Original subtitles

*

Lesser, I know you're in there.

I heard the tippety-tap of your typewriter.

You know I have nothing but the greatest respect for writers.

I want you should finish your book, win the nobel prize.

Levenspiel.

Have mercy, lesser.

I--i can't work with you making that fucking racket.

Lesser, let me in.

You're as pale as a dead fish, lesser.

What kind of life is this?

I don't understand how you can stay in this lousy flat all day.

Lesser, please move out

so I can break up this rotten building

that weighs like a hunch on my back.

I can't leave in the middle of my book.

If I did, it would take me 6 months to get back to work.

You don't know what you're asking, levenspiel.

Lesser, every other tenant has settled for a $400 buyout.

You, I offer $1,000 cash

and you look at me like I have a social disease.

Outside of your $72 monthly rent,

which only half pays for the oil you use,

I have no other income coming in from this place.

So if you're really a man, lesser, a human being,

please understand my situation.

Levenspiel, I'm listening. I've worked hard.

I--i, uh, I-I'm gonna finish soon.

Just, please, have some Patience with me.

My last book, for reasons I--i won't go into,

was a-- was a bomb.

I need to redeem myself in my own eyes.

Once I hit it right, the book will be off my chest and your back

and I'll leave overnight. Now, go away, for Christ sakes.

You're eating up my writing time.

Let me work in peace. Just go. Go.

Fuck your book!

Mark my words, lesser. In this world, it's the heart that counts.

Hey, man, don't you see me writing on my book?

I'm--i'm--I'm sorry. I'm--I'm a writer myself.

I live alone in this building, alone on this floor.

Uh, I'm--I'm writing a book myself.

Baby, it's a long, hard, lonely life.

But dig this.

From now on, I'll be here writing on my book daily.

You mean, levenspiel is letting you?

And which cat is that?

He owns the building. Haven't you met him?

D-didn't he tell you, you could work here?

Look, man, I ain't interested in no Jew landlord.

I was just looking for a place to finish writing my book,

and, hey, I ended up here.

What sort of writing do you do, if you don't mind me asking?

Now that's a personal question.

And what I'm writin', it's my personal business.

No, all I meant was, out of curiosity,

are you writing fiction, prose, uh, short stories, or what?

It might be fiction.

But nonetheless, it's real.

Nobody said it wasn't.

Harry. Harry lesser's my name.

Willie spearmint.

Well, sorry for the interruption.

I'd better be getting back to my own book.

My 3rd novel.

It was a surprise to find somebody else up here typing.

I--i--i thought for a second I was going crazy. I...

I'd gotten used to being the only man on the island.

Sorry again. I--i hate interruptions myself. But if you--you need anything,

I'm generally free in the late afternoons, like, you know, 5:00, 5:30.

You know what? Make it 6:00. 6:00 is...

6:00 is better.

Say, man, can I leave this here until the morning?

I don't want nobody to steal it out of my office.

I've been hiding it in the closet,

but, uh, that ain't like hiding if you can dig what I'm saying.

Are you, uh, you through for the day?

What's it to you?

Nothing. I just thought I'd ask.

I work from like, uh, 8:00 to 12:00.

4 solid hours and then I'm out.

Oh.

Man, I'll tell you, this writing stuff is no joke.

How long you go for?

About 6 hours a day. Sometimes more.

What about your manuscript?

You could leave it here.

Needless to say, I would respect your privacy.

No, sir.

This stays with papa.

Yeah, I understand.

About what time will you be coming for the machine?

Hmm, like 8:00 or 9:00.

But if I miss a day, don't even sweat it.

Well, I'm--I'm up by then, except Sundays.

Sundays I'm flipping my girl. Mmm-hmm.

Well, I envy you that.

No need, man. There's meat all around.

The women I meet generally wanna get married.

Stay away from that type.

Hey, lesser. Is it cool if I leave my typewriter under the table right here?

Man, oh, man, lesser, this is a groovy apartment.

Yeah.

I made some money on a movie sale about 8 years ago.

I took it all in deferred payments.

I've done fine till now.

Shit, les.

If I had that kind of bread, I'd be king of shit mountain.

What are you gonna do when it's all gone?

Well, it's almost all gone now.

But my book will be finished by the summer.

The advance on that should carry me

another 2, 3 years till the next one.

It take you that long to write a book

longer.

I'm a-- I'm a slow writer.

Baby, you better put the pedal to the metal.

Rachmaninoff.

Berlioz. Schumann.

Yeah, be c-c-careful with those.

Those are-- those are pretty expensive.

Now, what's this girl to you?

Oh, she's real.

She talks to me.

Talkin' ain't tellin'.

Are you an expert on the black experience?

I'm an expert at writing.

Good.

'Cause I hate all that black like me bullshit.

White folks trying to tell me what it's like to be black.

Nice crib, lesser.

We might have to throw a party in here.

Not this week. Maybe next.

Say, baby, let's just have a good time tonight.

Ain't no need for you to be frowning down like that.

* come on, girl. Stop being so uptight.

Put a smile on your face.

You're too beautiful for that.

Say, lesser. What's happening, baby?

Come on, baby, come on.

How you doing this evening?

Mary kettlesmith.

Sam.

Willie's white chick.

Say, lesser, I would have brought more people,

but it's cold as fuck outside

and you know black people don't do well in those conditions.

Say, lesser, man,

what is this shit you listening to?

That's, uh, that's--that's my music.

I got some righteousness here for you.

Not that watered-down shit you're used to.

Hmm.

*

* penetrate, penetrate

* penetrate, penetrate

* penetrate, penetrate

* penetrate, penetrate

* as I look all around, all I can see *

* is more and more people full of greed *

* they have enough, yet they want some more *

* and they'll steal, deal, or kill to get some more *

* and take you and me, we're not free of this disease *

* we groove to our step to be clean *

* oh, we've got to learn to control our desires *

* and we have a message for others who don't get some *

* penetrate, penetrate

* penetrate, penetrate

* penetrate, penetrate

* penetrate, penetrate *

you know, I only live a few blocks away

on court and 4th.

I'm--i'm--I'm sorry.

That's ok. Don't worry about it, Harry.

I like you just fine.

You smell white.

What's white smell like?

No smell at all.

Say, lesser, have a seat, man.

Come take a hit of this.

It's part Lebanese hashish.

Don't smell it, boy. Suck it in your gut.

Here. Give me that.

What's your book about?

Nothing, I guess.

It's about this guy who writes because

he's never really told the truth

and he's dying to.

What's yours about, Willie?

Shit. Me.

How's it coming?

Smooth.

How's yours?

Slow.

Shit, I'm gonna win the fucking nobel peace prize.

They gonna give me a million dollars in cash, baby.

After me, Willie.

I'm writing my best book.

It's a small masterpiece, this book.

This book is gonna-- is gonna Grant me

immortality.

Harry lesser.

I'll be remembered.

Pile on the shit, man. Pile it on.

Pile on the coal until you see the smoke.

You can have that immortality shit.

Me, I'm gonna shovel up the bread.

Hmm. It's only money, Willie.

That's all I want. Fuck everything else.

No. Art's the glory.

Art is the glory, Willie.

Only a schmuck thinks otherwise.

Say, lesser, don't bug me with that Jew word.

I know what you're thinking about.

Don't think I don't.

My book will be dynamite.

And I'm gonna drop it on the first white prick I see.

Fuck off.

I'm Willie's girl.

Sorry.

You bite your nails?

Yes.

My real name is belinsky, not bell,

and I've been Willie's girl for 2 years.

Anything else you wanna know?

What's your book about, lesser?

Love.

What do you know about love?

Say, lesser, man, cool it.

Don't go pulling that ape shit on me.

Say, lesser, thanks for the good time tonight, baby.

We groove on art. You my man.

My favorite man.

We're gonna be real tight, baby.

Say, les, let me pull your coat about something, man.

Willie, I know. I'm so sorry about last night.

It was the hashish. I was stoned.

I--i--i--i wasn't myself. I, um-- I'm sorry.

I was thinking I could leave my manuscript here tonight.

Sure.

Sure. No... Don't--don't worry about anybody reading it.

You have my word on that.

Look. I'm asking you to read it.

I sat in my office today, reading over my book.

I got a funny feeling I fell off track some-fucking-where.

I don't know why, where, or when.

All I know is that my vision got blurred up.

You need some distance, Willie.

Just walk away from it for a minute.

Man, I tried that bullshit already.

You can save me a lot of worry and a lot of trouble

if you tell me where I went wrong.

You want me to read your manuscript?

Nobody else I know has 2 novels published.

I will if you really want me to.

Now, would I be asking you if I didn't want you to?

Willie.

I'm, uh,

I'm ready to talk about it whenever you are.

I thank you, lesser, for reading it.

Drink?

Let's cut the preliminary bullshit, lesser,

and get right down to it.

Look, Willie.

You asked me to read your book.

If you think you're gonna be uptight about what I say,

then maybe we ought to call it off right now.

I am uptight, man,

because that's my nature, as well as my personal privilege.

Well, I got my own nature to consider,

and it likes to live in peace.

All I'm saying is if we can't have a reasonable talk

then let's just forget it.

I've been on my book for years and finally wanna get it done.

And for that, I need peace and quiet.

That's why I like it up here.

No serious disturbances.

Instead of preaching to me, lesser,

you need to get off your white ass and speak your true piece.

I don't want you to bullshit with me,

nor do I wanna argue with you.

I heartily agree.

Willie, what can I tell you?

I mean, what can I say to a man

who has seen the things that you have seen.

First off, there's no question that you're a writer.

Both parts of the book, the autobiography and the story,

both strong and moving.

I especially like the last story,

"I write for black freedom,"

the one about, uh, Ephraim, Harry, and the white girl.

Stunning.

Whatever the writing lacks, there's obviously

a talent at work here.

Oh, come on now, lesser. Who you talkin' to?

You ain't tellin' me nothin'.

Get down to the cold shit truth of it all.

Ok, Willie.

The truth is the book is good but it could be better.

I told you that myself.

Now tell me what I really asked you.

Where did I steer off track?

Um, I--i would say that the--the form of the whole

really isn't sufficient.

There's a-- there's a flawed quality, which you call blurred

that gives it that-- that shifting effect that seems to bother you.

Lesser.

I'm gonna show you how completely

full of shit you are in what you just said.

First off, the way you classify my work, dead wrong.

The part you call autobiography, made up.

I made the shit up. It's pure fiction.

I made it up as I was going along.

The guy narrating? That ain't me.

Shit, I was born in Harlem, 129th street.

Then I moved to bed-stuy with my ma when I was 6 years old.

The closest I've been down south was swimming at coney island.

I never lived in Detroit, Michigan,

despite my father did for 3 years

working at a shitty job cleaning out toilets.

On the other hand, the 4 short stories that I wrote,

that shit was real.

It's about brothers like me that live a hard life.

They got to deal with redneck motherfuckers like yourself every day.

That's the only autobiography this book had to bring.

That's it. End of story.

Well, the book has the tone of an autobiography.

But even if it's pure fiction,

the point is something's not coming off right,

or you wouldn't have asked me to read it.

Lesser, how can you be so fuckin' sure about what you say

if my book turns out to be 2 different things than you thought?

In any case, we both agree it needs more work.

Work? I worked my ass off to the flat bone.

I've worked past misery, man.

This is my 4th draft. How many more I gotta do?

Maybe try one more.

Fuck that.

L-listen. I--i... Willie,

I-I've got to get back to my own book now.

Hey, look, man, don't give me that grief shit.

I know how you feel, Willie. I've been in your shoes.

Ain't no white motherfucker been in my shoes.

This book is about a black man.

White fiction is completely different.

You don't understand this shit.

You can't turn the black experience into literature

just by writing it down.

Black fiction ain't white. It can't be.

We feel different, we write different, our chemistry is different.

Dig. I write for the souls of all the black people crying out

that we ain't gonna be slaves in this motherfucking country no more.

We ain't gonna deal with you redneck motherfuckers no more.

You wouldn't understand that though, lesser,

because your brain is white.

Willie, a million black men

can have the same appalling experience.

It takes one unique man to write it down.

Then it's not a black thing. It's not a white thing.

It's a human thing.

It's your job to make it my experience.

That's what a writer does, Willie. That's what a writer does.

Being human ain't shit. They ain't never done nothing for us.

Willie, why don't you just--just--just find yourself a publisher

and let them read it, ok? Let them read it.

Them rat-head motherfuckers don't wanna hear what my book has to say.

They're scared of it.

What a fool.

What a black-ass fool I was letting you read my fucking book.

Willie.

Where you been?

I was, uh,

I was worried about you, Willie.

Call me bill, lesser.

My writing name is my real name from now on.

Bill spear.

Um, ok. Well,

bill it is then.

Lesser, I wanna say something to you

going back to that rap we had the other day.

Won't take but a minute.

What is it, Willie? I'm sorry. Bill. Bill.

I went by the library by my girl's house

and, uh, checked out your books.

Both of 'em.

I might add, the 2nd book

gives off a bad smell.

But the first one you wrote, classic.

It's the truth.

Irene said I be talking to myself.

Wouldn't expect nothing like that from you, les,

such a square like yourself.

Well, thanks anyway, bill.

But there's one thing.

What?

The sister in the book, the chick?

To me, she wasn't black. But I liked her attitude

and I wouldn't mind laying some pipe in her pants.

Well, at least she was real enough to wanna fuck.

Yeah, she was real. But not like anybody I know.

Least ways, nobody black.

But, um, I will admit, it got me thinkin'.

After readin' your book, both of them,

I understand what you was talking about with that form shit.

What's the matter, man, you all right?

I just got a lot of stuff on my mind.

But you see what I mean.

'Cause I don't wanna become some half-ass white writer

or some black writer who writes what the white man tells him to write.

I gotta write from the heart.

I mean, we're different than you, lesser.

We write different, we feel different, we are different.

What I wanna do is take what you know, add on to what I know,

put them both together and write black art as a black man should.

And if I gotta learn from you or any other white man, then so be it.

That's what it's gonna be. That's what the purpose is all about.

So I want you to just take everything that I gave you

and throw it away.

I got some new shit.

I got this story I'm working on where this kid and his ma,

they just go out and kill white people all day in the south. Yeah.

I'm thinking about callin' it

A revenge story.

Check this out, les. Here's what I want you to do for me.

And I wouldn't be asking this if we both wasn't writers.

Tell me how can I write the same things,

the same ideas,

but only better.

I don't know if this is a good idea,

considering how things went the other day.

Well, baby, if you don't wanna read what I show you,

fuck your white ass.

Who's the gorilla in hozheiner's old flat?

Friend of yours?

Which gorilla do you have in mind?

Don't get cute with me, lesser.

I found a typewriter on the table in the living room.

Also an apple, less a few bites

and a piss-smelling mattress in the middle of the floor.

Where's he hiding?

I'll take your word for it. Who is this son of a bitch?

I don't know. He comes and goes.

Well, he's some kind of writer

'cause I read some of the rolled up paper balls

he throws on the floor.

One begins with a small little boy in Harlem.

Who is he

I don't know.

Well, you tell him, whoever he is,

that he's trespassing, and I'm gonna throw him out on his ass.

You're trespassing on my writing time.

Hey.

So how's the work coming along?

On and off. Too many interruptions.

Let me ask you. Would you take $1,500,

if I made the offer?

I'd take it. It's pure gold.

I'll keep it in mind.

I'm writing as fast as I can.

You rush, you distort.

Is that your final offer?

Final once removed.

What's final I seek, but can't find.

You tell that nigger I'm coming back with a cop.

Tell him yourself.

I went to get a typewriter ribbon.

Who took my stuff, lesser, you?

Levenspiel found your setup.

Went to get a cop.

What the fuck for? What harm am I doing here?

You're trespassing. In this shit hole?

He had one writer to get rid of.

Now he's got 2, and you don't pay rent.

Jew slumlord bastard.

Cut out the Jew stuff, Willie.

Bill is my name, lesser.

Ok, bill. Cut out the Jew stuff.

Oh, shit.

Hide in the bathroom.

Police. Open up.

Levenspiel, what's your business?

My business is legal, lesser.

We broke up your friend's furniture in the apartment

which he was trespassing.

But I know you're in possession of his typewriter,

that I already saw.

I hope you're proud of yourself.

What are my rights?

Not that a landlord has many in this fercockta city.

They're my rights.

I don't owe you any apologies, lesser.

I'm about to search every apartment in this building.

And if we don't find your black friend anywhere else,

I'll know that you're hiding him here.

Bring a search warrant if you wanna get in.

We will.

What are your plans, Willie?

I ain't got no fucking plans. Look at this shit.

Me and my girl just got in a fucking argument the other night.

I can't go back to her place.

God damn!

Listen, you can,

you can work in my kitchen tomorrow.

Or if it makes you feel claustrophobic,

we can move the table into the living room.

In a couple of days, we'll find you a new place.

I know a secondhand store on 3rd Avenue.

We can, uh, pick up a few things there.

Lesser, man, I ain't got no bread.

That's what me and irene keep arguing about.

She wants me to get a gig.

Well, don't worry about it.

I still have a few dollars in the bank.

My man.

You all right, lesser.

Hiya, bill.

Right on, lesser, right on.

I know the artist.

His name was Lazar Cohen.

I knew the woman, too. She was his girlfriend at the time.

He worked on it for many years and then gave up.

He never thought he got it right.

His friends persuaded him to release it for sale, but

didn't do him any good.

He's dead.

He hit a truck with his motorcycle on Hudson street.

Is Willie a good writer?

I mean, will he be?

Well, he--he could be if he-- if he stays with it.

There's--there's no half-assed way to be a good writer.

There's nothing half-assed about Willie.

You know, you really hurt him, what you said about his book.

I didn't mean to.

Well, he said you didn't think much of it.

I--i liked the stories better than the life.

They're a lot more original.

But it isn't just autobiographical.

Yeah.

Willie came to Harlem from Georgia when he was 16 with his mom and kid sister.

I thought it was Mississippi.

He changes his birthplace every time he talks about it.

There's a lot of stuff he just really doesn't like to remember.

Did he really do a stretch in prison?

2 years.

You know, but most of it's made up.

Willie's a very imaginative guy.

He enjoys being imaginative.

You should hear when he gets to talking about himself.

That's the tone I'd like to see in his next book.

What do you think of it so far?

Well, I think if he stays with it seriously, it--it ought to be good.

How seriously?

You have to break your balls to be a good writer?

Everything with you is so fucking serious, lesser.

When do you laugh?

I laugh when I write.

Which is

what I should be doing now. Just...

You know, I read your novel. The first one.

And it was good. It was much better than I thought it would be.

The girl in it, she reminded me of myself, actually, when I was her age.

I was a very fucked-up girl.

What do you mean?

I'd just quit college, and I thought I wanted to be an actress,

but, really, I was just looking for a way to skip being myself.

A lot of this came out in therapy.

Anyway, I was a fucked-up kid,

and I was having a rough time.

And then I met Willie.

At first we got along really badly,

but then things got better.

And he moved in with me.

How do you and Willie stand as of now?

What do you mean?

Well, you seem to be together, but you seem to be apart.

Yeah, that's a good description of us.

Do you love him?

Why do you wanna know?

'Cause we're sitting here.

I think if Willie loved me, we'd probably be married by now.

But outside of his love for black people,

I don't think he loves anything except his work.

We talk an awful lot about race and color.

One thing about loving a black man,

there's times when you feel black yourself.

Yeah.

Well, maybe you should find yourself another.

I gotta get back to work.

Hey, lesser, where you been, man?

You holding me up. I been looking for you.

Oh, I just went for a walk.

I went uptown to a museum.

I left a note on your desk.

Man, I can't rap to you right now.

It's the weekend. I gotta see my girl.

I'll see you Monday.

Hey, what's up over here, man?

Hey, come on over here, baby. Come on.

You want some of this smoothness.

Lesser, man. For Christ sakes, cross over.

Got some soul people over here with me.

Say, man.

We're having a shing-ding at Mary's house tonight.

How'd you like to come along?

Yeah, sure. Well, join the train.

Oh, no, not now, hold up, man. Hold up.

What's up with this?

He's a fucking good writer. Join the train.

Hi!

* hmm, good to see you.

I thought you might come by, seeing as we live so close and everything.

I'm really glad you came.

I'm glad I came, too.

I was happy to see you.

Listen.

I have a key to a friend's apartment across the hall.

And as soon as everybody gets a little higher,

I'm going in there.

You should come, too.

If you're in the mood to.

Only, give me about 10 minutes

so no one sees us get up and walk right out of here,

one right after the other.

Sam might take offense.

Mary?

In here.

I hope you don't mind me getting undressed first.

I just thought I'd be a little warmer under here.

My god, you're lovely.

You've never been with a black woman before?

No.

Don't make too much of it. Now, come on.

Get in the bed with me.

You think you're white? You're wrong.

You're really black. All white people are.

But the blacks are the true whites.

Lesser. Get your pale face ass over here.

Chum, we gonna play a little game.

A game of nothing but naked words.

You throw yours on me, I'll throw mines on you.

The one who cries mama loses, and we shit on him. You dig?

What's the point of that?

The point is the point.

I thought we were friends, bill.

You got no friends here.

Suppose I don't play.

You gonna fuck black, you gonna face black.

Off this motherfucker.

Listen, I'm gonna go easy on you.

So you can join in on the fun.

Now I'm not gonna go on your mama or your sister, like we normally do,

but, uh, get down to the tough shit funk of it.

Special for you.

Lesser, you think you're so hot.

You got the look of a shit pot.

Now raise me on that.

Oh, and if you don't, we might have to play a different game.

Poker?

Motherfucker, have you lost your nuts down the can?

Ok, uh...

Ok, Willie, bill.

Bill, your mouth is a place of excrement.

Lesser. You a mammy-rammer,

shit for brains, no good, redneck motherfucker.

Oh!

What good is a contest of imprecation?

All this does is raise bad feelings.

Would you listen to this soft bullshit?

Sam, Sam, Sam, Sam.

This honky belongs to me.

Chill out. He's my guest.

Willie, baby, can we go home?

Go. Go. Get.

Well, can't you come with me?

Irene, go fuck yourself.

Ooh.

Well, if I could, what are you gonna do for kicks?

Yeah, whatever, bitch.

Now, lesser.

I called you a two-bit, good-for-nothing, redneck motherfucker.

Now, aren't you gonna answer back?

If you have to do this, why don't you write it?

I thought you were a writer.

Look, motherfucker.

Don't tell me how to write.

I don't need no Jew motherfuckers

trying to tell me how and what to write.

If you have some s-sort of complaint with me,

why don't you say it directly?

If what you have to say is none of your business in the first place,

then let Sam say it.

I told you not to let this redneck shit-eater

come along here in the first place.

How much more of a motherfucking coward are you gonna be?

Just answer the question that I laid down.

Ok, bill. Ok.

I--i could call you a filthy prick.

I withdraw that.

No, you not, motherfucker. You ain't withdrawing nothing.

That's the rules to this shit.

Now the reason why you wanna withdraw

is 'cause you really wanna call me a filthy nigger prick.

But you ain't got the balls to say it, do you?

I didn't-- I didn't-- I didn't say that one.

I--i didn't-- I didn't say that.

I--i thought of that because I knew that

that's what you wanted to hear.

Yeah, fine and dandy.

Now I'm gonna call you a motherfucking, redneck, Jew, shit-eating,

dick-sucking, dyke-faced motherfucker.

I get the message, bill.

I get the message.

And I concede the game.

That's my last word.

Say, brothers. Let the white spook exit.

Get the fuck out of here, lesser.

Bye.

Damn, lesser, I ain't get shit done.

Not one fucking sentence.

Man, I tell you.

Hung-over like a motherfucker.

I want you to know, lesser, as I saved your ass last night.

Saved whose ass?

Sam wanted the brothers to beat up on you for putting meat to his girl,

but I cooled them out with that game.

Well, in that case, thanks.

I'm grateful.

You sure as shit don't look it.

Trust me.

I just wanted you to know that.

Listen, torvald.

I heard when a wife abandons her husband's house,

as I am doing now,

he's legally free from all obligations towards her.

In any case, I set you free from any obligation.

You are not to feel yourself bound to me

in the slightest way, any more than I shall.

There must be perfect freedom on both sides.

Here, here's your ring back.

Give me mine.

All over.

All over. Nora.

Will you never think of me again?

I know I shall often think of you and the children

and this house.

Irene.

Irene, it's lesser.

What are you doing here?

I came to tell you I love you, irene.

I thought you'd want to know.

I thought you liked Mary.

I slept with her for want of you.

You're in love with me because I'm Willie's Jewish white girl.

You trying to save me from a life of poverty and crime with a black man?

An ex

my love

professes no more than love.

I love you.

I want you.

What kind of want?

The long want.

Say it plainly. I'm not very subtle.

I wanna marry you after I finish my book.

You're both alike.

My feet are cold.

Let's go upstairs.

Take off your coat.

Why a black Jesus?

Oh, Willie won't let me hang any pictures of whites.

And I won't hang pictures of flowers.

I like real flowers.

But why Jesus?

Rather than h. Rap brown?

Is there a black Moses?

I believe in god.

I'm afraid of what we're doing even though I wanna do it.

You worried about Willie?

And myself.

I'm also really afraid

of getting involved with another writer.

I love you, irene.

Would you consider moving to San Francisco?

Sure.

After I finish my book.

I've made up my mind.

I'm giving up acting.

I'm not a natural.

This is my last play.

I'm fed up with my life here. I'm fed up with New York.

Yeah.

Ok.

So could we say,

3, 4, maybe 5 months at the latest?

Sure.

Just worried about Willie.

What do you mean?

He doesn't really have anybody.

And I've been pretty much supporting him since he moved in with me.

He has very little to live on as it is, and I just...

I don't want him to go back to running numbers or dealing.

He'll get a job.

I worked plenty of shitty jobs writing my first book

and I still had time to write.

Yeah, but any job he got would pay him half as much as what you earned

and make him work twice as hard.

I worked my ass off.

I know we're not, but I just feel like we're a couple of whiteys

giving some nigger a kick in the ass.

Come on. I don't feel that way.

All this amounts to is 2 people,

you and Willie,

finally agreeing to end an affair.

That's all.

Forget about the,

the whitey bit.

Hello.

Irene, I won't be coming around this Friday.

This chapter's giving me a hard time right now,

and I got to stay on it.

Well, I'm sorry to hear that.

I will be around in about a week or 2.

You know, I'm telling you.

I can think of a whole lot of things I wanna do to you right now.

Well, don't depend on it.

Don't think I'm not thinking about you, baby.

All right. I'll see you later.

When are we gonna tell him?

What do you mean?

You know what.

Either you tell him,

or I tell him,

or we tell him together.

Can we just let it die naturally?

I'd like it better if Willie tells himself

and then he tells me it's over.

But if it comes to actually having to tell him,

I'd like to do it myself.

The sooner the better.

Or he'll be knocking on your door next Friday expecting to sleep with you.

Sex isn't the important thing.

How's every little thing, lesser?

Keep knockin' at your fucking door,

but nobody gets up to open it.

You hidin' on me? You find a girl?

I've been getting out more lately.

My book is moving and

so am I.

So you got past

your rough, swampy place, huh?

Yeah, that's right.

Mines keeps jammin' me up.

Every morning when I wake up I see that big fucking typewriter machine

staring at me like a motherfuckin' eagle.

"None but the brave deserve the fair!"

Say what?

It's a poem.

Black or white?

John dryden. Englishman.

Yeah, right on.

I will read it.

Anyway, why I came up here is, uh,

I want you to take a look at this new chapter.

The mother in it's giving me trouble.

Can't seem to get her to die right.

I done wrote it like 20 times

and now I think she's expiring like she ought to be.

How do you feel about it yourself?

If I really knew, I wouldn't ask you.

Honest to god, I wouldn't.

But, lesser, if you can give it a read for me today,

we can rap about it for about a half hour.

Every good book is written in uncertainty.

I'll take a look at it.

Thanks, lesser. It'd be a real relief.

Especially to help me get this part of the book finished.

I haven't seen my girl in about a month

and I got blue balls.

Really need to spend some time with her. Can you dig what I'm saying?

She pestifies me, but, hmm, hmm, hmm...

What a sweet lay.

Do you love her?

Man, that's my business.

And if I get to see her

depends on that chapter you have over there.

Now, if you tell me I got it right, or halfway right,

then I get to fuck off my weekend with her.

But, uh, if you think it needs a little more work,

and I agree with you,

then I have to bang it out some more.

So take a look at it and tell me what you think.

*

How'd it go?

I am so over it.

Willie gave me his book today.

I can't do this. I can't.

We got to tell him something.

I know. I know. He came by the house today.

What

relax, Harry.

He just took a shower and he changed his underwear and then he left.

He was gone before I was even out of the bathroom.

All he cares about is his book.

You got to trust me on this one.

I trust you.

Let me tell him.

Bill.

Bill, I read your chapter.

Speak your piece, lesser.

Bill, I really don't think we ought to fool around with your book anymore.

At this stage, whatever you think you're doing right,

you ought to go on doing.

You know, you're a gifted writer.

Ultimately, it's your book.

All I want to know,

what I really need to know is,

did I get the boy and the mama right?

Are they for real, man?

And don't bullshit me on that.

For the first couple of pages.

Up to the mother's death.

Then after that, bill, the stream of consciousness...

It just-- it just doesn't work.

You trying to fuck with my mind and confuse me, man?

Huh? You trying to kill off my natural writing

by pretending you interested in my fucking form of it all.

Knowing you're afraid of the truth of what my book has to say.

Which is blacks have to murder you white motherfuckers for crippling our lives.

Get your ass off my motherfucking spot.

I can't believe I was believing in you.

Get your Jew ass out my motherfucking pad.

Fuck it.

Bill.

There's more to it than I told you, bill.

Say, man, I'm quittin' this writing thing.

It's no fault of yours.

I decided it ain't no gig for me.

I gotta get off my broke ass and get this true action.

Get out there with my brothers in the struggle.

Writing is action.

Don't give up on that, bill.

Action is my action.

Forget what I said

and write the way you have to.

What was you gonna say when you first came in here, lesser?

This.

After I finish my book,

irene and I are getting married.

We're in love, bill.

We figured you wouldn't care one way or the other

because you had more or less broken up with her.

You said so to both of us.

I wish I'd told you this before.

That was my girl.

I taught her everything she know.

She didn't even know how to fuck until I taught her.

You fuck her?

I'm gonna teach you something, motherfucker.

Man! What are you doing?

Fuck you!

Help!

God damn it! Shit!

I'll teach you, motherfucker.

You dirty sons of bitches!

I'll get a court order, god damn it.

My god, lesser, look what you've done to yourself.

You're your own worst enemy.

Bringing a half-naked nigger into this house.

If you don't take my advice and move out,

you'll wake up one morning playing a tambourine in your grave.

Yes.

Irene.

I begged you to let me tell him.

Why didn't you at least tell me that you were going to?

There was no chance. It--it--it came up suddenly.

Bullshit there was no chance.

You had to tell him. It's your profession to tell everybody everything.

You couldn't wait. I waited. I wait.

I waited too damn long for you to tell him.

You're crazy if you think he was about to leave you.

It would've gone on like this for years.

I had to tell him something. I know him.

I know Willie wasn't happy with me anymore. I know him.

What are you concerned about? Him or me?

I told you that I love you. I'm concerned about Willie.

He tried to throw me out a fucking window!

Would you fucking get that?

He called me all these filthy names and then

he told me he couldn't stand the sight of me anymore.

This all just turned out exactly the opposite of what I had hoped.

I thought that he'd still feel affection for me when we broke up.

And that he'd remember the good times.

All right. Don't cry. Come on.

I just wish you'd let me tell him.

I wish you had.

Harry, I'm frightened for you.

M w

because they could easily get at you

in that creepy, empty tenement.

You know, Willie's friends are very loyal to him.

They could hide in the stairs or in the hall. They couldn't do that here.

The elevator man would call the cops.

Why don't you just come and stay here with me for a little while?

Anybody who's out to get me can get me.

Elevator man or no elevator man.

How are you going to live in the same building with him?

No, he's not see... He's not gonna see.

He's not gonna stay there. There's no way.

Because the--the landlord's found his place again. So he...

Harry, let's just get married.

We--we could just move to another city or a different neighborhood.

That's what we'll do.

As soon as I finish my book.

No! No!

No, no, no!

No! No!

That's impossible, Harry.

Irene. I can do this.

This has happened to other people.

I'm--i'm--I'm not the first writer that this has happened to.

T.e. Lawrence left his entire manuscript

of 7 pillars of wisdom on a train.

Carlyle accidentally chucked all of his French revolution

into John Stuart mill's fireplace. I mean,

I--i can-- I can do this, irene.

I know-- I know I can. I--i... listen.

I remember most of what I reworked, I do.

I can-- I can do this.

Well, how long is it gonna take?

6 months.

At most.

What about San Francisco?

Irene. Irene.

I'm, uh...

I'm a creature of habit.

I need to finish the book where I started it.

I thought you wanted more from your life than your writing.

It's what you told me the first night we slept together.

I do.

And I love you.

But for the time being, my first priority is my book.

You know, Harry,

all you do all day is sit on your ass writing.

And all you do all day when you come over here

is sit on your ass reading.

Why don't you just save time all around and go fuck your book.

Lesser. I found out I'm a sick man.

My doctor gave me a warning.

I've given up cigars, but it doesn't help.

$10,000 is my absolute top offer.

I've received in the mail a bid from a money group,

an offer to take over this property for high-rise construction.

I am considering that offer.

I know. I know.

It was a little cold of me to send a letter,

but it's not easy to reach you

since you turned your phone off,

and I couldn't wait any longer.

I've waited long enough.

Irene-- Harry, don't bother.

I'm going to San Francisco

without you.

You're free to finish your book now.

Irene, just wait for me.

I've waited long enough.

And I've waited once before.

I'm through waiting.

You know, I've always been attracted to these

characters like you and Willie

who were more deeply involved with their work than with me.

And maybe that's what I wanted then,

but that isn't what I want now.

Harry, I want a family.

Irene, you--you deserve that.

What a bourgeois shit I've become.

Irene.

Irene,

I love you.

I love you.

I want-- I want to marry you.

You're already married, Harry,

to your fucking book.

No book is as important as you are.

I know that.

I know that.

That's such bullshit.

It's you and your book.

Forever, till death do you part.

And if it's not this one, then it's the next.

I gotta go.

Good luck, Harry.

Lesser!

Lesser!

Lesser!