Original subtitles

Dad, I continue

to write to you in spite of your silence,

so that the bond won't be broken,

so that one day I won't come upon a stranger

who might be my father, so that I won't forget you.

Is it still a matter of anger?

Anger over my forthright announcement?

A string of words which changes the course of my life,

but not yours?

Do you not want to speak with me, to hear my laughter?

Strangely, the less I see you, the more I become like you.

I find you in mirrors.

I have your hair.

I have the warmth of your hands in mine,

even in the middle of winter.

I surprise myself by wearing the turtlenecks I hated as a child.

You know, the ones you always wore when we lived in London?

I have the same bald patch in my beard

when I go without shaving.

I hope the strange adventure you're on

is bringing you happiness.

Raising pigs in Israel?

Couldn't you play golf like everyone else?

Are you hoping to provoke God, to get an answer?

I hope you'll find one and come back to me.

Send my regards to your pigs.

You, who never let me have so much as a goldfish.

I have an offer to make you.

I'm listening.

How about, instead of watching your shitty play again,

you let a handsome man take you to dinner?

That sounds awesome.

Let me know if you find any.

I should just leave you here for that.

How are you, sir?

Ah, Mr. Rosenmerck.

Mr. Rosenmerck?

How are you, sir?

Come on.

What?

We have a problem.

Yeah.

Mr. Rosenmerck?

Mr. Rosenmerck?

12 nipples, 13 piglets.

This one is the little one.

Yeah?

He's weak.

- Oh, he's weak? - Yeah.

So wait a minute.

So, I still don't follow.

Uh... you want me to give him the bottle?

Yes.

Uh. OK.

OK.

I'll try it.

I mean, it's a little ridiculous.

Yeah.

I shouted. Still nothing.

I shouted.

I rang the doorbell.

And he just rocked his pig, cradling it like a baby.

Can you imagine?

Pretending not to hear me?

I think the man's a degenerate.

Did you change it at the top?

Yes.

Are we going to start?

Scrub, scrub, Rivka.

You need more detergent.

I did that already.

Never going to get this pig off me.

Do you think we should just throw it all out?

Check the Torah. Maybe one washing isn't enough.

- Dad, are we going to start? - Yes.

OK.

So.

Dear Mr. Rosenmerck, this is my third letter

to you regarding your pig farm.

- It's your second letter. - Exactly.

He'll want to point out that it's only my second letter,

which he can only do by replying and acknowledging

- that he received my first one. - Clever.

Very clever.

Yes, so please don't make me explain my strategy

every other sentence.

Ready.

This is my third letter to you regarding your pig farm.

You want me to write it again?

No, I'm just starting again.

Oh, OK.

Hey.

Hey, what are you doing?

You can't wake me up like this every night.

I can't take it.

Hey.

What... what are you doing?

I need my sleep.

I'm... I'm... I'm going to... hey. Hey.

OK.

Oh, god.

Here.

Don't bite my toes.

Come on.

What does the snake represent?

Evil.

Yes.

And what else?

A penis?

That's not funny to me.

Pardon me.

Amos.

You have a reply from the farmer.

Ah, good.

Shall we hear what the miserable pig

- farmer has to say for himself? - Yes.

- Yes, please. - Yes, of course.

Dear Rabbi, I have followed your...

You read very well, but please pass it to Benjamin.

I put the pigs on stilts like Hawaiian bungalows

over the ocean.

Never shall a hoof brush the earth of the Holy Land,

except of course for when you buy them from me

to chase off the terrorists.

In the New York Times last month, I saw a

soldier with a pig on a leash.

And I must say, it discredits your tough guy reputation.

OK.

Give it to me.

I am a man who is respectful of religion,

although I don't practice it myself.

I didn't mean to offend you, though you

appear to mean to offend me by calling

me a degenerate shegetz.

Oh.

Well, I had to make him react.

Mind you, this will not change the fact

that Israeli Jews are gorging themselves on bacon,

and that I am a man who sells it to them through one

restaurant alone in Tel Aviv.

Eggs and bacon, whether you like it or not, are on the menu.

They're very popular.

So tell me, Mr. Rabbi, what exactly is the story

behind the use for pig's blood?

You know, the one in which bags of porcine blood

were hung in the city buses to deter terrorists from blowing

themselves up, splashing themselves with it,

making them impure, barring them from paradise?

If you can secure me this contract with public transport,

I won't have to sell them any more bacon.

I figured that giving your politics

being so different from the other rabbis, you know,

your open mindedness and all, you'd understand me.

As for the road, I will continue to use it.

You can't prevent me from practicing my trade.

What do we think of that?

Harry one, Rabbi zero.

Dr. Swimmen.

Dr. Swimmen!

Dr. Swimmen!

Dr. Swimmen!

Wait.

- Annabelle. - Hi.

I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow.

I know.

I need to talk to you.

What can I do for you?

I'm kind of in a jam.

I need to cancel our session tomorrow

because I can't pay you.

But I know that if I cancel now, I'm still going

to owe you for tomorrow anyway.

And why can't you pay?

My dad, he hasn't transferred my money in nine weeks.

Your money or his?

Are we on the clock right now?

You're 34 years old, Annabelle.

I'm also still a student.

Lots of us still are.

You guys left us a shitty economy.

You know, I've been thinking of getting

a skateboard to ride to work.

What?

You don't think I could pull off a skateboard?

No.

You're probably right.

What a ridiculous thought.

I'm too old to pull off a skateboard.

And you're too old to have an allowance.

You'll come at 5:00 tomorrow, as per usual.

And once you get that paycheck from that first job

you're going to start looking for, you can pay me then.

Now hit that pavement, Annabelle.

Thank you.

I will, as soon as I get back from New York.

I'm visiting my mom.

She's paying for the ticket, by the way.

What's this?

This is the name of an excellent child psychiatrist.

He has great results with adolescents

in just your situation.

So can you help me or not?

You've been there for three hours, for crying out loud.

I tried everything, your neighbor, Milad, that

grows cows, he will have to...

She raises.

Raises cows.

What?

Raises... I mean, you don't grow cows.

Listen.

I'm talking English on top of this telephone pole

with a place full of pigs.

Give me a break with the grammar lessons.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

So what about this neighbor that grows cows?

Doesn't want a wire that goes through a land full of pigs

through his own farm.

These are religious Muslims.

And then the other way, there is Mrs. Lapierre.

Miss Israel of '65 or whatever.

She said that Nazareth belongs to the Christians.

Jesus' land.

But she thinks you're nice.

I know that. Um.

Yeah.

She comes over to my house.

She wants me to take her to dinner.

She schleps through the mud here with these high heeled shoes

just to give me these baskets of fruit.

She's a fan.

I mean, is there any other solution, or?

The only solution I see is to go east where

there's the new settlement.

All the way down there?

Yep.

Oh, my god.

This is the right time to invoke his name.

Do you have one of those, um...

like, one of those rooms where you get to talk to each other?

Videos?

The thing, you know, like a chat thing?

What do you they call it? Chat?

Oh. Uh.

FaceTime or Skype?

There you go.

In less than a minute, you'll be talking to Monica.

Monica?

I don't want to talk to my ex-wife.

Well, then why is she the first in your contacts?

Harry?

What are you doing on Skype?

Are you all right?

Sorry.

Is that a green juice?

You really are having a crisis, aren't you?

Welcome to Skype, Harry.

Just another way for you to show David that you can be in touch,

but you just don't want to.

Monica, you have to stop talking for one minute.

You called me.

Maybe you had an intuition.

I'm having an MRI today.

I've been feeling very dizzy, Harry.

You as well, uh.

Good luck with that.

And, uh, I'll talk to you soon.

Well, thanks for your concern.

You're a hypochondriac, Monica.

- OK? - Well, it's my turn.

Ignore our son, cut off our daughter,

and dismiss me for your ridiculous pig family?

Harry, Harry, you've got to listen to me.

How do I shut her off?

Just press the button with the phone on it.

Annabella's been trying to get in touch with you.

What does it say about us that our 34-year-old daughter

can't make her rent?

There are two buttons with phones on.

One has red and one has green.

Whatever we did, this is how we raised her.

You can't just overnight.

Speaking of purse strings, you would not believe...

I had dinner with...

Well, I'm, uh. I'm going to hang up now.

Um. Bye-bye.

You can't believe her jewelry.

It's disgust... Harry?

Asshole.

God.

That woman.

Hang on.

I'll just get this.

Are you Rabbi Cattan?

Yes, I am, yeah.

Ah.

I was wondering, are you planning

on sticking these fucking signs all over the city?

You must be the pig farmer.

Nice to meet you.

I'm not here to be nice.

I'm here to tell you, if you don't stop harassing me,

I'm going to get very, very angry.

Really, what are you going to do, beat me?

You're 100 years old.

100, huh?

You, my friend, are three feet tall.

Are you finished?

Because my children are waiting for me.

I am not finished.

This country has laws.

And you, my friend, have no right

to tell me whether I can raise pigs or fucking alligators.

OK?

That's the government's job.

You're in a Jewish country.

You're aware of that?

You're aware that it's my country as well, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

So why don't you cleanse yourself

and stop humiliating us all with your disgusting animals?

Cleanse yourself.

Get rid of the stupid beard and the fucking hat

and the coat when it's 98 degrees in the shade.

You look like you escaped a fucking mental ward, you moron.

Mr. Rosen...

Mr. Rosenmerck, come to Shabbat.

Shabbat this.

Prick.

Dad.

I can't seem to get any news from you.

I think I'm beginning to understand how David must feel.

I cried and cried over my little wounded heart.

And for the first time, you weren't there.

How could it be that the tears I cry, when they evaporate,

end up in the same clouds as the sea?

What have you done here?

Or the flushed water of a toilet.

Were you afraid I was going to leave you, or something?

There ought

to be a doctor for sorrow.

Not a psychiatrist, or an acupuncturist.

No soft science guru.

I mean a real doctor, the kind who can identify the source

of my sorrow and disinfect it.

Hey, dad.

Yo, son.

You look awesome.

It would sting, painfully.

And then it would be over.

Things smoothed with a pink paste like candy,

or a marshmallow for a toothless child.

And then my pain would be smothered, rather than me.

You're the only one with whom I can share my heartbreak.

Do you remember Esmeralda?

I must have been four years old when I first loved a boy.

I told him, I love you, Tommy.

I want to be your girlfriend.

And breathe.

And he said, I like Esmeralda more.

I walked out of the school.

I waited so the other kids wouldn't see.

And I blew my nose into your shirt

while I told you of my heartbreak.

And hold your breath.

Without a word, you consoled me.

And breathe.

- I - wolfed down a Belgian waffle

and we sang in the car.

I'm leaving Brussels for New York.

This winter is just too cold.

I fear spring will never come, that it's

a lost season, like the love there used to be in my heart.

I've always tried to think of my patients

as not having families.

No attachments.

No dependents.

No history.

I try to make them abstract.

Try to make them cases to be tended to.

I try to look behind the life in their faces.

Otherwise, I fall apart.

You understand?

Do you want me to find another doctor?

No.

The first time we met, you answered the door to Harry

and I. Here was the handsome doctor.

I was the French intern.

You were barefoot, remember?

In that big apartment your parents had on East 74th?

You saw Harry first.

He has a way to be seen first.

And it was already too late.

I knew I could not compete.

You were so sunny, so beautiful.

And I said to myself, this woman will always be beautiful.

How much time do I have?

We can slow it down.

I'm asking for...

I'm asking for a number.

It's hard to say.

I'm not sure we should go through chemo

to steal a few more months.

Tell me, Michel.

It will help me.

Having time to prepare is a luxury, don't you think?

People live like they're never going to die.

I want to take advantage of that.

Hedge.

I want to turn wasted time into precious time.

A year.

More or less.

One year, Monica.

Hey.

Hey.

What's up?

Good to see you.

You're going in?

Come on.

Let's go.

Let's go.

There's mom.

That's the critic from the Times.

Asshole.

I'll be brief and to the point.

You're a hopeless old schmuck.

Why don't you talk to your son?

Yell at him.

Have an argument.

Anything would be better than a crotchety silence.

On the other hand, I have to thank you.

I have been invited to all the New York dinners

ever since you started breeding pigs.

Every time I tell the story, it's a hit.

Although I'm not sure it's doing anything

to reduce anti-Semitism.

Dear Monica, you call that brief?

Your letter was two pages long.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have serious work to do.

Dear Harry.

Raising pigs in Israel doesn't make you a rebel.

It makes you a food pornographer at the best.

You are the Larry Flynt of bacon.

Harry Flynt in the Middle East.

Dear Monica.

Wearing high heels in New York doesn't make you

Carrie Bradshaw.

You did manage to raise a gay son

and an eternally teenaged daughter

to avoid hearing the word Granny.

But still.

Dear Harry, you missed the premiere of David's play.

It's wonderful to know that you have

kids that love you and is so proud to have you as a mother.

You, on the other hand, are getting a really bad rap.

You following me?

Uh.

No.

Where's that shitty little bike of yours?

You going on a date?

I'm going to visit my mother's grave.

I'm sorry.

Are you going on a date?

I'm going to see an old rabbi friend of mine.

Mhm.

What do you, um, rabbis talk about when you get together?

Torah.

Well, that sounds great.

You do the first bath and then another.

Don't leave them in too long, OK?

This is going to take us all day.

When was the last time you processed?

Years.

It's been years.

And they say I'm the crazy one.

Dear dad, Annabelle

finally found courage to develop the picture she took on 9/11.

That day was the first day I ever

made love with another man.

And it felt so right and so wrong at the same time.

It's strange how human beings confuse the world's stories

with their own, how self-absorbed we

are even in the face of horror.

It felt like the towers were my fault.

It felt as if my cries and moans drowned out all

of the ones buried in the asphalt.

As if my chest pressed against the chest of another man

played a part in this awful tragedy.

Did you see?

Mom!

I told her not to come in.

Can you please?

Your eyes are all red like those albino rabbits

that they sell in the pet store.

Yeah.

We were in the dark.

Did you see the Times?

No.

Did you?

That prick pretended to be asleep.

He has some very strong opinions about your play.

It's nine in the morning.

So when do you think the paper comes out?

I just really wanted to spend

some time alone with David.

Well.

I want to spend time with the two of you.

And I brought bagels.

Go.

Good, good, good.

No.

Leave him alone.

When you go down, put your hand behind the pinky.

Pocket towards me.

Look.

Once you play, the idea if you catch on the ground,

your hand is here.

Why?

Why?

Because you can go in and get it out and throw it

- to where you have to throw it. - OK.

If your hand is here...

Do you see any baseball at all?

Yeah, of course.

- Where? - Sports channel.

ESPN.

The who?

- Sports channel. - ESPN.

Oh.

On television.

Mr. Rosenmerck.

I noticed you have a special affection for this pig.

So I took the liberty of sewing him this.

Oh, thank you.

Affection.

Um.

It's more like, you know, his... his mother

deserted him as a child.

And, and... as a piglet...

You know, Harry, to have affection for someone

is nothing to be ashamed of.

No, of course not.

Thank you so much.

Shut up.

You might have a girlfriend.

Come on in.

Oh.

Hello.

I'm of Nazareth.

How do you do?

We haven't met in person.

But I've written to you.

You are Harry Rosenmurph, yes?

Yes, Rosenmerck.

Have a seat, please.

Thank you.

Um.

Can I offer you a drink?

Oh, thank you.

I'm fine.

I prefer not to indulge.

Ah.

Well then you defy the stereotype.

Water?

That too is an indulgence.

Without a doubt, among the finest gifts

the almighty has granted us.

Of course.

Yes.

Forgive me.

Rosenmert?

- Is that Belgian? - Merck.

Rosenmerck.

It's Polish.

I'm Belgian.

Yes.

I could tell right away.

And if you'll please excuse me, the mess here is my little pet

over there, Judas.

Judas?

You amuse yourself mocking our religion?

Uh... no.

No.

That's not... not it at all.

It's just a long story.

What can I do for you, Father?

We want you to leave and give back to the church

what rightly belongs to us.

What might that be?

This land.

According to various documents, even the emotions that descend

upon me when I set foot here, it's on this spot

that our savior, Jesus Christ, left.

This place belongs to humanity.

You are living on the remains of Jesus's home.

Can you feel it?

Don't you feel those vibrations?

Do you feel it, Mr. Rosenmert?

Rosenmerck.

And, uh, no.

You'll be receiving a letter from the Pope,

who unlike you, doesn't see this as a laughing matter.

He might come see you himself.

I'm getting a little tired, so.

Maybe you can write this all down and mail it to me, OK?

I have.

And you haven't replied.

We are already in motion.

We are going to change the world by buying this plot of land

from you, Mr. Rosenmert.

Once upon a time, there were the Jews,

the Muslims, the Pope, and me.

And they all walked into this bar.

See, that's the beginning of a joke.

You write me when you get the punchline, OK?

You make yourself the punchline, Mr. Rosenmauve.

You are the punchline.

I'll be back, because God is within me.

And if Jesus makes his return, it won't be in a pigsty.

Take this.

- Mother? - Yes.

This is your favorite.

It'll bring you luck.

All right.

I gotta go.

Kiss your father for me.

Don't you think it's time you start kissing somebody else?

Get him to call David.

If you can, OK?

Slip this into the Wailing Wall for me.

It's very important to me.

You know, Tinder is way more effective than the Wailing

Wall, mom.

Just do it.

For me.

OK.

I will.

Oh, and hun?

Here.

I got... here.

- Just take this. - It's OK, mom.

Dad's going to take care of...

Just... it's emergency funds, because you never know.

OK.

Maybe buy some dresses.

Get drunk.

Find a husband.

Oh Jesus, mom. Bye.

I gotta go.

Look how it is fat.

You know, I really, um, only thought about the raising part.

I never thought too much about the butchering.

It's going to be a delicious ham.

Let's just let them stay here a little longer, because,

look. The road is blocked.

We'll never make it to the slaughterhouse.

So let him stay a little bit, you know?

OK.

I'm going to the rabbi's house tonight for Shabbat dinner.

Oh.

What do you bring, uh, a rabbi, to dinner?

What do you bring?

I'm a Buddhist.

Why don't you just Google it?

To make the perfect cholent, you

begin with a kilo and a half of spinach in a basin.

You wash it, chop it up.

And you fry it in a big pot.

As soon as it begins to brown, you stir, stir, stir.

And you never stop so that it browns without burning.

You have to be careful, because this is an art.

When the spinach is dark and crispy,

you pour in two liters of water, a medium large onion, diced.

My aunt Eget used to put the onion in before the water.

My mother didn't.

I didn't know there are two schools of thought on that one.

Then you add three small cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed.

Next, we add the spices, a dozen fresh mint leaves,

chopped very, very fine.

Two spoonfuls of ground cinnamon, salt and pepper.

As soon as the ingredients begin to meld,

when it becomes a sort of bubbling magma,

you add the meat.

Kosher, obviously.

A sliced cow foot is good.

A kilo of beef shoulder.

I like to add a little veal myself.

It's my own personal touch.

And then you set it on a low heat for three to five hours,

the longer the better.

And you serve it up piping hot.

And you're in for a real treat.

Rabbi?

Shabbat shalom, Mr. Rosenmerck.

Rabbi.

Oh, shabbat shalom.

Here.

I bought you a, uh...

book basket.

That's very kind.

I wanted to play it, uh, you know, kind of safe.

I'm supposed to make a phone call.

And as you know, my farm gets no reception.

So I was wondering, somewhere where I could do it in private.

Sure. Go in the back.

Do it in the garden.

Quickly though, because shabbat's coming in.

You need to be off the phone.

Oh, well, it's a good thing my phone plan is agnostic.

Um.

Mazel tov.

Monica.

You know, I got your message.

What... what's so very important that I had to call right away?

What is it?

Oh.

OK.

Your children all right?

It's their mother.

She's a real ball buster.

I thought ball busters were supposed to live forever.

Hey, Harry.

Simon, hey.

What's, uh... Simon...

You met my eldest, Shimon?

Amen.

Shabbat shalom.

You ever tried cholent?

No, I don't believe I have.

It's better than it looks.

For sure.

I trust you.

It's very good.

Well.

Sometimes, our wall seems to close in on us,

as though we built our own tomb.

Well.

I think we have too many walls anyway.

You know, Harry, to my office, I

see these divorcing couples, these wounded women who

we think we're appeasing by offering them money,

feel humiliated.

They ask for more because they actually want something else,

something they can't express.

Because once you've lost it, you know it's gone forever.

And the Palestinians are a proud people.

But they seek to recover something that is long dead...

the past.

Even if they had the entire land of Israel,

they wouldn't be satisfied.

Do you think that's enough politics?

Yeah.

It's getting a little late, so, I...

- I thought I'd just head home. - No.

You can't do that. That's a disgrace.

What?

What, are you starting with the pig stuff again?

No. I mean, yes.

But no.

As a rabbi, I must insist you don't drive.

Abraham, shh.

It's bedtime.

OK.

Good night.

Why do you let them get like that?

My son, Shimon, he's going to be 18 next month.

He doesn't want to study the Torah all day,

so he's going to join the army, because this is Israel.

Yeah?

But he thinks that in life, he should have

more choices than God or war.

You have a son, Mr. Rosenmerck?

I'm sorry.

But you're applying to adopt alone.

And you've publicly declared your homosexuality.

So...

So?

Those conflict?

You travel a lot.

Your income statements show professional instability.

I'm one of the more prominent playwrights in the city.

There's also your relationship with God.

My relationship with whom?

And again, your sexuality.

I'm sorry, Mr. Rosenmerck.

But your application is denied.

Hm.

So what you're saying is, a homosexual playwright

is unfit for fatherhood.

That's not what I said.

I think that's exactly what you said.

In fact, you could have been a little less vulgar.

Thank you for your time, ma'am.

We'll have a baby, David.

I'll make sure of it.

Don't worry.

Really?

How's that?

I'll find one.

Or we'll steal one from the park.

An ugly duckling no one's going to miss.

Thank you.

Monica.

Harry?

Oh.

Did you call me by mistake again?

No, no, no.

I've been trying to reach, uh, Annabelle.

She's not answering her phone.

I'm... I'm... I'm getting a little worried.

You know, we had some rocket fire.

Um, you know, I just hate that she's alone, you know?

But... well, that doesn't make any sense, because she

texted me yesterday.

So I know she's OK.

I'll call David to see what's up.

Yeah. OK.

Thanks.

Harry?

That... that fear, that dread, when you haven't

heard from someone you love?

Yeah.

Two years before we separated, you left for a week

with no explanation.

You just said you had to do it.

I thought if you were cheating on me, you...

you would have come up with a better

explanation, a real alibi.

And now I just need to know.

Will you tell me where you went?

So we can leave it in the past?

Well, um, keep an eye out for Annabelle for me, will you?

Monica.

Yeah?

Is that, uh, Michel taking good care of you?

Yes.

He's always been in love with you, that son of a bitch.

Last call for jealousy.

Hey.

I'm sorry, I don't...

I don't speak Hebrew.

What are you doing here?

Why do you want to cross?

I just want to see.

Either you have a reason to be there, or you're not crossing.

I thought I just gave you a reason.

Who are you?

- Are you a journalist? - No.

I'm not a journalist.

I just want to see for myself.

Look.

I spent my childhood summers here, and I just...

Did we ruin your childhood memories with our big,

mean, wall?

Yeah.

You did.

As a matter of fact, yeah.

I don't speak Hebrew, so...

What is your nationality?

American.

In this country, where no one agrees about anything,

90% of actual Israelis wanted this war

after a room of dancing teenagers

were blown up in a nightclub.

We find a way to agree about one matter.

Yeah, I remember that.

You remember reading about it.

You remember hearing about it.

You don't remember it.

If you cross to the other side, you might not

be able to get back tonight.

You don't mind humiliating entire families like that?

They are humiliated because to them,

it's a wall of segregation.

To us, it's a wall of protection.

Not humiliating.

Necessary for security.

OK.

Can I at least take some pictures please?

For your Instagram?

No.

- Move on. - Yeah.

OK. I got it.

Hey.

Look... look what they sent me.

Can you believe this?

They're demanding a meeting at midnight.

Where?

Um.

Our Lady of the Big Fright something or other church.

Uh, you know where it is?

Harry, I'm a rabbi.

I don't go into churches.

If you went into a church eating parma ham,

would they cancel each other out,

or would you go to hell twice?

Listen, why don't you stop your stupid jokes.

Go home.

Forget about the priest.

He's... he's a fanatic.

He's not even a Catholic.

The actual priest in Nazareth doesn't even speak to him

because last year he tried to canonize

a pizza that he thought was in the shape of the Virgin Mary.

Oh. Interesting.

Yeah.

Harry.

What?

Have you ever had chicken pox?

Yeah, when I was six.

Why?

Three of my children have chicken pox.

My wife has taken the car to the doctor's, and there's no one

to pick up Shaol from school.

I'm on my way.

Thank you.

And stay away from the church.

They'll try to crucify you.

Or convert you.

He says he doesn't know you.

Of course he knows me.

We see all kinds of things these days.

I'm sorry, Mr?

Rosenmerck.

Look.

Didn't his father tell you I was coming here?

He said an Ashkenazi was coming, which is a bit vague.

But look how afraid the boy is?

I guess that's fine then.

Um.

I understand.

Thank you.

Harry, wait.

Hey, hey.

You'll ruin his bandana.

Oy vey.

You promise not to tell your father?

Promise.

OK.

All right, boys.

That's enough.

We had a good time.

Get out of here, OK?

Hm?

I've called the cops.

Everyone knows you don't have a telephone.

Well, everyone knows that you're a fruitcake.

What does that mean?

It means you are nuts.

If I'm that crazy, then you'd better hurry up and accept

our offer before you regret it.

Is that a threat?

I'm just a messenger.

God has asked you to leave.

Is he the same one that notarized

the act to buy my farm?

It's not a farm.

This is the Lord's home.

Oh.

Why don't you put a fucking phone in it?

Move over with your dress.

Sorry.

Do you know what it's like, not to know where the heck you are?

I mean, you had me nuts.

I called, didn't know if you were OK, where you were.

What are you thinking about?

I wonder why we bury ourselves.

Why do we bury ourselves when we're still alive, dad?

Your Esmeralda and Tony story.

You gotta let that go.

Look.

Anything that works backwards is kind of stupid.

I also think that you have a whole lot of beautiful stories

in front of you.

Beautiful.

They'll be there.

Anyway.

You're never going to die, right dad?

No.

How could I?

You have years of therapy left.

You used to come here to have lunch with me.

I always hoped you'd come one day to show me your breasts.

And I'm here looking at your tumor.

Do you find it sexy?

Come on.

I'll take you downstairs.

We have the best sushi in Manhattan.

Everybody thinks they have the best sushi in Manhattan,

and chiropractor.

We can't all have the best, can we?

No.

But actually, mine is the best.

I'm sure it is.

Also happens to be the best chiropractor.

He can fix your spine while you're eating sashimi.

True talents.

OK.

Let's go.

It feels like I'm in a costume.

I used to dress up as a rabbi before I became one, in truth.

You're going to become what you should be.

And then the costume won't feel like a costume anymore.

We're in costume until we've found our way.

And that takes time, Shimon.

So don't worry.

Dad.

Wow.

That looks absolutely perfect on you.

It fits like a glove.

I completely forgot there was such a thing as winter here.

David asked me to...

Listen.

About the money.

It's OK, Dad.

I'm going to try on my own.

OK.

I really think that'll make you much happier that way.

What about you?

Me, what?

Your pigs.

They're going to make you happy?

Yes.

They... they would make me happy before I got sad.

OK.

You know, you didn't stay very long.

For me.

And, uh... listen, Annabelle.

Uh.

Look after your mother, will you?

What makes you say that?

Well, you know.

Children don't see their parents aging.

I love you, baby.

You be careful.

So do you still not want to know the child's gender?

No.

Yes we do.

Just trust me!

I'm so afraid.

I... I can't.

Fear is nothing.

This will make you feel alive.

In the movies, people are always doing incredible things.

Jumping out of airplanes, swimming with whales.

Like it's nothing at all.

And here I am.

I don't want to do any of that.

I just want to be with you and David, see what happens next.

When is it happening?

The thing that happens next.

In a month, mom.

Don't worry.

You'll be here.

You'll see.

Shh.

Shh.

But seriously, mom.

You don't want to do anything else?

Well, if I thought I was going to die tomorrow,

I'd go see Mrs. Ozzo and tell her what a bitch she was.

I mean, she was always telling me that your... your drawings

were strange.

I mean, what kind of person does that?

Seriously, mom, my first grade teacher?

She was a terrible teacher.

She was a bitch.

She was so uninspiring.

She was a horrible teacher.

I think it damaged you.

What are you doing?

Going to see Mrs. Ozzo.

I've been holding that resentment for years.

Mom!

Shh.

Sorry.

Rabbi.

When are you going to start letting me, you know,

have my ham in peace?

How many little piglets have gone through your farm now,

do you think?

A couple hundred.

Why?

And that little Judas pig.

You... you like him a lot.

You treat him like a child.

Oh, yeah.

I like him very much.

How soon before you fry him in his own fat and eat him?

Are you fucking nuts?

I'm not going to eat him.

Just his family then.

You know, if you want a shrink, they're

very easy to find in Israel.

That's really kind of you.

Some religions, they ban the eating of pig

because it's a cleanliness issue.

It's a hygiene thing.

But I have a different theory.

They're very close to us in DNA.

When that plane crashed in the Andes,

and the survivors ate the other passengers,

they said it tasted like pork.

If you singe your hair on your arm, it tastes like pork.

And pigs themselves will do anything to survive.

They'll eat their own garbage, they'll eat their own shit.

They'll eat each other.

We don't need pigs to remind ourselves

that we're human, to distinguish ourselves from beasts.

I asked Hassan, I said, why aren't

Muslims allowed to eat pigs?

What did he say?

Oh, he said that, because God said so.

You Jews, you think too much.

No.

It's because Judaism is not just a religion of faith.

It's a religion of questioning.

Hair or makeup.

Excuse me, are you...

the Richard Jacob that writes those wonderful theater

reviews in the Times?

That's me.

That's what I thought.

You know, I was sitting next to you

during David Rosen's new production.

Oh, poor you.

No, no.

I love the play.

Yes, but, I... I...

found it really distracting because of your snoring.

Yeah.

I fell asleep almost instantly.

Yes, you did.

Even before the curtain rose.

So I was really surprised to see that you

could even review the play.

No need to undress the fat girl to know she

can't get you hard.

That's for my son and for all the beautiful fat girls

out there.

On behalf of them, go fuck yourself.

Jesus.

Fucking crazy bitch.

Look at me.

Psycho bitch.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I have cancer.

I'm sorry.

Order more wine.

Listen, OK?

Please forgive me.

Please, understand.

Look.

I'm dying.

I'm dying.

And I just think it's really bad to be mean.

Just don't be mean.

Many rivers to cross.

But I can't seem to find my way over.

Wandering, I am lost.

As I travel along white cliffs of Dover.

The cliffs of Dover.

Many rivers to cross.

Many rivers to cross.

And it's only my will that keeps me alive.

Yeah, brother.

I've been licked, washed up for years.

Washed up for years.

And I merely survive because of my pride.

And this loneliness

won't leave me alone.

It's such a drag to be on your own.

On your own.

My woman left and she didn't say why.

Well, I guess I have to try.

Many rivers to cross...

But just where to begin?

I'm playing for time.

There'll be times I find myself thinking of committing

some dreadful crime.

Yes I've got many rivers to cross,

but I can't seem to find my way over.

Sick, twisted fuck.

Fuck.

Sick.

Take me to that fucking church.

Right now, Moshe.

Come on.

I'm not coming in.

Don't do something stupid.

I'll wait here.

I'll wait here.

Harry.

Harry.

Harry.

Come on.

Do you hear?

At least put a shirt on and join us for dessert.

It's my 40th birthday.

I can't.

It's been months since you've left this apartment.

I'm writing and you know it.

Oh, yeah? To whom?

That's not what I meant.

Go and see your mother, at least, while she's here.

Look.

You can't tell me how to deal with this.

Everyone reacts differently when faced with death.

This isn't your death.

How narcissistic can you be?

This is her death.

She's as thin as a rail.

She is fading before our eyes.

Do you know what she asks me?

She wants me to keep bringing your fucking laundry, David.

That's the only way she knows how to connect with you now.

Through your filth.

And you don't even want to see her?

No one's asking you to confront death.

She's a living woman.

She's here.

And she's fighting.

And you won't even see her.

This is just how we are in our family.

I'm a prisoner to them.

They're a prisoner to me.

But we're family, in spite of everything.

We're a family who never touches each other.

We don't cook together. We don't eat together.

We don't birth together.

We don't die together.

We write to each other.

We feel each other from afar.

That's not your family.

That's your goddamn father.

As soon as something scares you, you'll run away from it all.

You keep away from what displeases you,

what makes you uncomfortable.

You're hiding behind him.

And you're calling it love.

But he's not even here.

Fuck you.

Fine.

But if you don't go and face your mother, I'll leave you.

Mazel.

I won't be able to come tomorrow, you know that.

Yeah.

Yom Kippur.

Day of atonement.

Why do you say it like that?

Say it like what?

Why are you so damn paranoid?

Anyway, you're not well.

So, I won't encourage you to fast.

Well, I won't.

No.

Hey, Moshe.

Um.

Thanks.

Oh, oh.

Mr. Rabbi.

Yes, Mr. Rosenmerck?

I was just wondering.

Does... does one have to declare friendship,

as one would declare love?

I think so, Harry.

But with silence.

Ah.

It's me.

Yes, Monica.

Are you alone?

Sure.

Come on in.

What's up?

You're out of breath.

You all right?

You'll never guess what I did.

Skydiving?

First I bought my granddaughter gifts.

It's a girl.

No one knows, but I know.

Of course you know.

I bought her everything a little girl

could dream of, from birth to her 21st birthday.

So I'll always be here as her fairy grandmother.

You'll always be here, no matter what.

And Michel, I let go of resentment.

I confronted every one I should have, for years.

And how do you feel?

I feel alive.

I don't want my kids to see me suffer.

My children, I've had my share of sorrow

and I've had my share of joy.

When I became a mother, my life took on an entirely different

meaning.

I've done everything I can to leave you traces of who I am,

so that you can find the pieces to your own puzzle.

I thought so many times that I was leaving

too early, before I could leave you an instruction

manual for happiness.

I thought I'd find happiness for you.

It was my lifetime quest, to find

the formula that would bestow smiles on your faces, always.

Dear David.

When the phone rang, and Annabelle

told me of your mother's passing,

I went to the bathroom.

I locked myself in.

And I sobbed.

David, Annabelle,

the idea that your names will keep

echoing in an empty room reassures

me and crushes me at once.

When your father and I parted, and you spent nights

at his house, I lay myself in your beds

and imagined that I was stroking your hair, hushing you to sleep

while you slept under his roof.

I imagined that somehow, deep within,

you could feel it from afar, and that it calmed you.

Surely, I was fooling myself.

And it was me who fell asleep imagining

your warm bodies near my own.

The last years

I cried went back to your birth, and they ran with joy.

I didn't cry for my mother, but, uh, I cried for yours.

Wherever it is I'm going, I'll be with you.

And every night, you'll feel my hand on your head.

That's a promise.

Hello?

Annabelle?

David, open the door!

David, open the goddamn door!

David, she's gone!

David, open this door!

I can't do this by myself!

Dave, she's gone!

Open the door! Open the door!

Jesus.

Annabelle.

Annabelle.

Your water's broken.

I... I...

We all have strengths we're not aware of,

as well as sorrows.

Come on.

It's to you whom I write,

it's to you I turn, you to whom I haven't

spoken in more than six years.

One day, you become the child of your children.

And that day has come.

I imagine your pain and your remorse

at not having seen your mother in her last few days.

I understand what you did.

I'm sorry.

We can't accept

those we love are mortal.

I did the same thing with you.

I decided that none of it was real,

that the David you imposed on me only existed for others,

and that mine wasn't gone.

Hi.

Hi.

In my mind, David is married

to a beautiful blonde woman.

In my mind, David has a son and I bounce him on my knee.

In my mind, David is a doctor.

And we play chess together.

I think I know what makes him tick,

but he just beats me every time.

I don't know that deep within, David is not so simple.

In my mind, David doesn't kiss other men on the mouth.

My mind is full of tears, regrets, and time

that's far too short.

I was angry with you.

And I'm still angry with you.

I'm angry with you that my mother emerged from the camps

where my father died, that she carried me

in the face of horror, that the sickly infant I was had

to struggle to survive and that I then brought you

into this world so you could stop everything right here, as

if you were giving a reason to death

itself, to the end of our family name, to the shadows.

But who gives a damn, right?

I mean, who cares about the names, survivors.

They die too.

Everything comes to an end, including me.

Especially me.

I'll be there Thursday for the kaddish,

put the one I loved into the ground,

and I'll protect you and your sister

and the tallit of a father.

And soon, all three of you, because Monica

isn't with us anymore, but another has already arrived.

Forgive me, my son.

My silences.

David, they made the sound of love.

Smile though your heart is aching.

Smile, even though it's breaking.

When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by.

If you smile through your fear and sorrow, smile,

and maybe tomorrow, you'll see the sun

come shining through for you.

Light up your face with gladness.

Hide every trace of sadness.

Although a tear may be ever so near,

that's the time you must keep on trying.

Smile.

What's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile.

That's the time you must keep on trying.

Smile, what's the use of crying?

You'll find that life is still worthwhile if you just smile.