light heavyweight
championship oi the world.
Where are we going
that we need to leave in
the middle of the night?
You are driving
to Louisville
to take care
of your mother,
and I am driving back
to my medical practice
in Kansas City.
We meet halfway
when we can.
And what's wrong
with my mother?
Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.
Oh, sour cream! Terrific.
You told them, right?
Idiopathic?
That's right.
Idiopathic.
And what kind
of doctor are you?
No, wait.
Let me guess.
An ophthalmologist.
Radiologist.
Oh. Radiologist.
Well, I guess
neither one of us
has a particularly
interesting story, do we?
You couldn't come up with something
slightly more imaginative?
Why would I? Isn't the point
that we fly under the radar,
just an ordinary husband
and wife meeting for a...
Ho-hum marital assignation.
My mother doesn't
have pulmonary fibrosis.
Idiopathic.
She was blinded
in a prison fight,
where she's sewing time
for tax evasion
and also for contributing to
the delinquency of a minor
when she tried to seduce the
bag boy at the Piggly Wiggly.
I go down to Louisville as often
as I can to read her the Bible,
hoping to make
her right with the Lord.
I see.
And me?
You are a radiologist.
I thought you
just said that...
Who's working for
the government covertly
on a...
On a pen.
A radioactive pen
that will be smuggled
into the Kremlin
via a Soviet diplomat,
one Gustav Antonovich.
"Gustav" isn't Russian.
It's German.
His mother was German.
And this device will be used
to take out Khrushchev.
It's a top-secret mission.
Perhaps that's why... I
didn't, uh, mention it to...
...Elliot.
Our waiter.
That boy didn't hit you up
for a loan again, did he?
Far too generous
with the staff, Jason.
Francis.
Francis?
Francis.
And I'm...
You...
Do not have a name.
I see.
Generous with everybody except
the old ball and chain.
You're just still upset
because I bought our daughter a
pony for her birthday, aren't you?
We don't have children.
It wouldn't be fair...
Not with the lives we lead.
Of course.
The, uh,
clandestine missions,
the prison visits
to your deranged mother.
You're making fun of me.
Aren't you
making fun of us?
I don't...
I don't know.
What are we?
Are we this?
This?
This.
This Mr "Steak very rare,"
Mrs "Wouldn't this wallpaper
look good in our den?“
I just had you up against
the wall in our bathroom.
That doesn't exactly
qualify us for the cover
of the Saturday
Evening Post, dues it?
Did you like that?
I did.
I liked how you
had me standing up...
Dr Holden...
Of the Kansas City Holdens.
So, we might look like the
white picket fence types.
But we're not.
There's nothing
ho-hum about us.
It looks as though he's beginning
to step up the pace...
You surprise me,
Mrs Holden.
Lydia.
In what way
do I surprise you?
Your appetite.
I skipped lunch.
Not that kind
of appetite.
Well, surely
you didn't think
you taught me everything I
know, did you, Francis?
Oh, I'm... I'm aware there
were others before me.
Boys. Right?
A boy or two.
After all these years,
dear husband, you're asking?
No. I'm not asking.
On the other hand, if there's
something you want to tell me...
Maybe you would
feel threatened.
Oh. Why would that be?
You married me,
after all, didn't you?
Well...
There were others.
Boys, yes.
But only one
man that counted.
I wasn't quite 18,
and I was still
living at home in...
Where am I from,
again... Nashville?
Louisville.
Louisville. Right.
I was in Louisville
at this public pool
that my girlfriend Susannah
and I liked to go to.
You remember
Susannah, don't you?
Looks like
Eleanor Roosevelt?
She was one
of my bridesmaids.
Ah.
So, Susannah and I
were splashing around
like ninnies, trying to get
the boys to notice us,
when I realised
that I had lost an earring.
It was just some
dime-store piece of junk,
but I had said that it was real,
so I had to make a big show
of diving down to
the bottom to get it.
And then suddenly
a shock wave hits.
A man had jumped
into the pool to get it,
but all he had
succeeded in doing
was sending it
directly down the drain.
Oh. The oaf.
That is exactly
what I said to him...
Right before
I slapped him.
All right,
I didn't slap him,
but I did give him
a very hard time about it
because... Well, because
that's what you did
to show that you
were a girl with sass,
not just some pushover.
Isn't that the quality
that first attracted you
back when we
were courting?
That can hardly
be the sum of it, though.
Obviously, you two ran
into each other again.
Yes. At a dance
at the Army base.
Turns out
he was a captain.
Lot of shiny buttons
on a captain's uniform.
He took this worthless, little
piece of coloured glass
out of his pocket.
He'd gotten
the maintenance guy
to fish it out
of the drain for him
and had been carrying it around
in the hopes of seeing me again.
And he said that he knew
that it was an amethyst
because that was
his fiancée's birthstone.
He was engaged.
Well, he claimed,
which was smart,
all those girls on the Army
bases looking for husbands.
But two days in,
the fiancée just...
Disappeared into thin air.
I would make him take me driving
in his friend's convertible.
We would go driving
to the countryside.
The first time
we made love...
Was in a grove
of honeysuckles.
And the sap
from the blossoms,
the sticky sweetness
mixing with our sweat...
It was...
Up at the
count of three!
Durelle now...
He knew about things
and had been places.
He taught me
a little French
that he had
picked up over there.
The boys I knew
were farmers
and had spent their lives
looking at the ground.
But this man,
he knew all about astronomy.
I thought to myself,
"Oh.
"This is what it is
to be in love.
"You can feel this with
somebody every day.
"It's possible."
And then one day,
he asked me to drive him
to the train station,
and he kissed me,
and he said "Thank you."
"Thank you."
And he left.
Shipped out?
No.
He left to get married.
Well, he did say
he was engaged.
Once.
He said he was
engaged once.
And then he never
spoke of it again,
not for a whole year.
Never even mentioned
another woman's name
until the day
he left to marry her.
Why wouldn't I
be surprised?
If you find yourself
standing atop a hill
overlooking
a beautiful valley
and you say, "I want a house
with a view exactly like this,"
and he says,
"It's the second thing
I want to see
"every single morning,
after you“...
Aren't the two of you
imagining the same future?
Where is there room for
a fiancée in that house?
Well, it turns out she's
downstairs making oatmeal,
waiting for him to
wash you off his skin.
And so...
Sex? Fine.
Enjoy it if and when you can.
It's a biological function.
But play it safe.
Keep your
heart out of it,
locked away someplace
safe, like a bank vault.
So what does
that say about us?
Us?
About our marriage.
Oh, darling.
Don't you know I would
never marry a man
I didn't both
love and desire?
And
it's round number six.
This is Archie Moore,
who was standing up all through
the between-round period,
once again trying to
take a psychological shot
at Yvon Durelle.
Refusing to show any sign of
weakness, any sign of fatigue.
My father
would occasionally
listen to the fights
on the radio,
but I could never get
a picture in my head.
It's different
than I thought
Sure, when they belt
each other and fall down,
that's something,
but this going 'round
and 'round in circles,
eyeballing each other,
that's most of it.
This is the best part.
This?
Yeah.
There's an entire unspoken
conversation happening between them.
"Please stand still
so I can hit you“?
They're telling each other
what they think of each other.
See there?
When he keeps his
gloves down like that?
Doesn't mean he's tired.
He looks tired.
But it doesn't necessarily
mean he is tired.
Might be a... An
invitation to his opponent
to take a shot,
free and clear.
When you invite a punch,
you're saying you can take it.
So what looks like vulnerability
is exactly the opposite.
By playing weak,
you're saying,
"I'm stronger than you."
Now. See, that is an insult.
Moore just insulted him.
He did? How?
A right-hand lead.
It's a right punch
thrown like a jab,
but you don't
set up with your left.
You're saying to your opponent,
“I don't think much of you."
I don't understand.
Well, come here.
I'll show you.
Okay.
So, put up your dukes.
They really say that?
Now, when I come
at you like this,
with a right-hand lead,
see how far my fist has to
travel through space, all...
All this extra distance
past your shoulders?
So?
So, that's the time
you have to respond.
If you see something
coming, you can stop it.
All right, well,
how do I do that?
You don't.
It's coming too fast.
You just said that I could...
That I could see it coming.
Yes, but the fact
that I'm throwing
a right-hand lead proves to you
that I think that you won't.
I think you'll miss it.
That's how little I think
of your reflexes.
And that undermines
a fighters confidence.
Well, I would
prove you wrong.
Want to try?
Seriously?
I'll take a shot.
You try and block it.
Okay.
Too slow.
Try again.
Ah, too late.
You'd be down on the mat.
Let me...
Let me be you.
I'll throw the punch, and...
And you try to block it.
Okay.
All right,
like this, right?
You're gonna
do it at that speed?
No, Bill, I'm not.
All right,
here we go.
One, two...
Don't count it off.
You got to use
the element of surprise.
Fine.
Try again.
It's not funny.
Once more.
Come on, Gini.
Once more!
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Jesus! Don't... Don't move!
What... What is that?
My bracelet snagged.
Well, slide...
Can you slide it off?
No, it's. ..
It's too tight.
Jesus!
Wait, let me just...
Just unhook
the clasp, Virginia!
I'm trying, Bill!
What the hell
are you doing?
You're supposed to
hit me with your right.
Well, maybe if you
had quicker reflexes...
There's too much
hair stuck in it. Um...
Do you... Do you have nail
shears in your purse?
No.
Um, I could
call the front desk
and... And have them
send up a pair of scissors.
Oh, so you're all right with us
answering the door like this?
Well, what do
you propose, Bill?
All right,
come here.
No. No.
Ah!
All right.
Just have to saw it out.
Housekeeping
sent up a pair.
Come here.
Sit.
You're gonna
make it worse.
Bill, you have a divot
on the side of your head.
How much worse
can I make it?
I'm just going to
even it out a bit.
Ridiculous.
What is?
You are.
I am?
You enjoyed that.
No.
Yes.
You liked making me
feel pathetic and weak.
Well, you are weak.
Weaker.
Well, then,
it was an unfair fight.
It was a game, Virginia.
You're just upset
because you lost.
If you'd won,
you'd be gloating.
I would not.
Yes, you would.
Feels good.
And it feels even better when
the odds are against you.
Really? Did they teach you
that in boarding school?
No. I knew it
before I went there.
Old Francis Holden Sr.
prepared me well.
So, he did take
you to the fights.
No.
In fact, he didn't take
me much of anywhere.
New York City once.
When I was 14.
En route to dropping
me at boarding school.
He didn't buy you
a woman, did he?
Please tell me that he
didn't buy you a woman.
No, he bought me
a shave and a haircut
at the barbershop
at the Waldorf Astoria.
My first.
He got one, too.
We sat there side by side,
father and son,
steaming towels
on our faces.
No feeling in the world like
walking out into Central Park
on a fall day
after a fresh shave.
Wanted to send
you off in style, huh?
Oh, he was a character.
My father.
He could have
been a boxer.
Not too much control
in his punches, mind you,
but he was a master
at the feint.
Just when you thought he was one
thing, like the kind of swell guy
who'd show his kid a good
time in the big city,
wham!
He'd come out of nowhere,
knock you for a loop.
Leave you on the steps
of the freshman dormitory
with a taxi
idling at the kerb,
letting you know that you wouldn't
be coming home at Christmas.
Or at Easter.
Or ever.
Telling you at...
At 14...
It was time you
took care of yourself.
You never went
home after that?
It was the best thing
that could have happened.
Toughened me up.
Made me
totally self-reliant.
We both got left.
Well, he didn't
break my heart.
No?
Just my nose.
Once.
A left hook.
He did me a favour.
Made me the man
I am today.
A Kansas City radiologist.
Leave it, leave it.
Bill...
Let me look at you.
Take your hands away.
I want to see you.
Are you going
to touch me?
Is that what you want?
Is it?
Tell me.
Say it.
I don't need to say it.
I want you to tell me
how much you want me
to make you feel good.
Do it.
Beg me.
No. I won't.
I can make
myself feel good.
I can't
tell who's ahead.
Well, it can change
from moment to moment.
But is there
always a clear winner,
even if there's
not a knockout?
Sometimes the best fighter
isn't the one who
lands the hardest punch.
It can be the one
who absorbs it.
You'd have to
be a masochist
to endure that kind of
punishment, don't you think?
You stop feeling it
after a while.
What do you mean?
You go numb?
You learn to resist
your body's instinct,
which is to run, flee.
You start to, uh,
invite that feeling.
You can't control
the punishment,
but you can master
your response.
And that in itself
gives you a kind of power,
that you can take it
and not run.
Why did he
break your nose?
Hmm?
Your father.
Dear, old dad? Oh.
Usual...
Just horsing around.
Indian wrestling,
like fathers and sons do.
Bill.
Why did he
break your nose?
What difference
does it make?
I'm asking you.
I don't remember.
Maybe I slammed
the screen door.
Maybe I, uh,
reached for a second
helping before he did.
Maybe I used a word
he didn't know.
Maybe it was...
Wednesday.
And you didn't fight back?
Sure I did.
In my own way.
There were plenty of times I
didn't even put up my hands.
The ultimate insult...
A fighter who
keeps his gloves down.
You're saying, "Come on,
you son of a bitch.
"Take your best shot.
"Just keep
going at me forever,
"until your knuckles come
through your goddamn skin."
And there was
no one to stop it?
Oh, I could
have stopped ii.
He made that
perfectly clear.
"When you get down
on your knees, son,
"and beg for mercy,
that's when I'll stop."
And I never did.
Not once.
I took it.
Like a man.
But you weren't a man.
You were just
a kid... A boy.
There's no shame in
saying you've had enough,
in stopping the fight
if you're hurt.
That Mongoose man...
If he had stayed down
in the early rounds,
what would they
have said about him?
That he's a loser?
Or that he's human?
Maybe it is a noble sport.
Maybe it's
all about character
in a way a novice like
me can't understand.
But I will
tell you this...
I don't want my son
to be a boxer.
No.
When he's hurt,
I don't want him
to act like he's not.
That is not a lesson
he needs to learn.
And I don't think that's what's
going to make him a man.
Nurse. Book.
Retract.
Snap.
What did Daddy
make you for dinner?
But, Tessy, you like corn.
Well, if you were worried
about your tooth,
you should have asked him
to out it off the cob.
You in your jams?
Is daddy going to
read you a story?
Well, ask him
to make one up, then.
All right, well, then,
you make one up
and you tell him.
A princess. Right.
Well...
Well, couldn't...
Couldn't she go on an
adventure all on her own
without a prince?
All right, well...
Well, then, maybe she
could rescue him.
It does too happen.
Tessa, you're right.
You're right.
No, no, no, you tell
whatever story you want.
All right, goose.
I love you, too.
All right.
Sleep tight.
And tell Henry
I love him.
Uh, it's right over there.
I've got it.
Was everything to your
satisfaction, Mrs Holden?
Yes, absolutely...
Elliot.
Elliot.
I brought you that
umbrella last week.
Right.
Let me find my purse.
Oh, that won't
be necessary.
Dr Holden saw to it.
Up at
the count of three...
You know, ma'am,
if you'd like to put in
a standing order for
anything for next time...
Excuse me?
So we can have it
waiting for you.
If you prefer foam pillows
to down, for example,
extra bath towels.
Ah. Well,
towels would be nice.
Here you go.
Thank you.
I'll let housekeeping know.
Some of our
regulars request
we have flowers or champagne
waiting for them.
That's all right.
We don't need
any of that fuss.
Well, women say that,
but they appreciate
a nice gesture.
So says my girlfriend.
She's a big fan of trinkets
hidden in glove compartments
and under sofa cushions.
Yes, well, when you've
been married a while,
jewellery doesn't make
as many appearances.
Perhaps you need
to drop a few hints...
Give Dr Holden
some direction.
Actually, he does
other things for me.
He takes me seriously.
Listens to me.
And in a few years,
those will be the things
that your
girlfriend appreciates.
You remember that,
now, Elliot.
Will do.
Have a good night, ma'am.
What'd I miss?
It almost looks
like love, doesn't it?
The way they reach for
each other and hold on.
It's two of them
against each other, sure,
but it's also them
against that crowd.
Listen to them scream.
Shoot.
One minute
to go in round eight.
I did a good job.
Can't even tell.
There.
Do you get
many compliments?
On?
Your anniversary present.
I had to look up what
you get for your 14th.
No two stores
said the same thing,
so I decided on...
Bakelite.
I'll do better next year.
It's a big one.
We should go,
don't you think?
You have a long drive.
Promise me you'll, uh,
pull over at a rest stop
if you get tired.
Windows up,
doors locked.
How you worry,
Dr Holden.
This is where a married
couple would kiss.
Don't forget your watch.
It's there,
by your wedding band.
You go on ahead.
I'll write it up.
What will you say?
Two acts of intercourse,
mutually satisfying,
one masturbatory act,
role-playing throughout.
Am I forgetting anything?
Shh.
Third-floor nursery, please.
It's Dr Masters, checking
on the Bombeck baby.
Yes, this morning.
I left instructions to
measure his ins and outs.
Has he taken
a bottle yet?
No. You're mistaken.
When?
Waiting room.
Okay.
What's going on?
What the hell
are you doing?
I told you.
I said I wasn't
leaving here with an "it."
Look, you've got
to put a stop to this.
There's time.
The desk said
your son's in pre-op.
He's not my son.
He is.
Look, they're gonna fix him,
but it can't happen this fast.
It's not...
Not overnight.
You want the
very best person.
We found somebody.
Uh, Dr Bracken? Brigham?
Said he could do it.
Hugh Britten?
But he's a general surgeon.
Well, he said,
uh, he said
it's a lot less complicated
than you made it seem.
He said a hole
is easier than a pole.
No!
You can't...
Look, please.
Go in there and stop it.
This needs more thought.
Just give it a week.
All right, even...
Even just another day.
Just think it...
Think it through.
This is irrevocable.
You have a son.
Look, I...
I'm...
I'm begging you.
Let him be what he is.
A boy.
But it's done.
The doctor's finishing.
The nurse came out and told me
the operation was a success.
We're naming her Sarah.
Better a tomboy
than a sissy.
Four...
Five...
Six...
Seven
Eight...
Nine...
Saved by the bell
at the count of eight.
You a fight fan?
Not really.
This is
Durelle in his corner
as he is down
again in this fight.
Then what
brings you here?
Now we
come to round 11.
I want to see how it ends.
...were late
getting out of the ring.
Now Durelle seems
to be on his way,
as Moore bangs him
to the canvas again.
Four...
Five...
Six... Seven...
Eight...
Up at the
count of nine,
blood streaming from his nose,
a cut over his right eye.
Moore back after once again.
And down he goes again with
a clubbing right hand.
Three...
Four...
Five...
Six...
Seven...
Eight...
Struggling at nine.
10! He is out!
Man. oh, man,
what a dramatic
tum in this fight.
Archie Moore, near annihilation
in the first round.
And then on
the canvas again.
Ripped By mstoll
Masters of Sex...
I'm starting a new
job at Memorial hospital.
With the money
comes Bill Masters,
and with Bill Masters
comes the study.
Will Virginia
be joining you?
It may not be possible
for you to come over
to Memorial for a while.
My name is on that study.
I know the structure,
the methodology of the study.
I helped to
develop it with you.
We could
have an affair.
But what we have between us
is so much more than that.
We have the work.
Of course we're not
having an affair, Virginia.
We never were.
I'm a happily married man.
And I think it would be a
mistake to, uh, to end it now.
Mrs Holden,
nice to see you again.
Enjoy your evening.
Dr Holden.
Ripped By mstoll
Henry!
Henry?
I'll be right there!
What is keeping
your brother?
His hair.
His...
Diane Delmonico told him
he looks like Howdy Doody,
so he's trying
a centre part.
What's daddy's address?
You're writing him a letter?
You're staying
at his place tonight
It's not for him.
It's for the
tooth fairy princess.
Look.
If it falls out
when I'm at Daddy's,
she might not know
where to come pick it up.
So you're leaving
a forwarding address.
Smart, huh?
Very.
Only, the tooth fairy
isn't a princess, honey.
She's only a fairy.
Oh, no. She is.
She's a fairy princess
that specialises in teeth.
And is there
a tooth fairy prince?
Mom.
Men can't be fairies.
There's only one kind of
prince, the handsome prince.
Hmm.
And what if,
just supposing,
a prince was rushing
to rescue his princess...
Okay.
And he fell off his horse.
His steed.
His steed,
and he got trampled,
and his face ended up
horribly disfigured.
I guess that
could happen.
But the princess would have
had to see him before,
back when he was handsome.
And she would know
he was the one
she was gonna end up living
happily ever after with.
And that's just
inevitable, huh?
The "happily
ever after" part.
I don't know
what "invetible" means.
Ah! At last!
Something you don't know.
Um...
Fated, inescapable, or
something that has to happen.
Anyway, the princess
would end up kissing him,
and his face would
go back to normal.
Daddy's address?
8573 McLaren Avenue.
Henry, please!
All right, all right!
So, you know why
I think you like fairy tales
so much, bunny rabbit?
Hmm?
I think that
you like knowing
how things
are going to end.
Fundal pressure on the
next contraction, nurse, please.
Yes, Doctor.
Very good. Here we go.
Bulb syringe.
And the mother?
Vitals steady.
What do you
have there, Maureen?
It's a...
Um...
Dr Masters?
What is it, Doctor?
Can you say it
again, please?
Slower this time.
Adrenogenital hyperplasia.
Wait.
I should, uh...
Take the baby, Nate?
I want to write that down.
Why?
For me and for
when people ask.
Nobody's going
to ask, Francine.
Nobody's going to know.
And I'm not holding it,
so don't ask me again.
It's not an "it,"
Mr Bombeck. It's a boy.
The blood test conclusively
shows the XY chromosome.
A boy, Nate.
Like we wanted.
You think I wanted that,
something you'd pay a nickel
to see on the boardwalk
in Atlantic City?
I understand
the physical ambiguity
is, uh, off-putting,
Mr Bombeck,
but eventually, the surgery
will take care of that.
Eventually? Eventually?
You're... You're telling me
you're expecting us
to leave this place with
a kid that looks like that?
The baby's
otherwise in good health.
He'll be released.
And in the meantime,
a surgical plan
will be formulated.
We can't take
him home like this.
People will see.
We've both got mothers
itching to change diapers.
If you explain, you don't
think they'll understand?
Hell,
I don't understand.
So the sooner
he looks like
it's supposed to
look like down there,
the better it is
for everyone.
Not for the child.
There's no advantage
to operating on a newborn.
What do you do?
Just...
...sew up the...
You know, opening?
The reconstruction is
more complicated than that
Well, how's it even
going to look down there?
His... His thing?
Can you
make it look...
Can you make it
look normal?
There's a very wide
spectrum of normal,
uh, as far as
genitalia's concerned.
And I'm not
performing the surgery.
You should get a doctor
who specialises
in paediatric endocrinology,
someone who's performed variations
on this procedure many times.
So, you're not
really the expert, are you?
I'm not, no... Not on this
particular, uh, condition.
You're not even
the top dog here, right?
One of the...the nurses
told us you're new.
To the hospital, sir,
not the profession.
So you can't tell me
with any kind of certainty
if this kid's plumbing
is going to work, will it?
That's so far
down the road, Nate.
You don't know a thing
about it, Francine!
I'm asking you,
will he be able to perform?
Not in a freak show,
in the bedroom.
In some cases, hormone therapy's
necessary, testosterone treatments.
In other words, he's going to
need shots to be a real man.
Erections aren't the
totality of manhood.
If you'll excuse me, sir,
let me make a few calls.
You know
who thinks that?
Men with a little
bit of girl in them.
Nate!
I'm sorry, Doctor.
I want you
to cut it off.
- Sir, what... What did you say?
- Nate...
You can
sew a prick on him
the size of the
Empire State Building,
and it still won't
make him a man.
He'll never be a man, so...
Cut it off.
Let me tell you how this
is gonna go, Mr Bombeck.
You and your family are gonna
leave here in a few days,
and you're gonna take some
time to become informed...
Let your mouth catch up
with your mind.
And you will come to accept
that your son... Your son...
Has a condition that can
and will be corrected.
And when you come back here for
the surgery that's gonna ensure
that his outsides
match who he is inside,
you're gonna thank me
for protecting your child
from your own
poor judgement.
unanimous conclusion
that Durelle would
have to come storming in
at Archie Moore
early in the fight.
Any better?
Jesus!
...right hand
to the jaw!
Get up!
ANNOUNCER; s, s...
...7, 8...
Up at nine,
but staggering.
Hello.
Just fixing your picture.
I'll be out of here.
Jesus!
I'm sorry.
It's only the first round.
I see.
Of how many, exactly?
15.
If he makes it that long.
Been knocked down
two times already.
Three.
Well...
Got it up and working.
Oh, not necessary, sir.
Y'all have
a good night, now.
One minute
left in the round!
One minute!
Durelle trying to,...
Tries to move in
and going...
So...
Are we going to
get to work, or...
Down three times.
If Archie Moore
lasts this round,
it will be
boxing's modern miracle.
Fine. Then I'm going
to take a bath.
Fix me one of those drinks.
I'll try to catch up.
10 seconds.
Archie Moore...
You know, "Hello,
how was your day?"
is also a good opener.
Perhaps you would
like me to go first.
Terrible, my day.
Yours?
Without incident.
Until five minutes ago,
when a man I barely recognise
threw me up against a wall
and had his way with me.
Make note of it.
Subjects, vertical.
Penetration, standard frontal.
Male affect, angry.
I'm not angry.
No?
I'm...
What?
You hungry?
I could call room service.
What happened
today, Bill?
I delivered a baby with
ambiguous sexual genitalia.
Ambiguous?
What does that mean?
You can't tell what it is?
It had both
a penis and a vagina.
It happens in utero,
depending on the foetal genitals'
exposure to testosterone.
In its absence, in a boy, the
genitals remain feminised.
With a girl, an abundance
of testosterone
causes the clitoris
to grow into a penis
and the labia fuse
to form a penile urethra.
It's rare,
but it happens.
In med school,
I saw a few photographs.
Over the years, I've read a paper
or two on the condition. But...
...I'd never seen it
firsthand before today.
The tests say it's
a boy, which is lucky,
because sometimes
the genetics aren't so clear.
What happens then?
Well, from
a surgical standpoint,
it's easier... Much easier
to make it into a girl.
So that's. ..
That's what they do?
They... They just make it a girl
on the basis of convenience?
Yes.
And fear.
This, uh, father wasn't a man
who could handle ambiguity.
Let's put it like that.
He's a bully.
I could see it in the way
he spoke to his wife...
How cowed the woman was...
How he just expected
his bidding to be done.
"Cut it off," he told me.
As if you'd alter
your son's genetic destiny
for the sake
of expedience
because he wasn't hung
to your satisfaction.
How did you leave it?
I put a call in to
a specialist in Chicago.
We have an appointment
to speak in the morning.
Round 3.
Waiting for a chance
to get that crushing right
hand home once again,
a chance that has
not come his way...
Maybe they just
need to name him.
And once he has a boy's name,
he'll be a boy to his father.
Isn't that what every
man wants, a son?
From a
near-disastrous first round
that all began
with a tremendous right...
Unless it needs to be
a certain kind of son,
male through and through,
like these two,
pummelling each other
like a...
A butcher
tenderising meat.
Male like that.
I wouldn't want
that kind of son.
Or, for that matter,
that kind of man.
You're not like that.
You're not.
I'm ordering.
Bill, in the meantime,
would you mind turning
the water back on?
I can't pass up a soak in
a tub free of bath toys.
Good evening.
Yes, room 412.
Uh, I would like
to order two filets,
baked potatoes...
Butter, no sour cream.
Oh, medium well for me
and for my husband,
he likes to say,
"The chef can just walk the
cow through a warm room."
Oh, yes. Very much
the life of the party.
Thank you so much.
Dinner's on its way.
...in favour of Durelle,
a Canadian boy.
But Moore will be
able to fend off
that pungent attack
coming by Durelle.
Doesn't seem
like a fair fight.
The coloured fighters
obviously outmatched.
Well,
he's the champion...
The one getting the stuffing
knocked out of him.
He's the champ?
That one?
Archie Moore.
The old mongoose.
He said he'd retire from fighting
if he didn't keep the title.
He's got 15 years
on that kid...
Yvon Durelle,
the fighting fisherman.
Apparently, he's been
hauling lobster traps...
To get in shape.
He's the crowd
favourite, hmm?
Listen to them.
It's a good thing
for Moore.
It's what's spurring
him on, in part...
People rooting
against him.
Gives him more to prove.
Now, you see that?
That's, uh,
that's his signature move...
The Armadillo Curtain.
See how he crosses his
arms across his chest?
That's not the
usual fighting stance.
Can throw
an opponent off.
And then see? The right
jab comes out of nowhere.
But Durelle's
not falling... What?
I didn't know you knew
anything about boxing.
Yes, well...
I've never seen you so much
as glance at the sports page.
Well, we don't have
breakfast together, do we?
I learned to box
at boarding school.
It was the first thing I did
after I unpacked my suitcase.
Headed down to the gym
and asked the coach
to teach me how to fight.
Why?
What's that?
Why first thing?
I don't know.
I was enamoured
with the sport.
Was it something that you
enjoyed with your father?
Enjoyed? No.
For Christ's sake!
He didn't take
you to the fights?
Well, then how did you
get interested, then?
I don't know.
Just the usual.
The schoolyard
scrapes and then...
I just wanted to learn
how to hold my own
in case there
was freshman hazing.
And was there?
Were you picked
on as a child?
Never lost a fight.
What was the worst fight that
you ever got... Just the usual.
There's really not an interesting
story here, Virginia.
I promise you.
Durelle's
left got home,
but that right that
came sometime later,
again, glanced off the
glove of Archie Moore.
Come on.
...amazing display
of boxing...
After weathering
the storm...
Where would you
like it, Dr Holden?
On the table is good.
Very good, sir.
...Durelle,
and regaining his
strength and his clarity.
Moore starting to move on
after Durelle in round 4.
Durelle came in with a...
Jesus! Get up!
And Moore
is down again.
Durelle just took him
out with a right hook.
We got a few bets
going in the kitchen.
Where's your money?
On the kid. Archie's
way past his prime.
I wouldn't
count him out.
Really?
You think those legs
are gonna hold him up?
Archie Moore wobbly.
Moore trying to hold on.
Will both of you be
having wine tonight?
I can pour it.
Thank you.
Very good, sir.
Uh, it's Elliot, sir.
Sometimes they
put me on the door.
I brought Mrs Holden
that umbrella last time.
Yes,
thank you for that.
How's her mother
doing, if I may ask?
The same.
It's hard to know
what to wish for, isn't it?
My mother lingered
fora longtime,
but she was in
terrible, terrible pain.
Yes, well...
Will you and your wife be wanting
a breakfast tray in the morning?
Uh, we both
have long drives,
so we like to be
on the road early.
Thank you for
your trouble, uh...
Elliot
My pleasure, Dr Holden.
Now, you just give a call
when you're done,
and I'll get this out of
your way lickety-split' sir.
...dramatic
thing this is
here in this ring at the
forum in Montreal, Canada.
Archie Moore
defending his light heavyweight
championship oi the world.
Where are we going
that we need to leave in
the middle of the night?
You are driving
to Louisville
to take care
of your mother,
and I am driving back
to my medical practice
in Kansas City.
We meet halfway
when we can.
And what's wrong
with my mother?
Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.
Oh, sour cream! Terrific.
You told them, right?
Idiopathic?
That's right.
Idiopathic.
And what kind
of doctor are you?
No, wait.
Let me guess.
An ophthalmologist.
Radiologist.
Oh. Radiologist.
Well, I guess
neither one of us
has a particularly
interesting story, do we?
You couldn't come up with something
slightly more imaginative?
Why would I? Isn't the point
that we fly under the radar,
just an ordinary husband
and wife meeting for a...
Ho-hum marital assignation.
My mother doesn't
have pulmonary fibrosis.
Idiopathic.
She was blinded
in a prison fight,
where she's sewing time
for tax evasion
and also for contributing to
the delinquency of a minor
when she tried to seduce the
bag boy at the Piggly Wiggly.
I go down to Louisville as often
as I can to read her the Bible,
hoping to make
her right with the Lord.
I see.
And me?
You are a radiologist.
I thought you
just said that...
Who's working for
the government covertly
on a...
On a pen.
A radioactive pen
that will be smuggled
into the Kremlin
via a Soviet diplomat,
one Gustav Antonovich.
"Gustav" isn't Russian.
It's German.
His mother was German.
And this device will be used
to take out Khrushchev.
It's a top-secret mission.
Perhaps that's why... I
didn't, uh, mention it to...
...Elliot.
Our waiter.
That boy didn't hit you up
for a loan again, did he?
Far too generous
with the staff, Jason.
Francis.
Francis?
Francis.
And I'm...
You...
Do not have a name.
I see.
Generous with everybody except
the old ball and chain.
You're just still upset
because I bought our daughter a
pony for her birthday, aren't you?
We don't have children.
It wouldn't be fair...
Not with the lives we lead.
Of course.
The, uh,
clandestine missions,
the prison visits
to your deranged mother.
You're making fun of me.
Aren't you
making fun of us?
I don't...
I don't know.
What are we?
Are we this?
This?
This.
This Mr "Steak very rare,"
Mrs "Wouldn't this wallpaper
look good in our den?“
I just had you up against
the wall in our bathroom.
That doesn't exactly
qualify us for the cover
of the Saturday
Evening Post, dues it?
Did you like that?
I did.
I liked how you
had me standing up...
Dr Holden...
Of the Kansas City Holdens.
So, we might look like the
white picket fence types.
But we're not.
There's nothing
ho-hum about us.
It looks as though he's beginning
to step up the pace...
You surprise me,
Mrs Holden.
Lydia.
In what way
do I surprise you?
Your appetite.
I skipped lunch.
Not that kind
of appetite.
Well, surely
you didn't think
you taught me everything I
know, did you, Francis?
Oh, I'm... I'm aware there
were others before me.
Boys. Right?
A boy or two.
After all these years,
dear husband, you're asking?
No. I'm not asking.
On the other hand, if there's
something you want to tell me...
Maybe you would
feel threatened.
Oh. Why would that be?
You married me,
after all, didn't you?
Well...
There were others.
Boys, yes.
But only one
man that counted.
I wasn't quite 18,
and I was still
living at home in...
Where am I from,
again... Nashville?
Louisville.
Louisville. Right.
I was in Louisville
at this public pool
that my girlfriend Susannah
and I liked to go to.
You remember
Susannah, don't you?
Looks like
Eleanor Roosevelt?
She was one
of my bridesmaids.
Ah.
So, Susannah and I
were splashing around
like ninnies, trying to get
the boys to notice us,
when I realised
that I had lost an earring.
It was just some
dime-store piece of junk,
but I had said that it was real,
so I had to make a big show
of diving down to
the bottom to get it.
And then suddenly
a shock wave hits.
A man had jumped
into the pool to get it,
but all he had
succeeded in doing
was sending it
directly down the drain.
Oh. The oaf.
That is exactly
what I said to him...
Right before
I slapped him.
All right,
I didn't slap him,
but I did give him
a very hard time about it
because... Well, because
that's what you did
to show that you
were a girl with sass,
not just some pushover.
Isn't that the quality
that first attracted you
back when we
were courting?
That can hardly
be the sum of it, though.
Obviously, you two ran
into each other again.
Yes. At a dance
at the Army base.
Turns out
he was a captain.
Lot of shiny buttons
on a captain's uniform.
He took this worthless, little
piece of coloured glass
out of his pocket.
He'd gotten
the maintenance guy
to fish it out
of the drain for him
and had been carrying it around
in the hopes of seeing me again.
And he said that he knew
that it was an amethyst
because that was
his fiancée's birthstone.
He was engaged.
Well, he claimed,
which was smart,
all those girls on the Army
bases looking for husbands.
But two days in,
the fiancée just...
Disappeared into thin air.
I would make him take me driving
in his friend's convertible.
We would go driving
to the countryside.
The first time
we made love...
Was in a grove
of honeysuckles.
And the sap
from the blossoms,
the sticky sweetness
mixing with our sweat...
It was...
Up at the
count of three!
Durelle now...
He knew about things
and had been places.
He taught me
a little French
that he had
picked up over there.
The boys I knew
were farmers
and had spent their lives
looking at the ground.
But this man,
he knew all about astronomy.
I thought to myself,
"Oh.
"This is what it is
to be in love.
"You can feel this with
somebody every day.
"It's possible."
And then one day,
he asked me to drive him
to the train station,
and he kissed me,
and he said "Thank you."
"Thank you."
And he left.
Shipped out?
No.
He left to get married.
Well, he did say
he was engaged.
Once.
He said he was
engaged once.
And then he never
spoke of it again,
not for a whole year.
Never even mentioned
another woman's name
until the day
he left to marry her.
Why wouldn't I
be surprised?
If you find yourself
standing atop a hill
overlooking
a beautiful valley
and you say, "I want a house
with a view exactly like this,"
and he says,
"It's the second thing
I want to see
"every single morning,
after you“...
Aren't the two of you
imagining the same future?
Where is there room for
a fiancée in that house?
Well, it turns out she's
downstairs making oatmeal,
waiting for him to
wash you off his skin.
And so...
Sex? Fine.
Enjoy it if and when you can.
It's a biological function.
But play it safe.
Keep your
heart out of it,
locked away someplace
safe, like a bank vault.
So what does
that say about us?
Us?
About our marriage.
Oh, darling.
Don't you know I would
never marry a man
I didn't both
love and desire?
And
it's round number six.
This is Archie Moore,
who was standing up all through
the between-round period,
once again trying to
take a psychological shot
at Yvon Durelle.
Refusing to show any sign of
weakness, any sign of fatigue.
My father
would occasionally
listen to the fights
on the radio,
but I could never get
a picture in my head.
It's different
than I thought
Sure, when they belt
each other and fall down,
that's something,
but this going 'round
and 'round in circles,
eyeballing each other,
that's most of it.
This is the best part.
This?
Yeah.
There's an entire unspoken
conversation happening between them.
"Please stand still
so I can hit you“?
They're telling each other
what they think of each other.
See there?
When he keeps his
gloves down like that?
Doesn't mean he's tired.
He looks tired.
But it doesn't necessarily
mean he is tired.
Might be a... An
invitation to his opponent
to take a shot,
free and clear.
When you invite a punch,
you're saying you can take it.
So what looks like vulnerability
is exactly the opposite.
By playing weak,
you're saying,
"I'm stronger than you."
Now. See, that is an insult.
Moore just insulted him.
He did? How?
A right-hand lead.
It's a right punch
thrown like a jab,
but you don't
set up with your left.
You're saying to your opponent,
“I don't think much of you."
I don't understand.
Well, come here.
I'll show you.
Okay.
So, put up your dukes.
They really say that?
Now, when I come
at you like this,
with a right-hand lead,
see how far my fist has to
travel through space, all...
All this extra distance
past your shoulders?
So?
So, that's the time
you have to respond.
If you see something
coming, you can stop it.
All right, well,
how do I do that?
You don't.
It's coming too fast.
You just said that I could...
That I could see it coming.
Yes, but the fact
that I'm throwing
a right-hand lead proves to you
that I think that you won't.
I think you'll miss it.
That's how little I think
of your reflexes.
And that undermines
a fighters confidence.
Well, I would
prove you wrong.
Want to try?
Seriously?
I'll take a shot.
You try and block it.
Okay.
Too slow.
Try again.
Ah, too late.
You'd be down on the mat.
Let me...
Let me be you.
I'll throw the punch, and...
And you try to block it.
Okay.
All right,
like this, right?
You're gonna
do it at that speed?
No, Bill, I'm not.
All right,
here we go.
One, two...
Don't count it off.
You got to use
the element of surprise.
Fine.
Try again.
It's not funny.
Once more.
Come on, Gini.
Once more!
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Jesus! Don't... Don't move!
What... What is that?
My bracelet snagged.
Well, slide...
Can you slide it off?
No, it's. ..
It's too tight.
Jesus!
Wait, let me just...
Just unhook
the clasp, Virginia!
I'm trying, Bill!
What the hell
are you doing?
You're supposed to
hit me with your right.
Well, maybe if you
had quicker reflexes...
There's too much
hair stuck in it. Um...
Do you... Do you have nail
shears in your purse?
No.
Um, I could
call the front desk
and... And have them
send up a pair of scissors.
Oh, so you're all right with us
answering the door like this?
Well, what do
you propose, Bill?
All right,
come here.
No. No.
Ah!
All right.
Just have to saw it out.
Housekeeping
sent up a pair.
Come here.
Sit.
You're gonna
make it worse.
Bill, you have a divot
on the side of your head.
How much worse
can I make it?
I'm just going to
even it out a bit.
Ridiculous.
What is?
You are.
I am?
You enjoyed that.
No.
Yes.
You liked making me
feel pathetic and weak.
Well, you are weak.
Weaker.
Well, then,
it was an unfair fight.
It was a game, Virginia.
You're just upset
because you lost.
If you'd won,
you'd be gloating.
I would not.
Yes, you would.
Feels good.
And it feels even better when
the odds are against you.
Really? Did they teach you
that in boarding school?
No. I knew it
before I went there.
Old Francis Holden Sr.
prepared me well.
So, he did take
you to the fights.
No.
In fact, he didn't take
me much of anywhere.
New York City once.
When I was 14.
En route to dropping
me at boarding school.
He didn't buy you
a woman, did he?
Please tell me that he
didn't buy you a woman.
No, he bought me
a shave and a haircut
at the barbershop
at the Waldorf Astoria.
My first.
He got one, too.
We sat there side by side,
father and son,
steaming towels
on our faces.
No feeling in the world like
walking out into Central Park
on a fall day
after a fresh shave.
Wanted to send
you off in style, huh?
Oh, he was a character.
My father.
He could have
been a boxer.
Not too much control
in his punches, mind you,
but he was a master
at the feint.
Just when you thought he was one
thing, like the kind of swell guy
who'd show his kid a good
time in the big city,
wham!
He'd come out of nowhere,
knock you for a loop.
Leave you on the steps
of the freshman dormitory
with a taxi
idling at the kerb,
letting you know that you wouldn't
be coming home at Christmas.
Or at Easter.
Or ever.
Telling you at...
At 14...
It was time you
took care of yourself.
You never went
home after that?
It was the best thing
that could have happened.
Toughened me up.
Made me
totally self-reliant.
We both got left.
Well, he didn't
break my heart.
No?
Just my nose.
Once.
A left hook.
He did me a favour.
Made me the man
I am today.
A Kansas City radiologist.
Leave it, leave it.
Bill...
Let me look at you.
Take your hands away.
I want to see you.
Are you going
to touch me?
Is that what you want?
Is it?
Tell me.
Say it.
I don't need to say it.
I want you to tell me
how much you want me
to make you feel good.
Do it.
Beg me.
No. I won't.
I can make
myself feel good.
I can't
tell who's ahead.
Well, it can change
from moment to moment.
But is there
always a clear winner,
even if there's
not a knockout?
Sometimes the best fighter
isn't the one who
lands the hardest punch.
It can be the one
who absorbs it.
You'd have to
be a masochist
to endure that kind of
punishment, don't you think?
You stop feeling it
after a while.
What do you mean?
You go numb?
You learn to resist
your body's instinct,
which is to run, flee.
You start to, uh,
invite that feeling.
You can't control
the punishment,
but you can master
your response.
And that in itself
gives you a kind of power,
that you can take it
and not run.
Why did he
break your nose?
Hmm?
Your father.
Dear, old dad? Oh.
Usual...
Just horsing around.
Indian wrestling,
like fathers and sons do.
Bill.
Why did he
break your nose?
What difference
does it make?
I'm asking you.
I don't remember.
Maybe I slammed
the screen door.
Maybe I, uh,
reached for a second
helping before he did.
Maybe I used a word
he didn't know.
Maybe it was...
Wednesday.
And you didn't fight back?
Sure I did.
In my own way.
There were plenty of times I
didn't even put up my hands.
The ultimate insult...
A fighter who
keeps his gloves down.
You're saying, "Come on,
you son of a bitch.
"Take your best shot.
"Just keep
going at me forever,
"until your knuckles come
through your goddamn skin."
And there was
no one to stop it?
Oh, I could
have stopped ii.
He made that
perfectly clear.
"When you get down
on your knees, son,
"and beg for mercy,
that's when I'll stop."
And I never did.
Not once.
I took it.
Like a man.
But you weren't a man.
You were just
a kid... A boy.
There's no shame in
saying you've had enough,
in stopping the fight
if you're hurt.
That Mongoose man...
If he had stayed down
in the early rounds,
what would they
have said about him?
That he's a loser?
Or that he's human?
Maybe it is a noble sport.
Maybe it's
all about character
in a way a novice like
me can't understand.
But I will
tell you this...
I don't want my son
to be a boxer.
No.
When he's hurt,
I don't want him
to act like he's not.
That is not a lesson
he needs to learn.
And I don't think that's what's
going to make him a man.
Nurse. Book.
Retract.
Snap.
What did Daddy
make you for dinner?
But, Tessy, you like corn.
Well, if you were worried
about your tooth,
you should have asked him
to out it off the cob.
You in your jams?
Is daddy going to
read you a story?
Well, ask him
to make one up, then.
All right, well, then,
you make one up
and you tell him.
A princess. Right.
Well...
Well, couldn't...
Couldn't she go on an
adventure all on her own
without a prince?
All right, well...
Well, then, maybe she
could rescue him.
It does too happen.
Tessa, you're right.
You're right.
No, no, no, you tell
whatever story you want.
All right, goose.
I love you, too.
All right.
Sleep tight.
And tell Henry
I love him.
Uh, it's right over there.
I've got it.
Was everything to your
satisfaction, Mrs Holden?
Yes, absolutely...
Elliot.
Elliot.
I brought you that
umbrella last week.
Right.
Let me find my purse.
Oh, that won't
be necessary.
Dr Holden saw to it.
Up at
the count of three...
You know, ma'am,
if you'd like to put in
a standing order for
anything for next time...
Excuse me?
So we can have it
waiting for you.
If you prefer foam pillows
to down, for example,
extra bath towels.
Ah. Well,
towels would be nice.
Here you go.
Thank you.
I'll let housekeeping know.
Some of our
regulars request
we have flowers or champagne
waiting for them.
That's all right.
We don't need
any of that fuss.
Well, women say that,
but they appreciate
a nice gesture.
So says my girlfriend.
She's a big fan of trinkets
hidden in glove compartments
and under sofa cushions.
Yes, well, when you've
been married a while,
jewellery doesn't make
as many appearances.
Perhaps you need
to drop a few hints...
Give Dr Holden
some direction.
Actually, he does
other things for me.
He takes me seriously.
Listens to me.
And in a few years,
those will be the things
that your
girlfriend appreciates.
You remember that,
now, Elliot.
Will do.
Have a good night, ma'am.
What'd I miss?
It almost looks
like love, doesn't it?
The way they reach for
each other and hold on.
It's two of them
against each other, sure,
but it's also them
against that crowd.
Listen to them scream.
Shoot.
One minute
to go in round eight.
I did a good job.
Can't even tell.
There.
Do you get
many compliments?
On?
Your anniversary present.
I had to look up what
you get for your 14th.
No two stores
said the same thing,
so I decided on...
Bakelite.
I'll do better next year.
It's a big one.
We should go,
don't you think?
You have a long drive.
Promise me you'll, uh,
pull over at a rest stop
if you get tired.
Windows up,
doors locked.
How you worry,
Dr Holden.
This is where a married
couple would kiss.
Don't forget your watch.
It's there,
by your wedding band.
You go on ahead.
I'll write it up.
What will you say?
Two acts of intercourse,
mutually satisfying,
one masturbatory act,
role-playing throughout.
Am I forgetting anything?
Shh.
Third-floor nursery, please.
It's Dr Masters, checking
on the Bombeck baby.
Yes, this morning.
I left instructions to
measure his ins and outs.
Has he taken
a bottle yet?
No. You're mistaken.
When?
Waiting room.
Okay.
What's going on?
What the hell
are you doing?
I told you.
I said I wasn't
leaving here with an "it."
Look, you've got
to put a stop to this.
There's time.
The desk said
your son's in pre-op.
He's not my son.
He is.
Look, they're gonna fix him,
but it can't happen this fast.
It's not...
Not overnight.
You want the
very best person.
We found somebody.
Uh, Dr Bracken? Brigham?
Said he could do it.
Hugh Britten?
But he's a general surgeon.
Well, he said,
uh, he said
it's a lot less complicated
than you made it seem.
He said a hole
is easier than a pole.
No!
You can't...
Look, please.
Go in there and stop it.
This needs more thought.
Just give it a week.
All right, even...
Even just another day.
Just think it...
Think it through.
This is irrevocable.
You have a son.
Look, I...
I'm...
I'm begging you.
Let him be what he is.
A boy.
But it's done.
The doctor's finishing.
The nurse came out and told me
the operation was a success.
We're naming her Sarah.
Better a tomboy
than a sissy.
Four...
Five...
Six...
Seven
Eight...
Nine...
Saved by the bell
at the count of eight.
You a fight fan?
Not really.
This is
Durelle in his corner
as he is down
again in this fight.
Then what
brings you here?
Now we
come to round 11.
I want to see how it ends.
...were late
getting out of the ring.
Now Durelle seems
to be on his way,
as Moore bangs him
to the canvas again.
Four...
Five...
Six... Seven...
Eight...
Up at the
count of nine,
blood streaming from his nose,
a cut over his right eye.
Moore back after once again.
And down he goes again with
a clubbing right hand.
Three...
Four...
Five...
Six...
Seven...
Eight...
Struggling at nine.
10! He is out!
Man. oh, man,
what a dramatic
tum in this fight.
Archie Moore, near annihilation
in the first round.
And then on
the canvas again.
Ripped By mstoll