Original subtitles

I'd like to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself alone

Get you and keep you

In my arms evermore

Leave all your lovers

Weeping on a faraway shore

We agree to discharge your debts...

- in return for your Japanese assets. - Real estate?

No!

Insurance companies?

No!

- Gambling parlors? - No, no, no!

Out on the briny

With the moon big and shiny

He said the gambling parlors belonged to his mother,

and she would be very angry to see them sold.

Then you have a choice: Please your mother or face criminal charges.

To a man of honor, that is no choice.

Then he may go to jail. Please sign here.

Melting your heart of stone

That was physical.

I haven't had a physical confrontation like that since I was your age, Storey.

- His mother is very angry. - His mother packs a powerful punch.

I'd love to get you

On a slow boat to China

It's a contract with blood on it. My blood!

- Let me get you a new copy. - No, no, no. I like the drama, and respect the gesture.

I hope you would punch the foreigner who bought your mother's property, Storey.

I would check if he would punch me back.

All to myself alone

Well, spilt blood might help to remove his shame.

- You should now make the three monkeys. - What?

You should denote the three monkeys every time you make a deal.

Hmm.

Pachinko parlors are not small change.

They are big business, and you deeply offended his honor.

- You were rude. - I wasn't rude. Whose side are you on?

- You should sell them quickly. - No. If they can arouse such passion, keep them.

I do not think, Mr. Storey, that that is wise,

and I have your best interests at heart.

What, mine? You have my blood on them.

Well, we'll keep them for a year. Fresh assessment next April.

Though you'll mismanage them, Storey.

Maybe by next year they'll have your blood on them.

Ear, chin, time one, time two.

Prick, foot, hand and God.

The luck of a man without a woman.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

Simato!

Simato!

The luck of a woman with a man.

- Hello, Storey, it's me. - What are you doing in Geneva?

You're supposed to be here tomorrow.

Dad, you still there? Do you want me to call you back?

- It's your mother. - How is she? Put her on.

She's not well.

- What's the matter? - She's very ill.

In fact, she's so ill she's not moving anymore.

What are you talking about?

She's not breathing anymore.

She's not living anymore.

In fact, she's dead.

What?

- I can't talk anymore just now. - Hey, wait! Dad?

When you've thought about it, Storey, ring me.

Ten minutes, five minutes.

I won't go away.

Ear, chin, heart-- Heart.

Prick, foot... and God.

Ad infinitum.

I lived most of my life with my wife in this bed.

- You make it sound as though you never got up. - I like sleeping.

- You were conceived in this bed. - You weren't asleep then.

No, but I have a feeling your mother was.

Read to me.

Your mother did.

What shall I read?

Something grand and significant.

The Constitution of America?

No. Your mother was an American, and she never needed it.

The Lord's Prayer?

No, I never needed that, either.

Something in Latin.

You don't understand Latin!

You see? Mangled rubbish.

I love Latin.

But for some reason, I was very bad at it.

Shamefully and blushingly bad at it.

- You were bad at Mass. - That was different.

In moments of stress, the embarrassment of how bad I was at Latin...

really hit me.

It was like being laughed at by somebody you desperately loved.

Where are you going?

Maybe I want to see that maid Clothilde again with a coffeepot.

Or maybe I-- I wish I wanted to see her.

How come she can be alive pouring coffee...

and not your mother?

- You aren't gay, are you? - No.

I like my own cock well enough,

but I've never been able to work up much enthusiasm for anyone else's.

God, you've had all this redecorated!

It was your mother's idea. She was spring cleaning.

Don't change the subject.

How come you haven't got plans to marry?

Perhaps because I'm too much in love with my own prick to share it permanently.

- It's probably your fault. - My fault?

Ever since I was eight and you put that full-length mirror in my wardrobe door,

and I wanted to be double-jointed...

so I could kiss my cock good night before I went to sleep.

All this narcissism is rather boring, isn't it?

Find yourself a woman.

Get someone else to kiss your cock for you.

- Let's go to a hotel. - No.

It's too far away from her, and she might want me.

How's that possible?

I might want her.

You've never slept with a corpse, I take it.

I'd like to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself

Alone

Get you and keep you

In my arms evermore

Leave all your lovers

Weeping on a faraway shore

When I was young, I hated my body because it was so thin.

Now I try not to look at it too much because it's... so old.

Perhaps it was just six months...

when I felt comfortable with it.

Then I discovered alcohol for the first time,

and that drive was...

fattening up when I just met your mother.

What was that noise?

It's an owl.

Sounds like your mother singing in the loo.

She sang to let you know she was in there.

It's a funny thing to do, don't you think?

If you were oversensitive about bodily functions,

you'd have thought she'd have kept very quiet about it, wouldn't you?

It's no good. This is too uncomfortable, and you make me feel guilty.

- Why? - You should've had brothers and sisters.

Then you could've discussed sex with them.

But you're my father.

Why can't I discuss sex with you?

- Your interest in sex got me here. - Oh.

Why do you keep saying things like that?

I'm bonding.

Did you ever do it in the back of a Rolls?

Shut up. I'm too miserable to think about sex.

Look at all these wasted, empty bedrooms,

all set up with beds and bathrooms.

It's like a hotel without people.

There used to be people here enough in the summer when I was a child.

We should fill the rooms up again.

What the hell with? Concubines?

Let's go take a look at your room.

You know,

you're my nearest surviving relative.

I'll always be nearer you than your wife.

Shh. She'll hear us.

She didn't like to be discussed.

So this is the infamous mirror...

that saw so much of my son's nakedness.

You're a great deal fleshier than me when I was your age.

Where do you get it from? Certainly not your mother.

You've a nice backside.

- I can sit on it. - You could say that.

You look a stranger to me naked.

It works both ways. Get out of bed.

I want to see what I'll look like when I'm 57.

Fifty-five, and there's a corpse in the house.

She's not a corpse. She's my mother.

I don't know what to say, really, except you look immortal and I look bereft.

That's not true.

There's only one pair.

You can have the trousers.

Oh, my God!

My, God! My, God, Storey.

Who is ever gonna hold me closely again?

You're a rich man. I could think of hundreds.

Money! It's no good.

It's no good at all. How can you say that?

Who is going to hold me and love me?

For me, for my body as it is now?

For me, as I am now, like she did?

I thought you said she was very passive in bed.

Did I?

You've got too many clothes on.

Well, I-- I've never slept naked.

I hate pajamas.

I didn't know you could do this.

You can do anything.

Besides, you're my father,

and you're very, very, very unhappy.

Lift your arm and lie on your back.

- I'm unhappy too... sort of. - Mmm.

Not as unhappy as you are, of course.

- We'll just have to sort it all out. - Mmm.

Be patient. Breathe properly.

Remember, I'm your nearest relative.

And besides, we couldn't make babies even if we tried.

I want to wear white to Amelia's funeral. She didn't like black.

You can't. They won't like it. It's a reputable cemetery.

I have been contributing to this town for 35 years.

I am a respectable Genevan citizen.

They can honor my wife through me with this little request!

Okay, okay, okay.

So, let's do this properly.

Obviously, the underwear must go too.

If you insist on black, let's bloody well go through with it!

So who's wearing black underwear? Hmm? Hmm?

Do I go to my wife's funeral naked?

She never once in her whole lifetime saw me completely naked.

Well, now's her chance, eh?

Don't be so bloody stupid. Nobody's going to see your underwear.

- Everybody's probably wearing white underwear anyway. - That is just the point.

Just to show you how bloody stupid all this etiquette is!

You want me in black? Okay, okay, okay.

So, I'll wear black!

Don't make such a fuss, Philip.

- I'm wearing a black T-shirt. - Okay, get it off!

- I've got black underwear on. - Is that usual for a man of your age?

It looks like swimming trunks. I can go swimming in the lake afterwards.

What was Amelia to you? An excuse for a quick dip?

Charlie, lend me your suit. Go and sit in the car. Come on. Hurry up!

- Clean on this morning. - Don't worry.

You'll get them back, and they'll be washed and pressed.

- Sixty francs for your shirt. Eighty francs. - What? No!

- One hundred francs! - No! It's linen.

Okay, 150 francs. God! Whoever paid that for a black shirt?

- It's a collector's item. - Bloody is now.

Amen.

To make his rigid, tedious, boring paintings...

seem at least a little human,

the Mondrian enthusiasts keep insisting...

that Mondrian was a great tango dancer.

Art is supposed to help in times of crises.

I'm sure that food, alcohol and sex are a better distraction.

Food only makes me wretch. Alcohol only makes me scared.

And sex?

Your mother's dead,

and with her, everything that's compatible with my prick.

- What an extraordinary thing to say! - Why?

I know I'm a prude, but I'm also a good dancer.

I saw a man who danced with his wife

In Chicago

Chicago is my hometown

Or I used to be.

I used to have a wife.

- I'm taking you to the cinema. - I never go to the cinema.

- A great escapist medium. - I can't stand sitting in the dark with strangers.

- Promise. - All of us obliged to share the same emotional experiences.

- It's too intimate. - Two hours of forgetfulness.

- I like to be emotional in private. - I haven't noticed.

Storey, I haven't been truthful with you.

When I was a young man-- This is going to shock you.

I, too, often wanted to sleep with my father.

Is that strange?

The other night it was, on my part, an unpremeditated act.

I was hoping to console you.

And I thought I did. At least I distracted you.

Well, you've heard of young men wishing to sleep with their mothers,

but not with their fathers.

There's a name for sleeping with your mother but not with your father.

- Shut up, Father. Not now. - Don't call me "father."

Looked like a large pillow, my father.

He took me swimming in the lake practically every day in the summer.

I watched him closely.

A large man with a large cock.

Big, purple, rubbery.

My mother must've been delighted. She'd had two husbands already.

All the servants came down to watch.

I was pleased that they looked, 'cause after all,

- that's where I came from. - You see?

You, too, are interested in sexual continuity.

Remember I was only ten, perhaps... 13.

Contemplating my father's prick,

I often think that's what got me interested in engineering.

What?

Watching his Eiffel Tower, his Empire State Building,

perhaps made me a good engineer.

- Shut up, Father, and watch the film. - The penis.

If you think about it, it's the most enterprising engineering feat imaginable.

Hydraulics, compression, propulsion,

heat sensitivity, practically every engineering characteristic.

Towers, draw bridges, rocket ships.

No manmade engineering structure to match it.

My father's involuntary anatomy instructed my career prospects.

Do I have that much influence on your career--

- What's the matter? - You must excuse me.

I was disturbed by your frankness.

You were obviously on a voyage of discovery.

Oh dear, oh dear. Talking sex again.

What else is there to talk about? Give me another subject.

- Death? - Death?

That is not a decent subject matter to discuss.

Shh. Watch the film.

- Money. - Money is not interesting.

- Too easy to get hold of. - Too many stupid people have it.

Money can easily be buried in the other two.

Buried?

I don't want to talk about burials.

Shh.

Why do you think Fellini kept inventing all these exciting women?

Do you think he loved them all?

Did he sleep with them all? Did he sleep with any of them?

Or did he get Mastroianni to do it for him?

Dad, I have to go back to Kyoto.

Stay another week. I need you here.

Why don't you come with me? A change of place would do you good.

I'll see.

How many film directors make films to satisfy their...

sexual fantasies?

I would imagine most of them.

If you don't come to Kyoto this week, come for your birthday.

Those women, all nationalities.

Every shape and size. Every age.

He was just an old Italian pimp.

You know how lecherous the Italians are supposed to be.

But it's probably an undeserved reputation.

- What's going on? - This woman has been caught stealing.

- Then call the police. - The father won't do it. He says it is a family matter.

You run a temptation shop.

He's very angry.

She's sold his car and mortgaged his house to play your machines.

- How could she have done that? - She forged his signature.

- Whose signature? - The brother's, the father's, and now the fiancé's.

This place is a trap for weak-minded women with nothing better to do.

They want to beat her.

They want you to pay them. She's very simpleminded.

Ask her why on Earth she does it?

She's stupid. What did I tell you?

- Tell her she's beautiful. - You are beautiful.

- She says you must give her credit. - No.

You'll end up in jail, and they don't have these machines in jail.

- They do. - They do?

- The jailers take credit for sex. - Maybe I should do the same.

Ask her if she'll sleep with me.

Then I'll give her credit.

- She agrees. - You didn't ask her!

- She'll accept. - Wouldn't that disgrace her...

- more than stealing? - Not necessarily.

- Her family suggested it. - They what?

- What about her fiancé? - Buy him a car, and he'll forget her.

What am I getting into here? You make it sound all sewn up.

She says she's staying the night,

unless you want to hear she's been beaten, and your pachinko parlor will be responsible.

You might lose your license, and it might affect your other premises.

Where's she going?

- I told her you live upstairs. - Jesus!

It's an unrecognizable blasphemy in Japan.

Do you need an interpreter in the bedroom?

No, thank you. Unless you'd like to participate.

- If it helps to get rid of her. - I thought the Japanese had an overdeveloped sense of shame.

Only from our point of view, not yours. And you are a foreigner.

So, in this case, shame doesn't enter into it unless we want it to.

- Huh? - Kito, what is she saying?

She says she doesn't use contraceptives.

- Send her away. She's a lesbian. - What? You speak--

- I am not a lesbian. - Of course, I speak English.

- But you whispered. - It's an old routine.

I've known her too long. She's always been a misery.

Kiss me.

- I can't believe she's female. - She is a man.

She couldn't hide it, at least.

- How would she know when-- - Training, observation.

Fulfilling all the female stereotypes...

- invented by men. - You're too cynical.

Can she be... be married?

- Possibly, though you'd never see his wife. - He wouldn't much, either.

Work and rehearsal. Dedication.

Are you all right?

What'd she say?

- She says, "Impossible." - What's impossible?

She says she wants to be a female impersonator.

Whatever for?

- She wants to be more female than she is. - Change ambition.

Isn't she female enough? He has to act. She is.

Tell her she's beautiful. Tell her.

- Is that always the way you start a courtship? - It's the truth.

Kito said you are interested in her body.

Watch out, Kito. What are we paying you?

Watch out, Storey. I am jealous.

You have no right to be jealous of a woman who wants to be more of a woman...

by watching a man dressed up as a woman.

- Complicated, eh? - What we need is an earthquake to clear the air.

- My God! - How the hell did you do that?

- Coincidence. - You bring bad luck.

Call up an earthquake, and he will follow you all the days of your life.

Teach me all about kabuki,

and I-- we-- will help you become more like him.

Her.

- To be more female than you think you are. - Watch out, kabuki lover.

- You are in for some sexual experiment. - Shut up, Simato.

- What are we watching but sexual experiment? - Shh!

My feet ache.

I'm not used to so much walking.

Do I have to walk anymore?

- What are you doing? - I'm not doing anything.

I'm watering my coffee. I can't make it taste any worse than it does.

- You can't sit there being miserable. - I can't walk anymore.

I've seen too many shrines, and they're no comfort 'cause they're not my religion.

God, Father, why don't you go lie down?

You're using the word "God" an awful lot these days.

Is it significant for you? I hoped it was going to be significant for me, but alas no.

For me it is only entomologically interesting as "dog" backwards.

- Dad, stop being petulant. - Come, Mr. Emmenthal.

- Watch TV with us. - TV?

I don't watch it in Europe. Why should I want to watch it here?

I didn't know...

you could do it like that, outside of novels and Swedish cinema.

God, Dad, where have you been all these years?

With your mother. She was passionate enough,

but perhaps a little unadventurous.

Bet it was your fault. You were probably very lazy.

Come to think of it, perhaps with your mother I was too easily satisfied.

I need some help, do you think?

Some retraining? Is that what you're doing?

Is that the Japanese custom? Do you have to be Japan--

Excuse me, Simato.

How on earth could you believe that?

I gave it a great deal of thought.

It sort of excited me.

- Anatomically I was worried. - We're gonna have to put you out of your racist misery.

Is she really Japanese?

There are some 100 million Japanese women who are no longer Japanese because--

I don't want your mother's prejudices broadcast around.

But I am delighted to find...

that your mother was wrong.

God, I'm gonna be sick.

That's not very complimentary.

Show you my girlfriend's private parts, and you rush off to be sick.

I'm sorry. I was suddenly filled...

with such intense and desperate longing that my insides heaved.

I'm amazed to think that you can really be sick with grief.

- Perhaps it was too much in-flight alcohol. - That was four days ago.

Slow stomach.

Oh, my God!

- What's happening? - It's an earthquake.

For me, the best yet.

Thank God there's no one about.

The street's empty. Can't see much damage.

All day long the noise of battle rolled amongst the mountains down to the winter sea.

Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

Nebuchadnezzar ate grass. Smells like teen spirit!

Oh, come and have a go if you think you're hard enough!

Get into bed. We must celebrate my third earthquake success.

- Success? - I've survived my third earthquake.

What makes you think they're yours exclusively?

You, Father, have a lot to learn.

We must make the Earth shake...

and quake for you.

- Have you shaved? - I, I don't need to shave.

- Her skin is very delicate. - Well, my beard has hardly grown since your mother died.

Okay, we'll show you what to do.

What do you mean?

Could I have the light less bright, do you think?

- Let's lose those slippery sheets. - No, let's not!

Suppose there's another earthquake. We'd be exposed.

With the experiences you're about to have, you're not supposed to know the difference.

- How can we do it again? - Find your own woman.

It was a special earthquake anniversary.

I got carried away. Simato got carried away.

- Don't earthquakes make you feel very excited indeed? - No.

Emphatically not.

The ultimate chance event! In this country you know they are coming.

But nobody-- absolutely nobody-- No expert,

no geologist, no public relations man, no politician knows when.

No predictions, no "giveable" odds. Amazing.

And besides, what about Mother?

Yes.

That's a very brief answer for you.

Just what are you doing, Storey? You said you wanted to educate me.

You keep giving me the most delightful presents, and then you take them away.

Think of all those empty bedrooms you've got in Geneva,

and you once carelessly mentioned concubines.

I suspect there are quite a few Japanese ladies who would like to come to Europe.

But what would your mother think?

Don't tell her.

Look out for me.

I want somebody warm, with a good body temperature.

Did you know that male temperatures are higher than female temperatures?

No cold feet, literally or metaphorically.

There's a woman in the Ocean Foreign Insurance Company I've been intrigued about.

Wears a great deal of plaid, though I'm certain she's not Scottish.

I'm sure she's Norwegian.

Do you know any Norse?

Most Scandinavians speak very good English.

Norse probably disappeared over a thousand years ago.

Look. We're under surveillance.

Do I look guilty of anything?

This Norwegian Scottish woman...

was under surveillance for embezzlement.

Teresa's her name, or Griselda.

If it wasn't Griselda, it ought to have been.

She was good. Fine fingers.

One day she put a poultice on my forehead...

and my feet in a basin of cold water with salt.

I wasn't feeling at all well.

Then she made me a complicated drink that sent me to sleep.

Was this merely solicitous, or was she trying to get to the safe?

She was charged and, I think, indicted.

I must see what I can do.

You must help me there, Mr. Expert.

Do you think I'll ever get to see an in-flight Fellini movie?

I would be curious about one of those Jane Austen women.

Long-suffering, dutiful, but all right in the end.

Plump. Nineteenth-century type. Five foot four,

ringlets, brown eyes, long fingers.

Raw sex is the last thing you're gonna encounter in a Jane Austen woman.

Rubbish. Absolute rubbish.

A long white dress that starts under the breast...

and travels interminably down so the legs are entirely mysterious.

She could have one leg, or two, inside that dress.

A Jane Austen woman could be incredibly passionate inside that dress.

You would never know if she had feet,

which you could not say about Mio.

Mio?

This could be your room.

You have a view of the garden and moat.

You will feel very comfortable.

The rising sun shines directly through the window.

Dickens.

God, no. A Dickens heroine would never let you see her sitting on the loo.

I think a Jane Austen heroine just might.

She could end up like a Thomas Hardy woman.

Victims. Start bad, finish much worse. Lots of tears.

Clothilde,

would you go to room four and ask Mio to get undressed...

and take a bath?

I don't speak the language, Mr. Emmenthal.

Neither do we. I must get Kito to come over.

No, we mustn't. She'll have us all audited.

Thomas Hardy was interested in selling women.

That's auditing for you.

The ultimate audit. Sell your wife.

I found out her name.

Georgette.

Such a modern name. It sounds... Rumanian.

Sounds like someone who's had a sex change.

- She's a retired nun. - Retired?

How on earth could she be retired?

She's bound to enjoy scrubbing. Look at her hands.

She ought to be allowed to scrub a great deal.

She's like all those nun paintings.

The starched linen, plucked brows.

The sharp pins and pink flesh,

and the wet eyes, the devotional glance.

And modesty that conceals a body that still has breasts and pubic hair.

The contrast is so exciting!

She's certainly a bed maker.

Clean sheets flying in the air in the sunlight.

She'd be an angel making her bed forever.

- She owes the bank 140,000 pounds. - How do you know?

Oh, come on. How does a bank manager know secrets?

Let's tempt her.

Offer her a loan, high interest.

See how she reacts, and then more.

Make sure she doubles the debt, and then offer her a way out.

Whiter. Much whiter.

Like milk... or snow.

And make her lips very, very small.

So small I couldn't get my little finger between them.

We doing this correctly, do you think?

Should we paint her entire body white, do you think?

Let's do it anyway.

No, Clothilde.

Not yet. Most out of place. I tell you what.

Take it to bedroom one.

No. Six. In preparation.

A token. We must find somewhere to fit it.

Stand it at the end of the bed and surround it in flowers.

Poppies. Renoir flowers.

Are poppies in season?

No, Mr. Emmenthal.

What were Renoir's films like?

He was the director who said, "Every man has his reasons."

- Do we have reasons? - No.

You just have lust.

Ah! Beautiful!

It smells of canaries.

Lapsang souchong.

The smell of my watch strap after a game of squash.

- Mice. - Horsehair cushions.

Brown sugar just unwrapped out of a damp paper bag.

Burnt eggs.

When I get sexual indigestion,

I can't stand more than one naked woman at a time.

Reminds me of a pig farm, or cattle market, or one of those terrible concentration camps.

- Good Lord, look at that! - Would you believe it!

And in the 1990s.

What's her name?

- Caspar. - Caspar?

Oh, no. Sorry. That's the name of the horse.

Is he... all right?

What is the name of your horse doing...

on your hospital charge sheet?

He's not my horse.

He's not your horse.

Then whose horse is it?

I stole him.

You stole him?

Hey! Why don't you come and convalesce with us?

We could provide you with a new horse.

A physiotherapist. You could do therapy in our pool.

The horse could do therapy in our pool.

Where are you going?

- To buy flowers. - Flowers aren't going to help.

Yes, they are. Clothilde says flowers always help.

Good evening.

Beautiful.

Excuse me?

- You are looking so beautiful. - Thank you.

Pregnancy makes you beautiful. Don't you think?

You know?

Wake up! Having babies.

This is the sixth.

The sixth? You must have an understanding husband.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. No husband.

Oh! Artificial insemination?

No. Too impersonal.

- Are you offering? - No.

Well, I could. I, I'd like to.

Can I? And the children?

Three adopted, two with their fathers.

You could think about it.

Nice hair!

Oh.

- Do you still go to church? - No.

- Do you still say your prayers? - No.

Do you still believe in hell?

Depends on what you mean by "still."

- I've never believed in hell. - Then you believe you will not pay for your sins?

Not in hell. Only on Earth.

However, I've always believed in heaven.

Heaven on Earth. And you, Griselda, are a piece of heaven.

- But-- - But what?

Don't take this religion too seriously.

- It's a pose. - No, it is not.

It is a way of life.

Come in.

Griselda's becoming a nun in her heart as well as her body.

Then I'm already jealous of God.

Jealousy? It'll destroy you.

Othello. Complimentary tickets.

I'm the Financial Secretary of the Friends of Genevan Opera.

Obligations to attend.

You bored us all in Kyoto by taking us to the kabuki. It's my turn to bore you.

We go to the opera. The whole firm will go.

Dress-up, the full complement. Now please leave us.

Devout, inestimable Griselda has a higher calling to make.

- I'm taking Clothilde. - Whatever for?

It's obvious she would want to come.

I understand the thoroughbred was worth nearly half a million dollars.

Owned by a Saudi Arabian.

There are some people who prize their horses above their women.

Punishments in Saudi Arabia can be harsh.

- An eye for an eye. - A horse for a horse.

- A horse for a woman? - I didn't mean to go quite that far.

And as it happens, we were able to return it.

- Caspar? - Caspar.

There were questions asked.

And the owners have a pretty shrewd idea...

who stole their horse.

It seems you've done it before.

They did not understand what a sensitive horse they had.

They had no idea.

- He needed affection. - Perhaps.

Are they downstairs?

I don't think so. At least, not yet.

Not yet?

Who are those people?

I am accused of unethical practices.

- What may they be? - Well, I like having babies.

So I've noticed.

There are many people in the world who want to have babies...

and can't have them.

- So, you perform an unusual philanthropic service. - I'm good at having babies.

- Is it so bad to make a living at what you are good at? - I see.

This time there is a way out.

I can see it coming.

You can be my husband.

Am I to be responsible for all six?

No. You can be the father of just this one.

I have a proposition.

Quite frankly, Mr. Emmenthal, I am a modern woman.

I do not want to be deported to Saudi Arabia.

And as long as horses are involved,

I think I am prepared for all eventualities.

However, I have one important responsibility...

I cannot relinquish.

- I have a pig. - A pig?

Horses and pigs always get on well together.

They are intelligent animals,

and like one another's company.

Can you-- Can you ride a pig?

Hortense is far too dignified to be ridden.

However, Hortense and I have a relationship...

which you might find unusual.

Beyond mere affection.

- I have no intention of breaking this relationship. - I see.

Neither does Hortense.

Well, as long as I don't get too jealous,

and you both take a bath afterwards,

I can't see that I need to be difficult.

Kiss me.

Well, that was a husband's kiss, I suppose.

You could show a little more passion.

Well-- Well, I suppose we better make you an offer.

We--

I will pay for you to have babies.

- No artificial insemination. - And you have come...

to collect this child, when it's ready, of course.

I'm having no interferences.

- Of course not. - In that case,

could you have me moved to a nicer room?

I think... blue walls.

I'm sure it's going to be a boy this time.

And I think...

I'll charge $25,000 for a boy.

Shh!

It's time now.

Are you enjoying the music, Clothilde?

I am enjoying Mr. Emmenthal's smile.

He was so heartbroken at the death of his wife.

You could always enjoy his smile at home.

She was good to me.

I would like to repay her kindness trying to make her widower,

and his son, happy.

I could never take Amelia's place entirely,

but I would be honored to take it in part.

Which part?

Whichever part he wishes.

I would like to ask...

if I could be allowed to--

- No, I can't say this. - Go on.

Say it.

To wear her hats.

My mother's hats?

That's all? Just her hats?

In bed.

Nothing else.

I know you, don't I?

At least, I know your father Philip.

These all your girlfriends? Oriental specialities?

Best of luck.

You're all very restless.

You weren't taking them to the gents' for a fuck, were you?

Someone's crying her eyes out. What have you done to her?

It's her birthday.

Well, that explains everything.

She's sentimental.

Likes horses.

And especially pigs, apparently.

Try and get us something to drink. We're desperately thirsty.

I really did know your father three years ago.

I held his hand at a ceremony on a very big stage.

I told him where to stand. He was... very awkward.

I always liked the way he swung his legs.

I always thought he'd do himself an injury.

I asked him to sleep with me.

I laid it all on for him.

I brought my toothbrush and a clean pair of knickers around to his hotel room...

in Neustrelitz, or was it Berlin?

However, he... turned me down.

All manner of ridiculous excuses, like he was happily married.

Wasted a golden opportunity.

Never say die.

I've look forward to French kissing him ever since.

Desdemona

Meet Simon, the singing cockerel.

Simon has no shame.

He says I will always be the favorite white woman he loves to undress.

He does it as often as he can, which is often and everywhere...

and in the most unlikely places.

Only he goes on tour.

And he has a wife. Don't you, Simon?

And he makes me wait for the services of his big, black cock...

and the delights of his magnificent singing voice.

Or is it the other way around?

So...

how is your father?

- Why don't you come and see? But he's not black. - That's true.

- And he can't sing. - Not that I remember.

We could always cork his face and pinch his backside,

and he might give you a dark stare and a little scream.

He used to stroke his little, round belly with a circular motion.

I'd love to do the same. Tell him.

What would you say if I'd like to share the attentions?

Perhaps.

You his natural heir?

I am his heir, naturally and unnaturally.

- Financially? - Financially.

What have you got that I've never seen before?

You're free to go, Palmira.

You're free... to go.

I'll be your number four private whore for one year...

for 75,000 U.S. dollars.

No possible demands denied.

Impossible ones considered.

I have a high pain tolerance.

But don't abuse it.

The greater your invention,

the greater mine.

I'll look after the contraception.

Never trust an old man.

Unreasonable?

But if I'm sharing your prick,

I want medical checks every week with a qualified doctor.

And I want my privacy...

when I need it.

And I want to sleep late, very late.

And I want to travel.

So, Philip,

I want to see what I missed three years ago.

You can have me on approval.

Open a window. I need fresh air.

Out you go, Storey Emmenthal.

Let's see what tune your father sings,

and how he's gonna sing it with me.

It's okay. It's on expenses.

Whose goddamn expenses?

- Tax deductible. - From Geneva airport?

- Jesus! - From Paris.

That's hours away by helicopter.

- I bought a-- - Put her in room six.

We'll fix somewhere for her later.

Giaconda

Giaconda?

- My God! What have you done with the baby? - What baby?

God! Who are you? Oh, God, Kito.

- You're in Kyoto. - Stop that.

- Stop what? - I'm too tired for that. And you're drunk.

You're not supposed to be in here. This is Giaconda's room.

Only staying a few nights.

I arrived here from the sky.

I'll stay a few moments, just to warm you up.

I'll wait a little bit just in case Giaconda comes back.

She's probably gone for a pee.

Pregnant women spend half the night going to the loo. Did you know that?

Yes, I did know that.

And with a little help from you,

I might be able to experience it too.

Kito! Oh, Kito!

You have always surprised me.

Poor thing. They say she's only half a person.

- A midget. - I've heard worse.

Much worse!

- That she's a mongrel. - A mongrel? What do you mean?

- How come? - If there ever was a good case for abortion--

I don't understand. Have you been in that room?

No!

There's no number on the door.

They haven't even given her a proper name.

They sometimes call her Giulietta...

after a film about a waif and a stray.

A simpleton who plays a trumpet.

You don't think for a moment that it's a child?

God, no! She sounds Korean.

How would you know that?

Kito says she was born in a pachinko parlor and deaf...

- because of all the noise. - Kito loves Storey to distraction.

I would never believe anything she says.

Perhaps she's Vietnamese?

A boat person?

What? They arrived one morning on the lake from Hong Kong.

I don't think it's a woman at all.

I bet it's a man.

A transsexual.

And the half of her is to a half man, half woman!

Francois says they conceived it together.

- The father and son. - Celeste, for God's sake!

- Pull the other one. - Through the backside.

Ridiculous.

Who was the father then?

Well, he was, of course. The older.

There's more spunk in him than a cage of chimpanzees.

How do you know that?

I know.

I wanted to be a candidate once, you know.

Clothilde made it.

But I always suspect she had an ulterior motive,

being Amelia's favorite when she was alive.

I went for an audition. They tried me out.

But they weren't too excited. I was too willing.

I liked the prison life too much.

And I loved the clothes!

I even liked the humiliations, you know.

No, I don't know.

Hot drink and chocolate,

followed by the ice cubes.

You know the stuff!

Picking up handkerchiefs off the floor with your teeth when you're naked.

- Ohh! - Gallons of hot water.

String vests and wet T-shirts, and nipple clips.

Shaved belly. Ahh!

All the clichés.

Oh, you've seen them in the cinema and read about them in the newspapers.

Standin' on your head.

Milk bathin'. Puttin' on excess weight.

Sounds like eclectic nouvelle cuisine.

Could be, in a way.

Good night, sleep tight. Make sure the bugs don't bite.

Good night, sleep tight. Make sure the bugs don't bite!

Good night, sleep tight. Make sure the bugs don't bite!

Aah! There's no wildlife in this house...

that's not licensed, so stop banging the doors!

I have to kiss everyone on the backside before I go to sleep.

- It's an acknowledgement of possession. - Including the pig?

Hortense has a nice backside, but it is reserved for Beryl.

Simato, Griselda, Beryl,

Giaconda, Palmira, Mio,

Kito, Giulietta, Clothilde.

Eight and a half women.

I'll bet you never kissed Palmira on the backside.

Oh, I'd like to! My God, I'd like to!

Can't you put a word in for me? Oh, please.

She's taken to partially shaving her belly,

showing evidence of the most delightful kind.

Did you ask her to do that?

My God.

Why does she have to walk around the house naked, and in the garden?

Simato, Griselda, Beryl,

Giaconda, Mio, Giulietta,

Kito, Clothilde and Palmira.

Divorced, beheaded, died.

Divorced, beheaded, survived.

That's Henry the Eighth's wives.

Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn,

Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves,

Catherine... something, and Catherine Parr.

Go to sleep.

You know those great passions, those unbelievable sexual passions...

like Antony and Cleopatra or Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God! Palmira, Palmira.

Palmira, Palmira, Palmira!

Oh, Palmira, Palmira.

I think you can say with safety that nowadays...

women have finally acknowledged their position...

of not liking men.

We could say that women don't like men.

They acknowledge that they prefer the company...

of their own kind.

We can also say that most men don't like other men.

Most men prefer to like... women.

So, women are the most liked by the most people.

Men love women.

Women love children.

And children love hamsters!

It's a one-way slide. There's... little going back the other way.

Simato and Mio insist on speaking Japanese.

That's an improvement. Mio normally doesn't talk at all.

We have to get Kito to stay here permanently.

I'm very threatened when women talk.

Mr. Emmenthal, I am offering a refuge to these ladies in need.

This is Sister Mary. This is Sister Sophie. This is Sister Iphigenia.

And this is Sister Fatima.

They're here to pray for the house and all who live in it.

- God! - The Father of Christ.

Oh, Griselda, this is becoming an obsession!

- You started it. - My fantasy has no God in it, just naked nuns!

The fascination of the wimple and the flesh.

God is everywhere, Mr. Emmanuel.

It's Emmenthal! Jesus Christ!

The Son of God.

Excuse me, Sisters.

I am bound at this moment to pay certain duties to these gentlemen, my benefactors,

who rescued me from perfidy and danger and temptation.

Clothilde has left the servants' quarters and taken to sleeping in room seven.

All your mother's hats have been taken. It's a signal that she's ready.

Watch out for Clothilde. There's something creepy about her.

Far too subservient. It's unnatural.

And you were the one who was so eager to include her.

I think we should inaugurate a chapel...

and have plans where the 12 Stations of the Cross...

should go in the garden and along the drive.

I think we could well create a religious community.

I could be an example to others.

An object of suffering.

She's pregnant again.

Because she's uncertain who the father is, me or you, she wants to abort at once.

Simato's complaining again. She's sitting on the top step demanding attention!

Complaining that I don't wash my prick!

Says she's frightened of cervical cancer.

- Where'd she get that idea from? - Palmira?

Oh. Good God! My prick gets more washing than a dishcloth in a laundry!

Ask Griselda! She fills her mouth every morning with soap.

I've heard enough. You never used to be so crude, Father.

I'd like to borrow 800 francs to buy Mr. Emmenthal a present.

Anything less would not be worthy of him.

What are you gonna buy him? He has everything.

- I don't think he has happiness. - Goodness.

- Who on earth has that? - I do.

You do?

All right. For someone that rich, you can have 1,000 francs...

at 4.5 interest over three months.

That woman's insides must be like a traffic accident.

I've never understood Beryl.

Beryl? Which one's Beryl?

Number five's old room. The one you knocked off her horse.

Why do you keep changing their names?

I don't. Isn't her name Beryl?

- This is very good, Clothilde. - Thank you, Mr. Emmenthal.

Don't be so patronizing.

- She's very solicitous. - Patronizing? I was paying her a compliment.

Do you think Clothilde could be trying to poison me?

You're fantasizing.

If she kills you, it will be with overfeeding.

Did you notice Kito counting her money?

I've always noticed her spending ours.

There's a suitcase under her bed full of U.S. bonds...

and large Swiss notes.

She's become a moneylender. Charges interest.

They're moving out of Emmenthal debt into Kito debt.

Miss?

Miss Kito, we've come to ask for a loan.

She says, "How do you want to do it? From front, from behind?"

And I say, "A little from the front, and a lot from behind."

"Do you want to do it in the garden or by the pool?

Or do you want me to lie in the grass?" she says. I say, "Yes."

"Or do you want me, perhaps, to stand?" she says. "Yes," I say.

"Or do you want me to sit with my heels in the air?" "Yes," I say.

"Yes, to what?" she says. "Yes to everything," I say. "Then I will," she says.

And she does, just like that. My God!

Can she swim?

Can money swim?

- Value? - Depends how you look at it.

Little balls, no value at all.

To pachinko parlor player,

sixty thousand U.S. dollars,

four hundred thousand French francs,

or nearly eight million Japanese yen.

- I'm gonna shout. - Don't.

- You'll lose the stake. - She's bluffing.

Simato!

Keeping me here, Storey, is losing your money hands over foot.

Oh, for God's sakes! It's "hand over fist."

What on earth are you doing?

Bloody hell. Can't you guess? I'm--

I'm trying to look like that boyfriend of hers.

For Christ's sake! You're ridiculous.

Oh, no, I'm desperate.

- She will laugh you to derision. - I know.

She mustn't leave me. I'd be destitute.

You couldn't compete. He's her age,

has sexual charisma like a house on fire,

and no doubt a 12-inch cock.

Philip. Wash that stuff off at once,

and be in my bed in six and a half minutes flat.

I want my bottom smacked tonight.

Real hard...

with a tennis racket.

Mio wants you to dress up as a female impersonator.

And then, she says, she could possibly love you with enthusiasm.

Good God, why all this charade?

If you want life out of her, do it.

She says you are a man!

But of course I'm a man!

- She wanted you to be a woman. - Complicated, eh?

You dress as a woman. You've been asked to act, however badly, as a woman.

You are a cheat!

Of course I'm a cheat! That's the whole point of the exercise, isn't it?

Not for Mio. She's a disappointed lady.

Listen, listen, listen. She's known us both carnally as men.

- How can she forget so soon? - She didn't forget.

Her ability to transform hope into truth was very strong.

You have been a huge disappointment.

She's very disturbed.

Take great care of her, or you lose her.

I'm thinking of making a film...

about all this, our experiences.

Why make a film when you can live it?

Most films are about people longing for something that they haven't got,

and what most people haven't got is sex and happiness, and we've got both.

Well, at least... I have.

See what I mean?

- Oh, hell. Who'd give you the money anyway? - You would.

Do you think she's trying to tell us something?

Okay, I've found my esteem. Now I want freedom.

I was the first. I gave you all the inspiration.

It was my idea! I want out!

- This is what I want. - This is what I want.

- No more patriarchal patronage. - No more patriarchal patronage.

- No more male stereotyping. - No more male stereotyping.

God! I want the Fever Three Pachinko Parlor...

in the Kyo district of Kyoto, and I want it tomorrow!

- Today! - Today!

My God, she's fantastic.

I'm in love.

I don't want to hear about her.

I can't get near her, except to look.

Which is a disaster because it starts me trembling.

- I am an earthquake. - You got what you wanted.

Oh, all this jealousy is wearing me out.

I used to be happy once upon a time.

You don't want Palmira to feel she's getting the upper hand.

Though now you're in love with her, she obviously has.

She was the only one we didn't choose,

and now she's queen.

I want to plan to keep her forever.

- We could get her singing boyfriend to live here. - Then we'd never get a look in.

I'm too miserable to be here anymore.

Let's go to Kyoto.

It's the earthquake season. I want to be shook up.

I'm missing something.

Mio!

Mio!

Mio!

Mio!

Mio!

- Mio! - Mio!

It's like Shelley.

Japanese Ophelia.

Beautiful Oriental lady in the lake.

She was the very best, the most submissive.

- She was my first wife. - Oh, come on. That's not true.

You forget my mother much too soon.

In the circumstances, then, she was my second wife.

She was never your wife!

In everything but a license and a tax-exempt form.

She was the first woman after 35 years that I consistently made love to.

She had such a beautiful opening number. So small, so delicate.

Such a beautiful color. It was like... plum blossom.

It was like pushing your prick into a plum blossom flower.

Shut up!

You hate flowers. And plums repeat on you.

She looks more beautiful now than ever.

Why on earth did she go? She had all she wanted.

No, she didn't.

We took away all her shoes.

Because they were rotting on the lawn.

But was that a suicide motive?

I'll get her some shoes.

There you are, Mio.

As many shoes as you like. Get walking, Mio.

You're going in the lake.

Did you know, whatever the event,

we're all supposed to react to every disappointment in exactly the same way?

First, shock. "Oh, my God!"

Then self-pity. "Poor me."

Then anger! "You bastards!"

Then apathy. "Oh, what the hell?"

Then resurrection of the spirit. "I'm never letting the buggers grind me down."

It's the same with Mio's death.

"Oh, my God! Poor me! You bastards! Oh, what the hell.

I'm never letting the buggers grind me down."

Giaconda's pregnant again.

We've got to lose her.

Take her to the airport and put her on a plane. Any plane.

I couldn't stand another baby problem with her again!

Father, she's just too fertile.

Sticking pins in dark corners is not for me anymore.

Stick a pin in the plane timetable.

Saarbruken. No, that won't do.

Grenoble.

That's even closer, you fool.

- Venice. - No. She can't swim.

She doesn't like film or art.

- Bangkok. - Not bad. Bit obvious.

Sex capital of Asia.

- I'm not sending her there. Poor obstetrics. - How do you know that?

I'm not having my child dragged out with forceps,

dropped in a wok of noodles and called Chiang Lee.

It may be my child.

- Well, you having your child dragged out with forceps? - You were.

I watched your little yellow face...

squashed up like an overripe lemon.

I swear you even had pips.

If you're so keen on the delivery of this baby, why don't we keep it?

Punta del Ferro. Where the hell's that?

I don't know. Sounds warm and South American.

She loves kiwi fruit.

Doesn't drink tea. Suffers from asthma.

There's bound to be clean air.

Sounds right.

And they'll love children.

Everyone loves children.

Do we love children?

Cathay Pacific. First class, $2,000 one way.

Done.

We're going on a trip to New York. You'll like that.

Here's $5,000.

Buy some baby clothes.

And order a cot, no two, in case it's twins.

And you'll need nappies. Buy a thousand.

- Then you won't have to do any washing, just throw them away. - That's not very ecological.

Recycle them then. Here's another five thousand. Buy a recycler.

- What's that? - Whatever the hell, you're bound to find them in New York.

Mr. Emmenthal, we've been watching you.

- Are you the vice squad? - You sound guilty.

We understand you help women in financial trouble.

- Do I? - We, too, are debt collectors like you.

I'm not a debt collector.

We're convinced you're harboring one of our clients.

She's responsible for a series of confidence frauds.

- She operates often with a black opera singer. - She has various names.

Laura Decker. Teresa Deckler.

Her speciality is in offering sexual services and sexual rewards...

to elderly bankers and wealthy financial people.

We understand you're the chairman of the Emmenthal Financial Services...

and Consolidates Bank, Geneva.

As debt collectors, we can offer you 2.5% of recovery costs.

I am Laura Decker. Though now I call myself Palmira.

What? But--

No buts! I'd like to do this for you, Mr. Emmenthal.

It's a little I can do to repay your kindnesses.

To make you happy. I have done my business here. Drink your milkshake.

I'll go and pack and leave.

I understand where your love truly lies, Mr. Emmenthal.

But... Clothilde.

What was all that about?

What was all that about?

Clothilde.

- What about Clothilde? - They've taken her away.

- I was desperate, Storey. - What do you mean?

- Should we call the police? - I couldn't let them take Palmira.

It all happened so quickly. She didn't even get her coat.

She volunteered. I could never let them take Palmira.

- Who were they? What were they doing? - Well, they--

They were filmmakers! They were filmmakers.

They were gonna make her into a famous film star.

They were going to make a film about Renoir called--

I don't remember.

You sold her! You sold Clothilde.

All this makes my stomach churn, to think that they might have taken Palmira.

You once told me to think about the women in Thomas Hardy.

Yes, I did. But remember, the Mayor of Casterbridge...

regretted selling his wife for the rest of his life.

Okay, here's the deal. Kito for the pachinko.

- That's no deal. - Then blood on your hands!

Plus an indecency trial,

then a kidnap trial, followed by a keeping a body house trial.

Then, probably, a tax exemption subpoena...

and visits by the health authorities,

the inland revenue, customs--

Possible accusations of illegal consenting with minors.

- Breaking all the laws. - Sexual harassment.

- Trading babies. - Hey, Simato!

Hey yourself!

I want a signature, legally binding,

handing over this establishment, lock, stock, chips, machines and barrel.

- What's barrel? - For storing beer.

- Kito has the papers ready. - As always.

Sign here in front of witnesses.

What witnesses? They're not watching.

And I want a bonus. Strip to sign.

Strip to sign? Whatever for?

- Naked to the negotiating table. - Naked!

So I can see no pranks and losers.

Queen's English. They make an unpredictable linguistic duo.

A man in socks is vulnerable.

He probably won't play tricks.

Think of it as being the last time for me...

to see your cocks.

They go out and they come in.

I remember doing you the same favor...

when this little adventure started.

- Bend over! - You did it voluntarily.

Bend over!

- Kito is the witness. Thank you, Kito. - My pleasure.

Enemies unite in adversity.

Now make the three signature monkeys.

Okay, you can go.

Good-bye, Philip.

Good-bye, Storey.

Good God! I don't know that that was so bad.

It's sort of cathartic, the naked exposure, don't you think?

You couldn't do it voluntary, could you?

It's under duress, so somehow legitimate.

Circumstances beyond our control.

I think I enjoyed that.

My God! Struck down by an earthquake.

At least it wasn't our fault this time.

- Where was she going? - Pachinko heaven for chartered accountants.

What's the matter?

My God. Are they getting closer?

She warned me. Never call up an earthquake.

It will follow you all the days of your life.

Head. Face.

Chest. Belly. Sex.

Legs. Feet.

And God.

- What are you doing? - I'm trying to undo her warning.

But your sympathies for Kito were never strong, Storey.

She joined us because of me, not you. It's my fault; I'm to blame.

She was determined to be useful.

She loved you desperately, Storey.

What are you doing?

I've had enough. Griselda must go.

She's so... Mother Superior now.

She's got a mind like a sewer.

Getting me to confess impossibilities like your mother and my wife slept with priests.

Where'd she get that from, I wonder, Storey?

She starts as a novice, scrubbing convent floors.

Puts on a wimple, shaves her body.

Becomes a nun in appearance, then in deed.

Now she wants to become a saint.

- I'm gonna kill her. She wants a martyr's death. - She's done what you wanted.

Taken your fantasies and run with them to the point of logical exhaustion.

- Father, for God's sake. - No, for mine.

She's not in her room. She's gone, and she's taken the children.

Where's she gone, I wonder. Heaven?

Nah, they wouldn't let her in.

We would like to establish that a friend,

an acquaintance of ours, is presently there...

to set our minds at rest.

Because-- Because this person was very dear to us.

Is it possible to speak with her?

- Sister Concordia. - Concordia?

She was trouble and strife.

Novice Sister Concordia is beside me now.

I have allowed her to write down her answers for you.

You are allowed three questions only.

You must keep them very short.

- Okay. - Question one.

Do you have presently...

a Sister Griselda of Geneva?

We have no Griselda here.

We have Novice Sister Concordia,

and she is under a preferred vow of silence.

- Question two. - Hey, that doesn't count!

All right, all right.

Does this Novice Sister Concordia have a foreign accent?

Norwegian? Swedish? Scandinavian?

If she's under a vow of silence, how can I know?

- Jesus! - The Son of God. Was that a question?

Can we be certain that Sister Novice Concordia will keep her vow of silence?

"You can provide eternal and everlasting silence...

"with an annual donation of $25,000...

to the Children's Charity of Santa Lucia."

Let her go. Let her get away.

I admire her independence.

- Taking nothing. - It's not true. She's taking a horse.

Perhaps she's running to Austria.

She was Austrian, wasn't she?

I've always had severe problems with Austrians. They're negative people.

Musical, churchy, uptight.

Authoritarian. Always insisted their dustbins...

are very clean.

And then there was one.

Correction. One and a half.

How do you want to do it?

- Oh, my God! - From the front?

Or from behind?

What are you doing?

However do you do it, Palmira?

Oh, my God! Heaven.

Ecstasy.

Paradise.

Monte Carlo!

Monte Carlo?

In the garden on the grass?

In the pool?

Or here?

It's never gonna get better.

Do you want me to sit down or stand up?

- Or lie with my heels in the air, toes pointing east and west? - Yes.

- Yes to what? - Yes to everything.

Then I will.

I think I've got to quit while I'm ahead. Would you mind very much?

Yes, I would. You're being selfish.

I love you, Palmira.

I love you.

You can't do it simply by holding your breath.

I love your laugh, Palmira.

Pardon?

It's Fellini's film, 8 ½.

- Mmm. - Philip?

Why did you reject me those three years ago in Berlin?

Or Paris?

Palermo?

Naples or somewhere else, Luxembourg, perhaps?

I was always frightened of the possibility of too much pleasure.

Okay, that'll do.

A good answer.

I love you, Palmira.

Hey, Philip?

Stop sleeping on the job.

Okay.

All right.

I love you too.

Good-bye.

Storey?

Palmira!

This is the first time I've been officially invited into this room.

Officially?

That means you've been here unofficially.

No matter. It's all over now.

What's all over?

Your father's dead.

Rubbish. No, he isn't.

He's still sleeping.

I'm gonna make breakfast... now that everybody's gone.

Father, wake up! Your toast is burning.

Get out of bed at once, Father.

I won't tell you again.

Wake up, Father! Your bloody toast is burning!

Okay.

It's breakfast.

His toast.

I ate it whilst it was still warm.

And now, he's growing cold.

I suspect I shall get bored here, Storey.

Very bored.

Now the old man is dead.

Silence.

No reason to stay anymore.

The king is dead.

Long live the king?

I doubt it.

You don't do... anything I like, Storey.

Your body's too... simple.

Not enough lived in. Too straight.

Too unused.

There's no excitement in you for me,

Mr. Emmenthal, Junior.

My most favorite white woman in the world...

that I would like to undress.

It has been one year, 72 days, four hours and 20 minutes...

since I last kissed...

this magnificent landscape.

And--

- Shall I sing that for you? - No! Not in front of the children.

Pachinko, Pachinko, Pachinko, Pachinko.

How are you today? Have you eaten enough?

Porridge? Muesli? Baked beans?

No toast?

Okay.

We're going to rechristen you today.

Our Oriental period is over, and Giulietta no more.

Don't worry.

It's traffic vibration. Sit still.

It's a thunderstorm.

Yes!

We don't get earthquakes in Geneva.

Alas!

Amen!

I'd like to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself alone

Get you and keep you

In my arms evermore

Leave all your lovers

Weeping on a faraway shore

Out on the briny

With a moon big and shiny

Melting your heart

Of stone

I'd love to get you

On a slow boat to China

All to myself alone