All language subtitles for dear_john_s03e19_the_poet_2

Bye. Bye.

How did you find out?

Your editor left a message.

How could you, Frank?

How could you steal my poems? I'm sorry,
John, but I had no choice.

She wanted to see my new work.

But, well, the muse has been refusing to
put out for me lately, and I had to

turn in something or I wouldn't have
gotten the advance.

So you resort to this? John, I've got
three ex -wives.

I've got five kids I'm helping to
support.

They're great kids.

Here, I got some pictures.

Maybe later.

Look, look, I only did it to buy some
time until I started to write again.

I never would have published your poems.
Oh, I'm supposed to believe that? Of

course. Why should I?

Because your poems just are not very
good.

Oh, they're just not very good.

Ah. I see. Right. Well.

Apparently, your editor doesn't seem to
share that opinion.

She seems to think that my poems are
incredible.

She said she cried when the lonely man
found the German shepherd.

Cried, Frank.

She said that?

I really wish you would go.

Okay. Okay. I'll go quietly.

John, if it makes you feel any better,
I've had a lot of students over the

years. Some good, some bad, some
indifferent.

But you're the only one I ever stole
from.

I thought you'd be so happy with your
husband home all the time now.

Well, I love him. I just can't stand
living with him.

Being a merchant marine, he's usually
out to sea. Then he's home a few days

he's gone. It's wonderful.

But now we're spending all this time
together, and I realize I don't know

man.

I'm sharing my bed with a total
stranger.

I should be so lucky.

We got a bed, and all he wants to do is
talk.

Now that he's home, he says we have
plenty of time for the other stuff.

Oh, Louise, I've got a serious problem.

So do I.

Sorry, Denise. Can you go talk to your
own group leader?

I am the group leader.

Oh, right. Then go talk to yourself.

What is it, George?

Everyone, George has something he needs
to talk about. Yes, yes. What happened?

I, um... God, this is very painful.

You all know how I felt about Frank
Hollander.

but he stole my poems.

Oh, thank God!

I think you're missing the key point
here.

Frank Hollander, the man I trusted and
revered, put his name on my poems and

gave them to his editor.

Why would he do that?

For the money.

You know what really gets me?

First he has the nerve to tell me that
my poems are no good, and then he turns

around and sells them as his own.

How much did Frank get for them? It's
not about the money.

How much? Kirk, it's not about the
money. How much?

$15 ,000, but it's not about... God,
that's a lot of money.

But it's not about the money. Right,
right. It's about trust. It's about

integrity. It's about... God, that is a
lot of money.

John. Right, right. It's about
respecting somebody.

Wanting to live by his words, his ideas,
and then finding out that he is a fake.

Have you told Frank's editor about this?

No, but I've been thinking about it.

It's hard to think of anything else.

I am so confused. I was sitting in front
of the TV last night just going back

and forth, back and forth.

Yeah, I know what you mean, John.

It's all those new cable channels.

Louise, what do you think?

It's a tough call.

Frank did a terrible thing. There's no
question about it, but you obviously

still have feelings for the man or you
wouldn't be so tall. I know, and it's

driving me crazy.

So before you... what to do, just bear
in mind that hurting Frank can hurt you

as well.

She has a point, John.

You can destroy his reputation, but do
you really want to see him suffer like

that? I mean, I don't think any of us
can even imagine what that would feel

to be publicly exposed.

It's not that bad.

No, it's not.

And it can leave a deep and lasting
wound.

How would you know?

How would I know?

I'm glad you asked.

Funny, I'm already regretting it.

I remember the time I got ripped off.

I had invented the Kirk Army Knife. And
the Swiss stole it from me.

Um, yes, ma 'am?

I don't mean to be rude, but I think
this is something I have to sort out by

myself. So I'm going to go home. I'll
see you all next week.

I feel so badly

for the show.

Okay,

okay. I had something I was going to say
until the end of the meeting, but I

think you could all use a little
cheering up.

I got your costumes for tomorrow night's
doo -wop contest.

What up?

Don't you expect us to wear that?

Well, you didn't think I'd let you go
out there naked.

No woman with any self -respect would
wear an outfit like that.

Here, here.

That's right.

That goes for me, too.

Is this the thanks I get?

that I not only formed this group, I'm
the lead singer.

And I make all the decisions. Either you
wear these costumes or you're out.

I believe we're out.

Art related.

That's right.

Oh, good. Go. Find it.

Great. You see how far you get without a
lead singer.

Oh, Ralph.

I'd love to.

Buffy, I thought we were friends.

Yeah, but this isn't between you and me,
Kirk.

It's between me and Gus.

A man's got to do up what a man's got to
do up.

Mr.

Lacey, I'm Sarah Donnelly. How do you
do? Take a load off.

Tell me what's on your mind.

Something about Frank Hollander.

Uh, yes.

I, um... Well, um...

You see, I've known Frank for years. He
was my teacher back in college.

And, well, you see, the thing is, this
is very difficult.

Then let me help you.

Frank didn't write these poems, did he?

No, he didn't. How did you know?

Because Frank Hollander would never be
able to write poems like these.

Oh, really?

I've been in the poetry racket for
years, and believe me, I know the work

literary genius when I see it.

Literary genius?

But these poems are the work of a rank
amateur.

They are yours, aren't they?

I, uh, well, only in the sense that I
wrote them.

I take it you're not overly fond of
them?

Mr. Lacey, I bet you look at me and you
think, man, what a cushy job.

She just sits here all day reading and
passing judgment, thumbs up, thumbs

Well, you have no idea how much bad
poetry comes through that door and lands

smack on my desk and I've got to read
it. All of it.

Every last cliched, overblown,
pretentious, boring word of it.

Not overly fond of it. They make me want
to scream.

I don't get it.

On my answer machine, you said you
thought my poems were fantastic.

I only said that to protect Frank, so he
wouldn't know I saw through his little

scam. But you gave him an advance of $15
,000. Because I convinced my publisher

that eventually he would write his book.

It just so happened that Frank was my
teacher, too.

But I care about him.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Oh, come off it. If you really cared

about Frank, you wouldn't be trying to
hurt him now.

He'd be trying to understand how much
pain he was in, how desperate he was, so

desperate he was willing to put his name
on these poems.

Yes.

Enough about my poems.

Look, when a talent like Frank's comes
along, you do everything you can to

protect it, nourish it.

You put too much pressure on him, he
could go right back to drinking, which,

you well know, is the only way he's been
able to write.

No, I don't know. What the hell are you
talking about?

Frank Hollander never wrote anything
without booze.

He stopped drinking two years ago.

And he hasn't written a word since.

That is absolutely ridiculous.

Frank doesn't need liquor to write. Of
course not, but he thinks he does.

So he does.

Well, I'm... I'm sorry, I can't accept
that.

Mr. Lacey.

What are you going to do?

I don't know.

Something.

Thanks for your time.

Oh, I know you don't like my poems, but
I'm still going to write.

So, do you have any constructive
criticism for me?

You might try drinking.

I wonder why I love you like I do.

Is it because I think you love me too?

I wonder why I love you like I do.

That was a simple and fun laugh.

That was Ralph and, um... Ralph and the

Louisettes. All right,

we're going to take a little break right
now. We're going to come back.

and announce our winner.

Way to do up. We are in absolute love.
Ladies and gentlemen, may I

have your attention, please? We have a
late entry.

So please welcome the New Tones.

Baby, I want to go back to the way it
was with us. I want you to be happy

How can we be happy? We've spent too
much time together.

Not anymore.

I'm shipping out tomorrow. I'll be gone
for five months.

Five months? You'll do that for me? God,
I love you.

Come on, baby.

Come on, let's go home.

I'm going to put a smile on your face
that's going to last until I get back.

Hey, big deal. Guys, we don't need her.
I can sing lead, right?

that the winner of Clancy's doo -wop
contest and $500 in cash goes to Ralph

and the Louisettes!

Oh, congratulations, everyone! And do
you know the reason we

won? Mary Beth's dress?

$100? Well, let's not forget, I sang
lead.

That's worth at least $200.

Well, if anyone gets $200, it should be
me. I thought of the name. Wait a

minute. I discovered Ralph.

Well, I won't settle for less than $100
and a quarter.

I got lost five times in your quaint
little Vermont roads here.

And everybody I asked for directions
tried to sell me maple syrup.

Well, why didn't you say so?

Well,

this certainly is a surprise. You just
happened to be in the neighborhood.

I talked to your editor, Frank. I know
what your problem is. John, if you have

even a modicum of affection left for me,
do me a big favor and get the hell out.

I'm sorry, Frank.

You taught me a lot, but I'm a teacher
too, so tonight I'm going to teach you

something.

I'm going to call it a business trip so
I can deduct my expenses.

And just what do you propose to teach
me?

That you can write a poem without booze.

But, John, please have a heart. And just
how am I going to accomplish this? By

not leaving here until you do.

And by being so obnoxious that whatever
it is that's keeping you from writing,

fear, insecurity... Despair, whatever it
is, it will be mild by comparison.

John, I know you mean well, but you're
wasting your time.

Well, looks like I have no choice. It's
time for me to get obnoxious. You mean

you haven't started yet?

I have not yet begun to annoy.

I'm going to read you some poetry.

Bad poetry.

My poetry.

The Shepherd by the Shore.

A lonely man prowls the beach today, a
dark and dismal day. His soul alone in

the great gray sky.

Oh, sky!

Oh! beach.

Oh, God.

Come on, Frank. Would you just sit down
and write a poem?

Come on. Hey, look at that.

Your old lucky typewriter.

I don't know how much great poetry you
wrote on that thing. Come on, Frank.

Just sit there and write a poem. John,
I'm going to bed. Could you turn the

light off on your way out? Yeah, well,
I'm not going anywhere.

And you're not going to be able to
sleep.

Oh, lonely man. Cry out. Cry out in
vain.

He picks up a stick. He tosses it forth.
John, it's been a tooth, but you really

should go now. And what does he hear but
a bark?

I'm serious. A German shepherd runs up
with a stick in his mouth.

John, go.

You should just sit down and write a
poem. This is my... Oh, Fresh, what are

so afraid of? I want you to go.

Oh, dog.

Oh, man.

Do I have to call the police? Yeah, go
ahead. Great.

I want you to call the police.

I want to tell them how you're wasting
your God -given talent and how by not

writing, you're making room in the world
for poems like The Shepherd by the

Shore.

That's a crime, Frank.

Or if it isn't, it should be.

You're really not going to give up, are
you? No.

All right.

You want a poem? Sit down. I'll write
you a poem.

You will?

And then you'll leave, right? Yes,
right.

I am the leopard who can't change his
spots. This poem would be better if I

a few shots.

Come on, Frank, that's not a real poem.

This from the author of The Shepherd by
the Shore?

I just wish you would try.

I have.

Believe me.

Well, you can't give up.

Frank, Frank, you gave me a lot. I'm
sure you know that. And one thing you

me. All right.

I'm not much of a writer, but I'm a hell
of a reader.

When I first read your stuff, it opened
up a whole world of beauty, of poetry,

of meaning.

Oh, Frank, I just wish... Oh, hell, I
guess you know what I wish.

Oh, John, what in God's name are you
doing? Sorry, I didn't mean it. It was

accident, really, just an accident.

Sorry, I think it's all right.

There, you see, it's fine.

apologizing for.

You're not going to be using it anymore
anyway.

All right.

Dear John moves to its new night
Wednesday at 9 .30 Eastern. I'm Jane

Who's more likely to appear in a Martin
Scorsese movie than Robert De Niro?

Scorsese's mom and dad meet the whole
family on Real Life Sunday at 8 .30.