Original subtitles

Good afternoon, everybody. Thank you so much for coming.

If you're wondering why we're doing this in a, uh, nondenominational chapel

instead of a synagogue with a rabbi...

...it's because Norman, he wanted it that way.

Just before he died, he said to me,

"Sandy, you wanna stick me in a rowboat, push it into the LA River,

set it on fire, that's fine."

"Just spare everybody the religious claptrap."

Religious claptrap.

As you might guess, Norman belonged to the reform school of Judaism.

I've been trying to figure out how to pay homage, uh, to this man.

And then I remembered one of his favorite sayings,

"The truth is a good fallback position."

So that's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna fall back on the truth.

It was tough being Norman's friend.

But for over 50 years, that's what I was.

Fifty years of him giving me a hard time

about the women I dated, the women I married,

the divorces I suffered through, the money I lost,

money I never had,

even the booze I drank.

He found fault in just about every aspect of my life.

Homage, Dad. Pay homage.

He lent me money when I was in trouble, but he never let me forget it.

No. No, no, no.

My nose got rubbed in it over and over again.

When I went through that whole cancer deal last year,

I was scared out of my mind.

My best friend, my good buddy,

he kept joking about how I should save my hair

when it falls out

and use it to make a tea cozy.

A tea cozy.

Well, fuck you very much, good buddy.

I didn't lose one strand. Not one.

Not one.

But I did lose you.

And I don't know how I'm gonna get through that.

I... I don't know how I'm just supposed to go about my business without you.

And... And for the record, you know,

I did call the City of LA about setting you on fire in a rowboat,

but I couldn't get a permit for a Viking funeral.

You know, maybe in Ventura County but not here.

Thank you.

I did not see that coming.

We are here today to mourn the passing of my grandfather's meat body.

But that decaying collection of cells is not who or what he was.

My grandfather was an immortal spirit who has lived countless millions of lives.

Scientology?

And like all immortal spirits,

he has roamed the universe for eons in search of a game.

For that is what we do.

We play games.

And the biggest game that we play is to forget our true identity

so that we can play hide-and-seek with ourselves.

And when the day comes that we find ourselves,

that we know with absolute certainty that we are static awareness

senior to matter, energy, space, and time,

then we win.

I know that to be true for myself, and now my grandpa knows it too.

Although, without having crossed LRH's bridge of total freedom,

he will quickly be sucked back into the hellish merry-go-round

of birth and death.

Thank you.

My father never gave up on me.

He should have,

but he never did.

Time after time, I let him down, but he just refused to give up.

So, as part of my amends to him,

my sponsor and I decided that I should pay him back

for all the rehabs and therapists

and wilderness retreats that he sent me to.

Not counting inflation, that came to a little over $900,000,

and that doesn't include the 300 grand in... in legal fees

to... to beat that bogus intent-to-sell bust.

Like I would ever be stupid enough to sell my own stash.

Anyway, I owe my papa a million two.

And I'm gonna use part of my inheritance to pay him back.

Well, not him, obviously, because, you know.

I am gonna pay him back by building a drug rehab

in the Galápagos Islands,

where drug addicts and alcoholics

and people with eating disorders can turn their life around

while learning about Charles Darwin and evolution.

Hmm.

So, in honor of my father, the man who never gave up on me, um,

the rehab will be called The Suite Surrender,

because, in sobriety, you have to surrender to win,

and "suite" will be spelled S-U-I-T-E,

because all the rooms will be junior suites or better. Thank you.

When I lost my husband, I thought,

"That's it. I'm alone now."

But miracle of miracles, I ran into a man

with whom I'd had a hot and heavy fling way back in 1967.

That man was your dad and your grandpa.

Well, I mean, first we assumed that, uh,

the relationship this time would be merely platonic.

You know, old friends holding hands,

taking a walk in the park,

sharing meals.

But that's not what happened at all.

With a little encouragement from me and, uh,

a little pharmaceutical assistance,

Norman quickly turned into the voracious stud that ravaged me

all those years ago.

It was wonderful.

And his lust was gentle but demanding.

And punctual.

Oh, you could set your watch by it.

7:30 a.m. on Wednesdays and Sundays.

After a cup of coffee and a quick visit to the bathroom,

he would take me from behind and make me quiver and shake

like a... like a 16-year-old girl

who's been rebelling against her overly religious parents.

Wednesday and Sunday mornings,

Norman Newlander loved me like no other man.

Wednesday and Sunday mornings.

At 7:30 to 7:45.

I'm a little horny right now.

I was Norman's assistant

for 22 years.

I, um, arranged his work schedule, his personal schedule,

his travel plans, his vacations.

I made sure he had regular medical, dental...

...dermatology, and ophthalmology.

Um...

I...

I... I also took care of all of his lunch and dinner reservations,

always reminding the restaurants how important he was

so that he had a nice table.

Classic Homo sapien.

I also made sure his wife and daughter got birthday cards and flowers.

Same for Valentine's Day.

And, um, eight times I made arrangements for his daughter

to go to the very best rehabs.

But in...

But in all that time...

I never told Norman how much he meant to me.

How making him happy made me happy.

How... how his welfare was my first thought in the morning

and my last thought before I went to sleep.

Um...

Uh, thank you.

No. No!

Don't leave me!

I have so much more to give!

- No! - No, Jeanine. Jesus. Jeanine...

What's she hanging onto?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

God, grant me the serenity...

- Should we be worried about her? - I'm more worried about him.

He'll be okay. Just gotta give him time.

- I hope so. - Yeah.

A couple of years ago, my... my best friend in the world

passed away unexpectedly.

Stevie Chartokoff.

- I ever tell you about him? - No.

Great guy. Great guy.

We were pals since, like, third grade.

And I'll tell you, when he died,

I didn't feel anything. I was numb.

That's awful.

No.

See, that's the... I think it's actually a... a... a survival mechanism.

It's like... It's like nature's way of being compassionate.

What do you mean?

Well, 'cause when it happened,

I could... The pain was too much.

But over time, you know, I was able to feel the grief more and more and more,

till it just became, uh, a part of who I am, you know?

It's like it morphs into acceptance, which

is, I guess, a sort of a wisdom.

That's actually pretty comforting.

You are wise.

I remember one... one time in high school, we must have been 14 or 15,

me and Stevie smoked a joint, and we decided to... to light our farts on fire.

That's a real thing?

Oh yeah. You lie on your back with your legs up in the air,

and you hold a lit match in front of your ass.

You let one rip, and a big blue flame shoots out.

Anyway, somehow the pubes on Stevie's balls caught fire,

and he was screaming.

He was crying and screaming for me to pat it out.

He said, "Pat it out! Pat it out!" I'm not gonna touch his balls.

So, long story short,

his mother had to drive him to the emergency room.

She did not wanna touch those balls either. Trust me.

So, your wisdom came later in life.

It was after that. Yes.

Boy, what a deal.

You're crazy not to get one.

I'm okay.

The churro is delicious.

I would like to say something.

Can't I just enjoy this?

No, you need to hear it.

Sandy, I'm very grateful for our friendship,

and I want you to know how happy I am to have you in my life.

- How are you holding up? - Hmm? What?

Oh, I'm... I'm fine, thank you.

- Good. - Mmm.

You... You need something?

I just wanted to remind you

that I am a Flag-trained Class VIII Auditor,

and I can help you process your grief.

I don't need any help, but thank you.

Suppressed emotional pain can manifest as a physical ailment.

I'm fine, Robbie.

Malignant tumors are not uncommon.

Robbie, I'm glad Scientology has helped you, uh, be all you can be.

No, that's the Marines. Um...

Either way, just leave me the fuck alone.

Okay, see, that's anger,

which is a little higher on the emotional tone scale...

Beat it!

I remember my first biopsy. It's very unpleasant.

Scissors up your asshole, that's never good.

Yeah. At least afterwards, when there's blood in your stool,

you know where it's coming from.

Always a joy.

Anything else?

Yes.

In your professional opinion, what is your finest ham?

- I don't know. They're all good. - All right, let's put it in story form.

It's your last meal before you're executed by the state.

What ham do you add to your turkey sandwich

before they inject you with a cocktail of death?

Honey glazed.

Mr. Deli Man, a half a pound of honey glazed, please.

I would've bet a million bucks he would've said Virginia ham.

He was a wonderful man.

Oh...

Yeah, he was the best.

Hmm.

The cat's pajamas.

The bee's knees.

You know, we were talking about getting married.

No, I didn't know that. I'm so sorry.

There was also talk about us having a baby.

Yeah.

What's so funny?

You're serious?

As a heart attack.

Oh, okay.

Now, when you say "having a baby," you mean, like, adopting?

No, I mean, like, having a baby.

Right. Right.

Of course, we had to put it on hold until I was off my medication.

We didn't want Norman Jr. having three heads and a tail.

No. No, we wouldn't, no.

I don't mean to pry,

but what kind of medications are we talking about?

- For depression. - Oh yeah.

- And bipolar. - Mmm, that too, huh?

And a little schizophrenia.

Wow. That's... that's the hat trick.

- Excuse me? - Ignore me.

I'm just fraught with grief.

In the meantime, you're a beautiful, vivacious woman.

And I'm sure you'll meet someone special, and you'll have that baby.

What are you suggesting?

Nothing. I'm just wishing you the best.

Please tell me you're not coming on to me

when the second love of my life is still warm to the touch.

No! No, of course not!

I don't feel safe right now. I am going to walk away.

Keep walking.

Jesus Christ.

When I was going through the whole prostate deal,

I convinced myself I could turn things around byKegeling.

- Well, did it help? - No.

But it gave my anus confidence, and that's half the battle.

- Are you doing it now? - Yeah.

I'll join you.

- What, is that... That's your Kegel sound? - Mm-hmm. Yeah.

- Hey. - Now what?

I was just coming to see if you're ready to go.

- Oh yeah. - Come on.

- Did you see they got sushi from Nobu? - Mmm.

Yeah.

This is unbelievable. He's got baked crab and miso cod

and yellowtail, the whole deal.

That's nice.

Nobody knows how to mourn like the Jews, huh?

Practice, practice, practice.

Yeah.

- Thanks for driving. - Hey, happy to do it.

Well, you know, not... not happy, but, you... you know.

I wish you'd reconsider. We have plenty of room.

I'm fine, honey.

Yeah, of course you're fine. It's just, why be alone right now?

'Cause that's what I want.

Come on, spend the night. It'll be fun.

We'll have, like, a... a... a family game night.

Martin, I just lost my best friend. I don't wanna have fun.

You sure?

We could smoke a doobie, play a little Jenga.

I'll pass.

I hate when you use that word.

What, "doobie"? What's the matter with "doobie"?

Makes you sound like an old man.

He is an old man.

Don't help.

- All right. We'll take you home. - Yeah.

You know, I wasn't gonna say anything, but

when we were trying to drag that girl off the coffin, she bit me.

What? That's terrible. Let me see.

Yeah. Didn't break the skin but still hurts like the dickens.

The dickens?

Okay, "dickens" and "doobie." Got it.

It was a pretty nice turnout, I thought, huh?

Norman would have been pleased.

Norman was never pleased.

Yeah, well, he wa... he was certainly tough on you, huh?

What are you talking about?

In your eulogy, you were saying how he was tough on you.

That's not what I said.

- I'm pretty sure that's what you said. - We were tough on each other.

- Okay. - That's just how we were.

- Right. - Don't be telling me what I said.

Got it, sorry. My bad.

- What? - No one says "my bad" anymore.

Well, excuse me. I didn't get the fucking memo.

- Take it easy. - Okay.

Memo.

Thanks.

Jack Daniel's and Diet Dr. Pepper.

Thank you, Alex.

I was very sorry to hear about Mr. Newlander.

Yeah.

I had the bar make a martini in his honor.

Thank you.

He was a kind and generous man.

Yeah, I'll give you generous.

Yeah.

I'll be back in a moment to take your order.

Cheers, buddy.

Irving!

Irving!

- Irving! - What?

Oh.

Irving!

Hello!

I think I found your dog.

- Hello? - Oh, thanks God.

Thank you so much.

Oh, no problem.

I was freaking the fuck out.

His name is Irving?

Yeah. The gate was left open, and he just took off.

Really?

Irving.

Yeah. Why?

It's... It's not important.

You just... You don't hear that name much anymore.

Let me get my pocketbook. I'm gonna give you a reward.

Ooh, no. No, no, no, no.

I'm just... I'm being a good neighbor.

You're a great neighbor.

- Yvette. - Sandy.

Uh, I live, uh, down the street on the corner.

- Uh, the one that's for sale? - Mmm.

Did you buy it?

No. It's a 3,000-square-foot hole of shit.

Shithole.

Yeah. I'm house-sitting for my cousin and her husband.

Oh, that... that... that's nice.

If I lost their dog, I don't know what I would do.

I would have to jump off the balcony and hope the coyotes eat me.

Yeah. They'd be crazy not to.

Okay.

Uh, good night. Good night.

Can I at least offer you a glass of wine? Or I make a mean margarita.

Something to say thank you.

Aha! Ah!

Ah, thank you.

You were showing off.

Yeah.

Hey, look what I can do.

Yeah.

Did you think I wouldn't know how old you are?

Yeah.

It's not enough to act your age. You also have to fuck your age.

Yeah.

I'm gonna get you more vegetables.

Norman, is that you?

Oh.

Good morning.

What's happening?

Your lovely daughter sent me over with healthy fruit smoothies.

Aw, that's... that's nice.

I don't have to tell you she's worried about her old pop.

He's okay.

He's okay.

- Who's this? - This is Irving.

Irving.

Hi. Hi.

I have a half a Vicodin if your back still hurts.

Oh! Sorry, I didn't know you had a guest.

- Here. - What?

- Cover. - Oh, sure.

Uh, Martin, this is Yvette.

Yvette, this is Martin.

- Hello. - Hello.

- Russki? - Da.

Uh, I go to use your shower?

- Yeah, sure. - Okay. Come, Irving.

Uh...

Dosvedanya!

Holy shit!

Yeah.

How does that happen?

I mean, I drop you off here last night,

I was afraid you'd stick your head in the oven.

Well, I stuck my head in something.

Again, how does that happen?

Tell me. Tell me everything. And go slow.

There's nothing to tell.

Well, no, no, there... there is something.

Her dog's name is Irving.

I understand. You... you introduced us.

That's Norman's middle name.

All right. So?

So it's spooky, right?

Is it? Maybe it's just a coincidence.

Only the same day that I bury my best friend,

this beautiful young woman comes into my life with a dog that has his name?

Middle. Middle name.

At best it's like a Stephen King novella.

See, I was thinking maybe like Twilight Zone.

Yeah. Maybe. It's a stretch.

Speaking of which, when you hurt your back,

what were you doing? You were thrusting? You were lifting? Tell me, tell me.

Use your imagination.

See, I am, but it's not what it once was.

- Don't say anything about this to Mindy. - Mindy who? Finish your story.

- Oh. Yeah, the dog. - Irving.

So it's actually not her dog. She's house-sitting.

Long story short, he got out, I found him, and, uh, she thanked me.

Did you say "you're welcome"?

In my way.

What does she do?

I don't know.

What's her last name?

I don't know.

What does she want with an alte kaker like you?

Well, actually, that's something that I do know.

A lot of young women are attracted to older men

because we're, uh... we're more sophisticated,

more worldly than guys their own age.

- So you don't know. - I don't know.

I will tell you one thing, there's more going on here than just a coincidence.

Really? Like what? A... a message from beyond?

No, I don't know.

Maybe.

Aha? Okay, what...

I can't believe I'm asking you this. What would that be?

I'm not sure. Um...

Embrace life, keep my heart open to new experiences.

Sandy, we have a problem. Come quick.

Boris, we must kill squirrel.

Fuck!

Fuck! Ah!

- What? What? What? What happened? - Fuck!

- Fuck! - What happened?

Irving took a shit in my bed.

Keep an open heart.

- Hey. - Hey.

- Thanks for the smoothie. - You're welcome.

What's going on with your back?

Oh, I just tweaked it putting on my socks, if you can believe it, you know.

You're kidding.

I think it's time to get one of those, uh, plastic thingies

that put 'em on for you.

That is so sad.

Tell me about it.

You know, if you ever want to talk about what you're going through,

I'm here for you.

What do you think I'm going through?

You lose somebody that's been such a big part of your life,

there's got to be lots of feelings, emotions.

Ugh. Not as many as you'd think.

Dad...

You know how many of my friends have died in the last couple of years?

- No. - Me neither. I've lost count.

Well, still, it's important that you talk to somebody about it.

Why? Who says we have to share how we feel

about every fucking thing that happens to you?

'Cause keeping it inside is not healthy.

Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to be healthy.

Oh, very mature.

Mindy, I am 75 years old.

I think that gives me certain rights and privileges

as to what constitutes maturity.

No, it doesn't.

Says you.

Martin, when you saw my father this morning,

did he say anything about Norman?

I don't know. Did he open up to you?

Was he acting weird at all?

Why are you giggling?

So we do these exercises to free up our emotions,

because all our lives we've been taught that some of them are not acceptable

and thus need to be suppressed.

For instance, uh, men,

they learn at an early age, usually in a playground, to not show fear.

And if you do, you're weak. You're a punk.

And for women, the message you get over and over again

is that it's not ladylike to express anger.

You're immediately labeled a bitch

if you have a strong opinion about something,

or, God forbid, you raise your voice.

But what kind of an actor can you be if those emotions are denied to you?

And not just anger and fear.

What about, uh, apathy? Exhilaration?

Murderous rage? Abject grief?

- Yes. - How do I get an agent?

What?

If I don't have an agent, I can't audition, and if I can't audition,

what the fuck difference does it make if I got suppressed emotions?

I'm guessing you don't have a problem with anger.

No, I do not.

Well, you'll make somebody a great ex-wife.

What do you say we just stick with the emotion exercise

for the time being?

Anybody want to give it a try?

I have a manager, but I really don't know what he does.

I mean, I know what he's supposed to do.

He's supposed to network with producers and directors and get me work.

But I think he mostly just sells them cocaine.

There's grief.

Anybody want to do the exercise?

You're lucky your guy slings dope.

Mine's always trying to take pictures of me in his Jacuzzi.

And we're back to anger.

- Are you with Arnie Breedlove? - Yeah.

Me too. He sells those, you know? You should get a commission.

Oh, dear God.

That fucker!

I should just kill him.

Drown him in his Jacuzzi.

That would be poetry justice.

Poetic. It's poetic justice.

And let's not be killing anybody, hmm?

- She'd make it look like an accident. - No, no.

Look, I understand your frustration. I... I have been there.

And for what it's worth, I was planning on having a friend of mine

come here to speak with you on this very subject.

Is he an agent?

He was an agent.

- What is he now? - Dead.

I can't catch a break.

Okay, I promise we'll discuss the agent situation at a later date.

But for now, acting exercises,

freeing up suppressed emotions. Who wants to...

What happens when you feel something so deeply,

so powerfully, you're afraid to express it?

Feelings can't hurt you, Mindy.

Sometimes it seems like they can, but the truth is they can't.

- So there is nothing to be afraid of. - Good to know.

Okay. Who wants to give it a go?

- I will. - Okay, Jude!

Okay, what emotion do you want to work with?

Um... grief?

Good choice.

There's several techniques to help express grief.

One of the simplest

is to think about something that happened in your life that made you sad...

Mmm.

...and then you just let those feelings come out in your performance.

Is there something that made you sad recently?

You made your point, Mindy. Okay?

Leave it alone!

Jude, you wanna try?

Yeah, sure.

Whenever you're ready.

Tell me what's happening.

I'm remembering a real sad thing.

Okay.

All right. Just stay with it. Stay with it.

Oh, God.

You're doing great.

This is, like... it's really upsetting.

Can you tell us what the memory is?

I let Arnie Breedlove take pictures of me in his Jacuzzi.

Oh, Robbie, what are you doing?

Oh! Hi.

I bought you new sheets, a blanket, and a duvet.

You didn't have to do that.

Yes, I did. Okay, goodbye.

Uh, wait, wait.

Don't you want to, you know, hang out?

First time I thank you for finding him is free.

Second time is $2,000.

Oh.

Of course, you know, that's fine.

Uh, let me just, uh...

Oh!

Goodbye, Irving.

I'm gonna miss you.

Bye.

Come on, Irving.

Bye-bye.

Two grand?

Holy shit!