Original subtitles

Hey, Finch, can you... No, no, no, no.

Very busy right now. Writing a poem for one of my college classes.

Oh, when did you get so concerned about school?

This morning when they said they're going to kick me out if I don't pass

English. It's got to be, like, the greatest poem ever written.

Can you think of something that rhymes with slap it on the bing bong?

Dennis, who is the fourth monkey? Peter Tork.

Thanks. He kept me up all night.

What are you doing?

Oh, uh, just a little schoolwork.

Oh, great. You know, I'm still waiting to see your grades.

Oh, right.

About that.

It might be delayed a bit. There was a fire in the grade house.

Right. Dennis, until I see some grades, good grades, I won't be sending a check

to the tuition house.

If I flunk out of school, he's going to kill me. Come on, you've got to help me

write this poem.

No, it would be cheating.

It's not cheating. It's tutoring.

mentoring, helping.

I mean, for God's sakes, you send 70 cents a week to that kid in Honduras,

don't even know him.

Why are you so into Pepe and not me? I work with you.

Come on, I'm begging you.

All right, I'll help you. Because I love poetry, and the fact that you've asked

for help shows a lot of maturity.

Are you looking down my shirt?

What?

Aya, if we're going to collaborate, it's all about trust.

Now, I want to try a little exercise. I'm going to stand here. I need you to

fall forward.

Okay, next item.

We're still a feature short for the holiday issue. What do we got? How about

story on America's most voluptuous prisoners?

Felons with melons.

Dennis, for the 80th time, stop pitching that.

I have a concept for a photo layout.

Whoa, Vicki.

Vicki, I know you're new here, but any photo concepts have to be filtered

through me so I can ascertain if they have any artistic merit.

Okay. Elliot, what ideas do you have?

Oh, Fincher's melon thing sounds good.

Vicki, you were saying?

It'll be a blush retrospective. Supermodels from the past who helped

popular culture.

That's good.

We could get somebody like Cheryl Teague. No, not Cheryl Teague.

Oh, she's psychotically competitive. She's always had a problem with me.

Nina, you hit her in the head with a shovel.

I had to. I thought she was choking.

Forget Cheryl Teagues. There's a lot of other great models from that time.

There's Christy Brinkley. There's Carol Ault.

She's choking. Someone get a shovel.

Look, if we're doing... a retrospective, then you should feature me. I mean,

when you think of models from the 70s, you think Nina Van Horn.

No, when you think of models in their 70s.

Finch, I promise you, when they drop, your voice will change.

Nina, you would be great in the issue, except for one thing.

When you model, you become...

Oh, how do I say this delicately? A pain in the ass?

Dennis, please.

A huge pain in the ass? That's it. Oh, come on, Jack.

I've changed.

For what it's worth, Nina is an icon.

Dad, she's one of our own. It would be great publicity for the magazine.

Fine. Nina, you're in.

Vicki, this is your idea, so you're responsible.

Thank you. You won't be sorry.

Now, you've probably heard stories about how I like to drink while on a shoot.

Oh, don't worry. I don't listen to rumors. No, I'm saying I'll need a

the set.

When working at home for two hours, I get nothing. Do you?

Or do you have everything?

Look around, Finch.

See the world, feel the world, take the world, put it on that page.

Are you high?

You've got to think poetically. Open your mind. Dig deep. What are you

passionate about?

I don't know. Cats, Britney Spears, porcelain figurines.

Usual guy stuff.

No, no, no, no. Those are things. I'm talking about a truth.

Something in your soul that just has to get out. Like, I don't know.

A girl's relationship with her father.

You know what's cool?

Nunchucks.

Let's say the father is distant.

Yeah, that's good. And she builds up a lot of resentment. Yeah, and she wanted

to wail on him with the nunchucks. She's like, hey, hey, hey!

I'm on to something.

All right.

All right, here's something deep and personal.

When I was young, my father blamed me for my grandfather's death.

No, not now. I'm writing.

I thought it would be fun.

I thought the old coot could swim.

So great. My first big project, and it's with Nina Van Horn. Sure, it's easy for

you to be excited. I'm the one who's going to take all the abuse.

What are you talking about?

She's legendary for treating her photographers like garbage.

Good morning.

It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining. Right at the top of my head. I

I'm bald.

What? I bought you a croissant. Oh, I know, because I'm flaky and pretentious.

Oh, we're all laughing at Elliot.

This is so cool.

I can't wait to see you model. Oh, you are so sweet.

You know, I was homecoming queen at PS3 23.

A lot of people said I should go into modeling.

Teenagers can be so cruel.

I picked out something for the shoot, an Armani gown, flowing, elegant.

That'd be good, but we're going to have all the models recreate their most

famous poses from the 70s. You are going to reshoot your classic poster wearing

that leopard print swimsuit.

Oh, I'm surprised that you could pry that away from the model hall of fame.

Actually, they sold it to some pervert in Wisconsin.

Dear sweet Barry.

Here it is. Oh, wow.

Much smaller than I remember.

Actually, it's bigger.

Barry stretched out the waist.

Hey, there's my favorite homo

sapien.

Check it out. That's great.

Dennis, your insights into the regrets of a lonely child are heartbreaking. Oh,

my God, he really responded to my writing.

I couldn't get through it myself, but, hey, I did the trick.

Jack, make room on your fridge. Somebody got an A.

Oh, Dennis, that's amazing.

I am so proud of you. Really? Thanks.

I just thought you were screwing around in college, but you proved me wrong. You

should be rewarded.

Can I have health insurance?

Let's not start that again.

Let me just see what the fucking... This is beautiful.

You see, the blooming of the crocuses are an allegory for a young girl. Maya,

please. This is Dennis' work.

Let the author explain what he meant.

Okie doke.

The crocus petals opening up. That's your standard early poem flower crap.

You know what? Forget about what I think. You're the reader. What did it

you?

Well, I think it's about a father's selfish neglect of his fragile daughter.

Oh, my God, that's exactly right.

Maya, please.

Dennis?

Close.

You know, Dennis, you're smarter than I give you credit for. I should listen to

you more often.

I got an idea for the holiday issue.

Santa's bustiest helpers.

Called elves with shelves.

I'll think about it.

Nina, you're late.

Nina, again, I am so excited about this. So, let's get started, okay? All right,

let's see the suit.

I want to make sure the background works with the leopard skin.

Wait! I can't do this. Why not?

Because the fruit looks cold.

Fruit is supposed to be cold. Who eats hot fruit? I'm not going to eat it. I'm

just going to look at it, and I don't want to look at cold fruit. It's

me out, man.

Nina, we're all freaked out about the fruit, but we have to stay strong, so

we get back to work?

Phone. Okay.

Great.

Wait! What now?

The lighting's all wrong.

Let's get something clear, all right?

I'm an artist.

Every day I take ordinary women and use composition and color to transform them

into worshipped goddesses. Then I sleep with them.

So don't tell me how to light my set. Ah, go sit on your tripod.

Diva!

Burnout! Speak, Hugo!

Stop!

This is my shoot, and I'm in control here, so stop screwing around and get

to work.

I'd like you to meet Jamie Barron. She's the publisher of the Village Review and

one of the most respected literary minds in the city.

It's a pleasure to meet you. Likewise. English, huh? Chim -chim -chree.

How'd you like a little crumpet party at my flat?

Got it.

Got it? Your cake? I'll put my fork away.

Yeah, I got the...

Oh, my God, Jamie Berenson. I am such a big fan of your magazine. I've actually

submitted poems to you before. I'm sure you're a bright, original voice, and we

will keep your work on file. Thank you.

Hey, that's exactly what they said in the letter. Oh.

Dennis, the reason I'm here is that Jack showed me your poem, and I was very

impressed with your writing. In fact, she liked it so much, she's going to

publish it. Wait, that poem is going to be published under the name Dennis

Finch? Yeah, I don't think we want to do that. I mean, poetry is very personal

to me. It's like religion or going to the bathroom.

Look, this is a great opportunity.

Don't you want to be in the spotlight?

Don't you want people who read that poem to say, that Dennis Finch is a shining

new star?

What the hell? I did write the thing.

Come on, Dennis. I'll take you and Jamie to lunch to celebrate. Wherever you

want. All right. Medieval times.

This isn't fair. I'm the one who should be getting published.

Don't be so bitter. You sound like that angry little brat in my poem.

What's the matter with you?

I'm having a tough day.

You know what will really lift your spirits?

Finch's poem. It's really touching.

Give me that.

Finch didn't write this. I did.

It's the best thing I've ever written, and no one will ever know it's mine.

Wow, I'm sorry.

Look, as a fellow artist, I understand your pain.

You just have to believe in your ability and maintain your dignity.

Hot drapes, coming through.

And then I wrote a poem about a bear named Fuzzy.

Here's the irony. He wasn't really fuzzy.

Or was he?

Ah, Dennis, you're a delight.

You know, I used to find Dennis childish and annoying, but after reading that

poem... I realize he's just very witty. Oh.

Hey, did you hear the news? Thousands of people are about to see the talent of

Dee Finch.

They're going to watch a cat drink milk from your mouth?

All right, whoever's got that video, I need it back.

I can't believe you're going to let that pun get published under your name.

Whoa, hit the brakes, Maya Angeluser.

You may have strung a few notions together, but I'm the inspiration. I am

muse.

Dennis, get in here.

Time for Jack to polish up his little golden man.

Good news!

Jamie's magazine is holding a literary reading tomorrow night in the village,

and I've convinced her to let you recite a piece of work.

I'm so looking forward to hearing another piece of your work.

Another one?

Can't I just read the one that you're publishing?

Oh, no, the purpose of the reading is to premiere a new work.

Can't you just premiere the old one again?

Oh, Dennis, that's exactly the kind of wit I used to mistake for idiocy.

Okay, this is my first big project for Jack, and I'm not going to let you ruin

it, so get out there now. I'm afraid that's out of the question.

Fine. Then let me speak in a language you'll understand.

Oh, my God.

Is that the Cheryl Teague shovel?

No, it's the Garden Master 2000, but they assured me it would kill a model.

I'm warning you. I've got a handgun hidden in my desk drawer.

Your desk doesn't have any drawers.

All right, you've called my bluff.

What do you want? Get out there.

I can't.

Why not?

You've done this a thousand times. I'm just not convinced, absolutely 100%,

without a doubt, that I'll look good.

Come on, Nina, you look amazing.

Look, I don't expect you to understand how I feel.

But I was once considered one of the most beautiful women in the world.

And my image is tied to that photo in 1978, and that's the image that I want

people to remember, so no, I'm not doing it.

I think you're making a huge mistake.

But if that's what you want, I'll cover for you.

Just don't say I was scared.

Well, I could just tell everyone you refuse to take the picture because

volatile, selfish, raving bitch.

I'd really appreciate that.

Hey, pretty eyes.

I know I was kind of a jerk before, so I got you a little gift.

It's my way of saying sorry and thank you. To Jack, best wishes, Jimmy Carter.

Yeah, that's a brand name.

So, now that I've given you my special pen of friendship, I need a favor. I

you to write me a poem.

Forget it. I'll be humiliated.

No. I have one month to live. No!

I'm one -sixteenth Cherokee. You owe it to my people.

Forget it, Finch. You're on your own.

No, I'm not on my own. I'm not going to get in front of a bunch of people and

read some crappy poem.

You have to read it in public.

Yeah, and if you don't write it, I'll take you down with me, because you

me cheat. All right, Finch, you got me.

I'll write you another poem.

You will?

Yeah, you will.

That's right, you will.

And it better have that Finchian flair.

Oh, it will.

Cheryl, you look great. Oh, thanks, babe.

We'll be ready for you in a minute. Okay. Thank you for coming on such short

notice. Oh, my pleasure. It was fun.

Holy crap, this melon's on fire.

I heard Cheryl Chase was here.

You backed out. We had no choice.

Oh, good to see you, Cheryl.

Your feet look enormous. Did your collagen drop?

Nina Van Horn, is it you?

Lay down and throw up so I can be sure.

Okay, Cheryl, why don't we slip off the robe and I'll shoot you in that famous

pink bikini. No.

Why not?

I'm posing. Beat it, Pink.

What's going on around here?

I'm sorry, but Nina was our first choice for the cover.

Great. So I slept with Elliot for nothing.

Okay, let's get going.

I knew getting Cheryl teased would do the trick. Yes, good work.

Okay. Nina Van Horn is back.

So start shooting, you hunchback little camera monkey.

Oh, shut up, you shallow -famed gobbling egomaniac. Fraud. Bitch.

God, it's good to be back. You look great.

Hey.

This is your big night. You excited?

Well, I'd be lying if I didn't say I was a little disappointed with the quality

of the boot head.

Dennis.

Yeah, I hear you.

Oh, this is gonna be good.

What? What's going on?

I'm taking Finch down.

Usually, I take the high road, but tonight, it's payback time. I'm giving

the worst poem ever written. Oh, the stinker you wrote three years ago about

acid rain?

No, that's a beautiful poem I'm very proud of. As well you should be.

There you are. I was getting worried.

Oh, I'm sorry. I wanted it to be just perfect. I guess you're going to have to

read it cold.

No problem. I'll dress it up with a little dramatic flair.

A movie I call The Finch.

Is that too intense? I can bring it down.

Ladies and gentlemen, I think we're about to begin.

Oh, good luck, Finch. I can't wait to hear you read this.

Really? Because I kind of thought you were ticked off of me.

Yeah, it's been kind of tough, but this is your night.

And what kind of friend would I be if I didn't let you have it?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Dennis Quimby Fitch.

The Ice Pelican.

Wait, I can't do this.

You know, I usually do the wrong thing, and tonight, for once, I'm going to take

the high road.

I didn't write this poem.

Yes, you did. Yes, you did. No, I didn't. My friend Maya Gallo wrote every

single word, and I think it's fitting that she comes up here and reads it for

you. Oh, no, no, no. Not fitting. Not fitting. Come here.

She's shy. Let's get her up here. Maya Gallo, come on.

Let's go, you eggheads. Peace and love.

I don't want to.

The Ice Pelican by Maya Gallo.

Slap it on the bing bong.

Lick it like a ding dong.

Nunchucks on the fly.

Corny beef on rye.

Watch my lizard cry.

Hitler.

Maya, good stuff, Maya.

She stole the bing bong thing from me.