All language subtitles for American.Fiction.2023.HDCAM.c1nem4.x264-SUNSCREEN

Okay, let's begin.

Who wants to start?

Yes, Brittany, kick it off.

I don't have a thought on the reading.

I just think that that word
on the board is wrong.

Well, I think it still has
two G's at it last I checked.

It's not funny. We shouldn't
have to stare at the n-word all day.

Listen, this is a class on the
literature of the American South.

We're going to encounter
some archaic thoughts,

coarse language, but
we're all adults here,

and I think we can understand it
within the context in which it's written.

Well, I just find that
word really offensive.

We're going to respect Brittany.
I got over it. I'm pretty sure you can too.

Well, I don't see why.

Right. Now, does anyone else
have any thoughts on the reading?

Well, it made some of
your students uncomfortable.

When did they all become so goddamn goy?

This wasn't an isolated incident.

What?

Last month you asked a student
if his family had been Nazis.

Yeah, I did. He's German. We
were reading the plot against

America, and trust me, by the
way he was squirming, they were...

You are a very talented writer.
We're fortunate to have you here.

What? He hasn't published in years.

I've written three novels since
the last time you published.

This is true, and the
speed with which you

write only proves that
good things take time.

Well, go to hell with it.

Relax, Mandy.

Yeah, relax, Mandy.
And anyway, my new book is with Echo,

and my agent says
they're very excited about it.

Well, that's great to hear.
What's it about?

Stop stopping, Leo.

Listen, Monk.

We'd like to give you a break.

A break?

Just some time off.

Mandatory time off.

It's just you're already going
to Boston for the festival, right?

Why don't you just stay there?

Because I hate Boston. My family's there.

Well, you need some time to relax.
You're on edge, man.

You're under the impression that time spent
with my family will take the edge off.

I'm fine.

You're not fine.
I saw you crying in your car last week.

You punched the steering wheel.

You know, if you spent
less time spying on me,

you could probably
write a dozen more novels

than people buy at airports
with their neck pillows.

Oh, here we go.

You want to go, Dirty Doggy?

Okay, well, enjoy Boston.

You can get my book at the airport.

Good luck with Echo.

Hello? Welcome back. How's
it feel to be home? Great.

I'm better than him.
That's good luck here.

That's Boston's version of
a ladybug landing on you.

Any news?

Patrick Adeko is passing.
But who fucking cares?

He's an old alcoholic.
What is that, nine now?

He said, this book
is finally crafted with

fully developed characters
and rich language.

But one is lost to understand
what this reworking of Aeschylus's

the Persians has to do with
the African American experience.

There it is. There it is.

They want a black book.

They have a black book.
I'm black and it's my book.

You know what I mean.

You mean they want me to
write about a cop killing some

teenager or a single mom
and Dorchis are raising five kids.

Dorchis is pretty white now.

But yes.

Jesus Christ. You know, I
don't even really believe in race.

Yeah.
The problem is that everyone else does.

Anyway, have fun at the book festival. And
just don't insult anyone important. Please.

Writing from a historical
perspective doesn't mean that you

can't make work that doesn't
resonate with today's audiences.

I think of things like
Game of Thrones as proof

that words like us can
still find great success.

Unfortunately, we're
going to have to end it there.

Thank you to our authors.
And thanks to all of you for attending.

Is it just me or was this
small legal book festival?

Yeah, it's because
we're up against Sintara.

Oh, Sintara Golden. You haven't read her?
No. What's her book called?

Weez Lives in De Ghetto is a
heartbreaking and visceral debut.

Plus, a little birdie told me that perhaps
there's a TV adaptation in the works.

No comment.

Okay, it was worth a
shot. Tell us, what was

your life like before
you were an author?

Well, I did undergrad at Oberlin and
moved to New York the day after graduation.

And a couple of months later, I
was an assistant at a publisher.

And did that assistant experience
shape your writing? Absolutely.

Yeah, I was the
first reader, meaning

I would read all the
manuscripts in the splash pile

and send them up the
ladder if they were any good.

Some of them were great. Most were not.

But the feeling I couldn't shake was
that no matter how good the books were,

most every submission was from some white
dude from New York going through a divorce

and too few of them were about my people.

And so I think, where are our stories?

Where's our representation?

And it was from that lack
that my book was born.

Would you give us the pleasure
of reading an excerpt? Thank you.

Yo, Sharonda!

Where you be going in a hurry like that?

Donna asked me when she
see me coming out the house.

Ain't none your business, but if and you
gots to know, I was going to the pharmacy.

I looked back at the door
to see if mama coming out.

The pharmacy? What so? She asked.

You know, I says.

Nah, she say.

Hell nah! Girl, you be pregnant again?

Might be, I tells her.

And if I is, Ray Ray is going to
be a real father this time around.

Thank you.

Here's Lisa Els.

Do you have an appointment?
We're about to close.

No, I'm a brother.

There she is.

Hello, Monk.

Hey, Lisa.

Okay, you're in a boat, the motor
cuts out, but you're in shallow water.

But you're wearing $600 shoes.

But your ride to the airport is
just pulling away from the beach.

Why, oh why, is this a
legal issue? I don't know.

It's a matter of robe or swing.

Oh my God.

That's one of my best.

Wow.

Okay.

Subtitling by Master_Blaster for Subscene.com

Did you start smoking again?

Right after the divorce.

I always hated Larry.

Well, I know. You told me
right when we started dating.

Do you remember
a matter of time?

It's not your business who I fuck?
Who I filleted?

I definitely did not see the lights.

That's all I heard anyway.

It's good to see you.

Yeah, it's good to see you too.

How's work?

It's not very glamorous.

I go through a metal detector every day.

All you do is important.

Meanwhile, all I do is...

...evently with people in
my head and make them

have imaginary
conversations with each other.

Books change people's lives.

Is something I've written ever
changed your life? Absolutely.

Absolutely.

My dining room table was wobbly as hell.

Oh my God.

When your last book
came out, it was like perfect.

Hey, you got Logan, please.

Logan cannot help you, Mommy.

Oh my God.

Welcome home, baby.

Hello?

Hello?

Mr. Monk?

No.

What did... You know, that
makes me feel it's just Monk.

Oh, don't do that to me.

You're going to have to learn new names.

Hi, that's one with Lisa.

Okay.

You look good, Mr. Monk.

I look fat.

Oh, that's the California talking.

I took you to Arkansas right now.

You'll be a beauty queen.

Is that right,
Monkie? You look fat.

I know.

You ready to go to dinner, Miss Ellis?

I just need my purse and my black cardigan.

All right, I'll get it.

Are you over right?

You over eat when you're depressed.

I'm not depressed.

I've just been not sleeping well
lately and so fill up my exercise routine.

So you're not depressed.

You just bear all the
hallmarks of depression.

I missed you.

Is Larry coming? No, Mother.

Larry and I are separated, remember?

Of course I remember.

Okay.

I just thought he might
join us to see your brother.

Okay.

I mean, is it really such a big deal?

Everyone forgets things.

It doesn't mean she's safe, necessarily.

People forget death disappointments.

She forgets I'm not married anymore.

That's weird.

What do you suggest we do?

Why do I have to decide?

Because you're a doctor.

So are you.

I'm not that kind.

Okay, my point is you
are an intelligent adult.

And I'm tired of being the only
person that takes care of her.

I don't recall anyone
assigning you that responsibility.

No, you and Cliff just
fled west as soon as

you could and left me
as caretaker by default.

My work's there.

My work's there, yeah.

Apologies that it prevents me from
keeping up with the family melatrama.

If you lived up the block, you
would know what was going on.

I'm stuck here taking
care of that old house

and finding blood
flutters and death affairs.

His what?

His affairs?

You didn't know he was having affairs?

No.

How did you?

Well, he was an
OBGYN that was traveling

constantly, but his
patients were in Boston.

He said he was going to conferences.

He was making house calls.

Do you know that I saw him kiss a
white woman in the park in high school?

How white?

What do you mean, how white?

Like Brahmin white or
Southie white? I don't know.

She had thin lips.

She was like a bad kisser.

Did you tell Mother?

No.

I wasn't going to blow up our lines.

She's coming back.

Come on.

Come on.

Come on.

Hi.

What are you doing?

Our waitress is wearing a bra.

Okay.

How do you notice?

See this shit?

It's going to take us out of the ghetto.

But there are rules in the house.

Number one.

Never leave this problem in the house.

Number two.

Get your own crew.

Number three.

I have discipline in your crew.

Number four.

Don't praise a nigga too much.

But why is he going to
take your son? Number five.

Don't show no love.

Love will get you killed.

See this?

It's like a bitch.

You fuck a bitch.

Don't let a bitch fuck you.

You a man? No, nothing.

No one will get you killed.

This bitch.

This bitch will take your son.

Excuse me.

Ned.

Do you have any books for the
writer Thelonious Ellison? Yeah.

And this way.

Here you go.

Right.

Yeah.

Wait a minute.

Why are these books
here? I'm not sure.

I would imagine that this
author Ellison is black.

That's me.

Ellison.

Yeah.

He is me and he and I are black.

Oh, Bingo.

No Bingo, Ned.

These books have nothing to
do with African American studies.

They're just literature.

The blackest thing
about this one is the ink.

I don't decide what sections the
books go in and no one here does.

That's how chain stores work.

Right.

Ned.

You don't make the rules.

I'm just going to put
them back after you leave.

Don't you dare, Ned.

Do not.

Do you dare.

Monk, what are you doing?

Mom's only going to get worse.

They say mental exercise is good.

That's why I got her that garden book.

Will any cucumbers
count as mental exercise?

I hate when you do that.

Why?

You share your
condescending opinion as a

question trying to
disguise the condescension.

Why don't you just say that
you think the gardening is idiotic?

Because that's not what I was doing.

Bullshit.

Bullshit.

Bullshit.

Maybe we can hire a
nurse a few times a week.

Who's going to pay for that?

You can't afford it.

Not after the divorce.

I cannot.

It will hurt, but we'll probably
have to sell the beach house.

Yeah, we definitely need
to sell the beach house,

but that money is going to
pay back the reverse mortgage

that our mother took
out on the other house.

Yeah.

I can send some money home,
but it's not going to be much.

Can't Cliff chip in?

That's not in a good place, okay?

Oh, it is, okay?

Monk, Becca took everything,

and the kids are getting teased at school.

No.

Well, maybe you should call him.

I'm sorry I've always been so distant.

You could now, Beth.

You're always dad's favorite.

Then that made Cliff and I bond,

and you resented us for having that bond,
and then you just became so sufficient.

We never talked about this.

We never talked about anything.

Is that surprising?

Look at our parents.

The only emotions I remember from dad

were boredom and rage.

Is boredom an emotion? Great.

It's a detective dictionary.

You haven't called me that forever.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Come on.

Lisa, are you okay?

Hey.

Hey, help.

Help.

If you are reading this,

it's because I, Lisa
Magical Ellison, have died.

Obviously, this is not ideal,

but I guess it had to happen at some point.

Hopefully, I...

Hopefully, I expired

under the heaving thrusts
of a sweaty Idris Elba,

or perhaps in a less dignified manner

under the heaving thrusts
of a sweaty Russell Crowe.

Irrespective of how I went,

I asked at those closest to me.

Not more in all that much.

I lived a life that made me proud.

I...

I was loved

and I loved in return.

I found work that aroused my passions.

I believe I gave more than I took.

And I did my damnedest
to help people in need.

And on top of all that,

many a friend wrongly
accused me of having Botox

because of how tight my
skin stayed well into my fifties.

What more could someone
ask of a life? I love you all.

Thank you for being here today.

Goodbye.

Peace.

Cliff?

Are those human remains?

You guys have a permit for that?

Shut the fuck up, Phillip.

Cliff, you don't talk to me like that.

Fuck you. I just did.

You want me to beat your ass?

I will eat your sweater
and that's for dinner.

Bitch, go.

I'm two.

Three.

They're exhausted.

I gave Lorraine something
to help her sleep.

Mother's taking a bath and I'm a dozer too.

You think maybe I can get
some of that later tonight? Yeah.

Are you not sleeping, love?

Ah, normally I sleep fine, but just lately.

Does seeing a dead body ever
become normal? I don't know.

I haven't seen any.

Really?

I'm a plastic surgeon if
I'm looking at a corpse

and something would bury your eye.

Right.

Yeah, it made me feel for Mother.

Can't imagine what she must
have gone through finding Dad.

Like that.

I know.

So much stuff.

When was the last time
we were here together?

Uh, maybe ten years.

Kids were still up.

Yeah.

How was your family, by the way?

You actually care? Of course.

Why would I ask? Why
would you ask me that?

I don't know, Monk.
You never really called.

I get busy.

Yeah, everybody gets busy. You drift away.

You wanna know who my family is?

My wife left me cause she
caught me in bed with a man.

She took my house. Half my practice.

My kids fucking hate me.

And I still live in fucking Tucson.

What was wrong with Tucson? Oh my God.

There's one gay bar
that's full of college kids.

One of them asked me if I was Tyler Perry.

It was terrible.

I mean, Tyler Perry lives
in Atlanta, right boss?

No, I named Tucson.

Girl.

Did you know Dad had
affairs? Oh, for sure.

How?

You could just tell.

Lisa told me she saw him
kissing a white woman once.

Why did I have no idea?

Why am I the last to know?

Cause you love them too much.

Enemies see each other better than friends.

What the hell did you give her?

It's oxycodone, but knock some right out.

You gave her opioids to sleep?

You ever seen that heroin addict?

Those guys take naps standing up.

It's dangerous.

Look, I'm keeping an eye on her.

I'm a doctor.

So why? Right.

Maybe if we need
to revive a sentence.

Well, why do you have
synthetic smack anyway?

What is that? Oh shit.

What are you doing?

Mother?

Mother?

Hey.

Hey.

What are you doing?

Hey.

Hey.

Come on.

Well, I'm not sure to be honest with you.

It's going to depend
on what the doctors say.

Yeah, I'll touch base when I know more.

Thanks so much for being understanding.

Hey, um, Leo.

One more thing.

I was wondering if maybe
we could treat this as

a sabbatical as opposed
to a leave of absence.

Whatever happens with my
mother, it's going to cost some money.

No, I understand.

No, it's not your fault.

I'm going to figure something out.

Yeah.

Thanks for your help.

Okay.

Bye-bye.

Oh.

Oh.

Uh, you don't have to do that.

Oh, no I do.

It's tomato season.

You can't let them go to waste.

Ooh.

Crime around here.

Thank you.

That's what neighbors are for, right?

Oh, but this is neighborhood.

I thought the place was vacant.

Uh, it has been for a while.

We just got here last night.

Uh, I think your place was haunted.

It's just some old man blew
his brains out there a while back.

Yeah.

Oh, my God.

I... Oh, fucking idiot.

Please forgive me.

Oh.

Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that.

What did she do for a living?

She was a doctor.

Um, most of my family...

Doctor's basically on the outcast.

Uh, what do you do
for work? I'm a lawyer.

Public defense, Quincy.

Very honorable.

Yeah.

Very hard, but can be rewarding.

May I ask you something that,
um, sure, a lot of people ask you?

That I feel about defending guilty people.

Yeah.

I love it.

Why? I have to.

And they're all guilty.

Really?

Yes, but that's okay.

People are more than their worst teeth.

I guess I agree with that.

Sure you do.

You're a writer.

I don't follow.

Well, writers have to be non-judgmental.

You can't write interesting
characters and be

critical of every bad
decision they make, right?

Maybe you should be the writer.
I don't feel like much of one lately.

You're blocked.

It's just, I don't think anybody
wants to buy what I write.

That's not true.

I didn't want to say anything, but,
um, I actually read one of your books.

Hmm. Which? The Frogs.

Oh, so you were the one.

I liked it.

You're talented.

You expecting company? Yeah.

Oh.

Hello.

Jelani, this is Monk.

He and his family owned
a house across the street.

Nice to meet you.

It was a pleasure.

Are you staying for dinner?

Uh, no, I need to go check in on my mother.

Cool.

Thank you, uh, for the
wine and, uh, good night.

Good night, Monk.

What time's your flight?

You think, uh, maybe you could change it?

It would be useful to have you at
Laurie's doctor's appointment today.

All right, Cat. I gotta get home.

Finally, you think you can chip in
for care once we find out what's what?

It's probably gonna be pretty expensive.

Things are tight right now.

So, you thought about firing Lorraine?

Lorraine's family.

Well, shit, I don't know
what to tell you, all right?

So you can't do anything?

I would check with my accountant
when I get back, all right?

It's eight in the morning.

I'm not trying to fucking find Monk.

Well, do you think you
can be so kind as to go

inside and see if Mother
is ready to head out?

Hey.

Mother! Yeah, old man.

Be civilized.

You're just like a dad, man.

So you do right by me, Monk.
You swear to fuck me down.

What's he civilized?

Mother! Morning.

Hey, morning.

Listen, about last night, uh...

It's okay. You don't have to explain.
I had a good time.

No, I...

Jelani, uh, he's, uh, my ex.
What...oh, he's going to be.

We're in the middle of
breaking up, and...it's hard.

I get it.

I'd like to see you again.

Do you think that you'll be around town
the next couple of days and grab a drink?

Yeah, I'd like that.

Yeah, me too.

Try to sleep.

Thanks.

Her MRI shows early
signs of neurodegeneration.

There's a slight
decrease in the size of the

temporal lobe, which
suggests Alzheimer's.

I'm very sorry, Mr. Ellison,
but at some point,

she'll probably require
an around-the-clock care.

And for her own safety.

Hey, young niggas! Hey! Hello! Whoa, whoa!

Don't shoot me, partner.
Come on, huh? There you go.

That's you?

Yeah, me niggas.

Shit, that you drunk, motherfucker?

What are you running to?

Just leave me alone, man.

Hey, yo, mama.

What'd you say?

I said, hey, yo, mama.

Oh, shit.

They ain't tell you, uh...

What you talkin' about, punk?

Hey! What you talkin' about?

Think about it, angle.

Look at my face.

Look at my midnight black complete.

No, that's not right.

What did you want to say?

You can say it better than that.

Why don't you come on? What do you want?

Think about it, van Gogh.

Look at my face.

Look at my cold black skin.

And look at your own.

Look at my black eyes.

And look at your own.

Look at my big black lips.

And look at your own.

How's your daddy with you like it or not?

Shut up!

Hey, shut up, man. You riot.

No, no, that's the truth, nigga.

That's where you been, huh?

Where you been?

I been where I'll always be.

So if I haven't, you ain't worth a piss.

Your mama ain't worth a piss.

So, here I am.

What do I say to him?

I think now will come some sort of,
you know, dumb melodramatic sob story

where you highlight your broken
interiority, something like, I don't know...

I hate this man.

I hate my mama, and I hate myself.

I'm seeing my face again.

I see the ape that all them
stupid girls were afraid of, yeah.

I can see my long arms hanging down.

And I see eyes that don't
care what happens tomorrow.

I see myself rocking back on
my heels, just like this, baby.

Just waiting, waiting, and waiting,
and waiting, and waiting for something

that I'm not even gonna
recognize when it comes.

Death is my only cure.

And I've heard that before.

I've been hearing it,
and I'm hearing it now.

I see...

I see my mama crying.

I see her screaming in my dreams.

I see my babies.

I see my...

I see my daddy.

I see myself.

What the fuck?

The fuck you do that for?

Cuz you ain't shit, nigga.

And you made me.

So cuz you ain't shit, I ain't shit.

Cuz you ain't shit, I ain't shit.

I gots to bounce.

Peace, my friend.

What the fuck was that for?

You're watching Black Stories, Mama.

And definitely 10.

Celebrating the
diversity of the... Hello.

I be standing outside in the night.

A police chopper go by and shine
some lights in some backyards,

and I think shine that
light on me, motherfucker.

Shine me some fucking light so
I can see where the fuck I be at.

Are you serious?

You noticed I didn't put my name on it.

Yes, Staggard Lee.

I didn't notice that, well done.

But I still can't send this out.

You said you wanted black
stuff, was blacker than that.

It's got Deadbeat Dads, rappers, crack,
and he gets killed by a cop in the end.

I mean, that's black, right?

I see what you're doing.

Good, because it's not subtle.

I mean, how's that book so different than
some of the other garbage they put out?

That's not the point.

Look, it's my point.

Look at what they published.

Look at what they expect us to write.

I'm sick of it, and that's an
expression of how sick I am.

Monk, I'm trying to sell books,
not be a part of some crusade.

Who do you expect
to publish this? No one.

I just want to rub their noses
in the horseshit they solicit.

Okay.

What do you want me to do?

I want you to send it out.

Can I say it's performance art?

No.

Send it straight.

If they can't take the
joke, then fuck them.

All right, but I'm only
sending it to a couple places.

This thing scares me.

Scares me? Why?

Because white people think
they want the truth, but they don't.

They just want to feel absolved.

Well, fortunately, that's not my problem.

Okay.

Bye.

Surprised you reached out.

I thought you were just being nice.

Oh, I'm never just being nice.

I'm too old for that.

Now, I liked you so much, in fact, that I
went out and got another one of your books.

Really? Which one?

The Oscar dungeon.

Well, what'd you
think? I liked it.

Susan.

His really great dialogue.

And I love the bond.

Wow.

Do you write women well?

You think so? Yeah.

They're not hothouse flowers.

Thank you.

I appreciate that.

I could have done with
less footnotes, though.

I, uh... I gotta run.

Well, how's your
mom? Get it out.

I'm afraid to be away for too long.

I'll, uh... I'll call you.

Hold on a minute.

It's time, my book.

What's your name again?

Mr. Monk?

What's going on with the lights?

Miss Lisa used to pay the bill.

Did you?

How much?

Well, I can handle the electrical bills,

but these care facilities are expensive.

The best one nearby is $5,600 a month,

and that's for a shared room.

It goes up to $6,900 a
month for a private room.

Who are you looking at the best one?

She won the best month.

Look, I'm not here to
re-litigate our childhoods.

Yes, of course not, because yours is great.

God damn it, are you gonna help me or not?

One Medicaid covering or something?

That's not how it works. You
don't know this? Oh, hello.

Who's that? What are you doing?

I'm taking a lover.

You've taken a lover?

You got a problem with that, homophobe?

Listen, I'm not offended
that you've taken a lover, Cliff.

I'm offended, Cliff, that
you call it taking a lover.

You can eat shit, nigga.

You can take my lover right now.

Alright, where you
going? There you are.

Traffic was insane.

What's up? Sit down.

Have a seat.

We sold your book.

Holy shit.

I thought it was DOA.

Not the Persians.

No.

Yeah.

Paul McPhee-da-min from Thompson Watters.

It always passes.

It's not this time. They want a pre-empt.

Seven hundred and fifty thousand.

No one's ever offered that much to me.

This is you.

No, it's not, Arthur.

You voted.

That's a joke.

Well, now it's the most
lucrative joke you've ever told.

And I'm not selling.

Why not?

Because it's trash, Arthur.

You didn't even want to
send it out the other day.

But look who's suddenly overcome his fears.

I know. I broke the first rule of sales.

Never underestimate how stupid everyone is.

Well, I'm not participating
in making them any stupider.

Well, you haven't thus
far, which is admirable.

But you also haven't made any money.

It was you mom need help these days.

Check this out.

I don't care how drunk I'm getting.
I'm not selling it.

That's not what I'm doing.

Johnny Walker red, twenty-four bucks.

Johnny Walker black, fifty bucks.

Johnny Walker blue, one
hundred and sixty dollars.

You see the metaphor?

No.

These are all made by the same company.

The red is shit, the black
is less shit, the blue is good.

The fewer people buy the
blue because it's expensive.

And at the end of the day, most
people just want to get drunk.

For most of your career,
your books are blue.

They're good.

But they're not popular because
most people want something easy.

Now, for the first time ever,
you've written a red book.

It's simple, brilliant.

It's not great literature,
but satisfies an urge.

And that's valuable.

What I'm trying to
illustrate is that just because

you do red doesn't mean
you can't also do blue.

You can do it all.

Like Johnny Walker.

In fact, you got Johnny
Walker beat because you

don't even have to put
your real name on him.

Do we drink now?

Hello? Hello, Paula.

Arthur, so wonderful to hear from you.

I hope that you are
with the man of the hour.

I am indeed.

He's right here next to me.

Mr. Lee?

Yeah, this is he.

Oh, really? Yeah.

Yeah, damn it.

Right.

Okay.

Yeah, I was a little confused at first.

We're both very excited to
discuss Thompson Watt's offer.

Yes.

Well, first of all,
let me just say that

all of us here at
Thompson Watt are thrilled

with my pathology.

It is about as perfect a book as I
have seen in a long, long while.

Just raw and real.

Mr. Lee, is this based
on your actual life? Yeah.

You think some bitch-ass college
boy can come up with that shit? No, no.

No, I don't.

No.

You know, that kind of visceral
energy cannot be taught, right? Stag.

Now, is Stag a
pseudonym? Yes, it is.

Mr. Lee can't use his real
name because he's a...

Well, he's a wanted fugitive.

Oh, my God.

Wow.

That's why this couldn't
be a video conference.

Are you crazy?

What if they back-checked this?

I checked his billing money
to pay editors anymore.

Just go with it.

Yeah, I did a 12-year bid.

But no going back.

Know what I mean? Yeah.

Yeah, you know, I've been reading a
lot about the prison abolition movement.

Oh, God.

Sorry to rush, Paula,
but can we talk business?

Mr.
Lee values his time outside of his cell.

Of course.

I'm sure you're both very,
very busy, so I will get right to it.

You'll notice that our
offer is unusually large,

and that is because we believe
Mr. Lee has written a best-seller.

We think it is going to be
the read of the summer.

Yeah, I'm sure white people
on the Hamptons will delight in it.

Yeah, we will.

They...

It's going to be huge.

Huge.

I love it.

Is that a little erroneous, Alison?

My God, Boehner.

Everyone still call you Monk?

Well, everyone but you.

Well, it's a beautiful name.

It seems sinful not to use it all.

Well, I'm glad someone appreciates it.

I heard about your sister, my condolences.

Thank you.

I don't think I've seen you
since before your father passed.

Yeah, it's been a while.

I live in L.A. now.

Oh, Hollywood.

Hey, do you write for
that NCIS? Just books.

You should try to write the NCIS.

It's popular.

Well, maybe I will.

So, how you been? Oh, I'm good.

Are you? Yeah.

What would you like
for dinner? Mine are.

I love rain.

It's been a dog's age.

Well, I guess it has.

You look well.

You too.

Well, I best be getting back.

Good to see you, Thelonious.

You too.

More rain.

I love the smile there.

There she is.

Thank yourself.

Rain, this is Coraline.

Welcome.

Yeah, come on.

Oh, the perfect timing.

This is Coraline.

Oh, dear.

I'm Agnes.

It's a pleasure to meet you.

I brought you this.

You tell yourself my favorite
is the whole world inside you.

The rain.

Mother, you...

Sit here.

All right.

And Coraline, why don't
you sit across from me? Don't.

I'm happy you're not white.

Me too.

Yeah, that was pretty funny.

I think you...

I think you remind her of my sister.

Well, do you think we look alike?

No, but you're both self-assured and funny.

And you're both fantastic kissers.

Mr. Maud!

What's wrong?

I just jumped outside for a moment.

What's wrong?

I had a cup of coffee with Manna.

I was right in front.

Where's Maud? I don't know.

Maud, the back door was open.

She gone.

Maud.

Where'd you split up? Yeah.

I got more in the car.

Mother!

Mother!

Mother!

Mother!

Hey, where are you going?

Lisa's out there.

We're passing with the cousin.

Somebody's gonna get hurt.

Hey, stop.

I will go tell her, okay?

I'll take you back to the
house and then I will go tell her.

What's her up
there? I know, I know.

Are you sure?

I will tell her.

Okay.

Come on, it's too cold out here.

Lisa doesn't sweat very well.

I know, I know.

Almost there.

And this is our library.

It's full of all the classics that we
try to get some new releases to.

Do you like to read, Mrs.

Ellison? No.

That's not true.

She loves to read.

She taught me to love reading.

Perhaps we can get some of your son's
books in here and you can go book club.

Hmm.

I'm sorry.

It's fine.

It's hard for a lot of the residents
at first, but she'll settle in.

Right.

I appreciate all your help, but how
soon do you think we can get her in?

In about a month.

You can start the
paperwork today, if you like.

Great, I'd like that.

I'll go check in tomorrow.

Thank you.

Hello.

Hey, Thelonious. How are you doing?
My name is Carl Brunt.

I am the director of the New
England Book Association.

Hi, Carl. I know who you are.

Oh, good.

But perhaps you'll also know
that each year my organization

bestows the somewhat
pretentiously named literary award.

Every writer knows
the literary award, Carl,

especially those of
us who haven't won it.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Well, that's sort of
related to why I'm calling.

Like many American institutions,
mine was recently rattled by the

notion that our lack of diversity
had led to a blind spot in our work.

So, you know, we're kind
of trying to remedy that.

And to that end, I was
wondering how you might feel

about being a judge in
this year's award ceremony.

Let me say first, Carl, that I'm
honored you'd choose me out of all

the black writers you could go to
out of fear of being called racist.

Yeah, you're very welcome.

But I think this sounds like a lot of work.

Yeah, I can't deny that. I mean, you're
going to have to read dozens of books.

We could offer you a modest stipend.

Even so, I'm not sure.

Okay.

One other crass perk I
reference when people are kind

of on the fence like
this is that this will allow

you the opportunity to
literally judge these other

writers for once rather
than just figuratively.

Alright, I'm in.

Okay.

Great.

So you're going to be one of five judges.

The only one we have
confirmed so far is Cintara Golden.

Are you familiar with Cintara
Golden's work? Vaguely.

Oh, she's great.
You're going to love her, man.

I brought you lunch, Mr. Monk.

To what do I owe you pleasure?

Well, I have a favor to ask.

I was wondering if I might be
able to take the afternoon off.

Maynard just came in from the beach, and we
thought it might be nice to visit a museum.

Yes, of course.

I'm free today, so I can look after Mother.

Lorraine.

You really like him, huh?

He's a fine man.

Yeah.

Eight-seven. It's got like twelve.

The guests of honor.

Hello, Mrs. Ellison.
Looking beautiful as ever.

Hello, Arthur.

Lane, would you take Mrs. Ellison to
the kitchen and settle up with some tea?

Make this way, ma'am?

Mother, I won't be long.

Go. Take your time.

Not the pods. The good tea. The guests.

What is this?

I told you to dress sweet.

I did.

Fucking sesame street.

What's this guy's
name? Willy? Wylie.

Wylie Valpisino. He specializes
in Oscar Beatty issue movies.

He did the Middle Passage one last year.

Somehow I didn't see that.

Of course not. You're not lobotomized.

But if he adapts your book,
you stand to make a lot of money.

Why can't we just do a phone call?

He said if he's going to cut a check this
large, then he needs to meet him first.

Right.

What do I need to do?

Just make him like you.

When I talk to him, he seems
thrilled that you're a fugitive.

Just, you know, play that up.

What do we recognize in me?

You're the real me.

Monk. You're not that famous.

And nobody in Hollywood reads.

They get their assistance to read
things and then summarize them.

The whole town runs on book reports.

I'm sure you can look at them a lot.

She won't leave my sight.

You wouldn't just be
across the street anyway.

Across the street.

You should go. You'll be late.

He's waiting for you.

Well...

If he, uh...

wants the stereotype,

maybe it's bedroom late.

Stag, I presume? That's me.

Hey, I'm Wiley.

Nice to meet you, brother.

I served at the Bougie restaurant.

My assistant picked it.

We can go somewhere
else if you're uncomfortable.

This is fine.

Okay.

What are you drinking?

I'll have a shit on bra.

You're driest.

What's funny?

It's just a strange order
from a guy like you.

Why is that?

Well, you don't see many
convicts drinking white wine.

You know many convicts?

You'd be surprised.

I spent a month in the joint myself.

With some interstate commerce shit.

It's a short statement, I'll tell you what.

That experience grounded me.

The people I met in there allowed me to see
a whole world of underrepresented stories

from underrepresented storytellers.

Can I ask what you were in for?

I don't like to talk about that.

You feel me?

It was a murder.

You said that, not me.

You know, I gotta tell you, before
you showed up, I was a little worried.

You might be a phony.

A lot of fakes in Hollywood.

I'm not from Hollywood.

Yeah, yeah, no, that's obvious.

That's obvious.

Clearly, you're cut from a different
cloth than your average screenwriter.

Let me ask you.

I know they sent you some of my stuff.

Did you have a chance
to see any of my movies?

Sorry, what did you say?

Have you seen any of my movies?

No.

Okay.

Well, look, what I like to do is I like
to pair genre with real-world pathos

and kinda elevates things.

You might be interested in this
one we're about to shoot, actually.

It's about this white couple.

They get married on an
old plantation in Louisiana,

and all the slave ghosts come
back and they murder everyone.

You're cut.

I know, I know.

It's great, right?

It's called Plantation Annihilation.

Ryan Reynolds is gonna get decapitated
with an afro pic in the opening scene.

He's a friend.

Gotta go.

Some addict on the third
floor had an aneurysm.

Awful.

I know.

Imagine exploding your brain trying
to think of a toilet paper commercial.

I assume Wiley isn't interested in sprinting
out of there like a complete maniac.

Actually, he's offering
$4 million for the rights.

What? Yeah, man.

He called you the real deal.

Said you took off the moment
you heard police sirens.

I don't know what I'm gonna try again.

You know why my parents
moved here from Puerto Rico?

I mean, we can't be
expected to read every novel.

People have worked hard on these
books and we have to respect that.

Hard work doesn't demand respecting you.

People worked hard on the Third Reich.

Well, I feel that we owe it
to them to read every page.

That is such horseshit.

I mean, most of it's gonna be
that canoes guard auto fiction crap.

Anyhow, I tell you something right now.

I'm not reading 600 pages about some
pretentious jag wagon discovering masturbation.

Sorry.

Okay, look, I think we're all
experienced enough to assess

the general quality of something
within a hundred pages.

If you want to read beyond
that, that's your prerogative.

Well, how do you feel, Monk?

I agree with Sentara, actually.

I think 100 pages is sufficient.

You know, this is all a crock, anyway.

I mean, pitting art against other
art for awards, like it's not subjective.

It's absurd.

Then why did you agree to
be a judge if you feel that way?

Well, because it's either me or
some other Brooklyn hack who

doesn't think there's a world
beyond the Hudson River, Aileen.

It's the East River, if you're in Brooklyn.
Daniel.

You know what? Art is
subjective, but I think this is an

opportunity to highlight books
that may otherwise be undervalued.

Books sales are plummeting
right now, so perhaps this award

can give someone a real
chance at a career in this industry.

Here, here.

Um, where do you want this, Mother?

I thought it might look nice
here with this natural light.

I don't care.
I never liked that painting, anyway.

Okay, uh, well, I'll bring some
more art from home next week,

and you just tell me the pieces
you like, and I'll bring them.

We've got your lunch ready for you, Mrs.
Ellison.

Mmm, that looks great! What is it?

It's Rocha Turkey and
Havarti on 12th grade.

Sounds delicious.

Mrs. Ellison prefers white bread,
and she doesn't like the crust.

As much as this place costs, y'all
should get the sandwiches right.

I'll make sure that we
take care of that from

now on, okay? And enjoy
your lunch, Mrs. Ellison.

I'm getting married.

Shut up!

I didn't say nothing
earlier, it's just so sad, but...

Maynard asked me yesterday.

Lorraine! That's amazing!

I mean, let's celebrate!

So much excitement.
I don't like being the center of attention.

Well, you deserve it, Lorraine,
and Maynard is a lucky man.

Do you think you'd be willing
to walk me down the aisle, Mr.

Monk? I'd be honored.

To help you get my pathology
out, the marketing team

has all kinds of great
ideas to help you sell it.

Great. We're excited to hear.

John Bosco is the head of the department.
I will let him tell you more.

Hi, Stag.

Hello.

Nice to finally meet you, my man.
Listen, I love the book.

And we are going to sell many, many copies.

There's already so much
buzz because of the movie

deal, and we just want to
keep that momentum going.

I spoke to Wiley yesterday.
He says Michael B. Jordan is circling.

We heard we think he would be
absolutely perfect. You know, this book...

It's awards bait with the capital B.

And we're thinking that if Michael does
sign on, we want to put him on the cover

in one of those scarves, I guess you
would call them, tied around his head.

A du-rag?

Du-rag, that's it. Du-rag and a tank top.

With the muscles showing.

Somebody called the fire department.

Oh, shit. Sorry, you dad. Sorry.

We're thinking of rushing it so that
we can get it out in time for Juneteenth.

Juneteenth?

We're thinking of making
a big holiday bunch.

Black people will be
celebrating, white people will be

feeling, let's be honest,
a little conscious stricken.

We think it's going to be a huge moment.

So, Stag, are you so, so happy?

We think it's great, John. Really amazing.

Yeah, it's great. And, you know, I've
got an idea I want to share with you two.

I want to change the title.

Okay. Well, just to be clear,
we really do love my pathology.

Love it.

It's got that whole Irvine, Welsh,
proletarian, vernacular thing.

Well, that's why I think you're
going to love this new title even more.

Well, okay. You know what?
We are always happy to hear new ideas.

Why don't you have a line? Fuck.

I'm sorry, pardon me? Fuck.

I want to call it fuck.

What are you doing?
Screw these idiots. Stop it.

So, Stag, what about, like,
damn, damn, or hell? Nah, fuck.

Okay, that's cool. But maybe
we could do that with a pH instead.

Because that would be
more powerful to our sellers.

I don't care about all that. And if you
don't change the title, the deal is off.

No, there's no need to be pasty.

You know what? Why don't
we just give us a second

and a moment and we
will get right back to you.

Okay? What are you doing? What
are you doing? She's ridiculous.

Shutting it down. Shutting it down.

Are you there? We're here.

Let's do it.

What?

Yeah, we discussed it
and we think it is very

in your face and in
the best way possible.

It is very, uh...

Black? That's it.

Yes, that's it. I'm having
you said it enough.

Oh, fuck.

It's fucking great, Stag. Yes.

You know, it's so brave, actually.

It's Austin.

Yeah, me too. I gotta stay up a
few more hours reading these books.

Hey!

What are you doing here?

What am I doing here? What are you doing?

What do you mean? What am I doing?
Why are you in town?

I came to see our mother.

And that's what you were gonna
call me about for weeks now?

What happened to your eye?

Are you in the fight? Yeah?

Well, get out of the pool.

I don't want to get out of the pool.
I'm a grown-ass man.

Is this your girlfriend?

Yeah, you scared the shit out of her.

I'm Coraline.

Hey, Coraline.
At least she's not white again.

Oh, your wife was white.

My wife was a bear. Bears don't count.

Well, get out, you fucking menace.
Wake the neighbors.

It's my fucking neighbors.
And fuck your clean pool.

It's all just a party of superiority.

Oh, you fucking asshole!

You are a goddamn cow!

It's probably bad trying to
tell you, but I did piss down.

I'm sorry, buddy.

Don't give me that.

Get out of here.

You fucking bitch!

It's funny, huh?

So, my name is Eddie with me.

Fuck-ass naked.

And then walks Claude
carrying the frozen yogurt.

No.

Yeah, I forgot showing him
where I keep the spare key.

So, he just throws the yogurt at us.

And then he walks right in the eye.

What's the other guy do?

I couldn't stop laughing.

Said that's what he does
when he gets nervous.

You're really going
for it, these days, bro.

I've only been gay for, like, five minutes.
I gotta make up for lost time.

Yeah. Good for you.

You know, the whole world's falling apart.
Might as well have some fun.

I appreciate that.

Yeah.

You know, you're quite beautiful.

What are you seeing,
my brother? He's funny.

He's not funny.

No, not ha-ha funny.

Like, sad funny.

Okay.

Like a three-legged dog.

I see it now, like
somebody dying on a toilet.

Exactly.

And very weird, you go too far.

You think? I don't think I go far enough.

Becoming hurtful.

Aww.

See, very weird.

You don't go too far.

You got a kiss, man!

Look at you!

Just by being pathetic.

That ain't like a three-legged dog.

You know, this is nice.

Yeah, it's not bad.

What do you got there? A burglar?

That's a gazebo.

Same difference.

Excuse me.

Hey, Monk.

How the hell can you
afford this place? I, um.

..

Well, there was some money.

Lisa left for money.

Oh, the divorce cleaned her up.

I'm not familiar with what
her finances were like,

but if you were so interested in the bills,

perhaps I can start sending them to you.

Ah, that's fine.

Four-one-one.

Right here.

Four-four.

Surprise!

We've had a difficult morning.

We had to sedate her after
she tried to strike a nurse.

Has she done that before?

No.

She has a different demeanor every day.

Sometimes every hour.

Maybe she'll feel better tomorrow.

I'm sorry. I need to go.

Yes, of course.

Thank you.

Carter got these right
off the bush for your mom.

Sweet, right?

Yeah, that's great.

How can you afford this place?

I mean, you're not a joke
dealer of something, are you?

No, I'm a writer.

And you're my girlfriend
and I'm a bookkeeper.

Sure.

I always knew you weren't a queen.

See, I don't know what you're saying.

Oh, yes.

You sure you don't want to
stay till Lorraine's wedding?

That's better if I go.

It was nice to meet you, Cliff.

This family will break you out.

I'm Kenya Dunston, and today we're
going to discuss a new novel that just

debuted at number one on the
New York Times bestseller list.

It is just a remarkable special book,

and it's called Cover
Your Kid's Eyes and Ears.

We are lucky enough to
have the author with us today,

and for those of you
who are just joining us,

please know that Mr. Stagg Arley
is coming to us from an undisclosed

location as he is still
on the run for authorities.

Stagg, tell us, is this novel a true story?

Not factually, but it's the true story
of what it's like to be a black man

in America like me.

It ain't pretty.

Amen to them.

During my time in prison, I learned
that words belong to everybody,

so this book is my contribution
to this wonderful country of ours

where a black ex-con
can become rich simply by

telling the story of
his unfortunate people.

Get this.

The FBI called Thompson Watt
today to try to get Stagg Arley's identity.

Don't worry, they're
not going to give him up.

Give who up? It's me.
You haven't done anything.

They don't know that.

Look... This has gone too far.

Relax. The fugitive stuff's
getting us mountains of free press.

Plus, as you said, you
haven't done anything.

It's not like they can arrest you.

I wish I could go back
to not selling books.

I don't.

Bye.

Is everything all right? Yeah.

Just a little stressed out.

This, uh, book of war stuff has
been more work than I expected.

What's up, baby?

Got more forks in the kitchen.

What's this?

My friend got it for me.

Have you read it?

Of course not, have you? Yeah.

What did you
think of it? I liked it.

What did you like about it?

Um... It didn't offend you?

You just said you didn't read it.
What's your problem?

You answered my question.

You answered mine.

My problem is that
books like this aren't real.

They flatten our lives.

What do you mean?

I mean that my life is a disaster, but
not in the way you think reading this shit.

These things reduce us and
they do it over and over again

because too many white people
and people apparently like you

devour this slop like pigs
at a dumpster to stay curd

at fucking cocktail parties.

Okay, um, you've
got a lot of opinions for

someone who hasn't
published anything for years.

And you published what exactly?

Okay, what is wrong with you?

Why are you acting like this?

I haven't done anything.

You've been acting like a weirdo for weeks.

You've been obfuscating, sneaking around.

You're fucking unknowable.

Maybe you think being
an enigma is chic and artsy.

I just think it makes you an asshole.

Well, um, you don't understand my life,

and you can't, so just leave it at that.

One day maybe you'll learn that
not being able to relate to other people

isn't a badge of honor.

I think you should leave.

You know what I think?

You should leave.

Monk.

Nonsense.

You guys need any help up there?

Nah, we're good.

I thought you could use a little bronze.

We got it.

Mr.
Monk, do you mind I keep the soda maker?

You don't like the bubbly water
anyhow, right? It's all yours.

Thank you.

Um, hey, what about this?

No.

How about this?

I always hated that color.

It's just the one your father bought.

Well, miss, this just came for you.

Okay, thanks.

This is the last of it.

Goodbye, Mr. Monk.

Over.

Don't drive safe.

Guess I'll see you at the wedding.

Alright.

Thompson Want
apparently raced to publish it.

Yeah, I heard that they
ran 300,000 copies already,

and they're reprinting more soon.

I mean, it's going like gangbusters.

Chris, not a crutch.

You better be good.

I heard the writers have refuted it.

Well, that would explain the title.

You didn't go to charm school.

No, I think that that background is a plus.

I am thrilled to read a BIPOC
man harmed by our carceral state.

Are you one of those
defund the police nuts?

Yes, and I wouldn't
expect you to understand.

Well, I hope someone you love
doesn't get raped or murdered.

Can we not talk about this now, please?

Look, look, look, criminal or
not, I don't think we should add it.

We're already weeks into the process,
and I don't know about any of you,

but I've got more than a dozen
books I haven't even opened yet.

It was published before
the submission date.

I think we have to accept it.

It's just one more.

And from the looks of it,
it should be a quick read.

A quick fuck.

I've had a couple of those.

Bye, guys. Bye.

Hello. Hello.

Mokki. Do we know
these men? No, mother.

This isn't the Alzheimer's.

These are actual strangers.
Who are you people?

We're close friends.

Of course you are.

We met a few days ago.

I'm Kenny. This is Alvin.

Are you Monk? I am.

How did you know?

What club said Monk's
a real tight-ass? Diddy.

Delightful.

Mother, you sit here.

Lorraine?

What the hell are you
doing here? You first.

Oh, shit.

A wedding.

Oh.

I didn't go to the airport.

That day I left.
I needed some time with myself.

Time to unself implies
by definition time alone.

Oh, Christ. Here we go.

Detective dictionary.

Mr. Cliff.

I'm sorry, guys. I don't handle it.

You need to leave.
Don't bother to clean up. Just go.

No, no. It's all right. Just...
Please stay. It's a celebration.

It's good to see you, Cliff.

Good to see you, too, Laina.

How do you know?

I don't want to impose.

You can't impose. Your family.

I will clean up a bit.

Congratulations.

Can I make y'all some breakfast?

I can rip up a killer's
smoothie and help

you sort the Almond
Station on a cruise ship.

That sounds lovely. Thank you.

It's very kind of you to let them stay.

No. It's always easier dealing with
other people's families than your own.

I regret to inform you that in a
couple hours, this will be your family.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Here's her.

Yeah.

Shut her up.

Yeah.

Dad shut everyone out, too.

He lied all the time.

Look how that turned out.

I find myself getting very
angry these days, like Dad.

These days?

I've been thinking a lot lately about
how Dad died not knowing I'm gay.

I think he suspected him.

He may have.

But he didn't know for sure.

He never knew the entirety of me.

Now he never will.

And that makes who he...

It makes me real sad.

Well, what if he had
known and rejected you?

At least he'd be rejecting the real me.

I know that sounds crazy, but
there'd be some relief from him.

Doesn't sound so crazy.

People want to love you, Monk.

I personally don't know
what they see in you, but...

They want to love you.

You should let them love all of you.

That was dog shit.

I mean, some molly-coddled
chump faffing on about his dead mom?

Who cares?

Okay, so that means that
very me standing is fourth.

Let's talk about fuck.

Could we not?

Personally, I adored it.

It was like gazing into an open wound.

I agree.

I think it's the strongest African-American
novel I've read in a long time.

Since yours.

Of course, Sintara.

I actually liked it much
more than I was expecting.

I mean, this is a gutsy piece of work.

And necessary for the times.

Now, what did you think, Sintara?

I found it to be pretty
pandering, actually.

You did?

Yes, did you not?

I very much did.

I thought it was simplistic
and meaningless.

Well, of course it was simplistic.

I mean, it's the language of the gutter.

You know, not some prissy graduate thesis.

I think our blood sugar is low.

How about we take a
break for lunch? Fine by me.

Okay.

Really? Oh, I'm sorry.

Oh, no, you're fine.

I'm not interrupting.

Sorry.

Do you mind if I ask you something?

Sir?

What about the fuck did you find pandering?

Oh, I can't really put
my finger on it, but it's

not different from
some of what's out there,

but it just felt soulless, is
the word that I'm going to use.

You said you
agreed, right? I do.

I think it seems written to satisfy
the taste of guilt-ridden white people.

Yeah, the kind of book critics call important
and necessary, but not well written.

Exactly.

Okay, so, please don't
take offense at this, but

how is fuck so very
different from your book?

Is that what this is about?

You think my book's trash?

No, to be honest, I haven't read your book.

I've read excerpts, and it
didn't seem so dissimilar.

I did a lot of research for my book.

Some of it was actually
taken from real interviews.

Maybe you've been up in your
ivory tower of academia for so

long, you've forgotten that
some people's lives are hard.

Your life?

You went to an exclusive
bohemian college, you

had a job at a fancy
publishing house in New York.

So what?

I don't need to write about my life,
I write about what interests people.

You write what interests white
publishers feeding black trauma porn.

They're the one buying the manuscripts?
Is it bad to cater to their tastes?

If you're okay feeding
people's base desires for profit...

I'm okay with giving
the market what it wants.

That's how drug dealers excuse themselves.

And I think drugs should be legal.

But you're not fed up with it.

Black people in poverty,
black people rapping, black

people as slaves, black
people murdered by the police.

Whole soaring narratives about
black folks in dire circumstances

who still manage to maintain
their dignity before they die.

I mean, I'm not saying these things
aren't real, but we're also more than this.

And it's like so many
writers like you can't

envision this without some
white boot on our necks.

Do you get angry at Brett
Easton Ellis or Charles

Bukowski for writing
about the downtrodden?

Or is your ire strictly
reserved for black women?

Nobody reads Bukowski thinking
his is the definitive white experience,

but white people read your
book and confine us to it.

They think that we're all like that.

Then it sounds like your issue is
with white people, Mom, not me.

Maybe, but I also think
that I see the unrealized

potential of black
people in this country.

Potential is what people
see when they think

what's in front of
them isn't good enough.

So, what are we talking about?

We're starting again.

I'll be right there.

Hey, can I speak to Arthur?

Yeah, it's Monk.

Hey, I'm fine.

Listen, you think you can set
up another meeting with Wiley.

We've got a new idea for him.

Different kind of movie.

Thanks.

I think it's fuck for me.

You want me to? Yeah, I agree.

I disagree, I'm sorry.

I think it would be a mistake
to award this book anything.

Well, it's two versus
three, so fuck's the winner.

Fuck is the winner.

You know, it's not just
that it's so affecting.

I just think it's essential to
listen to black voices right now.

Mother, did you...

Did you know that Dad was cheating on you?

He was bad at keeping secrets.

Why didn't you leave him?

He would have been even
more lonely without me.

You thought he was lonely.

Your father was a genius.

A genius's son.

Because they can't
connect with the rest of us.

You're a genius, son.

I certainly don't feel
like one half the time.

That's because you've always
been so hard on yourself, Cliffy.

And now for the final
award for the evening.

I promise to leave you
alone, let you eat after this.

But before I announce the winner, I
would like to acknowledge our judges,

our incredibly diverse group
of judges who've sacrificed

valuable time so we could
all celebrate here tonight.

So if you put your hands
together, they did a fantastic job.

Okay, without further ado,

this year's literary award goes to...

by Stag R. Lee Buck.

Well, I'm not sure if Mr. Lee is going to
grace us with his presence here tonight.

He's notoriously cagey about attention.

Oh, hold on.

Oh, okay, I see some kisses.

Someone's coming.

Oh, Thelonious Ellison.

One of our esteemed judges.

Weirdly walking toward the stage.

No idea why.

Hey, what's going on?

I have a confession to make.

Wait, wait, wait. Smash to black.

No fucking way, dude.

What's wrong with that?

There's no resolution here. What's
he going to send? I don't know.

I think that's what's
interesting about it.

No, he should say something.
What did he say? Nothing.

I walked out of the ceremony,

and the next day I called you to
say I wanted to write this movie.

Well, Monk the character
should say something.

Well, I don't want him to
make some grandiose speech,

spoon-feeding everyone
the moral of the story.

There is no moral. That's the idea.
I like the ambiguity.

Okay, look. You're a good
writer, and this is almost there.

But novels aren't movies, okay?

Nuance doesn't put asses in theater seats.

We need a big finish. What is this?

It's the seltzer you asked for.

Why is it all wet? Condensation.

Condensation, okay.

You're a fucking weatherman now.
Do you want anything? No, I'm fine.

Thank you.

This is Monk. We're going to make a movie
with him if he can get the third act right.

Give me a flat one. And, hey, never again.

All right. What other endings
you got in that big brain ears?

How about it?

This year's literary award goes to...

By Stag R. Lee. Fuck.

I haven't been myself lately.

Will she forgive
him? I don't know.

The real Coraline won't
return my phone calls.

Maybe the movie Coraline is more forgiving.

No. It's too packed.

Makes the whole thing
feel like a romantic comedy.

We don't want to make a romantic comedy.
We want to make something real.

Give me something real.

I mean, we could just...

Hey, what's going on? Excuse me.

I don't need it.

I have a confession to make.

Stag Lee on the
ground now! No, no.

I'm not Stag Lee.

He doesn't exist.
I'm Monk, Thelonious Elson.

You're a fugitive on the
ground now! No, no, no.

That was all a
marketing gimmick.

It was all lies.

You got a gun! No, no, no.

It's perfect.

Yes! That is.

..

That is perfect!

Time to pick out your tux, my brother.

We're going to the big show.

Hey, come transcribe this. We got it.

So?

Are you going to make your movie or what?

Unfortunately, yes.

Hey! You know what?

Good luck finding someone
handsome enough to play me.

I think they have.

What do you got? Tyler Perry.

Ha, ha, ha, ha,
ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

That was good.

Alright.