(AIRPLANE ENGINES WHIRRING)
(QUIET THUMP)
(WIND WHISTLING)
(ALARM BEEPING)
CONTROLLER: (OVER RADIO) Charlie-Oboe-Seven-Sugar.
Distress call acknowledged. Divert to new coordinates.
-Negative! Negative! -Heading two-three-zero.
-Vector two-three-zero. -Negative!
-Ascend three-zero-zero. -Unable!
-(RADIO CLICKS OFF) -Stay on course.
We're only losing altitude at 50 feet per second.
Let's clear that ridge, then reassess.
There might be a more survivable crash site.
More survivable crash site?
(ENGINE SPUTTERING)
I told you! I warned you!
Wet tarmac! Short runway! 25-knot crosswind! Lightning!
You disallowed me to complete a proper safety check
despite credible threats of sabotage.
You forced me to take off and needled me and teased me
and bullied me, but I managed to get us airborne anyway.
And now, needless to say, we've been blown up by somebody
trying to assassinate you again, and we're gonna crash after all!
If we survive, I'm reporting you
to the Trans-European Aviation Authority.
-You're fired. -What's that?
-What'd you say? -You're fired.
I'm fired? In the middle of emergency forced landing procedure...
(ALARM BEEPS)
Mayday, mayday, mayday. Charlie-Oboe-Seven-Sugar.
Request for immediate clearance.
I've got a cornfield and a, uh, looks like a soybean field.
Which is gonna be softer?
-(ALARM BEEPS) -(SWITCH CLICKS)
CONTROLLER: Inconclusive.
Never mind. I'll be in the cornfield.
(DISTANT THUD)
REPORTER: At this moment, rescue workers
are laboring to extinguish the fiery wreckage
of an ill-fated dual-engine aircraft,
in a perhaps futile attempt to recover and identify
the remains of Anatole "Zsa-zsa" Korda,
international businessman,
maverick in the fields of armaments and aviation,
among the richest men in Europe.
This was Korda's sixth recorded airplane crash.
Dogged for years by accusations of profiteering,
-(BIRD CAWS) -tax evasion, price-fixing, bribery,
Korda specialized in the mediation of
-clandestine trade agreements. -(LOUD BANG)
His moniker in financial circles: Mr. 5%.
-(BIRDS CAWING) -He is survived by
ten children-- nine boys, one novitiate nun,
his daughter Liesl--
and is predeceased by three wives.
A controversial figure, some will mourn his death,
others, inevitably, will celebrate.
(LAMB BLEATS)
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
Who was this man?
How do we recognize him?
-Does he have even an identity? -(CHURCH BELL TOLLING)
Let us consider his life and deeds.
Born to an unscrupulous...
Grandmother.
(PROPHET CONTINUES SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)
Why are we here?
I don't know you.
PROPHET: ...in a cold house
and brought that cold life...
(LID CREAKS)
(GASPS)
REPORTER: Captain, what exactly would Mr. Korda
have experienced during those final seconds of his life,
before he was incinerated,
while you rocketed through space strapped to a chair?
Surely a horrific display of...
Actually, no. He's still alive.
Mr. Korda. Sir.
-Wow. -I'm fine.
What's that in your hand?
I don't know. I think it's a vestigial organ.
I tried to get it back in.
It's not as easy as it looks.
("APOLLON MUSAGETE: APOTHEOSE" BY IGOR STRAVINSKY PLAYING)
(MUSIC CONTINUES OVER RECORD PLAYER)
(DEVICE CLICKING, BEEPING)
(DEVICE BUZZES, CLICKS)
The chair recognizes the bureaucrat from Baltimore.
EXCALIBUR: Thank you.
Subject: Zsa-zsa Korda,
our single common enemy who works consistently
and relentlessly against the interests of all our competing nations.
The one item only on our agenda which unites us.
He swindles our banks.
He dodges our tariffs.
He ties up our courtrooms in tactical lawsuits.
He provokes war as well as peace,
in direct conflict with our shared diplomatic agenda.
Subject's new venture relies heavily
on personal capital and wildly overreaches liquid resources.
Our objective, with your approval:
disrupting, obstructing, impeding,
crippling Korda's enterprise in any manner possible,
with option to cancel in event of subject's sudden
and probable death.
-All in favor? -ALL: Aye!
Your bag, Miss Liesl.
-I'll put it in the cupboard. -I wish to retain it.
Yes. No, no, I'm keeping it.
I understand.
Be seated.
-(DOOR OPENS) -(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
ZSA-ZSA: Liesl. I expect you received news of my death.
The reports were inaccurate, needless to say.
Let me get directly to the point.
I've appointed you sole heir to my estate,
which you may come into sooner rather than later,
and provisionally manager of my affairs
after the event of my actual demise, on a trial basis.
-Why? -Why what?
Why sooner rather than later, since you survived again?
And why am I sole heir to your estate?
You have eight sons at last count.
-Nine sons. -Nine sons. What about them?
-They're not my heirs. -Why not?
-I have my reasons. -Which are what?
My reasons? I'm not saying.
I'm saying I'm not saying.
It's been six years since our last meeting.
I apologize.
I forgive you.
Are you dying?
Thank you. No.
But I keep getting assassinated, unsuccessfully so far,
and I can't allow my enemies to benefit from killing me.
That's the top priority in my life at this time.
If they get me, you get them, provisionally.
Like an audition.
Like a trial period.
Of being your daughter.
Of being sole heir to my estate and manager of my affairs
after the event of my actual demise.
The personal family aspect, I agree,
that merits further discussion, but for now,
there's much to explain, and it's all in these shoeboxes.
Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme.
My most important project of my lifetime.
30 years' work.
May I move? Over there.
ZSA-ZSA: Over where?
Over there? Why?
They say you murdered my mother.
-What? -They say you murdered my mother.
Who said that? Who said that?
"They." It's what they say.
I feel the need to address it.
It's why I agreed to come here today.
ZSA-ZSA: They say that? Well, it's a--
Forgive me. I know you're pious.
It's a goddamn lie.
I never murdered anybody's mother in my life.
Okay. I have no choice but to take you at your word.
I never personally murdered anybody at all, ever!
You arranged murders perhaps.
Don't put words in my mouth.
Of course I didn't and don't.
I've employed violent men to do violence on occasion
in the distant past.
I take no relish in it.
They say you murdered all your wives.
I'm gonna sue them for libel in that case, whoever "they" are!
If you can provide me with their identities.
In fact, I was very fond of your mother
and never would've murdered her
under any circumstances whatsoever.
I didn't know her that well.
I thought you came here because I summoned you.
My plan is to be a nun.
Not anymore, right?
(BROADCLOTH CLEARS THROAT)
Your brothers are there.
(GUM POPS)
Jasper, David, Phillip, Michael, Harry, Jamie, Samuel, Steven, Thomas.
Hello, boys.
Will they be joining us for luncheon?
ZSA-ZSA: Of course not.
They live in a dormitory across the street.
I don't know, I don't know what they're doing here.
Is today a Saturday? That might explain it.
I bought Jasper a crossbow.
Be careful of your eyes. He's a very good shot.
You understand this changes your life.
Listen carefully.
This shoebox contains my idea for the dam we're going to build.
This shoebox contains my idea
for the canal we're in the middle of digging.
This shoebox contains my idea
for the tunnel we already finished drilling.
I think he sharpens them.
It's supposed to have a suction cup.
This shirt box contains my plan to assemble
the massive workforce required for the project.
In short, we're gonna need slave labor,
but that's available to us.
This hatbox contains my negotiations
with barons in shipping, mining and railroads.
These littler sock boxes contain
my agreements with titans in banking, real estate
and black market syndicates.
Excuse me.
(FOOTSTEPS RUNNING)
(BOYS CHATTERING, LAUGHING)
(OBJECTS CLATTERING)
BJORN: (NORWEGIAN ACCENT) Hello.
Yes.
-(OBJECTS CRASHING) -(JASPER SHOUTS)
ZSA-ZSA: You're not my heirs!
Who the deuce is that? He's been eavesdropping on us.
I'm the new tutor.
Ah, of course.
Welcome.
Bring me the polygraph.
I always keep a tutor on staff to give lessons
during intervals of my free time.
He's gonna teach us about insects and related subjects.
He's an expert in that field.
We'll be with you shortly.
This is my daughter Liesl.
This is Professor...?
BJORN: Bjorn.
Professor Bjorn.
(CLATTERING UPSTAIRS)
-(CROSSBOW FIRES) -BOY: Watch out!
-(ARROW CLATTERS) -(DOOR CLOSES)
In summation, the boxes on this carpet all together present
a blueprint to set the wheels of commerce in motion
throughout a potentially rich, now dormant region.
Then to retain an appropriate but extremely valuable
five percent of the revenues for the next 150 years.
This is just...
crazy.
Yes, I admit.
If it works, it's a miracle.
(MATCH STRIKES)
But it's going to.
What's in the glove box?
That's the gap.
We'll discuss that later.
You still didn't sign it.
I told you, I take my vows at the end of the month.
I told you, unfortunately, no.
The church could claim a lien on our family business.
You can still believe in God if you wish.
-The pigeons are there. -Not for me.
I take only a few crusts of bread in the daytime.
-ZSA-ZSA: How about you? -Hmm? Me?
I could eat a horse and easily a pigeon.
ZSA-ZSA: You're invited to lunch in that case.
Oh, thank you, sir.
ZSA-ZSA: Point your finger.
-Full name? -Bjorn Lund.
-Place of birth? -Oslo.
-Are you wearing a bow tie? -Yes.
Are you now or have you ever been employed
-in the conduct of industrial espionage? -No, no, no.
Or engaged as a professional contract assassin-for-hire?
Goodness, no.
Give him the overcooked one.
Your bread crusts, Miss Liesl.
LIESL: Peace be with you, Reverend Mother.
I write with perplexing tidings.
See what I mean? Poisoned.
-Oh, it's poisoned. -Why did it turn black?
LIESL: My father has appointed me
provisional successor and prospective beneficiary
of his vast fortune, gained entirely, as you know,
through unholy mischief.
How will your slaves be compensated?
I believe they will receive a small stipend.
It's really up to the king.
We can't interfere on that level.
God may have something to say about that.
Is he against slavery in the Bible?
I'm against it.
What worth is the pledge of a swindling rogue?
There's a terrible famine in this region.
-This shoebox, I mean. -I know. That's us.
LIESL: This friendless man bewilders me.
-In what sense that's you? -We-we did that.
Normally, there'd just be the normal level of poverty there,
but presently we control the grain.
Now we make our move,
and we supply provisions on our own terms.
My word. Is that ethical?
It's damnable. To hell.
Nevertheless, I foresee an opportunity
to accomplish, by the grace of God...
...significant good works with the enormous resources
he proposes to place at my disposal.
Memorize this combination.
I can't tell you where the safe is.
-That'll be in my will. -(MATCH STRIKES)
LIESL: Perhaps this could be even his deeper intention.
Where does it come from?
-Mexico. -Not the cactus.
I mean this ruthless brutality.
You don't know me.
The boys live across the street.
There's no love in this house, as far as I can observe.
God is absent. Why?
I remain profoundly reluctant to leave the order
and long for the hour of my return to sanctuary.
ZSA-ZSA: I think it's not my fault.
It's a self-fulfilling prophecy which starts in the nursery.
No one cared about or for me except my nanny,
and she was dismissed and put to shame.
-What for? -She overstepped her position.
It had to be done.
LIESL: Also, his poor boys, my brothers,
thirst and hunger for sisterly affection.
The wings have a scent which gets on your fingers
if you catch them.
Some smell like lemons.
Some smell like chocolate. Some smell like urine.
Are you interested in butterflies?
Is that a real question?
Is this an act?
I'm interested in the welfare of all living creatures.
Very good. Very good.
LIESL: What advice can you afford your humble servant, me?
She was murdered, by the way.
Not a suicide, the official ruling.
I think I know who did it,
but I've tried to stay out of it, frankly.
The son of my father.
He's the murderer, I suspect.
The son of your father?
In other words, your brother.
-Half brother. -Uncle Nubar?
-He's my mother's murderer? -I suspect.
We always hated each other, of course,
but we do conduct business together
through an intermediary, because he's very clever.
-"Thou shalt not kill." -I agree.
We must bring that man to justice,
if what you say is true.
Broadcloth.
-Wake up my notary. -Yes, sir.
ZSA-ZSA: Sign the paper in front of you...
...and I swear my word of solemnest honor,
we shall bring ferocious revenge down upon
this cold-blooded butcher, your Uncle Nubar.
Meaning get him arrested?
I think so.
He is one of our principal partners, of course.
LIESL: I'll pray on the matter.
(WHISPERING) Heavenly Father, please grant me
with some guidance for this difficult decision.
(NORMAL VOICE) Amen.
-God has called me here for a purpose. -(MUTTERS)
No slaves. No famine. No dormitory.
You're on a trial period.
BROADCLOTH: We've annulled your sacred covenant, Miss Liesl.
A secular rosary will arrive from the jeweler later this afternoon.
I hope you'll find it to your liking.
LIESL: P.S. How is your rheumatism?
I pray for your health and comfort.
LIESL: Jasper.
Bless us and these, thy holy gifts, which we are about to receive.
-We pray for the poor... -What's this about?
-Don't make them be religious. -(PRAYER CONTINUES)
I already did. We're reading Genesis.
-...before thee in thy name. Amen. -Amen.
Why would anybody do something I didn't tell them to do?
Does this soup come from our usual kitchen?
I feel it tastes better.
It does taste better.
I have a French cook. You have a Belgian cook.
Yes.
(BOYS GASPING)
What? What, what?
-What are you afraid of? -BJORN: Don't worry.
They eat only worms and crickets
and sometimes their own mates.
Are you men or mice?
You should be lions!
No bugs at the table.
I am sorry.
Of course.
Yes, sir?
The snails are good.
Thank you, sir.
They're good.
Also, he likes your soup.
Did you eat dinner with your father
when you were a little boy?
No.
A new rule.
From this day forward, you're allowed a maximum
of two authorized friends, each of you.
And we're gonna make a list.
Nobody not on that list will be permitted
to enter these premises at any time.
Also, a new motto:
"Break but don't bend."
I didn't know you live in a slum.
(QUIET LAUGHTER)
Fix the leak.
Never buy good pictures.
Buy masterpieces.
Why do you adopt children into this madness?
I play the odds.
Of course I have my boys,
but the adopted ones might turn out to be better.
This fella could be smarter than Einstein, for all we know.
EXCALIBUR: This is a bashable rivet,
perhaps the most effective device of mechanical hardware
ever conceived for the purpose of permanently coupling
two beams, rods, posts or pillars.
It's the foundation of modern civil engineering,
though its usage, of course, dates from the Bronze Age.
Regular price: ten for a nickel.
(MEN MURMURING)
("PETROUCHKA, 1911 VERSION" BY IGOR STRAVINSKY PLAYING)
(MUSIC CONTINUES OVER RECORD PLAYER)
(BELL RINGS)
(MACHINE WHIRRING)
-(DOOR OPENS) -(SWITCH CLICKS)
ZSA-ZSA: Wake up. The new plane is on the tarmac.
-We're leaving in ten minutes. -LIESL: What?
-Wake up. -Wait.
Wh-Why? Where are we going?
-I'll tell you in the air. -Tell me now.
I'll tell you in the car.
-Tell me now. -Obey me.
I'm going back to sleep.
It's sabotage! Look.
Over the past 50 years, the market value of bashable rivets
has risen calmly, measuredly from three and a quarter
to 27 and a half Yankee dollars per keg-barrel.
Last night, rivets rocketed to 900.
-What does that mean? For us? -It means the gap explodes.
There's a run on bolts, spikes and pulverized gravel, too.
All category of construction materials
across the entire western Near East.
My enemies are manipulating the markets we manipulated.
Who's that?
ZSA-ZSA: Arsonists. I hired them to burn the house down,
if necessary, for insurance purposes.
They're just doing an assessment right now.
That's not my suitcase.
I got you a new one.
The other one wouldn't be suitable for this voyage.
It looks like a picnic basket.
Today, tonight and tomorrow, we rendezvous with every titan
in every shoebox and pretend we agree what we already agreed,
but, in fact, we don't. We can't.
Somebody's got to cover the gap.
How much is the gap?
The gap? The gap is not like that.
Yes, it's partly a deficit in funding
against our total projected revenues,
but more precariously, it's a missing slice of a pie
that was baked too big for the pan.
LIESL: I mean the amount.
Everything we got.
Our entire fortune plus a little bit more.
Wake up the tutor.
EXCALIBUR: Initial countermeasures rendered
highly effective results, as you can see.
Subject now engaged in desperate campaign
of clandestine site visits.
Crisscrossing region to confront each principal partner
in effort to re-renegotiate terms of charter agreement
and salvage enterprise
before official signature signing ceremony end of month.
Also, newly obtained medical report indicates subject may be
suffering trauma from blunt force head injury.
CHAIRMAN: Are those screws or bolts?
Possibly both.
Likely accumulated over several incidents.
(AIRPLANE ENGINES WHIRRING)
What's in the fruit crate?
Leave that alone. It's fragile.
-What is it? -That?
It's fragile. Leave the fruit crate alone.
-But what is it? -Just...
It's hand grenades. Are you satisfied?
Can you accept now to be careful around it?
Why are we traveling with a boxful of hand grenades?
I have extras-- a large number of them.
For me, at this time,
a hand grenade is cheaper than a bullet.
Do you use them?
That's not really the point.
Point your finger.
(POLYGRAPH BEEPING QUIETLY)
You'll be acting as my administrative secretary
for the time being.
-The last one got blown in two, as you know. -Oh, marvelous.
That rucksack, which you're responsible for, contains
all the liquid currency to my name at this moment.
Keep it on your person at all times and don't lose it.
I'll do my best. Great Scott!
Look at this one.
Isn't it remarkable how he's able
to hang on at this airspeed?
How does he hang on at this airspeed?
Shall we do a lesson now or should I talk to you?
I expect you know about tarsal segments:
the tiny hairs with clawlike structures that grip
microscopic irregularities on an apparently smooth surface.
But the dragonfly is also furnished with little pads...
Hold that thought.
-...called pulvilli. -(DOOR CLOSES)
When was your last confession?
-I think I was 14. -Oh, dear.
Do you still believe in God?
Sadly, no.
Are you an atheist?
I'm a scientist.
You're an atheist.
Are you chaste?
Not particularly.
Is that important?
I don't really know.
Are you very terribly pure yourself?
Obviously. How can you ask me such a thing?
Look at me.
It wouldn't matter in the least.
Even if you were the cheapest girl at the filthiest brothel
in the seediest red-light district...
-Oh, dear. -...on this swirling orb,
nothing could detract from your loveliness.
Thank you.
You're welcome. I speak my heart.
I'm a bohemian.
I thought you were born in Oslo.
Not literally bohemian.
Actually, I've only been to one brothel.
It left me cold.
We're starting our descent.
Prepare your documents before we deplane
so you never delay my schedule.
Passports?
Where's yours?
I don't have a passport.
Normal people want the basic human rights
that accompany citizenship in any sovereign nation.
I don't.
My legal residence is a shack in Portugal.
My official domicile is a hut on the Black Sea.
My certificated abode is a lodge perched on the edge
of a cliff overlooking the sub-Saharan rainforest
accessible only by goat path.
I don't live anywhere.
I'm not a citizen at all.
I don't need my human rights.
(QUIET THUMP)
What was that?
I think nothing.
It's the same sound I heard last time
before the plane exploded, but this time, it didn't.
So, nothing to worry about.
Myself, I feel very safe.
(WIND WHISTLING)
(BIRD CALLS IN DISTANCE)
BJORN: You have a long journey, don't you?
You must find a suitable place to bury it.
Yes.
I never lost interest in you, by the way.
I always followed your progress with great interest.
-Followed how? -Bjorn!
-Hmm? -Where's the rucksack?
In the car.
Followed how?
Well, I generally kept various operatives observing
your activities, your report cards,
your medical history, your personal correspondence,
-et cetera. -You've been spying on me all my entire life?
It's not called spying when you're the parent.
It's called nurturing.
Or at the very least, interest.
Here comes the prince.
Actually, that's some other fellows.
I think assassins.
Driver, get the hand grenades.
Driver!
(GUNSHOT ECHOING)
-(RAPID GUNFIRE) -(MEN SHOUTING)
Ahoy!
You armed yourself. Good girl.
-(BRAKES SQUEAL) -Oh, no.
The assassins shot your driver.
I pledge to compensate his family on behalf of the king,
who regrets the presence of devilish brigands in the imperial realm.
I think I recognize that assassin.
He used to work for me, maybe.
(ENGINE SHUTS OFF)
Who's this?
-My daughter Liesl. -How do you do, Your Highness?
Oh, she's a bride of Christ. What a pity.
You may address me directly.
I beg your pardon. You're stunning.
-Thank you. -They got him right through the pump.
-The driver, I mean. -Poor man.
-He didn't suffer. -I believe he did suffer.
I brought you a humble symbol of the gratitude
of my father's people for your heroic endeavors
toward the prosperity of our commonwealth.
ZSA-ZSA: Another knife.
She's got one, too, under the habit. Show him.
-Holy moly. -I bought it at the airport.
Help yourself to a hand grenade.
You're very kind.
(TUNNEL RUMBLING, CREAKING)
How confident are we in this tunnel
at the current stage of construction?
One hundred percent.
Don't be alarmed by that tremor.
-Miss Liesl... -Would you like to hold my hand?
I was going to suggest the same thing.
Thank you both.
It's a very good tunnel.
Myself, I feel very safe.
Yes, but you're in the habit of surviving.
-Stop! -(BRAKES SQUEAL)
I beg your pardon.
(TRAIN HORN BLOWS IN DISTANCE)
Right on schedule.
(TRAIN APPROACHING)
-(STEAM HISSING) -(BRAKES SQUEALING)
This is not the document we agreed to validate.
What? Of course it is.
You've been fiddling with it!
Th-The deal's already in place.
This is just a symbolic meeting to connect the unfinished tracks.
It's a formality.
Not anymore.
Oh, help yourself to a hand grenade.
Have you been fiddling with it?
Barely.
-Liar! How dare you?! -What in the hell made you...
It's not my fault!
(OVERLAPPING SHOUTING)
...goddamn liar!
Somebody's got to cover the gap.
Somebody else.
I'll change it back. We concede the point.
-We're walking away. -(PRINCE FAROUK STAMMERS)
The resources of our bountiful treasury have been
acutely depleted during the drilling of this magnificent...
-That's not our problem. -It's his and yours.
Goodbye.
(WHISTLE BLOWS)
-(TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS) -(STEAM HISSES)
Halt!
Let's resolve it the way we did in Colorado
with the dispute over the Fort Junction claim.
Two-on-two, first to five.
This puts us at a spectacular disadvantage.
I've never played the game in my life.
I don't even know the regulations.
We're the underdog, yes. I still like our chances.
Basketball, by the way, it's their greatest strength,
but it's their greatest weakness.
Two beers, please.
Uh, not for me.
I've never tasted hard liquor in my life,
except communion wine.
Uh, communion, this is not hard liquor.
Anyway, on a hot day, in a dark tunnel, beer's delicious.
You should drink this.
Okay. Two beers.
(BASKETBALL BOUNCING)
(GUM POPS)
-Call it. -BOTH: Heads.
Heads.
(BASKETBALL BOUNCES)
One-zip.
A respectable attempt.
Classic backhand layup.
-(SOFT WHISPERING) -(METAL GRINDING)
-I beg your pardon? -I didn't say anything.
Did you hear what Mr. Reagan just spoke to me?
When he refers to my mother, he refers to the sovereign queen
of a population of ten million loyal subjects.
He didn't say anything about the sovereign queen.
ZSA-ZSA: Don't listen to that.
He's trying to get in your head.
Just play your game, Farouk,
if I may call you that, Your Highness.
I don't know how to play my game.
It's utterly foreign to me.
-You're good. -I'm not good!
Two-zip.
Does that count?
It doesn't count, but I've never seen it done before.
You got to bounce it when you move.
That's a rule I should've mentioned.
How well do you know him?
How well do I know...?
Anatole Korda. Zsa-zsa. Your father.
Not well. Mostly by reputation.
I see.
What's your directive, in that case, here?
-My directive? -If you have one.
I would say, I think, to prove himself to me.
Also, the other way around.
-Am I prying? -Are you prying?
Maybe. Half and half.
Prying and, for selfish reasons,
genuinely concerned for your future welfare.
-LELAND: Double hop-back jump shot. -LIESL: Hmm.
-What's it like? -I wonder.
-Plummeting to earth, on fire. -How many times?
-Six, so far. -Yikes.
-Sportsmanship, gentlemen. -Part of the game.
LELAND: Nothing personal.
Get it right this time, you twerp.
(GRUNTS)
-(BASKETBALL THUDS AGAINST WINDOW) -(BASKETBALL BOUNCING)
Could you imagine falling in love with a man like me,
by the way, hypothetically?
You're drunk. On three beers.
I think I mean it as a genuine question.
Sisters of the cloth do not engage
in romantic behavior of any kind.
-Oh, really? -It's a vow.
In that case, stop flirting with the prince!
Besides, I thought you're not a nun anymore.
You're a business lady.
Is this an act?
You asked me that before!
I don't know what you're talking about.
Left-handed, blind-man, over-the-shoulder swoop.
-(BASKETBALL SWISHES IN NET) -Yow!
(BASKETBALL BOUNCING)
That was the worst plane crash I ever survived in my life.
I think I died, actually,
for about a minute and a half.
-It's coming back now. -(CLATTERING)
-REAGAN: What's going on? -LELAND: I don't know.
PRINCE FAROUK: Did we give up?
Just, Sir Zsa-zsa, as you say, play your game.
I'm not really a sportsman.
I'm more interested in gardening, for instance.
My enemies are everywhere.
I'd like my daughter to come to me.
She's drinking beer in the dining car
with your administrative secretary.
Fetch the nun.
He's actually a tutor.
Insects and related subjects.
Sorry for my bad manners.
-The beers were too strong. -Hush.
I was present at your birth.
The midwife was a leathery old hag.
I cut the umbilical cord
with hedge clippers of my own design.
I was very fond of your mother and never would've murdered her
under any circumstances whatsoever.
How'd you get so religious?
My surviving parent sent me to live in a convent at age five.
To keep you away from boys.
Didn't expect you to get brainwashed.
You're the only child I did wish to try to be
a proper father to, but it wasn't possible.
You're named for my grandmother.
She didn't recognize me.
Is this typical of him?
In my experience? Not at all.
Normally, I'd say he's the shrewdest,
most resourceful businessman alive.
Ha!
One last shot.
From the end of the train tracks.
If Farouk succeeds,
the deal proceeds according to the original document
before I fiddled with it,
but you cover ten percent of the gap,
and I swear my word of solemnest honor...
-Skip it. -Me?
-You. -He misses,
there's half a million Swiss francs in that rucksack.
It's yours.
The rucksack.
Okay, Farouk, if I may call you that, Your Highness.
Take the shot.
Is it acceptable for me to propel the ball in this manner?
We knew your mother.
One moment.
(WHISPERING) Dear merciful and Heavenly Father,
please grant us good luck and fortune in the circumstance
of my father's business dealings with the Sacramento...
(BUSY CHATTER)
(CHATTER STOPS)
(EXHALES SHARPLY)
(WIND WHISTLING SOFTLY)
Good husband...
...what tribute is this?
(SOFTLY) Money.
-(THUNDER CRASHING) -(CROWD MURMURING)
She's not your daughter.
(AIRPLANE ENGINES WHIRRING)
ZSA-ZSA: You do have my eyes.
Do people not tell you that?
Nobody ever told me I have anybody's anything.
I think I see it.
Except yours aren't blue.
-(ALARM BUZZES) -What's that?
I don't know. Go find out.
He has my eyes, too.
Uncle Nubar.
He's not human.
He's biblical.
What did you pray, specifically,
to get Prince Farouk to make that impossible granny shot?
Even as an atheist, without God's will,
he would've botched it by a mile.
It's not witchcraft.
The phrasing of it, which I don't recall, doesn't matter.
What matters is the sincerity of your devotion.
That's it.
That's what?
-No, that's it. -What?
That's it.
The pilot says you got a telephone call.
-On an airplane. -Who is it?
A Mr. Savarin-Montrachet.
Marseille Bob.
(DOOR CLOSES)
(SPEAKING FRENCH)
Hello, hello.
(DOOR OPENS, CLOSES)
Did you just tell Marseille Bob
the Sacramento Consortium agreed to cover the gap?
-No. -"All of it," you said.
I speak French, of course. You're fiddling with it again.
Okay, yes, but I'm doing a strategy.
Listen carefully.
Is this supposed to be here?
It was under the lunch trolley.
-Oh, dear. -How much time does it say?
18 minutes.
Perfectly fine. We land in ten.
Myself, I feel very safe.
(MUTTERS)
One, two, three.
(JAZZ BAND PLAYING "MUD BUG")
(LIVELY CHATTER)
(MUSIC AND CHATTER CONTINUE IN DISTANCE)
(SPEAKING FRENCH)
Uh, I've arranged a light supper, in the meantime.
Help yourself to a hand grenade.
You're very kind.
May I offer you a champagne cocktail?
Uh, not for me.
I've never tasted hard liquor in my life,
except beer and communion wine.
That's not hard liquor.
It's a delicious concoction with cherries and a sugar cube.
Okay. Two champagne cocktails.
I knew your mother.
(RHYTHMIC KNOCK ON DOOR)
(MUTTERS IN FRENCH)
(DOOR BUZZES)
(BOTH WHISPERING)
-BODYGUARD: You don't know? -COAT-CHECK GIRL: No.
I recognize your handwriting.
This is you.
Obviously, the Sacramento Consortium
refused to cover the gap, and you're trying to secretly
blackmail me to salvage the agreement.
Actually, I suppose it's extortion.
It's so crude. You've been fiddling with it.
ZSA-ZSA: That's absurd.
It's far-fetched.
Where do you get such suspicious ideas?
It's very French.
How could we know you were gonna receive
an anonymous letter in the middle of...
Nothing you say will convince me.
I'm absolutely, unflinchingly certain
you are responsible for this, as you say, anonymous letter.
If you deny it again, I'm throwing you out.
-Is that a threat?! -(SHOUTING ANGRILY IN FRENCH)
Somebody's got to cover the gap!
It's sabotage! The bashable rivets!
Not my fault!
Somebody's manipulating the markets...
(ANGRY SHOUTING ENDS)
Well, anyway, you're wrong about my handwriting.
Bjorn redrafted it.
Why'd you just do that?
You just admitted everything after swearing us
to never reveal your deceitfulness,
even under pain of torture, for the rest of our lives.
You call that a strategy?
He doesn't fall for it.
They covered ten percent plus Farouk another five.
What's become of you?
Too many airplane crashes, I think.
I'm walking away. One taxi.
I'll change it back. We concede the point.
-Too late. -No, no.
I'll change it back.
-We concede the point. -Still too late.
No, no, no, no.
I'll change it back.
We concede the point.
(RAPID GUNFIRE AND CLAMORING IN DISTANCE)
What was that?
-(RAPID GUNFIRE) -(PEOPLE SCREAM)
This is a robbery.
On behalf of the Jungle Unit
of the Intercontinental Radical Freedom Militia Corps.
All money, jewels and watches into the bags, please.
MARSEILLE BOB: We're outgunned.
Who are they? I don't know these terrorists.
Must come from out of town.
(GUNS CLICKING)
The proceeds of this seizure will benefit not only
the administrative activity of our organization
but also orphans and widows,
the blind, the sick, the wounded,
farmers, teachers and the construction
of hygienic wastewater disposal systems.
Why is he shooting my ceiling?!
Just rob my customers and make your getaway!
-Bjorn, get the hand grenades. -No.
None of the funds generated by the sale of your property
will be squandered.
These pamphlets articulate our policies.
It's too much.
Why are you shooting my ceiling?
This is a robbery on behalf of the Jungle Unit of...
I know. I understand that. I'm asking about my ceiling.
You idiots are destroying a magnificent nightclub.
Grab the loot and get out!
-Let's communicate. -(GUNSHOT)
He took a bullet for me.
-I took a bullet for you. -I'm aware of that.
I witnessed the event. Where's the wound?
Right here where the blood
-is gushing out of me. -Okay.
Oh, it's not too bad, actually.
I think your diplomatic credentials slowed it down.
SERGIO: Excuse us.
For that needless violence.
-(WHISTLES) -LIESL: Did they shoot you?!
They shot me,
but your father did something heroic, I suppose.
It should have been him, actually.
Pluck it out.
Me?
Go ahead.
(SPEAKING FRENCH)
(GLASS SHATTERS)
(CROWD MURMURS)
(SPEAKING FRENCH)
The meeting's at midnight.
Are you still walking away?
How can I now?
Two taxis.
ZSA-ZSA: Don't mention anything.
To Marty about the gap.
Just pretend our job is building trust and cementing it.
-Bjorn! -BJORN: Hmm?
ZSA-ZSA: Where's the rucksack?
BJORN: Oh, I shouldn't keep it in the taxi.
(BELL RINGS)
(MECHANICAL CREAKING)
Any of you folks allergic to powdered insecticides?
ZSA-ZSA: Of course not.
Any of you folks bearing firearms or other weapons on your person?
I carry a dagger.
May I ask the purpose of the hand grenades you folks brought on board?
It's a gift, I think. He has extras.
(MECHANICAL CREAK)
-Do I need a blood transfusion? -(LOCK CLICKS)
Hiya. Hiya! Come in! Good to see you, man.
Come in. Hiya. How are you, man?
Come in. Hiya. Hiya.
-Come in. -ZSA-ZSA: I've been shot,
but my diplomatic credentials slowed it down.
-(DOOR CLOSES) -This is my daughter Liesl.
Do you need a blood transfusion?
I'm O negative, universal donor,
if that's what you're looking for. Who shot him?
Terrorist from out of town.
-Geez, man. You shoot him back? -Not yet.
This is Professor Bjorn, my administrative secretary.
Welcome aboard. Make yourself at home, man. Have a seat.
You sit there, you sit there, you sit there,
you sit there, I sit here.
Don't ask me to cover the gap, man.
I know about the bashable rivets.
Of course not. This is just a symbolic meeting.
It's a formality. Give me a pretzel.
BJORN: Certainly.
Help yourself to a hand grenade.
You're very kind.
(PRETZEL CRUNCHING)
-Damn it! -Oh, dear!
-MARTY: Hey. -(SPEAKING FRENCH)
I woke up in the middle of the night
to a commotion downstairs.
Shouts and slams and breaking glass.
A shriek like a cat trapped in a cupboard.
I got up and snuck out
through the hatch in the upstairs scullery.
They locked me in at night.
I slid down the spiral banister.
Deadstock didn't see me, the underbutler at the time.
I walked down the long front room gallery,
Bun-Bun in one hand, Mousey in the other.
The grandfather clock chimed 3:00 a.m.
The door opened, and my father stepped out into the light.
He was wearing white pajamas and a white dressing gown.
His face was covered with cuts from a plane crash, as usual.
His hair was wild.
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
"Go to bed," you said.
"Where's Mama?" I said.
"Asleep," you said.
But it wasn't true. She was there.
Standing in the reflection in the mirror
in the doorway behind you at the back of the room.
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
She had on gloves and a coat.
Her blouse was unbuttoned.
Her breasts were naked.
"Your mother won't be living with us anymore," you said.
"Go to bed."
I walked in reverse to the stairs, then I ran.
They sent me away in the spring.
KNAVE: Ob-Objection, Your Honors.
That's such a distorted version of the story.
It's told from a child's point of view,
which is forgivable but maddening.
I never saw her again.
I'm not on trial here, am I?
(GENTLE MUSIC PLAYING)
I'm gonna confess something terrible
which you may never forgive me.
Take five, man.
(DOOR CLOSES)
The reason I know who killed your mother, which I didn't do,
is because I did do something else
which maybe caused it to happen.
Your mother wasn't a nun like you.
She took lovers.
One... one was your Uncle Nubar.
I profoundly resented this insult,
in spite of my own infidelities,
and I tricked him, not in my own handwriting,
into thinking your mother was betraying him behind his back
with my administrative secretary at that time.
The result: he murdered them both, I think.
Did you love her?
I was very fond of her. No.
-(SLAP) -(ZSA-ZSA AND BJORN GROAN)
LIESL: We must bring that man to justice,
meaning get him arrested, if what you say is true.
I swear my word of solemnest honor...
-No, skip it. -I apologize.
I forgive you.
Just like that?
That was my confession of something terrible.
I told a poisonous lie, and your mother's dead.
-(SLAP) -(ZSA-ZSA AND BJORN GROAN)
I always expected the worst from you.
I forgive you. We're taught to.
We can no longer honor the precise terms
we agreed to validate.
This document outlines our revised proposal.
That's enough blood, man.
(DOOR CLOSES)
-How dare you?! -How dare you?!
-You liar! -Somebody's got to help me now!
What in the hell made you think you had the gall
and the guts to get away with anything, goddamn it?!
-ZSA-ZSA: It's sabotage! -(OVERLAPPING ANGRY SHOUTING)
It's not my fault!
MARTY: I know about the bashable rivets!
-I told you so! -It's the bashable rivets.
(ANGRY SHOUTING ENDS)
Prince Farouk and his father covered five percent.
The Sacramento Brothers covered ten.
Marseille Bob agreed to 15.
You're the richest-- 25.
Why would I do that?
We made an airtight, legally binding contract.
No, I said 12.5.
15 because I took a bullet for you.
Why... is because, if you don't,
I refuse to put the pin back in.
A live hand grenade.
ZSA-ZSA: It's a great scheme, which, if it works,
is gonna benefit all our partners
for generations to come, and we're privileged
to thank you for your participation.
Liesl, out.
I'm not leaving the room so you can hand-grenade yourself as a business tactic.
You asked me my strategy.
-This is my strategy. -Will it work?
Not with my daughter in range of the shrapnel, it won't.
-Liesl, out. -You should go.
You should go.
Why wouldn't I just say yes now and betray you later?
You're putting a hand grenade to my head.
I trust you.
(CHUCKLING)
(MARTY AND MARSEILLE BOB LAUGHING)
I think I trust you, too, in return.
Not to tell the truth or keep your word, obviously,
but I suppose I'm moved by this absurd performance.
I'll pitch in, man.
20 percent.
Sharply compromising my chances of profitability
in an already extremely high-risk venture
just to watch you conduct the grand finale.
Thank you for the blood.
You're welcome.
EXCALIBUR: Intercepted message from subject in transit
suggests possible strategic merger
with House of Sussman-Korda.
Also, encrypted dispatch
from undercover operative reports as follows.
"Target's resources continue to dwindle
"as partners grow dubious and bewildered.
(WIND WHISTLING)
"Target repeatedly places significant cash funds
"directly into operative's personal possession.
"Tried to misplace.
"However, operative does not have heart
"to steal or destroy.
Too cruel under circumstances."
I'll debate that with him.
Further, "Target has appointed daughter
"his official successor.
"Currently a nun.
Not for long, I hope."
(MEN MURMURING)
Should I be kneeling?
The only terms I dictate is:
our marriage, on a statutory basis,
would have to be a purely romantic union.
I'm obliged to keep my daughter sole heir to my estate.
(JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING QUIETLY)
My father and his father, your grandfather, I mean, nearly killed each other.
Maybe you know that. Do you?
No. I'm new to my family.
Best friends, whatever it means in their case.
They went into business together.
Formulated a very effective poison gas.
Killed tens of thousands of soldiers.
Made tens of millions of dollars.
One day, in their laboratory,
a heated argument erupted into a slugging match.
They attacked each other with lethal measures
of an experimental new version of their weaponized aerosol,
which fortunately turned out to be
less effective than the original compound.
Both survived, but that was the end of their partnership.
I asked my father, 40 years later, nearly on his deathbed,
still suffering minor neural effects from the incident,
"What was the argument about?"
-You know what he said? -Mm-mm.
"Who could lick who, I guess.
Or whom."
That maybe is the source of most of our problems
on this barren earth.
"Who could lick who. Or whom, I guess."
ZSA-ZSA: "If something gets in your way,
flatten it."
That was my father's advice before he cut me out of his will.
He asked to be mummified and buried in a pyramid.
We bought the land and drew up the plans but never built it.
We had him cremated instead.
Nothing he can do about it.
-Is this paste? -ZSA-ZSA: Of course.
It's a proxy for the real one,
which I'm unable to pay for at this time.
If you care to advance me a portion of the funds,
-I'm more than... -I'm not paying for anything.
I authorize a 150-year lease on the property and water rights.
Maybe I might consider briefly marrying you as an experience,
like a chapter in a book,
depending on the advice of my tax attorney,
but I'm not going to help you cover the gap.
It's against the interest of my utopian outpost.
I'm not asking you, I'm telling you,
-as your potential future husband. -No.
I'm not asking you,
I'm begging you, as your favorite second cousin.
No.
(SOFTLY) Obey me.
Why?
If she does marry me,
I'm not sure we can't compel her to cover the gap.
Depending on the jurisdiction where the wedding takes place.
Do you believe the official ruling
my mother's death was caused by suicide?
No.
Who murdered her, then, in that case?
In your opinion?
I only know what they say.
Is my uncle my father?
The diplomatic pouch arrived.
-Open it. -(DOOR CLOSES)
List of contents.
One: fresh socks, ten pairs.
Two: a book.
Fleas of the Americas by Karlsen and Voit.
Three: financial reports, for review.
Four: bills to be paid.
Five: emergency directive, urgent.
Six: fresh handkerchiefs, a bundle.
ZSA-ZSA: Go back to five.
Ah, yes. Might be important, looks like.
ZSA-ZSA: Bring it to me.
It's sabotage again.
Give this to the pilot. New flight plan.
-Where are we going? -Home.
A parliamentary motion just passed
intended to thwart me specifically.
I need to be there with a notary by noon tomorrow.
BJORN: What happens if you don't?
I become an English subject.
Then they seize our worldwide assets,
extradite me and send me to prison.
Ah, got it.
(DOOR OPENS, CLOSES)
This is for you.
Happy birthday.
How old are you?
-Twenty-one. -(DOOR OPENS)
BJORN: We can't read your handwriting.
Is this a one or a seven?
It's-- Goddamn it.
It's a "G."
(RHYTHMIC TAPPING)
"He's... been...
fiddling with it."
What?
You're tapping in Morse code.
Am I? Was I?
I didn't notice. How strange.
-"He's... been... -(RHYTHMIC TAPPING)
...fiddling with it."
You speak Morse code.
Oh, no, no, not fluently. I learned it as a schoolboy.
You speak Morse code.
I'm the librarian of our-- back at the convent--
collection of classical Latin scrolls and codices.
I do deciphering.
Fascinating.
(ALARM BUZZES)
(ALARM BEEPING)
-Golly. -Oh, dear.
Somebody poisoned his beer.
We should've tested it.
You let him drink in the cockpit?
Just beer.
Stand back and hang on.
Uh-oh.
Why am I up here being stalked by a fighter jet?
I have a vocation.
I think I recognize that assassin, too.
He used to work for me, also.
I'm disinheriting myself from you.
What a terrible thing to say to a father.
Especially during your trial period.
-Good heavens! He's back! -(JET WHOOSHING)
(RAPID GUNFIRE)
(ELECTRICAL POPPING)
Next time he strafes us, peg him with a hand grenade.
(BIRDS CHIRPING)
It is an act.
I bear no hostility toward your father or his interests.
Your father, however, on occasion,
bears decisive hostility to the United States government
and its allies and enemies.
It's my job to observe, report and maintain...
You're a spy.
Uh, well, it's an interesting story, I suppose.
After the war, my own primary interests are very similar
to the persona I present to you as Professor Bjorn.
I completed my studies at Princeton
and helped establish an expatriate scientific journal
publishing poetry, drawing and ecological prose.
Eventually, our government offered
to subsidize the magazine in an effort to promote
American cultural interests,
but really they just wanted us all
to become intelligence operatives.
I hope you don't feel betrayed.
I could go ahead and turn back into my normal self right now,
if you like.
It's not that different from how you see me already.
(CLOTHES RUSTLING)
(AMERICAN ACCENT) See what I mean?
Basically the same person.
No, you're different.
I'm not actually a bohemian.
I'm a moderate conservative, politically.
Also, I'm not from Oslo.
I'm from Wilmington, Delaware.
Also, I know how to drink, although I do find
I'm less inhibited when I pretend to be drunk.
Also, I wrote that book.
I was going to recommend it to us.
Is that a fake mustache?
Oh, yes, uh, based on my real one, which I usually have.
I do feel betrayed.
Me, too.
You lunatic!
(ZSA-ZSA GRUNTS)
I feel deeply terrible about this.
You employed me in good faith to teach you about insects.
This is a wonderful setting for us to continue our lessons.
I've never seen so many bugs in one place in all my life.
With the possible exception of a garbage dump near Rome,
which was equally breathtaking.
Why'd you ask if I could imagine falling in love
-with a man like you, hypothetically? -Oh.
-Yes. -Was it part of your mission?
No, it wasn't part of my anything.
I might justify it as trying to infiltrate
your family business, but to tell you the truth,
I still mean it as a genuine question.
Both as Professor Bjorn and as Agent Karlsen
of the Covert North American...
ZSA-ZSA: (IN DISTANCE) Don't help me!
Don't help me.
Wrap this around a tree trunk.
I may go under for a moment, but I'll save him.
No, you won't. I'll save myself myself.
(WIND WHISTLING SOFTLY)
Bless us and these thy holy gifts which...
-What's this about? -...we are about to receive
through thy merciful bounty.
-We humble ourselves... -Dost thou not fear God?
...meekly before thee in thy name. Amen.
-Amen. -Amen.
Are you against slavery? In the Bible?
It's damnable. To hell.
I believe they receive a small stipend.
The yield of Adam's loins crucified my only begotten son.
I know, I know.
Jesus.
(THUNDER RUMBLING)
(COUGHS)
I'm not dead yet.
(BIRDS CHIRPING)
Why didn't you let me sink? It's redundant.
KARLSEN: Our mission is strictly dedicated
to sabotaging your business interests.
We never resort to extralegal violence.
(SCOFFS) I'm not gullible.
-I'm aware of that. -What's the idea?
To demolish your enterprise and pillage all its assets.
LIESL: That was horrible. I'll never forget it.
I'll feel a traumatic effect on myself until the day I die.
ZSA-ZSA: Really?
I don't know if I feel terrible or flattered.
Or both.
Like maybe I matter.
What did they do to you?
Our family.
I'm sorry I frightened you. It won't happen again.
How'd you pass my polygraph?
We're taught to. It's not difficult.
-You do karate? -Of course.
I'll teach you if you like.
No, it's too late.
I don't know how many more times I can die.
These filthy books should all be burned.
Except this one.
It's sacrilegious, but it speaks to me.
ZSA-ZSA: Keep it. It's yours. Open your birthday present.
I love it.
KARLSEN: It's a beautiful piece.
LIESL: What's your real first name, Agent Karlsen?
I'm happy to just go by Bjorn.
(GENTLE CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING)
(GENERATOR ENGINE CHUGGING)
My only pleasant memories of a miserable childhood
take place below stairs.
I was allowed to dine with the household staff once a week.
They pretended to love me.
What choice did they have?
To this day, I'm a very good cook and dishwasher.
6:15. The cock crows.
The robin brings worms to its chicks
in the nest on my windowsill.
Sister Mary pumps the water pump at 7:00.
The bell rings for morning prayers.
The shape of the day, each day, is exactly the same.
We like it that way.
As a little boy, I kept fleas in plastic bags in my bedroom
and did my morphology and microscopy at night.
I lived with my mother's sister.
My parents conducted their research abroad.
Aunt Beth was very kind,
but she never approved of my practices.
-(STATIC CRACKLES) -The house was regularly fumigated,
resulting in a great loss of specimens.
And later, out of jealousy and loneliness, I betrayed them.
The kitchen staff.
I told my father the truth.
They steal.
I thought I would become his ally.
Instead, he gave me a tremendous beating
and didn't speak a word to me for 90 days.
He fired them all just the same.
I'm going back to the sisters.
No, you don't. How can you? We're marooned.
-Besides, you're my sole heir. -On a trial basis.
That's finished. You're hired.
I don't forgive you after all, I'm ashamed to say.
Plus, we got to get revenge on your Uncle Nubar.
Or bring him to justice, if you prefer.
I leave that to you and your conscience.
I don't have one.
Plus, what about the poor slaves and the famine?
I'm going back to the sisters.
To pray and study and work diligently to overcome
my weaknesses of character, which are probably genetic.
-(GENERATOR POWERS DOWN) -(MUSIC STOPS)
In other words, it's all my fault again.
You can burn the house down after all if we survive.
(KNOCKING)
There you are.
Hello again, here in the middle of the jungle.
How extraordinary to stumble across
your crash site, I gather.
Hello, hello, hello.
-(HELICOPTER WHIRRING) -("A STRING OF PEARLS" PLAYING)
I'm not a businessman.
On the contrary, I'm a communist revolutionary
heavily armed and living in a secret jungle encampment
with a band of freedom fighters.
However, even I can see your plan on its surface
defies the basic laws of economics.
That's why it's never been done before.
My plan defies everything.
-(MILITIA WHOOPING) -(RAPID GUNFIRE)
What's your connection to the company?
Me? I pretend to be his administrative secretary,
but really I'm the tutor.
But actually, in fact, I'm a spy
for the United States government.
Wow.
Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature.
It's a protest against suffering.
I agree. You're not an atheist?
Of course I am.
Some of my colleagues, however, only claim to be.
I had a private army once.
Big headache.
ZSA-ZSA: 15 minutes to spare. Where's my notary?
We need fingerprints and signatures.
You're all official witnesses.
-Mother Superior. -Including the terrorists.
Peace be with you, my child.
A fighter jet shot us down in the jungle.
By the grace of God, we survived.
You received my letter?
Yes. I wrote you back.
I'm prepared to take my vows.
Read the letter first.
We received a marriage license and antenuptial contract.
I assume you're aware of the proposal.
I didn't know she says yes.
(TELEGRAPH BEEPING MORSE CODE)
MOTHER SUPERIOR: You're very pious, Sister Liesl,
but you're not plain.
The stones on your pipe, for instance.
Not to mention the opulence of your rosary
and this astonishing dagger.
A gift from a prince.
Mother Superior, you reproach me
when I most require your trust and guidance.
Worldly adornments do serve
certain good people for the good.
We're not all destined to deny ourselves
man's earthly pleasures.
Some thrive in tranquil simplicity.
Others find beauty in color, splendor and jubilation.
This is no reproach, my child.
You're a rich girl, always were.
Of course, we would continue to cherish
your ongoing patronage of the abbey.
You just won't be a nun anymore.
Is God more interested in my money or my soul?
I can't speak for him.
(ZSA-ZSA CLEARS THROAT)
ZSA-ZSA: Maybe I can assist in this area,
both as a father and as an expert mediator.
I gather you kicked her out.
I'm urging Liesl to return to her family and greater society.
Mother Superior still wants us
to fund construction of the new refectory.
-With gratitude. -Of course.
Are you authorized, by the way,
to do a baptizing if somebody wants to be Catholic? Me?
You're an atheist.
I feel I have a religious awakening now,
if that's what we call it.
Tell me how this awakening came to pass.
Well, I would say
partly it's because of my near-death episodes.
I get, I get a kind of visions.
Never mind the details.
Then partly there is the fiduciary benefit.
Then mostly, and I would weight this factor out to maybe 75%,
it's simply the influence of my daughter's influence,
which has a profound effect on me.
And I think, at my age, in the end, finally,
it's better I just go on her side.
(ARROW THUMPS)
The point is to be delivered from sin and purified.
It doesn't work if you're lying.
I'm not lying.
I'm capable of, and willing to, genuinely believe
in the opposite of my personal convictions.
-(PULLS CHAIN SWITCH) -I can do that
in certain situations.
You remember the combination?
LIESL: Another shoebox.
This one's older.
-What's inside? -I don't know.
Supposedly, a reliquary of our family history,
sealed half a score ago by my father's notary.
I willed it to you, but since we're here, take it.
I'll open it later.
My great-grandfather built the hotel.
Liesl would've been the fifth-generation proprietor,
except my father sold it to an American conglomerate.
Who ruined it, of course.
(PHONE RINGING)
(CROWD MURMURING)
The venue is situated on a precarious border
among three fiefdoms, two of which remain
under martial law after a military coup.
In exchange for me allowing you
to steal the painting rolled up in that shipping tube,
you and your terrorists provide security services
to our entire party throughout the event.
Ah, they stole the painting.
ZSA-ZSA: You'll officiate.
It's good timing in a business sense.
NOTARY: Function hall number five has been duly sanctioned,
in accordance with the laws of this territory...
ZSA-ZSA: Even an immediate divorce might bear a profit.
(SPEAKS ITALIAN)
-ZSA-ZSA: You reach him? -Yes.
His Holiness refuses to cover the gap, any of it.
I know Felix. He's stubborn.
We'll need to sweeten the pot.
(SPEAKING LATIN)
ZSA-ZSA: Tell him I offer nine more souls.
Are you still an enemy spy?
At the moment, no.
I thought I might be more useful as a double agent.
I couldn't pay you any extra.
Oh, no, naturally it would be included in my tutorial fees.
My operational handler, code name Excalibur.
-Agent Karlsen. -Excalibur.
I know about the bashable rivets
and the bolts, spikes and pulverized gravel, too.
This office can neither confirm nor deny any such knowledge,
nor would it elect to acknowledge said knowledge
-if it did in fact... -It's sabotage!
I swear my word of solemnest honor, I'll never let you win.
Ha.
I've arranged for you to accuse him in person,
-by the way, your Uncle Nubar. -(JASPER PRAYING QUIETLY)
-Really? -Of course.
It's crucial we confront this unspeakable evil.
-Als-- Amen. -Amen.
Also, it's even more crucial we secure
his financial investment position.
As you know,
I never admit the possibility of--
and even avoid the word-- failure.
Maybe that's a weakness.
On the other hand, we're only missing one slice of the pie
that was baked too big for the...
(QUIET THUMP)
(AIRPLANE ENGINES WHIRRING)
Just a dud. Just a dud.
Myself, I feel very safe.
Sir Nubar has arrived.
ZSA-ZSA: Off the record, the gap might be bottomless.
Closer to an abyss.
In fact, there's even more to it now,
a further dimension than I previously anticipated.
The emotional gap.
If it tur--
You used to work for me.
-Who? Him? -Who?
-Hmm? -I'm sorry. Me? No.
I was in disguise.
Oh, Dr. Lanzmann.
I recognize this assassin.
Who hired you to kill me?
(ELEVATOR STOPS)
Oh, no.
Suicide pill.
(LIESL WHISPERING INDISTINCT PRAYER)
(ELEVATOR BELL DINGS)
(ELEVATOR WHIRRING)
If it turns out you're not my daughter, can I adopt you?
With your permission.
Yes.
In that case, whatever happens, we'll be fine.
(KNOCKING)
Restate the purpose of this visit.
ZSA-ZSA: Exactly as we agreed, my dear Nubar.
The validation of your proprietary shares
after 55% advance against the interim shortfall.
This is just a symbolic meeting.
It's a formality.
(LIESL MUTTERS)
Liesl has additional objectives, of course, as you're aware.
My father promised to arrange for me to accuse you in person.
That's what I'm here to do.
Why would I murder her?
She wasn't my wife.
Help yourself to a hand grenade.
Oh, you're very kind. I have my own.
What's your blood type, Liesl?
I don't know.
They never tested it, to my knowledge.
You have my eyes.
Do people not tell you that?
Nobody ever told her she has anybody's anything.
I'll wait outside.
(DOOR CLOSES)
She's not your daughter.
I don't care.
One thing you'll never know, because you can't:
the truth.
Although in my opinion, it was probably
your administrative secretary at that time.
He's the father.
Actually, I think I know it for a fact.
I'm astonished you didn't see it already.
And if I did kill him, I'd never admit it.
ZSA-ZSA: I invented that lie.
-To trick you. -Of course you did,
but it was true.
The blood types prove it. Probably.
ZSA-ZSA: You've got my blood?
-And hers? -I've got everybody's blood.
-ZSA-ZSA: No, you don't. -Yes, I do.
-No, you don't. -Of course I do.
No, you don't.
They say you murdered all your wives.
Wait.
I'm putting this on just so I don't lie.
I didn't murder that wife, your mother, or any other.
I would even go so far as to say I'm incapable of it,
whatever they say about me behind my back,
whoever they are.
I wasn't taught to, either, to beat the polygraph.
(SETS DOWN POLYGRAPH)
Where did he come from?
I can't remember.
I'll open the shoebox.
My father. On his birthday.
My uncle. All A's.
My mother. On her wedding day.
A carton of six poison gas ampules.
A rare stamp, a gold coin, a skeleton key.
Secret letters.
My grandfather.
Some of him. Just ashes.
UNCLE NUBAR: I'll take one.
It's a staggeringly ambitious project
but situated entirely in a perpetual war zone.
For the next 150 years, I'd rather sell
guns, bombs and ammunition.
It's our family business.
My no is final.
Wow, you're pulling out your entire investment
and breaking your promise to me.
Stabbing everybody, all at once, simultaneously,
-in the back. -Yes.
Why'd you come here, in that case?
I couldn't resist.
It's me.
I'll cover the gap.
Everything we got, our entire fortune,
plus a little bit more.
I proceed as a silent partner,
taking a complete loss of all my assets
with no opportunity for any future upside,
and I'm still on the hook for unlimited debts and deficits.
Fine. I'll do it.
(OVER SPEAKERS) Fine. I'll do it.
The slaves will be paid.
(OVER SPEAKERS) The slaves will be paid.
The famine will be finished.
(OVER SPEAKERS) The famine will be finished.
We'll beat those bureaucrats.
(OVER HEADPHONES) We'll beat those bureaucrats.
And my most important project of my lifetime
comes to pass...
...without us.
I don't want a fortune.
("PICTURES AT AN EXHIBITION: PROMENADE 1" PLAYING)
(TOY TRAIN BELL CLANGING, WHISTLE BLOWING)
I present to you now, at this time,
the first symbolic demonstration
of our abundant desert harvest,
borne from deep within the earth's rich,
-elemental... -(FEEDBACK HUMS)
Sir Nubar asks for another word.
(WHISPERS) Oh, shit.
(NORMAL VOICE) I'll be right back.
-(DOOR OPENS, CLOSES) -(MUSIC CONTINUES IN DISTANCE)
Yes, my dear Nubar? How can I assist you?
I've changed my mind. I'll do it myself.
Stupendous. I knew it.
No, not the business deal. My no is final.
I mean your assassination.
(GRUNTING FIERCELY)
(BOTH PANTING)
(GRUNTING, MUTTERING)
So it is you.
The enemy trying to murder me all along.
Yeah.
The son of my father.
-My own half brother. -Yeah.
(GROANS, GRUNTS)
(BOTH PANTING)
-I've got everybody's blood. -No, you don't.
-Yes, I do. -No, you don't.
Yes, I do.
(GRUNTING)
I won't die.
I never do.
(LAMP CLATTERS)
(MUTTERING)
You're worse than me.
You're not human.
You're biblical.
(GRUNTS)
(BODY THUDS)
(BREATHES DEEPLY)
Can't you stop? Can't you leave me alone?
Why do you need to always keep assassinating me all the time?
You know the answer.
I don't need to say it.
"Who could lick whom, I guess."
(SOFTLY) Yeah.
(AUDIO MUTED)
(MUFFLED FOOTSTEPS)
(AUDIO RETURNS TO NORMAL)
(DOOR OPENS, SLAMS)
(ELECTRICITY CRACKLES)
-(FOOTSTEPS RUNNING) -(UNCLE NUBAR GROANING)
(ALARM BUZZING)
(TOY TRAIN BELL CLANGING, WHISTLE BLOWING)
-(UNCLE NUBAR SHOUTS) -(OBJECTS CLATTER)
(ALARM AND TOY TRAIN CONTINUE LOUDLY)
Let's communicate.
("APOLLON MUSAGETE: APOTHEOSIS "BY IGOR STRAVINSKY PLAYING)
(WIND WHISTLING SOFTLY)
When I pray, no one answers.
I only pretend he does.
Then I do whatever I think God probably would've suggested.
Usually, it's obvious.
Amen.
LIESL: Peace be with you, Reverend Mother.
(IN DISTANCE) "Chapter one.
Cedric himself knew nothing of..."
Our new quarters, though modest, cramped,
meager and shabby, are nevertheless
charming and versatile.
"But then his papa had died when he was a little boy..."
The boys, to my delight,
finally begin to thrive and flourish.
I do serve a purpose here.
"Since his papa's death,
Cedric had found out that it was best..."
Agent Karlsen resigned as a double agent
and accepted a staff position at our local grammar school.
...predators, much like our friend, the plebejus beetle,
who has a similar kind of casing,
and he doesn't mind predators at all.
LIESL: My stepmother annulled
her brief union with my father.
COUSIN HILDA: And one and two and three and four.
LIESL: My father's entrepreneurial energies remain
robustly invigorated by the austerity of our poverty.
Tell him he's welcome, but don't let him leave.
LIESL: I do admire his resilience and ambition,
though I don't believe these come from God.
The Phoenician Scheme continues to deepen and widen.
It may be a sizable step backwards for civilization...
...but it will produce some good works, I'm sure of it.
Could you imagine marrying a man like me?
I mean it as a genuine question.
Is that paste?
No. Yes. I think so. I don't know.
It's the same one. Cousin Hilda sent it back.
I asked your father for his consent,
and he loaned it to me to give to you.
LIESL: P.S. To this day,
he's a very good cook...
...and dishwasher.
(TIME CLOCK CLICKS)
(LOCK CLICKS)
LIESL: Two whiskeys.
(SPEAKER CRACKLES)
("HERZ UND MUND UND TAT UND LEBEN, BWV 147" PLAYING)
You say yes?
On a trial basis.
-(LIGHTS CRACKLE) -(TRAIN RUMBLING NEARBY)
Hearts.
(MUSIC FADES)
("L'OISEAU DE FEU (THE FIREBIRD)" PLAYING)
(MUSIC ENDS)