All language subtitles for Red Shoe Diaries (1992) S02E07.en

- "Dear Red Shoes,
I admire your quest.

"An emotional journey to
the heart of your grief.

"That takes courage.

"Funny I should see it that way

"because until a few months ago,

"I was sure emotion was
a sign of weakness."

I'm a photo journalist.

I was working on a piece
about up-market hookers.

The kind who make 1,500 plus.

- No, I don't do kinky stuff,

I mean I used to, but you just,

you get burnt out too fast.

Know what I mean?

In my profession
you have to stay objective.

- So, can you fucking believe
that guys pay you to do this?

Otherwise it becomes impossible

to distinguish fact from
fiction, truth from fantasy.

You loose your edge.

- I guess I remind
them of their wives.

You know, before
their wives had kids

and got cellulite
and hired shrinks.

It was difficult
for me no to be affected

by the stories these girls told.

- But it's all an act.

For the most
part they were tough,

they needed the
score and they knew

how to take care of themselves.

I'm sorry, I just don't
think that I can do this.

And their success depended

on the same principle as mine,

the same golden rule,

don't get emotionally involved.

It's insane, you
sit there and you,

you direct them and yell
at them and they love it.

- But hey, they're paying.

♪ Eh hey

- I don't know about this.

- And that's why I'm good.

- Good hookers are
inevitably good liars.

♪ Hey, hey, hah

♪ Ha

♪ Uh-Huh

♪ Huh

♪ Hey, ha

♪ Ha, uh-huh

- Can I help you?

- Um...

Yeah, I'm just looking
for the Parker residence.

Sally and Ed Parker.

- I don't think I've
ever heard of them.

- No, I left the exact
address behind at the office.

I thought this was
the right house

but I, I guess I'm wrong.

Would you like to come
inside and use the phone?

- No, you know I left
the number behind too.

Same piece of paper.

- I see.

You're a photographer?

- Me? No.

Oh no, I'm just
returning that to Sue.

- Sally.

- Sally, right.

- You're a really bad liar.

I mean...

If you're going to lie, tell
big, fat, fantastic lies.

Not small, boring ones.

I respect good lies because
they require imagination.

That's amazing, what do you do?

- I'm an astronomer.

You know, stars,
planets, solar systems.

That's funny, you don't
look like a scientist.

- And you don't look like
someone who'd forget an address.

- I'm sorry, I got lost.

Bye.

- I'll open the gates for you.

Unless you prefer to
climb over the wall.

- I'll have one of the same.

Hi, my name's Jo Dunston,
I'm a reporter with the Trib.

- Yeah, so?

That's right, you were
here the other night.

- Yeah.

- I remember a
girl sitting alone.

At first I thought
you were a hooker.

But then I saw what
you were wearing.

What do you want?

- Just to talk.

I'm doing a piece on
high class call girls.

For a start, honey,
when it comes to hooking,

there's no high
class or low class.

There's only high
price and low price.

At either end of the scale
you've got cops, and drugs,

nice Johns and
assholes, perverts.

Why are you doing this?

- For a start, people
will always read

stories about prostitutes.

They're almost
mythical creatures.

But for me, I'm more
interested in how you remain

professional despite
what you feel inside.

Shit!

A guy from
the telephone company.

- Oh, Jesus!

Hi.

About six months later

I figured why just pay bills.

- Hello, again.

Turn a profit.

But down here, land of
the milk and honey...

- Do you have insurance?

- Yeah, of course.

There's this guy once who wanted

me to dress up like a nun.

I guess he'd been
to Catholic school

or something and
like to be paddled.

- That sounds interesting.

I just couldn't...

- Oh, it's a book on tape.

A Russian spy thriller.

Here.

- Joanna Dunston, five foot 11,

122 pounds, green eyes,

hair red,

Scorpio.

- Oh stars!

Here's my insurance company.

Just let them sort it out.

- I'd like to know the name
of that Russian spy thriller.

I love that sort of stuff.

- Dead Sun Rising.

I'm sorry.

- Easter coming up I
got plenty of free time.

Business always slacks off
during religious holidays.

It's all about
Judeo-Christian guilt.

Honey, in my business you get
well acquainted with guilt.

All my men have felt guilty
at one time or another.

Guilty 'cause they're married,

or 'cause they want
you to strap it on

and fuck 'em in the ass,

or 'cause they're putting it
on their company's credit card,

because the minute the
put it on the table,

they can't act innocent anymore.

- Surely there
must be exceptions,

like that guy I saw you
with the other night.

- Yeah, he is different.

Sometimes I think I'd
fuck him for free.

- Why don't you?

- He only sleeps with
women he pays for.

- Why?

- I asked him the same thing,

he just said it was
more convenient.

You know, just didn't have
the time to get intimate.

No, he shouldn't.

I mean, put it this way,

when a man pays for a woman,

he wants more than
just her body.

He wants her to believe in him

and believe all the
lies that he tells her,

whether he's strong, or rich,
or how fabulous a lover he is.

I just believe whatever
they want me to believe.

Good hookers are
inevitably good liars.

You know, I swear to God,
one time this guy got off,

by getting married.

Once a week he would take a
hooker to Vegas, marry her,

and then a couple days
later divorce her.

- No!

It must be really
difficult not to lose

your respect for men
when you come in contact

with so many pathetic assholes.

- No, actually it's
quite the opposite.

I respect most of them, no
matter how weird they are.

Because at least
they have the courage

to face up to their fantasies.

- I mean, I'd imagine someone

like Jack would
be a great lover.

- How'd you know his name?

- I don't know, you
must have told me.

- No.

- Wild guess.

Telepathy maybe.

What are you doin' here?

Come on Joanna,
don't play games.

Paula called me this
afternoon and told me.

- Well, I guess she knows what
side her bread's buttered on.

- She's a loyal
friend, that's all.

Jesus, Jack, you buy her
body on a regular basis.

Do you think that automatically
makes you her friend?

- You think because
you're a journalist

you have the right to
snoop into people's lives?

If you want to know about me,

then ask me, face to face.

What do you want
me to say, Jack?

You want me to say
that I wonder what

it would be like to
make love to you?

And what are you
gonna say to me?

That you want to fuck me
without paying for it?

That you're willing
to take that risk?

Look, we're both adults,
so let's just act like it.

Get this over with and then
we can get on with our lives.

Come on...

Play by the rules.

1,500.

Why do you want to be like them?

To fuck without love?

Why are you so
afraid of the truth?

You're a really lousy liar.

- I can't do this,
and you can't either.

At least be honest about that.

I never did see Jack
again, and he never called.

In the end, I guess
I got what I wanted.

What every good journalist
is after, the truth.

The truth about
myself, about Jack,

and about all the
other people out there

that turn away from love.

We're not too tough or too
busy or too professional.

We're just afraid.
- "We're just afraid."

"The truth is, love
doesn't conquer all.

"Sincerely, Jo".

Wake up Stella, we can't be
reading letters all day long.