All language subtitles for Californication S04E01 [1080p] [x265] [pseudo]

Jesus H Christ.

Hi, Daddy.

This is Bill's daughter, Mia,
and this is Hank.

You... You two know each other?

- No.
- I am 16, you know.

- What's this?
- Hank's new book.

Are you really 16?

- I'm really 16.
- This is really good.

It's not a memoir.

It's a written account of
my sexual relationship with you.

Written by me as a fucking novel.

- I know you've set him up, stole his book.
- And what are you gonna do about it?

I got to ask, since you always tend to write
exactly what you know,

what's the fucking deal?

You have done some fucked-up shit
in your time,

but I didn't think you'd do that.

We have to love him for who he is,
not his potential.

Go. Drive the car.

Karen.

You're saying that the three of us
move back to New York together?

Well, soon, yeah.
OK?

Look what the cat dragged in.

What brings you to these fair parts?

I'm doing a little signing-reading in Venice.

I want you guys to come.

Paul Rider, Mia's manager.

- Wow.
- Hey.

Quite the literary scandal we have here.

- Why would you tell him?
- Because I'm in love with him.

Think about Karen
and think about Becca.

Hank, it doesn't have to be this way.

- Stop!
- You're fucked, Moody.

- I need to tell you something.
- OK.

Home, Skeeves.

Hey, are you hungry?
You must be starved.

You know what? Come on.
We'll go get something to eat.

Grand slam breakfast, my treat.

I gotta get home.
I gotta face the music at some point.

- What?
- What?

- What's that look?
- What look?

That shifty, somewhat cunty look of yours.

I can't take you home, palomino.

- Why is that, Charlie?
- I've been instructed not to.

- By Karen?
- And Marcy.

She told me she would kick
my pale, pockmarked ass

if I brought you home right now.

And I believe that crazy little bitch too.

Get this.
We're splitting the sheets. Yeah.

She signed the papers.
It totally broke my heart.

Really thought
we were gonna work it out.

- Guess not.
- Charlie!

- What am I gonna do now?
- Charlie!

Yeah?

I just got out of jail.

You're right. I'm sorry.

You win.
You got it way worse right now.

Get in the car.
There's something you should see.

I don't get it, Runks.
How'd it get out so fast?

It's called the interweb, Hank.
It's been around for a while now.

Remember how fast
my masturbation video spread?

- That was unnerving.
- That was funny cos it was you.

- Yeah.
- Not me.

Yeah, some story, huh?

Tell you the truth, I never thought
he was much of a writer.

But now the guy's my fucking hero.

I mean, he hit that shit, right?

What I wouldn't give
for a taste of that sweet peach.

- All right, peace.
- Yeah, OK.

There you go.
Another satisfied customer.

I'm gonna ask you a question,
and how you answer

will determine whether or not I put this
cigarette out in your asshole.

Will you take me the fuck home?

Home it is, my good man.

You're a useless fuck,
you know that?

The man threatened
physical violence, Marcy.

- So did I, you stupid mutt.
- You can't hurt me any more, you know.

You already tore my fucking heart out.

Go away, Hank. I'm not gonna let you in.

I get it, Marce. You're a good friend.
You're the gatekeeper, but this is my home.

It's my family.

- Is it true?
- The man was framed.

Yes, it's true,
but it's also hugely complicated.

I believe you.

I do, but still,
it's pretty fucking grody.

You'll get no argument from me.

Are you gonna step aside, or am I gonna
have to pick you up and move you aside

like the gorgeous little garden gnome
that you are?

Get the fuck outta here, Hank,
before Becca comes home.

- I'd like to see her. How is she?
- Oh, she's great. She's fantastic.

I can't keep her off the computer, though,
cos she doesn't believe a word of it.

She thinks you were set up.

Do you want to take that away from her?

Do you wanna have to look her in the eye
and tell her that you put your dick

in a girl that's the same age
that she is right now?

Cos if you do, stick around.

- Fuck you.
- Well...

Well, call me Mr Brightside,

but I think we're making
some serious progress here.

What? She wanted you to have
a change of clothes.

That was very thoughtful of her.

So, the arraignment's tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, I'll do what I can
to plea down the assault and battery.

You have any questions?

Yes. Do you mind if I smoke?

Sure do.

Hank. Hank.

- Hank.
- Is there something I should know here?

- Such as?
- Is he retarded?

He's actually quite a good guy
once you get to know him.

He's very pleasant,
very agreeable.

Good to know, because on paper
he looks like a total piece of shit.

Hey, now.

Abby here is the best there is
at defending the unjustly accused.

Remember that poor guy who kept showing
his penis to the Laker Girls?

- She totally got him off.
- Impressive.

So what was it you wanted to do, Abby,
you know, before?

OK, I'll play.

Before what?

Before you sold out
and went to law school.

- Up top.
- Cute.

- Can't help it. The guy's cute.
- He's also a three-time loser.

- Well, now you're just name-calling.
- It says here you were arrested

for assaulting a filmmaker
named Todd Carr.

Shitty filmmaker named Todd Carr.

Does it say "shitty" there? Cos it should.

The charges were dropped
at Mr Carr's request.

Shortly thereafter, an altercation
with an LAPD officer.

Got off light - probation.

How'd you manage that one?

- Really? Wow.
- He'd just had a vasectomy.

- Point being?
- Cop nightsticked him in the balls.

- Big misunderstanding.
- Oh, yeah. Tell that to my balls.

I still got a touch of the epididymitis.

Whenever it flares up, I gotta soak
my pouch in four inches of tepid bathwater.

- Talk about a party.
- You know what?

This is a big fucking waste of my time.

- Good luck to you, Mr Moody.
- Apologise, you idiot.

OK, look, I'm sorry that
I talked about my balls,

my big, beautiful balls.
It was inappropriate.

No, I get it. I get it.
I get how serious this all is, you know,

- and I don't want to waste your time.
- Really?

Yes. It's just that I trust you to do
whatever voodoo it is that you do do for me.

So I'm gonna...
I put myself in your hands.

I'm putty for you.

I'll tumble for ya.
I'll do whatever it takes.

Start with a shower. You smell like
you just walked out of a fisting contest.

I'll see you tomorrow morning.

Don't be late.

She's good.
She totally nailed it.

The prodigal son returns.

Does it make you want to pleasure yourself,
Runks, just a little bit?

I won't lie.
There is slight tumescence.

What are we doing here?

All will be revealed in good time, my friend.

Meanwhile, I gots to drain the hog.

Oh, come on. We all know that thing
is thin, bent and uncircumcised.

- Don't bullshit me.
- Jesus Christ.

How many times I gotta tell you?
I am not uncircumcised.

The mohel just left
a little too much foreskin.

That's all. A smidge, just a smidge.

So it's like a circ-du-halfway?

Hey.

There. You happy?

Very much so. Thanks.

I'm not going to sleep with you.

All right.
You're not really my type, anyway.

- Really?
- Yeah, I like 'em older.

And handicapped.
Excuse me. Handi-capable.

Well, now I'm definitely, for sure,
not going to sleep with you.

- Hank.
- Mia.

OK. You win, lady.
You're officially creeping me out.

What...

- Sorry. Professional hazard.
- What do you do?

Hello, hello.
I see you two have already met.

No, she introduced herself as Mia
and totally bummed me out.

Charlie Runkle.

I am so pleased to meet you. Huge fan.

My Guy Friday - smooth, real smooth.

- Hank Moody, Sasha Bingham.
- Sasha. All right, what is it you do, Sasha?

He's a kidder, this one.

He's a kidder. He's kidding.

Guys. Ladies.

She's a fucking movie star, you nudnik.

- How am I supposed to know that?
- Look, open your eyes.

- Look.
- I've been in jail. I've been in jail.

You've been in jail 72 hours, Hank.

A lot can happen in a weekend.

Come with me. Come with me.

When I was in junior high,
I saw Fast Times...

Fast Times - great fucking movie.

Jesus Christ, Runkle. Settle down.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Continue, please.

Thank you, Roger Ebert.

So anyway, Phoebe Cates took off her top,

and it changed my life,

which is why I want to take
Fucking & Punching

and give my inner 12-year-old
the movie he fucking deserves.

I'm not gonna lie to you,
I'm a big fan of gratuitous nudity.

Forget it. Sasha Bingham is
America's sweetheart, the girl next door.

She's not doing any gratuitous nudity.

Nudity? I don't give a fuck about the nudity.
I have great tits.

Great tits.

And if I'm ever gonna show them on screen,
now's the time.

Now is the time.

You know, a lot of actresses say that,

- and then you get to the...
- Oh, yeah.

Holy shit.

- Oh, sweet Lord.
- There. You happy?

I'm having heart palpitations.

You know what, Runks?
I'm glad I came.

- I'm glad you came too.
- Yeah.

What I care about is the script,
because right now it's a fucking mess.

- Agreed. It needs some work.
- A lot of work.

I mean, the only reason
why I'm even considering this

is because of how much I love the book.

Cheers.

Not only does the lady
have bodacious tatas,

she also has splendiferous taste
in literature.

That she does.

And considering that
you actually wrote the book that I love,

how about you rewrite the script
that I loathe?

Oh! No, no, no.

My adventures in the screen trade have
been about as much fun as forced anal.

- Not that forced anal can't be fun.
- You're a fantastic writer, Hank.

You know what?
I like where this is going.

I am not immune to kind words,
especially when they're so true.

Please continue.

For what it's worth,

Hank, I wanted you to adapt the book
back when I first optioned it,

and I was disappointed
when you passed.

- I passed? I did?
- Yeah.

I... No, I don't remember getting that offer.

I passed on your behalf.
I thought it'd be too weird for you.

And you wonder why my career
is in such disrepair.

I never wonder about that.

Call me a scumbag, but there is
a real moment right here.

With Sasha's interest,

and with Hank's face
all over the news right now,

we could be at Sundance
this time next year.

Hank, Hank, let me handle this.

Well, you... Then handle it, motherfucker.

- In process. I'm in process.
- OK. Ladies and gentlemen, I... I apologise.

I've already said too much.
I just got out of jail,

and I haven't slept, eaten,

or - pardon me, milady -
taken a decent crap in days.

Except this coffee does...
does seem to be working.

Yes, indeed, it is time
to release the kraken.

I want to thank each and every one of you,
especially you, Sasha Bingham.

You say you have great tits,
and I most certainly concur,

but that ass of yours
is no slouch either.

I want this movie.

Oh, we want you to want this movie.

What was the question? I'm sorry.

I'm incredibly high right now.

Look, I have a window,

and I want this to be my next thing,
but the script has to be right,

and the man dropping the deuce
is your best shot at getting it there.

So if not,
there's always CAA.

I'm in town for a few days.
You guys know where to find me.

When the student is ready,

- the master appears.
- Is that a quote?

- I don't know what that means.
- Well, it would appear that

I have something that you want.

I'm sorry - something that you need.

OK, I'll play this game.
What is it you want, Runkle?

How can we help you
help your client?

See, that's what I love.

That's what I miss,
being part of a team,

helping wildly talented people
achieve their wildest dreams,

having an expense account,
a car allowance,

a young, nubile assistant to fetch me
my caramel macchiato.

Done. You convince your client
to take this job,

make sure he doesn't shit the bed,

and you can have your old job back.
Happy?

Just one little thing.

Keep your fucking dick
in your pants this time,

or I will rip it off with my bare hands,
I promise.

This one's on me.

Oh, thank you.

- Drinks on the house.
- Thank you.

How do you do it?

It's an old Jedi mind trick.

I can't believe I never asked you this before,
but how many?

How many? How many?

How many broads have you balled?

"Broads"? "Balled"?
Who are you right now?

OK, fine.

How many women
to whom have you made the love?

You don't want that information
rattling around your head,

making you feel all effeminate
and emasculated and shit.

- Sure I do.
- Trust me.

Some things are better left
to your limited imagination.

You want to know
how many women I've slept with?

- No. No, no, no.
- Sure you do.

All this talk about sleeping with women
is making me sleepy.

One...

- Eleven.
- Eleven.

Well, that's double digits, sounds good.

Perfectly respectable number
for a cocksman of your calibre.

And it reminds me of Spinal Tap.
Cheers.

I got to get it up to 100.

Triple digits, then I can die happy.

Well, you may have
to cryogenically freeze your cock

and attach it to Brad Pitt
to get there, buddy boy.

- You don't think I can do it?
- No, I don't.

And I don't think it matters.

Eleven women.
Who was your favourite?

- Marcy.
- You see that?

You had the magic puss,
and you lost it.

Do you think that balling 89 more broads
is gonna make you feel any better?

It would certainly be a start.

Do you think...

Do you think that lady lawyer was...

- Do you think she was right?
- About what?

- She called me a piece of shit.
- On paper.

- She said you're a piece of shit on paper.
- Still. Still.

You're not a piece of shit, Hank,
paper or otherwise.

You may be my worst client,
but you've always been my best friend.

And me love you very long time.

I refuse to be number 12, Charlie.

Oh, I wasn't counting the guys.

Hey, can I crash with you guys tonight?

You think Marcy'll mind if I take the master?

- Can't do it, Hank.
- OK, I'll flip her for it.

No. What?
The cunty look. Stop.

- Put your face back.
- You got another meeting.

We be meeting and a-greeting.

Fuck you, Charlie.
I'm not doing this.

- I told her you would.
- Well, that's your problem.

- I just want to go the fuck home.
- You don't got one.

You're homeless. Get used to it.

- Then I want to go to your place.
- My place? My place is in fucking escrow.

I'm living on borrowed time in a house
that no longer belongs to me

with a woman who no longer
wants anything to do with me.

You're not the only exile
on Main Street, Hank.

Whatever. I'd settle for
a decent night's sleep at this point.

Well, maybe your newest, bestest friend
will let you crash.

Oh, bullshit. I have, like, zero interest
in chasing tail right now.

That's fine, totally understandable.

But you should have interest
in chasing this job.

You always talk a big game about doing
the good work and fighting the good fight.

Here's your chance. Stop feeling
so fucking sorry for yourself and get in there

- and carpe the fuck out of this shit.
- All right. We're sure this is just about

rewriting my history, not yours.

So what if it is?

You think I wouldn't jump at the chance
to get back some version of what I lost?

You don't think I deserve that?

Fine. I'll give it a shot.

- I knew you would.
- Asshole.

Attaboy, douchebag.

I'm proud of you.

Hi.

Come on in.

When you said you had some notes,
you really had some fucking notes.

- Do they make sense?
- They will eventually,

when I get around
to reading the script.

I think we're pretty much
on the same page. Or pages.

Pages and pages and pages.

- You look tired.
- Yeah, well, it's been a long life.

Go home.

I would that I could. I ain't got none.

I'm homeless.

You're pretty handsome
for a homeless fella.

I don't know about that.

But I do have great tits.

Well, you can crash if you want.
As you can see, I have plenty of room.

Too much, actually.

That is, uh...

That's pretty tempting.

- As it should be.
- Yeah.

You do have a beautiful... bed.

Don't worry.
I'll be the perfect gentleman.

Come on.

I've been hurt before.

Come on.

So one more question
about the characters.

Shoot.

What does Mia want?

Mia wants what all girls want,

a guy just gay enough to curl up
and watch Project Runway with.

- Yeah, and what does Hank want?
- Hank...

Wants to close his eyes
and wake up in his own bed

next to the love of his life,

listening to the sweet,
mellifluous sounds

of his daughter's heavy-metal guitar
coming from the bedroom next.

You really love them, don't you?

So much so that the words themselves
sound unspeakably lame.

God, that's hot.

- Liar.
- Another hazard of the profession.

Besides, you know what they say.

No, I don't know what they say.

- If you can't be with the one you love...
- Stop. Stop.

Again with the unspeakably lame.

I know.

That's why I need a writer.

What was it like?

What was what like?

The punch.

Well, there's only one way to find out.

Go on. Give it a shot.

Really?

Yeah.

Come on.

You hit like a girl. Jesus Christ.

It was a punch, darling,
not a slap.

All right.

Harder.

- Harder?
- Harder.

All right.

Harder.

Jesus.
Holster that thing, would you?

Nice cock, by the way.
It's very manly.

This old thing?

- What are you still doing here, Runks?
- Number 12.

The waitress last night at the bar,
totally out of my league.

Totally.

- Right on, the Runk! Number 12.
- Thank you.

We got no time to celebrate, though.

You're late for your arraignment.

Fuck me running.

- Thank you, Skeeves.
- Go get 'em.

Hey, lady lawyer.
Look who's here.

Jesus.

- What?
- What happened to your face?

- Oh, that's life imitating art imitating life.
- Forget it. I don't want to know.

Good call. Best not to know.
Shall we do this?

No need.
They're dropping the assault charges.

Thank you.

- Thank you. Thank you.
- But that's the good news.

Yeah?

- Hank Moody?
- Guilty.

Don't say that.

- We have a warrant for your arrest.
- Jesus fuck. What now?

Well, like I said, the DA's office
was willing to drop the assault charges.

- That's the good news.
- What's the bad news?

You're being charged
with statutory rape.

Come on. Let's go.

Wait, wait, whoa!
What happened?

Defending your friend just became
a hell of a lot more interesting.

Wha?