Original subtitles

MAN : In the way of things,

fathers are, by tradition and compassion,

supposed to leave their sons at least a little legacy of wisdom

to help them get through life.

But I don't remember my father ever saying anything memorable

except those seven words he said that Christmas season when I was four years old--

Wait here, son.

I'll be right back.

I grew up an orphan, like many other children abandoned during the Depression.

And as a young boy,

I ran off to pursue my dream of becoming a writer.

It was that dream that gave me hope during those dark years.

That and a bigger-than-life writer and adventurer

by the name of Ernest Hemingway.

Many years later, I was working as a reporter at The Miami Globe.

I had written Hemingway a letter,

but I couldn't get it right.

It had to be perfect--

heartfelt and genuine.

What do you say to the man that changed your life

and never even knew you?

I needed to tell him how much he had meant to me.

Copy!

Scotch, rocks.

How's it goin', Jimmy?

Don't ever get married, Eddie.

Did you get into another fight with Maxine? Yep.

She was so pissed off, she ripped the wires out from under the dash of my new Chevy.

Wow.

The things we put up with

just for that microsecond of ecstasy.

A man should never marry.

Don't worry. It's my goal in life not to.

I gotta go, Eddie. All right.

-I was due home hours ago. -Adios.

Deb, what are y-- what are you doing?

This is a beautiful letter.

Look at you, the nosy Nancy. Do you always read other people's mail?

No. I saw the address on the envelope--

Ernest M. Hemingway, Finca Vigia, San Francisco de Paula, Cuba.

Okay, I know what it says.

"You gave me hope when I thought there was none left.

In my darkest moments, you were my friend."

Deb, that's a personal letter.

If I got this letter, I'd fall in love with you instantly.

Well, it wasn't addressed to you.

You're just afraid to send it, aren't you?

Okay, I-- I'm not afraid to send the letter.

That's too bad.

It's none of your business. It's a personal letter.

-You're a nosy Nancy too.

**

City desk. Myers.

This is Ernest Hemingway.

Oh, really? This is Ernest Hemingway?

I got your letter.

HEMINGWAY: H

Hello?

Uh, uh, yes, sir.

It's a good letter.

Well-- Well, thank you.

I read it about 10 times.

Mr. Hemingway, y-your work has meant so much to me.

I, uh-- M-M-My whole career is--

I don't think you're old enough to have a whole career yet, kid.

I've been reading your stuff in the Globe.

You have a tendency to underwrite, which is good.

Well, thank you.

You covered the Korean War?

Uh-- Are you really talking to Ernest Hemingway?

I, uh-- Yeah, from-- from 1951 to '52, yeah.

Well, that's what I did,

and you know, an honorable profession if you do it right.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

Uh, that "sir," not necessary.

You can call me Papa. Everybody does. Okay.

Like you said in the letter, I'm your friend.

It's a good letter, kid.

You like to fish?

EDDIE: I don't know the first thing about fishing. I've never been fishing.

I don't even know what to wear or-- What do you wear on a boat?

A hat.

Okay, I don't want to wear the hat. Why? It's a great hat.

It is a great hat. Did you get this hat for me? Yes. It's gonna block the sun.

Thank you for sending the letter.

You're welcome.

**

**

**

¡Oye! ¡Venga! ¡Venga!

Hola.

Good morning.

-Whoo!

Ed Myers. Gregorio.

Mucho gusto.

Permiso. Permiso.

Okay.

**

**

Flight okay?

They fed me rum daiquiris on the plane.

I'm-- I'm half-bombed.

Not a bad way to start the day, huh?

Come on. Let's go find you a fish.

Now watch the tip of your rod.

When it goes up, then you can get some line back.

Easy.

That's it!

It feels like a fucking whale.

Nah, that's a tuna. Little one.

Oh! Ah! Now!

He's turned around. Now you can get some line back.

Ow!

You've got to ease the rod back.

When you jerk the rod like that, something's gotta give.

Usually it's his face.

Ah, cheer up, kid.

No virgin does it right the first time.

It's a good day. You'll get another chance.

And up! There we go! Keep reeling.

Let her go. Easy.

And up. Reel!

Oh, she's a beauty! Look at her!

Beautiful!

Keep working. There you go.

There. Now you're fishing, kid.

Now you're fishing.

Okay, okay, reverse the engine.

Turn the wheel a little. You know, I think you'd better do this.

Look, kid, the only value we have as human beings

are the risks we're willing to take.

Now, fuck it. Dock her.

That's it, now, easy. Let her ease in.

All right, now put her in reverse.

That's it.

Nice job. Thank you.

You could turn off the engine anytime.

Oh, right.

**

**

Ah, what the hell, kid. You know all this.

I talk too much. Boring.

I wouldn't say you're boring.

I'm just...

so fuckin' shy.

Well, you're among friends here.

It's the power of less.

Pick a number...

between one and... ten.

Six.

Complete short story, six words.

"For sale, baby shoes. Never worn."

Señor Hemingway. Please? Ah.

You're quite a pretty young lady.

Thank you.

Permiso. Excuse me. Okay.

Yes.

-(chattering in Spanish continues)

DEBBIE: Couldn't find your sugar.

I read an AP article that said he's the biggest tourist attraction in Cuba.

Said thousands of tourists come from all over the world just to get a glimpse of him.

I've never seen anything like it.

He draws a crowd wherever he goes. Thank you.

The only place he gets any real privacy is at sea.

Must be awful to be that famous.

-I haven't met her yet. I'm supposed to this weekend.

Oh, this weekend. I got the weekend off.

I was hoping maybe we could go to the Keys.

Well, they-- they've invited me to the finca.

I'm gonna go to their house.

Oh, wow, that's great.

-Yeah. -We'll go another time.

**

** (singing in Spanish continues)

Oh, my God.

Gracias.

Shh.

Papa working.

Miss Mary swim.

Oh, my...

Oh. Hello.

You must be the kid.

Uh, yeah. I g-- I guess I am.

Edmund, isn't it?

Eddie.

Hello. I'm Mary Hemingway.

Yeah, I know.

Hi.

Papa showed me your stories. You write very well.

We're both impressed. Thank you.

I didn't embarrass you, did I?

No, no, no. No, no.

How God made me.

My perfect pocket Rubens.

Why, thank you, kind sir.

We do have a generally good alliance, don't we?

Based upon your great beauty and the wondrous blondness of your hair.

MARY : Deeply rooted in his system of values,

Papa has a secret mysticism about blonde hair.

You'd be ecstatic in a world of female dandelions, wouldn't you, love?

Sure.

Come and have a drink.

I confess, it is artificial.

It used to be a color people called titian, but I like to call it a nice peanut brown.

Oh, Papa, I do believe we've embarrassed the kid.

He'll get used to it.

EDDIE: No, I was just an ignorant bum

who read a lot in libraries to stay out of the rain.

You know, mostly day labor jobs and flophouses,

and then after years of hustling,

I finally managed to weasel my way into a job

on the sports desk of a local paper in Northern California,

which was a dream.

The only problem was, I didn't know how to write.

I mean, I could read okay.

But to actually type out sentences, and spelling and punctuation...

I didn't know anything.

In the newspaper business, this could be a problem.

Yeah, the city editor found it particularly amusing

when I spelled the word "maybe" M-A-B-E.

Ooh.

He called me a liar and then he fired me.

So what did you do?

Well, I knew that I wanted to be a writer,

and the only thing I could do was go and beg for my job back.

So after about three days of begging he finally said,

"Okay, fine, you have two weeks, no pay.

Maybe you can learn to be a writer."

So I worked at the paper during the day

and then at night I stayed, typing over your short stories.

I copied them word for word.

It taught me how to type,

it taught me the English language,

it taught me spelling, grammar and how to write dialogue.

It taught me how to see.

Smart.

Changed my life.

And did you get your job back?

Yeah. A year later, I was on my way to Korea as a war correspondent.

Didn't I tell you what kind of kid he'd be?

Did you ever find your parents?

Yeah-- Yeah, I met my mother for about--

f-for about 10 minutes once, yeah.

No good, huh?

Yeah, she just had other agendas.

Yeah.

I had a mother like that myself.

You know, my father killed himself.

Couldn't take it anymore.

We'll be your family. Huh, kid?

I'm not sure if the kid knows what he's getting himself into.

DEBBIE: Hemingway really said that to you?

Isn't that what you've always wanted? To be part of a family?

Yeah, I guess so.

You ever think about having a family of your own one day?

Come on. Let's go swimming.

I didn't-- I didn't bring a swimsuit.

It's how God made me.

Copy.

MARY: Such great news!

I'm so happy for you both! MAN: Thank you.

Eddie, what happened to that story, you know, about the kid hobo riding the rails?

Oh, yeah, I, uh-- Well, I sold it, actually. Yeah.

-Yeah.

Well! Who to?

It wasn't exactly The New Yorker, you know.

I'm embarrassed to say. I don't want to say. Oh, come on, kid!

You're among friends here. No, that's exactly--

That's why I don't want to say anything.

Uh, Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine.

Oh! Well, congratulations. How much did they pay?

Uh, it wasn't that much. How much was it?

Come on! How much wasn't that much?

Uh... $42.

-Uh, it was $42.

How much do you get for a short story now, Papa? $100 a word?

Forty-two bucks. That's-- That's swell, kid.

Christ, I sold Big Two-Hearted River for 15.

Ernie, that's an American classic.

Jesus Christ, you sold it for 15 bucks?

At the time, it was all the money there was.

Makes you 27 bucks better than me.

Hey, kid.

Congratulations. Oh, thank you, Evan.

-Cheers!

Mike Shayne. Cheers to Mike Shayne.

Yeah!

**

Hey, a friend just called. You want a good story?

-Yeah. -Juan's bringing the car.

Come on.

Wh

MAN: Just keep running!

I think they got inside!

Think they got Batista? I don't think so.

Let's get closer.

Go to the truck! We'll make it!

You all right, kid?

(shouting in Spanish continues)

Let's go. No, no! wait!

Come on! Let's go!

Get down!

Goddamn war.

I hate it.

Fucking lousy way to settle politics.

The faces of the dead are always the same.

Just fucking kids.

No hay remedio.

No remedy.

Toughest phrase I know in Spanish.

No hay remedio.

EDDIE : My entire life, I had idolized a legend,

an intangible hero.

And now he had become my mentor,

the father I never had.

And he had shown me Cuba was gonna be the next big story.

Mmm. Yeah, I was there.

Hey, get me some background on this Castro fellow.

All right, all right. Bye.

How you doin'?

MAN: This is really important to Mr. Hoover, Eddie. Hi.

We know you took the next three days off.

We know Hemingway's invited you to go fishing down in Havana.

We want to know what he thinks about Castro and Batista.

Look, all we ask is you find out where he stands. Is he a rebel sympathizer?

How does he feel about the Bureau? What's he say about Mr. Hoover?

John, if I didn't know you for so long, I'd tell you to go fuck yourself.

Not a good idea.

Nice work.

Debra Hunt, this is John Fletcher.

He's with the FBI. Ah.

Hello.

See you, pal.

Nice to meet you too.

FBI jerk.

He here on business or social?

He's recruiting me because of my big muscles. You have big muscles, huh?

I guess the FBI's bird-dogging Hemingway.

Why? I don't know. I told him to go fuck himself.

Good job.

Were you just about to kiss me just then? Mm-mmm.

You make me blush.

Is your place as hot as mine is?

** * Hey *

DEBBIE: No, no. No, no, don't--

Sorry.

Are you kidding me?

MARY: Eddie. Hey, love, sorry. Did I wake you?

No, uh, no. Mary.

No. Uh, no, you d-- you didn't wake me.

MARY: Papa's worried you're not gonna make it.

But you are, lamb, aren't you?

Uh, yeah. Is everything okay?

Evan's here. You remember Evan Shipman, the poet?

-Yeah, yeah, yeah. -It's just the two of us here.

We went dancing with Mr. Black Ass.

I'm afraid he's very depressed, Eddie.

I don't mean to burden you with our personal problems, but, well,

you really seem to lift his spirits.

We're going fishing. You're gonna come fishing with us, yeah?

HEMINGWAY: Goddamn it! Oh.

Um, I have to go. Don't mention this call to Papa, all right?

** (woman singing "Non, Je Ne regrette Rien" in French)

** (singing in French continues)

**

**

**

**

**

Juan, I'm staying at the Ambos Mundos.

You just missed the turnoff.

Miss Mary wants you to come to the house.

Is everything okay?

No puedo.

All right.

All fucked up! I need you!

Why did you have to die, goddamn it?

I need you!

Son of a bitch! Why did you leave me?

Hi, Evan.

Hello, kid.

Uh...

I look that bad, huh?

Uh, do you-- do you need help with that?

It's not an easy task.

No, no, no, no. That's okay.

Are you sure? Yeah, yeah.

Sit down. It stinks. It smells.

It doesn't bother me. Sit down.

That's very kind of you, kid.

I've been using penicillin powder for the infection, but I want to try the iodine.

It's gonna sting.

It's only pain.

-Old war wounds.

You shoot at people, they tend to shoot back.

Damn things heal,

then break open again every once in a while.

It's an awful nuisance.

-Nothing very amusing, I'm afraid.

So what do I do now?

Bandages, please.

Okay.

Here. All right.

All right, all right.

Thank you.

Okay.

Need a clean shirt. Okay.

Yeah, uh, you want a beer?

Yes, please.

You know, I, uh-- I came in

and I overheard Ernest talking to himself.

It's been going on for weeks.

Listen, kid.

I may be crazy, but no way do we want him cured.

He's a great writer. True genius.

That's rare in this world, huh?

Maybe all our geniuses are crazy.

Maybe it comes with the territory.

I've known Hem for over 30 years.

Since we were kids in Paris back in the '20s.

Hem can be the meanest son of a bitch you've ever seen.

I've seen him at his best and his worst,

but he's the only true friend I've ever had.

Kind, loyal, gentle.

You can't judge him

like an ordinary man

because he's not ordinary in any sense of the word.

A hundred years from now,

people will read his work

and know his name.

Kid.

You should know what's going on around here.

This, uh, character--

he a good guy?

Yeah. He's a political reporter.

Pulitzer winner.

Pulitzer doesn't make you a good character.

I'm living proof of that.

So she left him to be with you, huh? Yeah.

Do you love her?

Yeah.

What do you want?

I don't know.

I'm trying to write about Hadley,

my first wife.

The only true love I ever felt was from her.

I'm trying to...

to get one true sentence

to start it, you know?

The fun we had,

loving each other in a warm bed in Austria that winter.

And then I had to go back to New York

to deal with publishers.

And when I came back the next spring,

I stopped off in Paris

to fuck the woman that would later be my second wife--

my rich wife.

And then on to Austria,

seeing Hadley at the station

with our son.

How beautiful she looked.

Unforgivable.

You make a decision, kid,

make it carefully.

Know what you truly want.

Consider...

every possible consequence,

or you'll wind up at 59...

wondering what the hell happened.

Did the cab come?

Not yet.

What are you reading?

Reading about your new friend Hemingway.

I can see that.

Eddie, what's California like?

California? You know, it's like here, but without the humidity.

I want you to run away to California with me.

Don't go to Havana, Eddie.

Deb, I got-- They're waiting for me. It's his birthday.

The flight's about to leave.

I'm late.

What are you afraid of?

Will you listen to something?

It's Hemingway.

"The celebrated develop a technique to deal with the persons they come across.

They show the world a mask,

but take care to conceal their real selves.

They play the part that is expected from them, I gotta go.

but with practice play it very well.

Let's talk about it. But you are stupid if you think

this public performance of theirs

corresponds with the man within."

I'll be back Tuesday.

EDDIE : Deb certainly deserved someone who could commit to her.

Even though I loved her, how could I give her something I had never known?

MARY: I guess it started about a month ago.

Papa started to complain that he's living with his "deads," as he calls them.

Every morning he'd go to work and there they are,

all his dear, old dead friends,

talking to him as if they were alive.

I guess they're real enough in his mind, but...

it's bloody close to madness.

MARY: Oh!

This water's glorious.

Oh, I'm so glad you're here, lamb.

Oh, yes, yes, yes. That helps.

Every day, he's just become more depressed.

You know? More moody.

When I saw him at his desk this morning

with that pistol...

I've never been that terrified in my life.

I didn't know what to do.

He just sat there, staring at the gun.

So I got angry

and I said...

that if he was gonna do such a stupid, idiotic thing,

to at least go outside where I wouldn't have to clean up the mess.

I've been waiting all morning to hear a shot.

Evan said that-- that he's threatened suicide before.

Yeah, but this is different.

It's very different. He--

The other times, he's always been able to get himself out of the dark places he goes to,

but this time--

He doesn't even want to celebrate his birthday.

But... I do.

I want to have a party. You know?

Lots of people and good talk, good booze, good food.

Lamb, can you help me?

Whatever you need.

I have a plan.

Eddie, you will play General Buck Lanham,

commander of the 22nd Infantry Regiment in France during World War II.

And Evan, you will play

Papa's African white hunter hero, Philip Percival.

We'll be reinforced at lunch by Papa's old Cuban friends.

There's Sinsky.

He's a Basque seaman

who now captains cargo ships between New Orleans and Havana.

The Herrara brothers, Roberto and Luis.

Luis was a surgeon for the Loyalists during the Spanish Civil War.

Paxtchi Ibarlucia and Fernando Mesa,

both Spanish Civil War veterans exiled in Cuba.

Oh, and one other survivor of that crew I know only as Lucas.

He's Cuban, and he's a very mysterious character.

Only Papa seems to know him.

EDDIE: Colonel Buck Lanham and the 22nd Infantry Division

wishing you a happy birthday, Ernie!

Jolly good, Pop.

Damn good lion, and happy birthday from you know who, huh?

**

**

** (singing along with record in German)

** (all singing along in German)

**

**

**

You've all gone crazy.

Oh!

** (singing in Spanish continues)

So, we're sitting on the steps

of the San Cristobal Cathedral in Havana.

Sinsky and I get drunk.

So I said,

"Papa, when was the last time you went to confession?"

"Oh, 15, 16 years at least, maybe more."

"Let's go!" Papa says.

The priest began sweating immediately.

It took eight hours!

Eight hours? Oh, pooh. It couldn't have taken that long.

Oh, you don't understand.

No, eight hours. No one can have that much sin. You made it up.

The priest fainted.

Yeah, I tried to revive him with some Napoleon brandy,

but he just passed out before he could give us absolution!

Miss Mary, you were a correspondent in the war.

Oh, yes, uh, for Time magazine.

And before that, The Chicago Daily News.

Yeah, I was in Paris when the Germans took the city

and in London during the Blitz.

London's where I met Papa.

So, after the Normandy invasion,

I decided to stay with the troops all throughout France.

-I had a good life on my own.

Okay, Papa.

So, this was just after the war started?

Oh, yes, Eddie. U-boats were everywhere out there.

Nothing to stop them.

From my house in Havana, at night you'd see tankers burning out at sea.

Ooh, I wanted to get me a U-boat.

Oh, so did I. We all did, huh?

Yeah, but you never even got close to a U-boat.

What do you know about it? We were the ones out there.

We had Pilar rigged like real Q-boat. Right, Papa?

Hell, yes.

We had bazookas, .50-caliber machine guns, M-1 rifles,

Thompsons, grenades, short-fuse bombs!

But you never saw one?

We came this close. Didn't we, remember?

Oh, yes, on Megano de Casigua. Just off the shore.

But we gave that bastard a chase.

She took off like a pig with a pole up its posterior!

You're like a bunch of schoolkids playing at war.

Fucking IRS just hit me with income tax.

40,000.

Everything I had in savings after all these years.

-They knew exactly what I had in my accounts.

The government's out to get me.

For God's sakes, stop being so paranoid.

Fucking FBI will be after me next.

Don't be so ridiculous.

How does government taking $40,000 translate to "ridiculous"?

You're exaggerating.

But you always exaggerate when you're drunk.

I'm not drunk.

At least not yet.

Fact is, you're drunk.

* If you don't love me, Mama *

* I don't care at all *

* 'Cause I can get more womens *

* Than a passenger train can haul *

One more for the road, gentlemen.

We'll drink to Operation Friendless.

We were the best, and we did it for free.

I've never seen him like this.

Yeah, well, now we have the evening to look forward to.

Well, at least he's laughing.

Well, I'm certainly not.

How much money do you need?

Oh, no, no, no, Papa. You don't have to. I'm not asking.

Excuse me, Ernest. Only way I can help is with cash.

Now tell me, how much?

Maybe $4,000. But you got taxes. You got hit with taxes.

Don't-- Ernest, excuse me.

I have credits.

Your daughter's life. Money's not important.

You go to New York, I'll work it out.

Ernest?

Listen to me.

I'm your wife! Look at me!

I deserve a certain amount of courtesy.

Seem to have decided that I, alone, am inaudible to you.

Why do you always wait till I'm having a good time to ruin it?

Why are you always such a bastard?

I'm not trying to be a bastard.

Well, if you're not trying, you're certainly making a good imitation of one.

I'm trying to enjoy!

You are rude and you are inconsiderate.

You insult me! On my dignity as a human being, goddamn it!

You get back what you just put out.

What I put out?

I went to a great deal of effort to make this a pleasant lunch for you.

Yeah, and ruined it by being a bitch!

I can't believe how much you're like my mother.

I'm not like your mother!

You want someone to kiss your ass,

then you go back to your sweet, lovely Hadley.

Why don't you just call her up?

I'm sure she'll leave her husband and come back to you.

Call her up, like you do all your other whores!

-You go to hell! -I don't need to! I'm already here!

So why in God's name did you marry me?

Another mistake I made.

Maria. Por favor.

You apologize to me, or so help me God!

I'll take "so help me God."

How do you like it now, gentlemen?

Goddamn it.

You have the feeling they're not telling funny stories out there?

Yeah, whatever it is, it seems pretty serious.

I feel like we missed something.

If we did, I don't want to know about it.

Had enough for one day.

Leaving, Luis? No, Evan. I'm going to get my bag.

I want to take Ernesto's blood pressure.

It's probably normal.

A lot of killing now.

PAXTCHI: At night in Havana, the streets are deserted.

Few tourists still come from the States, but very few.

Everyone is scared.

We're thinking of leaving to Miami.

Well, who knows? We may have to pull out of here too.

So, how is it, el doctor?

Ernesto, you're going to live to be a hundred.

At least a hundred.

Yes, but will I still be able to make love every day and drink what I want

and have good conversation with my friends and not bore anybody?

It would probably do for you not to drink so much.

Sure.

Birthdays excepted.

¿Por qué no?

Evan, why don't you have Luis look at you.

-Maybe he can help. -No, thank you. I'm fine.

Yeah, Evan, come on.

Not fine.

It's not necessary, thank you.

Let me take a look, Evan.

Only take a minute. Unbutton your shirt.

Go on, Evan. Do it.

Do you know what this is?

Yes.

Gangrene.

I can change the bandages for you, if you wish.

That's very kind of you, Doc,

but I've enlisted a medic, and he does a marvelous job.

These should be changed. Soon.

Yes, we'll take care of it.

-For pain. -Thank you. It's not necessary.

It will be... very soon.

We go, Papa.

Adiós.

Adiós.

Adiós.

Well, that cat's out of the bag.

How long have you known?

Three months.

How long did they give you?

Not long. Why I came to see you.

I wasn't sure I'd get another chance.

But how it is. No regrets.

It's been a decent life.

I've been such a prick.

No.

You know,

I--

I never gave a damn about our Lord.

But we'll pray, truly.

I'd like that, Hem.

It's all right. Yeah.

To friends.

To friendship.

Papeles.

Continué.

Who is it? It's Eddie.

Ah, come in.

Shut the door behind you.

I, uh, brought you some water.

Oh, love, you have to forgive my temper.

-I used to be able to control it better.

I... used to be a lot tougher.

When I was a little girl, I loved my father so much.

I thought that he was the greatest man on the face of the earth.

I watched my mother just nagging him,

unrelentingly bitching without quarter.

She broke him. She destroyed his spirit.

And I promised myself that I'd never be like that.

I don't want to be a bitch,

but I can't seem to stop myself.

It's okay.

Hello.

DEBBIE : Eddie. Hi.

You said you'd call me. I've been waiting all day.

I know. I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

It's been a long day.

Eddie.

I'm in love with you.

And I believe you feel the same way, but I need you to tell me.

Eddie?

EDDIE : I felt like I was falling into a world of madness.

And somehow, it was up to me to stop it.

Eddie told me about Evan.

I'm sorry.

People dying that never died before.

Do you want to come in and talk?

Sure.

Señor.

You have a telephone call.

He say it is very important.

Hello? MAN: Mr. Trafficante wants to see you.

We're sending a car to pick you up.

Hey, Rene, tell them not to wait for dinner. I have to go to Havana.

Good evening, Mr. Myers.

I'm Sal.

Mr. Trafficante's waiting for you at the Ambos Mundos Hotel.

Hey, why would the head of the mafia want to see me?

Get in.

Buenas noches.

Ooh!

Mr. Trafficante.

Lupe?

Why are we here?

I make it a rule to pay my debts.

That's why we're here tonight and why I'm taking my time to see you.

You understand?

You don't owe me anything, Mr. Trafficante.

Yeah, I do.

That article you wrote about the FBI framing Sal Lopez?

Well, he's a friend of mine. You saved his ass.

I appreciate that.

I hear you're a friend of Mr. Ernest Hemingway's.

Good guy?

Absolutely, yeah.

Tough?

Uh, yeah, I think so.

Not like most people think though, you know.

He's actually very shy and gentle.

I understand you had a visit from an FBI agent named John Fletcher in Miami.

Not much happens on my turf I don't hear about, kid.

He wanted you to inform on your friend, Mr. Hemingway.

And you told this FBI guy to go fuck himself.

I'm not sure what you're getting at, Mr. Trafficante.

Somebody very high up,

a person who is very powerful in the United States government,

has a hard-on for your friend Hemingway.

They want him publicly discredited. They want him out of Cuba.

Uh... why?

You don't need to know why.

Let's just say that this individual doesn't like what your friend knows.

Doesn't like what he does or how he thinks

or how important a celebrity he is.

He's out to burn Hemingway's ass.

It's personal.

The IRS just sandbagged your friend, didn't they? Forty grand.

Yeah. Well, I'm telling you, it isn't over.

MAN : They're talking at the bar.

And we're sure it's Trafficante?

Yes, I am.

Looks like we're gonna get a thunder shower.

Good.

Cool things down. This heat is brutal.

We're square?

Yes, sir. Thank you.

You did a good thing, kid.

Sally Lopez is a straight-arrow guy.

Good, honest union man, big family.

If it wasn't for you, fucking FBI would've let him hang in the wind.

They're all pricks.

One more thing. Tell Mr. Hemingway I admire his books.

Are you, darling boy?

Oh-ho-ho!

Wow, it's really-- It's really raining out there.

Uh, we were worried about you, lamb.

Oh.

Yeah, I just met with-- with the mafia.

-Santos Trafficante. -Yeah.

Yeah, you're pretty tight with this mafia character, aren't you, huh?

Who else are you tight with?

Papa, let him explain.

-I don't know what you mean. -You know damn well what I mean.

You're fucking double-crossing me.

Eddie, get out of here.

Papa? Eddie, just get out.

Get out of here!

Papa, stop it before you say or do something that you will regret.

Last time you were here, you met with your FBI contact at the Ambos Mundos.

-Stop it.

No, no, no, no. I know that guy. He's a friend of mine.

Fucking Judas!

Eddie!

Oh, my God!

Papa, what has gone wrong with you?

Are you gonna hit me next?

Stupid drunken bastard!

Is that what you're doing?

You think we're all gonna double-cross you.

Get off me!

Trafficante says--

Trafficante says that they want you out of Cuba.

He says the FBI and Batista's secret police

are working together to set you up.

They think you're smuggling weapons for the rebels.

Someone...

high up in the US government is out to get you.

He said that it was a personal vendetta.

EDDIE : Physical pain is nothing compared to the pain of a lost bond.

For the second time in my life, I felt completely alone.

You really think that boy would betray you?

Did I hurt you bad?

No, you didn't hurt me. I'm fine.

How's it feel?

It feels like you punched me in the face.

Well, maybe we should go get some ice on it, huh?

Nah, I'd rather just go.

Don't go.

I was wrong, kid.

Full apologies.

I was potted, bad in the head.

Being a prick.

And I'm sorry.

Truly.

How does it feel now, kid?

It's just numb. It feels like a mule kicked me in the face.

No mule. Just a dumb ass.

-No, just swollen.

Here. Put that on. That'll help.

So why is the government out to get you?

Well, this was back during the war.

Young FBI character I met.

I liked him.

Trusted him.

We all did.

Even went on patrols with us.

And we'd go to the Floridita afterwards and have a drink.

One night, it was just me and him,

very drunk.

And he told me a story that made me feel hollow sick in my gut.

A party in the basement of J. Edgar's house in Virginia.

Mr. J. Edgar and his pal Mr. Tollen

dressed in women's clothes.

Wow.

Got Mr. FBI kid very drunk.

J. Edgar made him take off his pants

and played with him,

while bosom buddy Tollen shot moving picture photos.

You could tell he was giving it straight.

He cried.

Was very scared.

And do you think that Hoover knows that he told you this?

My fault.

You remember the yacht club celebration after we won the Nobel?

Oh, dear God, Papa. Not that yacht club party.

A lot of wet talk.

Me, worst of all.

Just after the African plane crashes.

You know, my cracked skull not working very well.

And with booze, not working at all.

Yeah. Dumb.

By this time, Mr. FBI was dead.

Heart attack.

So I figured the obligation of silence was over, you know?

And then this creep starts talking about what a great man J. Edgar is.

And I told him what a great man J. Edgar wasn't.

Got pissed.

Called me a liar and ran out of there fast.

-So, that's it. -Yeah.

So, what now?

I mean, I vote that we get out of here as soon as possible.

-Well, anywhere.

Just don't fancy spending any time in La Cabana prison, thank you very much.

You don't get run out of your house. You defend it.

Papa, we have nothing to defend it with.

These people are very powerful. They're ruthless.

I'm gonna cancel the fishing trip.

No.

I want to go fishing on my birthday.

I told Gregorio I'd meet him at Cojimar at 7:00.

Well, all right. Then you two go.

And Evan and I will stay here and guard the homestead.

No, we need you.

Who needs me?

Me.

You need me?

We like this.

-Hola.

Papa.

They ambushed Lucas.

They shot him to pieces.

Ambushed?

He had more than 30 bullets in his body.

We have to close our account, Papa.

They ambushed Lucas last night.

Shot him to pieces. What?

I haven't told Miss Mary yet.

Don't want to worry her.

It's a fucking black dog day, kid.

And I am doing my best to get through it

without killing anybody,

especially me.

Papa! Papa!

Small school of mullet, under two-pronged attack.

The bonito are coming up from below,

the birds hitting 'em from above.

Gregorio, why isn't the bait in the water?

We're not going fishing today, are we?

¡Atencíon!

Oh, my God.

Gregorio!

Papa! Papa!

Coast Guard cutter coming right at us!

What'll we do?

Put her ahead, trolling speed, our bow right on theirs,

so they can't see the stern.

To them, it'll look like we're fishing.

Aw, shit!

We have to work faster! ¡Rápido!

He's fishing. Good.

Means he hasn't dumped the weapons yet.

Mr. Hoover will be pleased.

As soon as we have him in custody, radio Havana. I want the press informed.

We'll bring him into the yacht club dock in handcuffs.

That'll make a good picture for the front page of The New York Times.

What if we fail to find weapons?

You got weapons aboard this ship, don't you?

MAN : Pilar, stop your engines immediately

and prepare to be boarded.

Since you've just put my future in jeopardy,

would you mind telling me how these armaments got aboard?

Sinsky.

He's been running them for Lucas and his Havana operation.

I got these for the kids in the village.

Our village?

Small gift for the country and the people I love.

Why didn't you tell me?

Didn't want you to worry.

Well, isn't this swell.

A small visit, courtesy of the feds.

Mr. Hemingway, I'm a great admirer of your work.

I've read all of your books.

I'm very flattered.

I apologize for this intrusion, but I have orders to search this boat for illegal weapons.

A sus órdenes, comandante.

Your presence aboard this ship is highly annoying.

We were out fishing for Mr. Hemingway's birthday.

A peaceful enough endeavor, wouldn't you say?

I have my orders, señora.

Well, then execute them and be quick about it.

It's getting late, and Mr. Hemingway wishes to catch a marlin.

Just as soon you didn't irritate him.

Given the present circumstance, best to keep our mouths shut.

Oh, shit.

There are no weapons aboard the Hemingway boat.

Are you absolutely sure of that?

Absolutely sure.

Fletcher, we've got a problem. No sweat.

Put together an evidence package, a nice selection--

tommy guns, BAR's, ammo, grenades.

Not too much. Just enough to show intent.

That's not gonna solve our problem. Take a look.

What are you talking about?

Son of a bitch.

Gregorio, take her in!

**

Cuidado. Cuidado. Please.

Carlos. ¿Qué tal?

There he is! Oh, lordy!

Y'all look just like the old man and the sea. Doesn't he, Charlie?

Just like the old man of the sea!

ALL: Happy birthday, Papa!

** (singing "Happy Birthday" in Spanish)

We'll be okay if we can get a drink.

Papa!

**

-Number two.

-Sure.

Record's 16. I might just break it.

Happy birthday.

Don't ever let yourself get famous, kid.

You let your work get famous.

That's okay.

This celebrity shit is-- is deadly.

Nobel thing is even worse.

You work all your life,

you get that prize,

and as a writer, you're finished.

I mean, all of my life has been about writing as well as I could

and sometimes better than I could.

It's all I cared about.

It just won't come anymore.

What do you do about that?

**

Quite the party. Mmm.

Everyone who's anyone in Havana is here.

It must have cost a fortune to close this place down.

Well, it's only money, lamb.

There's an old Cuban saying.

"Some people are very poor. They only have money."

I always loved Paris.

I liked sex too.

Henry Miller made both sound dirty.

I met Henry Miller when I was working at the Chicago Daily News.

Oh, he was this intensely charismatic--

What did you think of Thomas Wolfe?

Oh. Confused size with writing.

He was a large man, wasn't he?

Well, how do you like it now, gentlemen?

Excuse me.

Well, that was another hugely successful evening, wasn't it?

Oh, I have to say, if I hear any of those hackneyed phrases one more time,

I think I'm gonna go insane.

What was it again, Papa? "Oh, how do you like it now, gentlemen?"

Or the classic, "When the chips are down."

Oh, gosh, what has happened to your vaunted wit, your incredible charm?

I must say, it didn't seem to go down too well with--

What was his name's daughter? The one you were all over?

I hate to say it, but you're leaning towards being a big, bloody bore.

What? Excuse me! Would you mind with the door, old man?

I want to thank you for working so diligently

to cheer me up on my 59th birthday.

Dried-up old bitch.

I heard that!

I am not the limp-dick, impotent one in this marriage!

Mary.

Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!

Ha! You're talking to me? You're screaming at me!

I-- Oh, shut up!

What happened? This used to be paradise.

Surely it seems like they have everything.

This gorgeous place,

plenty of money,

good looks, good health, fame.

But there is something missing for both of them.

Love and friendship.

A willingness and a desire to put aside your own ego,

to enrich the day-by-day experience of your beloved.

That's what they're missing, kid.

It's like being under siege.

Most marriages are.

Mine sure was.

EDDIE : Evan once wrote a poem.

"Maybe the peace we all seek is but a dream."

MARY: No!

No! Papa!

-Hey, now! -Give it to me!

Eddie, take it!

Give it! Papa, come on, stop.

No! No, you stop now!

There's nothing for me in life anymore.

I can't write. I can't fuck.

I can end this shitty life. My choice.

Give me the gun. No, Eddie, don't!

Give me the gun, kid. You don't have to do this.

You know I can take it from you.

Be a good boy. Give it to me.

-If I give it to you, what are you gonna do with it? -What I have to.

-You don't have to do this. -MARY: Listen to him, Papa. Listen to him.

We're all gonna die sometime, kid. What does it matter?

-Give me the gun! -No.

-I don't want to hurt you. -You're gonna have to kill me.

What the fuck right do you have to say no to me?

Who the fuck are you?

Hey, I love you.

I love you, Papa.

There's another one here, Hem.

I'm another guy who loves you.

We're not gonna let you do this, Hem.

-No, Hem! No!

-Let go! -MARY: No, no, no! Stop it! Stop it!

-Give me that gun!

Don't do it. Don't do it.

Oh, Hem, I want you to stop this now.

This has all gone too far.

No good now.

You're not being rational, love.

I'm completely rational.

My head is good, clear.

I know what I'm doing.

I want to die.

Before it all turns to real shit, and it will, believe it.

No, I won't believe that.

We've had times of great and good happiness, haven't we?

Sure. Good, old times.

We can still have fresh, brand-new good times, right?

I'm just a worthless, impotent old man.

You said it. But I didn't mean it.

I'm sorry that I said that. I--

We both say things in anger that we don't mean.

I'm your wife, and I love you.

And I couldn't live without you.

You never said that before.

Haven't I?

I'm different from other people.

I-- I can't--

I couldn't.

Understood.

Me too.

We're two pretty fucked-up people.

Let's never get married again.

Certainly not to each other.

ERNEST: You make a decision, kid, make it carefully.

Know what you truly want.

Consider every possible consequence,

or you'll wind up wondering what the hell happened.

Go away.

I have to tell you something. I don't want to hear it.

I don't want to talk to you.

You think I'm an accessory in your life, but I'm not.

I don't need you. I'm fine.

I don't need anything from you.

I don't want to hear from you. I just want you to leave me alone.

I love you.

I love you.

EDDIE : Most of what I learned about how to live life,

I learned from Papa.

One thing he once told me became that little legacy of compassionate wisdom

I had so desperately wanted from my father,

and I've lived by it.

He said, "The only value we have as human beings

is the risks we're willing to take."

Papa committed suicide with a shotgun

at his home in Ketchum, Idaho,

18 months later,

July 2, 1961.

There was no suicide note since Papa could no longer write.

After it all, I guess what he really wanted was to have true love.

He once wrote, "A man alone ain't got no chance."

**

**

** (men singing in Spanish continues)

**

Captioned by Captions, Inc.