- I hate whoever this is.
- Well, that's not very polite.
- I almost recognize your voice.
What's your name again?
- Mrs. put this in your mouth?
- Ha-ha, funny.
You calling to invite me to your son's soccer game?
- Yes, it's, um--
it's on Saturday
at fuck off field. - Ha.
- Um, they're playing against the judgmental dykes.
- Will hubby, whatever you want to call him, be there?
- Mm, no, Michael's out of town.
- Ha! Of course.
That's why you fucking call.
You don't call for four months, puta,
and now you need a warm body to fill the void.
- Pen, pen-- - fucking asshole.
- I know, but it's, like, it's not like that.
I promise, okay?
- Yeah, right. Typical.
- I was also, um,
wondering if you had any pot?
- Sellout!
- One week.
One week he doesn't call me.
What the fuck is that?
It's like, how long does it take to fucking get settled?
He's, like, at his fucking mom's house, you know what I mean?
- Maybe the bitch won't let him call.
You said she fucking hates you, right?
- Yeah, for sure.
- I'm sure she's anxious to see
you and fucking Harvard get married.
Ready? We'll race.
- Fuck that. - Hold up.
- Here, I'll use your bungees.
- What?
- Wait, hang on. - Okay.
- Pull me up.
Pull me up. You're not strong enough.
Pull me up! - Pull me up.
Pull me up.
- Come on.
- Ow! Shit.
Where the fuck have you been?
- Good morning. My name's detective Brooks.
I'm sorry to bother you so early in the morning.
- Who?
- Uh, detective Jonathan Brooks
from San Bernardino county.
To whom am I speaking?
- Uh, Josie.
Uh, Josephine Tyrell.
What happened?
- Miss Tyrell, your phone number was found
on a motel registration.
We're just trying to gather some information.
Has there been any individual that you know
that's been missing recently?
- I don't--mm--
I don't--i don't--what-- what do you mean "missing"?
What's going on?
- Well, we've got a white male
registered as, uh, Oscar wilde.
Miss Tyrell,
uh, do you have any idea who this person might be?
- Uh,
maybe, um.
I don't think so.
- The individual we're trying to identify
is in his mid-20s,
tattoo on his right wrist,
two moles on the right side of his chest.
Miss Tyrell, do you know this person?
Miss Tyrell?
Do you know this person?
- Yes.
- Miss Tyrell, I'm very sorry to have to inform you.
The body was found in a motel in 29 palms
from what looks like an apparent suicide,
self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
We're still getting all the details.
We're trying to locate any family members.
Do you know if he has any living relatives?
- A mother.
A mother.
A mother. A mother.
A mother.
- Hey, excuse me.
Look, just because you saw me naked
does not mean I'm gonna fuck you, okay?
- Uh, no, no, i didn't think that.
I wouldn't think-- i, uh,
I just thought maybe you wanted to
maybe go for a swim?
- Do you have a pool?
- Sort of.
- There is a pool, I promise.
- Yeah, I hope so.
Whoa.
That's a pool.
- That's a pool, yeah.
You said you wanted to go swimming, right?
- Uh, it's kind of, like, the middle of the afternoon.
She could come back, like, any second, right?
- Oh, no, no, trust me.
She's away, touring.
Besides, she's terrified of water.
I don't think I ever saw her come in here once.
- Hmm.
- So, what do you think, you gonna
give it a shot, jump in?
- Yeah, it's just--
such a shame, you know, a waste, really, because...
- Mm-hmm. - I already have dysentery, so.
- Oh, really? - Yeah.
- Right, right.
- You afraid?
- Yeah. Yeah, I'm super chicken.
Yeah, you just, like, struck fear in me, bro.
Oh, my.
- Well?
- Uh,
yeah, I can't swim.
- What?
- No. Yeah, see, I'm not--
I'm not sportif.
- Sportif? - Yeah.
- What the fuck does "sportif" mean?
- Hmm.
Are you a tree?
- No.
- I promise, no, no, I'm not.
- You are. - Yes, I'm a tree.
- You are, huh?
- Mm-hmm.
- Who are you?
- Oscar wilde.
And I'm wild for you.
It doesn't make any fucking sense.
- Whatever happened, whatever this is,
we're gonna get through it, okay?
- Just go make me a drink, okay?
- What kind of drink?
- Alcohol.
- Fuck.
- Hello?
- Who is this?
- If my son had never met you,
would he have killed himself?
Hmm?
- You don't even know me, Meredith--
- I could have you taken care of, you know.
One phone call,
five grand,
it would be very easy.
- I hope that makes you feel better.
- I don't want to feel better.
I want you to suffer the way I'm suffering now!
Then you didn't have to call!
- How dare you?
How dare you?
- Meredith. - How dare you!
- Meredith.
- How dare you?
Go on! Get away!
How dare you?
- Stop, Meredith, stop.
- Meredith--
- you know, she only saves those sorts of greetings
for the special few.
Cal Faraday,
Michael's father.
It's not your fault, you know.
Michael had issues you-you can't even begin imagine.
- Your wife is
fucking insane.
My ex-wife.
- Mm.
- Not surprised she hates you.
See, you don't know how things used to be with her and Michael.
It was just the two of them
in their own little world.
No intruders welcome.
Back then, i was the interloper.
Yeah. My own son.
But recently,
he started calling again.
Quite a lot, actually.
Told me all about you in those calls.
- Really?
- He loved you, Josie.
Thought you were smart,
original,
very real.
He said your--your dad drives a tow truck?
- Yeah.
Yes.
- Is there a mother in the picture?
My dad was a--was a fisherman
out of coos bay, Oregon.
- Is this what Michael thought of me?
Some kind of novelty?
"Real"?
That's another word for "poor," right?
- No.
"Real" means real.
He loved you.
- Yeah.
Right.
- I got you.
- He left this for you.
- Hello?
- Get dressed.
- How the fuck did you get my keys?
- I took them when you were passed out in your own piss.
Get up and get it together. People are coming over.
- What?
What people?
- Your friends.
Remember them?
They're the people who help you get through shit like this.
- And I was always afraid of death
until, um, my grandfather passed.
He was a big country music fan, and he, you know, was--
we always used to sing songs together.
When he actually died, we all stood around the bed
holding hands, singing to him.
There was this thing when he actually passed...
- Hi.
- So many friends.
Such good friends.
"We're sorry. We're--
"oh--oh, we're so sorry.
We're so sorry for your loss."
And then they go out and
have their teeth cleaned...
And eat dinner.
- Do you live here alone?
- No, I have ghosts that keep me company.
- You know, i--i could hear you playing
from all the way down the street.
- It's brahms.
Whenever Michael had a headache,
he always had to have his brahms.
- He played me brahms.
- And I played it for him,
of course.
- You were following me, weren't you?
- Well, i--
I was worried about Michael.
I hadn't heard from him in a little while,
but I never thought that--
world's greatest pianist.
Help yourself.
I heard that you had drinks with the father.
I'll assume he said many horrible things about me.
There w--the base--
the--the baseball, did he tell you?
No?
We were in New York for a--a recital.
And Cal and I were long since divorced,
but he had one of those townhouses
down on bank street.
Between marriages, as I recall,
briefly, of course.
Anyway,
he always kept this baseball on his desk.
It was signed by all those famous players,
you know, babe Ruth and so on.
He fondled it while he wrote.
Talk about freudian.
Anyway, we were up there discussing Michael's future.
And he got it into his head
to throw the ball at Michael.
"Come on! Think fast!"
You know, m--mean,
you know--like a common schoolyard bully.
That's--that's
the Jewish Hemingway for you.
But you know what Michael did?
He picked up the ball,
and he threw it
out of the window.
I mean, talk about babe Ruth.
You know, it was rolling down
the gutter on bank street.
It was fantastic.
I guess this is what they call a ten-second rule.
Josie?
Por favor?
You can relax.
You've already made it into the lion's stomach.
You don't have to worry about its bite.
- What do you want to drink?
- Alcohol.
Thank you.
Would you--would you--
put another log on the fire?
Could you do another one?
I'm freezing.
Gently, gently.
And then just open a little gap,
about--about an inch so it'll draw.
Josie, you can't drive in your condition.
- I can't live in my condition.
Ow.
- Hey.
"I am not sportif."
- What are you doing?
You have no right to go through his things,
not without my permission.
- I'm sorry.
- You can see your own way out.
- Here you go.
- Sorry I'm late.
- It's okay. - Had to stop at the bank.
So.
Listen.
It's a thriller.
It's very psychological.
Sort of antonioni meets buņuel.
A story of lovers caught in purgatory.
It's called "in pergatoria."
- Listen-- - you must be in it.
I wrote it for you.
- Jeremy, okay,
just need one minute
of silence to eat,
okay?
Friday, 5:00 A.M.
Nod yes, and I leave.
Nod yes...
And I leave.
- Hi. - Jesus.
What are you doing here?
- I heard you needed a model, right?
- Yeah, but... - Yeah.
- Not you, Josie.
- Why? - 'Cause--
I'd heard about--
and I'm so sorry.
- It's--yeah-- - I'm s--
- fine. - I'm so--you shouldn't be here.
- I mean... - - What?
- Josie, the way you're in-- and you should be home.
- No. No-no-no-no-no-no-no.
Please, I don't want to go home. - Seriously, you gotta be--
take care. - I don't want to--li--
that's the last place
I should be right now, okay?
So please, Phil?
- Please. Okay?
- O--okay. - Please--yes?
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Oh, my gosh.
It's actually not that boring. - Hmm.
Bach believed the world made sense.
He believed in god.
Now-- listen to brahms.
Let me play you some of him.
- How did you find me here?
- I just wanted to apologize
for the way i spoke to you this morning.
It wasn't right.
It's just--it's-- everything's just--
you know.
But I could buy you lunch.
- Not hungry.
- Drink?
I know you're as hungover as I am.
Hair of the dog, for Michael?
Thank you.
- Thanks.
So
did you ever take Michael to lunches like these?
- Uh,
when he was a little boy, yes.
But later on he couldn't bear it,
too many fat cats.
I bet he never once took you to a decent restaurant.
- Mm.
No.
- We mainly just ate at home.
You poor thing.
Michael couldn't boil water.
- Michael was a great cook,
actually.
He had all these cookbooks.
We even had this little garden with, like, herbs and stuff.
Once he cooked a whole fish
from the Chinese market,
with the head and the tail still on.
- Mm.
- We even ate the eyeballs.
And the cheeks.
That's the delicacy.
- Do you think it's awful that I
didn't know my own son any better?
- I--
I don't think
anybody knows everything about somebody.
- Excuse me.
You're Meredith loewy, aren't you?
- Yes.
- I saw you in San Francisco last year.
You were amazing. - Oh, thank you.
Thank you so much. That's very kind.
- Are you planning on being on tour anytime soon?
- Uh, yes, very soon, in fact.
- I look forward to it.
I was very sorry to hear about your son.
- Thank you.
- Must be nice,
people respecting you like that.
- Yes, it would appear that way to you, wouldn't it?
- So do you date?
- Date?
- Dating, to date somebody?
I mean, that guy was pretty hot.
- That's a little juvenile, don't you think?
- So I guess not?
- Well, I'm--I'm not celibate.
- Michael thought you were.
- I didn't wave my relationships under his nose.
I once had an affair with a Czech violinist.
He was impossible.
Should I have forced my sex life on him?
Would that have been less oedipal?
More?
I don't know.
I was all he had.
Josie, I'd like to ask you a favor.
I'd like to see where Michael lived.
He's gone. I just want to see.
- Yeah, that--
that's why you're being so nice to me...
- Josie... - Right?
- People say things when they're upset.
- Do.
I think you meant to say,
people do things when they're upset.
Well.
You remind me of Michael.
Very pigheaded.
Oh, come on.
I'm just asking to see it, for Christ sake.
I'm not asking to move in.
Hmm?
- You could, uh,
take your coat off if you want.
- He was always so gifted with portraiture.
Hmm.
We loved this.
May I have this?
- This isn't a shopping trip.
Hey, hey.
Those are his private journals.
- They're just artifacts now, Josie--
- please.
- It's your house.
"Seņor music"?
- Um, yeah, Michael used to play piano
for, like, kids' dance classes,
so they called him seņor music.
- Michael?
Michael abhorred children.
- He didn't hate children.
We even talked about having a baby.
- Well, thank god for small mercies.
- Cut.
Kay, I need my viewfinder.
- It's lighter, it's lighter Freud.
Emotionally, it's
relatively a joke.
This, this one here. Mm-hmm.
- Hello?
- It's Josie.
- Josie?
Josie, it's--it's late.
- You said to call if I ever needed you,
and I fucking need you, Cal.
Meredith.
Meredith,
she took everything.
- I don't have anyone to call.
- No one.
Please, Cal, please,
would you call her for me?
Okay, please?
- Look, th-there's nothing I can do.
And even if I called her, she wouldn't listen to me.
Josie, look, it's the middle of the night.
Let's talk in the morning, and I'll try to help, okay?
- Yeah.
Oh, yeah, yeah, totally.
Yeah, you get some sleep, okay?
You get some good fucking sleep, okay?
- Yes?
Ms. loewy is sleeping.
Oh, no, no. All concerts are canceled.
Mm-hmm.
Thank you.
I fucked him in this bed, Meredith.
Your bed.
Bitch.
- We have a dress for you already.
- No.
This is the dress.
- But, uh... - Jeremy.
I haven't slept in two days.
- Okay. - Please, respect my process.
Hey, what's up?
You're gonna have to do better than that, Meredith!
You're gonna have to fucking kill me!
Guy's following me and now he's at my fucking house.
- Josie, don't be crazy.
You know she's not gonna take a hit out on you.
Jo-Josie, I'm coming to you.
Where are you? Tell me right now.
- No, I'm sorry, I got to go. I got to go.
- Look, Josie--
- oh.
Loewy residence.
- It's Josie Tyrell.
- Thank you, Margaret.
What do you want, Josie?
- What happened, Meredith?
Did your foot slip off the gas pedal?
Couldn't follow through, huh?
And now the guy with the flattop
in the fucking car?
- Your imagination is running away with you, child.
- Listen, Meredith,
I told people
about this, okay?
So if I disappear,
they'll know.
- Good-bye, Josie.
- No, wait! Wait-wait-wait, wait.
Shh. Shh-shh-shh-shh-shh.
Josie.
Josie, listen, let's ju-- let's just
call a truce, okay?
We're even.
How much more can we possibly hurt each other?
I can't take any more. Can you?
Huh?
Josie, I shouldn't have taken your things.
I took it too far.
- I just want his--
I just want his journals back.
Please?
- Just tell me where you are,
and I'll come to you.
I'll bring you the journals.
Tell me where you are, and I'll bring them to you.
- Where are the rest of them?
- Stolis all around, ladies?
- What do you want from me?
- Did Michael ever tell you
what happened to me when I was your age?
I had been working with Rudolf serkin
at Curtis, just before he died.
- Who?
- Um, he-he was a very great pianist,
one of the greatest of his time.
And he was performing at carnegie hall
with the Philadelphia orchestra,
brahms' second.
But he got sick, i don't remember with what.
And he recommended me
to ormandy to replace him.
I was 21.
One day's notice.
The brahms' second.
I--it's a-- it's a monster concerto.
It's a huge responsibility.
One day's notice.
It was like one of those old movies, you know,
where the star breaks her ankle
and the girl gets her big chance.
I was so nervous. Oh.
I threw up before the concert.
But when I went out there...
Something else
took over.
It was--it was like
being lifted up on wings.
Harold schonberg called me a goddess.
Hurok signed me the following morning.
Within a week, he'd organized a tour.
It was like being in the nose cone of a rocket,
the--the momentum, you know, how fast it all came.
It was...
Incredible.
Everything I'd worked for
since I was four years old.
My father drowned himself in our pool a week later.
Couldn't even wait till I got home.
He always had to be the star.
I didn't go to the funeral.
I--i just--i toured. I stayed in hotels.
I was playing with all of the great orchestras,
and I couldn't stand to be by myself in a room.
And then I met Calvin,
thought I could put all of that loneliness behind me.
- Yeah, good luck with that.
Josie...
I know you loved him,
like I did,
and I know you've lost,
like I have.
Would you consider
coming to stay with me for a little while?
I'm so tired of being alone.
I--
I can't do it anymore.
I ju--i--i can't.
I just--i can't, i--
I'll give you the rest of them.
Please?
I'll give you everything I have.
- Wait, there!
Oh, my god...
Oh, fuck, it's still breathing.
Michael!
What's wrong with you? Michael, what do we do?
Michael!
Why do I have to do fucking everything?
It's all my fault.
All my fault.
I was so mean to him.
- May I help you?
- Are you fucking shitting me?
I'm over here all worried about you and shit,
and I find you here like this, a little fucking Princess?
- I'm very sick, pen.
Meredith is taking care of me now.
- Are you hearing yourself?
Jesus.
You saw her that night, and suddenly you're sick?
Don't you think that's a little suspicious?
What if she's, like, poisoning you or some shit?
- I don't really care if she is.
I'm so tired of my life.
- Don't say that.
You're depressed, okay?
You're depressed,
but this fucking house? Shit.
It's a fucking creep factory.
- Guess what?
I like being in this house.
It makes me feel closer to him.
It smells like him.
- He's dead, Josephine.
He's dead.
- Hey, it's pen. You know what to do--
- go to your broken heart.
If you think you don't have one, get one.
To get one, be Sincere.
Learn sincerity of intent... - Learn sincerity of...
- By letting life enter... - By letting life enter--
what is this? - Shh.
Because you're helpless, really, to do otherwise.
Poem by Jack hirschman. - This is the guy that--
- after the beep, leave a message for Josie or Michael.
- Michael, that is terrible!
- It's interesting, isn't it, that he said,
"Josie or Michael."
Didn't say, "Josie and Michael."
Josie, think of how you will feel one day
when you have a-- a screaming child on your hip
and you look at out the laundry in your yard
and you think,
"i could have had a different life."
I'm offering you that life, Josie.
All I want in return
is you.
- Hello?
- May I help you?
- Yes, I would like a room.
- How many nights?
- I'm not sure yet.
- Long day driving?
- Yeah.
- Mm, these roads are hazardous at night.
Those white lines become hypnotizers.
- About eight weeks ago, um,
a boy checked in here.
He registered under the name Oscar wilde.
I'd like to know how many nights he stayed.
I know he stayed here.
- Room nine is nice.
Gerta just cleaned it.
35 a night, cash only.
- Hi.
What's your name?
- Gerta.
I'm Josie.
You want to come outside for a second?
- Uh,
she locks everything at night.
- Can I ask you
about the boy who stayed here?
- To me, he is Oscar.
- Yeah, he liked Oscar wilde a lot.
But, uh, his real name was Michael.
- Michael.
He speak German,
like a viennese.
I--
I found him.
I--i--
I found him.
- I'm so sorry.
- After police go... - I'm so sorry.
- Then I must clean.
She make me.
Room seven.
- Listen, um,
I don't really know what's going on here,
but I'm leaving.
I don't know where exactly,
but I'm gonna start over.
- Come with me.
- Bitte. Please.
I cannot.