Roddy! School!
Morning.
Get that, would you?
If you’re not giving me a lift I'll have to get another minicab!
Tristesse books.
I’ve got ‘Wuthering Heights’ with my Year Tens.
Hello? Yes?
Tristesse books?
Tom Duval? - Oh yeah, come in.
Just down the hall!
Non, écoutez-moi. Non.
Non. Y a un petit souci de compréhension.
Maintenant vous allez m'écouter et vous allez m'écouter bien clairement.
La seule chose que je vous demande, c'est d'arrêter de penser et de croire
que je vais pouvoir payer des impôts français.
Pourquoi je ferais ça? J'habite en Ecosse!
Donc vos impôts, vous pouvez vous les carrer où je pense.
Voilà. Oui. Absolument.
Non non non, c'est pas malpoli ce que je vous dis.
C'est très poli. J'essaie juste de vous expliquer
que vous êtes un abruti.
Ecoutez si vous voulez, je prends un avion demain
et je vous jure que je débarque dans votre banque.
Oh yeah, no, he's a wonderful writer.
Very unremittingly bleak
Tu commences vraiment à me fatiguer toi!
No, Tristesse doesn't publish him anymore.
You know what, he had a little disagreement with Tom.
Je te jure que demain, je prends un avion,
je débarque à ta banque, et je vais te...
Yeah, she's one of my favorites.
Yea, she was long-listed for the Booker, you know? Right after she was sectioned.
Au revoir ! Au revoir, monsieur Richard. Au revoir !
No, she... she left too. Jane Lockhart!
What are you doing?
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...
I was just touching it.
Not like... touching it, that sounds like molesting.
Like I'm some kind of pervert.
Which I'm not.
So... Young European Publisher of the Year Runner-Up!
That's really impressive.
I have a swimming certificate.
Who the hell are you?
Jane Lockhart.
I wrote The endless anguish of my father.
Follow me.
I'm busy, so I'll keep this brief.
I read your novel, I'm afraid it needs work.
A lot of work.
Please, sit down.
But it has potential, so I'm going to publish it.
I'm offering you a two-book deal.
It's going to mean a lot of rewriting,
definitely a new title, and neither of us will get rich, but...
I think you have it in you to be a writer,
and as unfashionable as it may seem,
that's what I came here to find.
I believe you're...
crying.
Sorry. I didn't mean to start...
It's just...
It's been so long, you know?
So many rejections, and I have a board...
You have a board?
Of rejections letters. I call it my board of pain.
Well, that's completely normal.
It is?
I'm sorry. He was like this in university.
Everywhere he went, crying women.
Your lot's supposed to be charming. Charmant, n'est-ce pas?
- I told you never speaking French to me! - Don't you dare!
No, really!
I've never been so happy in all my life.
Jane.
There is no need to be nervous.
Nervous? Me? No, no no no, I'm not nervous. Not me.
Okay, a little bit nervous.
You'll be fine.
Usually, I need a run-up before I start editing,
like a tea, a wag, regret in the shower...
Or we could just begin.
Okay! So, where do you want to begin?
Well, call me crazy, but we could start at the beginning.
- You crazy Frenchman. - What?
- I don't know. - All right.
- So you're in a good mood. - I'm always in a good mood.
- No you're not. - Yes I am!
- Are you? - Yes.
So, first sentence, I think it's so good.
It's beautiful.
Actually, I'm reading it right now.
I shut my eyes and sink into the water,
letting it wash over my face and hair…
So, I was just, you know, passing,
and thought I might have come back from the bridges that actually has…
Yeah. I don’t know.
Beneath my feet, I felt crumbled pages…
I don’t believe this.
I’ll call you back.
Happy ending?
What happened to The endless anguish of my father?
What happened?
You know how important this stuff is. You changed my title to that!
I told you.
The very first time we met, I said it must go.
Yeah. But we never discussed it.
I knew how you’d react, darling.
Oi, careful!
That’s my Young Publisher of the Year award.
Runner-up!
What’s wrong with you?
- Who are you? - What?
All that time we spent together working on the manuscript…
No one’s ever got me the way you…
I don’t know you.
Look, it was a terrible title, and I changed it.
What’s done is done.
Let’s move on.
How can it be so easy for you?
Perhaps because I am not a moderately talented writer
whose loser dad left her with an inability
to stop worshipping her own pain.
- Worshipping my own pain? - Calm, sit down.
Let’s talk about the lodge!
You know what?
Our deal is one more book, and then what’s done is done.
Let’s move on.
Those childhood summers are long and blue.
Mine wasn’t like that, and certainly not the summer when mum got sick.
I knew if I just went out and saw her in the sun, she’d be all right again.
August 1st. I can see the other kids down a little swarming
and the flats are blank, but not me.
I never saw her in the sun again.
She’d taken me to Woolworth to choose my birthday present
and it would have been like last year when dad just slipped
a Barbie under his coat and walked right out the door with it…
- That was lovely to meet you both! - You too. Take care!
To Susan. Thank you for coming.
And this is to…
Dad.
It’s great to be here to present this award
for Best new writer to an outstanding debut:
Happy ending.
Jane Lockhart.
- Congratulations. - Thank you!
What we have here is a real writer.
Someone who can go to some pretty dark places but I get it, Jane.
Writers! We both understand what it is to face el toro blanco,
the terror of the white bull, the blank page.
And every day, we face it together.
Right, Jane?
Ladies and gentlemen, Jane Lockhart.
Thank you.
- Yeah? - I’m starting the final chapter.
You’ll have the manuscript by the end of the week.
About bloody time.
Ah, Tom, as ever my little ray of sunshine.
Well, moan all you like. I’ve never been this…
Annoying?
Happy. You bastard. Happy!
- One more chapter. - Yes.
And we never have to see each other again.
Yes.
Better get writing, then.
A bientôt, Jane.
Au revoir, Tom.
- Willie? I’m off out for a bit. - Sure!
Just look to the chapter…
Listen. I don’t care what you're thinking.
I’m telling you, this is not an opening chapter,
it’s an ice age!
You can’t talk to me like that!
I was voted one of Scotland’s foremost novelists under the age of thirty!
And that’s why I won’t allow this piece of crap
to be published with your name on it!
You have my notes. Fix it.
By then Nicola, see you at the lodge.
If you try to make me cry, I’ll inform Inland Revenue about your yacht
If we have to talk figures, can you do that thing where you use vegetables?
Imagine this tomato is my cashflow.
How many of your writers did you throw money at this year?
I only throw money at good writers.
Good Scottish writers. I’m very patriotic.
And what does it matter? One hit pays for all the rest.
And I have a bestseller in the wings.
Jane Lockhart, yeah.
So how’s the new book shaping up?
I have no idea. She won’t let me read a word until it’s finished.
Relax! It’ll be just like the first one.
I heard she talked with a publisher. Klinsch and McLeish?
With the red and white covers? Big time!
Klinsch and McLeish.
You know what they’re called in the trade?
Clench and release.
They’re not right for my Jane!
For Jane.
So talk to her! Persuade her to stay.
But I don’t want her to stay!
After she delivers her new novel, I want her to go! Far away!
Oh, for God’s sake, Tom, Tristesse Books is on the verge of compulsory liquidation
And I’ve got an offer.
- Well, you’re a very attractive… - Shut up.
They want to invest in you.
I don’t need Pandemic Media. I have Jane Lockhart,
and this time she’s going all the way.
Are you sure? Because if she doesn’t deliver,
your tomato’s ketchup.
She’ll deliver.
She might be a miserable pain in the arse,
but when she’s writing, she’s like a guided missile.
Tea spoon.
Willie?
Willie, will you get that?
Willie!
- Hello? - Thursday or Friday for the manuscript?
Grease brief paper!
Just want to check! You’re certain it will be finished next week?
I told you, one more chapter.
What are you doing?
Nothing.
Are you baking?
Oh my God. She’s baking.
She only bakes when she’s blocked.
- Largest planet in the solar system. - Jupiter.
Who did Ally beat to become world heavy-wee champion for the first time?
Sonny Allestun, come on, the quiz is going to be harder than that skit! Serious.
Who was Shakespeare's wife?
- Hi dad. - Hi darling!
Who was Shakespeare's wife?
Anne Hathaway.
And at the end of the third round, Benny Lockhart and his Jets with 22 points.
Join us for the second half in ten minutes.
- Mr. L! - Tom!
Good to see you.
- How are you? - I’m good.
- Aye, good. Where you been hiding - From your daughter, mostly.
I understand. Never talked to me for years, but for good reason.
What are you having? - Nothing.
He’s not staying. - Come on, Jane.
What are you doing here?
My favorite author is being adapted by Scotland’s most talented screenwriter,
Willie Scott. Huge fan.
Naturally, I want to know how he’s getting on!
Well, I may not be the most talented but,
who else you’re gonna pick, uh?
Just one sec.
- Where is my novel? - I’m working on it.
So you’re not suffering from el toro blanco?
What?
- So you’re not B-L-O-C-K-E-D. - Why are you spelling it?
It’s nothing to be ashamed of,
and I’ve plenty of strategies to overcome it.
- I’m not blocked. - For instance, stimulants and narcotics.
- I’m not blocked. - For a while, their interest was
permanently unblocked. - I’m not blocked!
Until you deliver that manuscript, you’re still under contract to me,
so whatever is going on, snap out of it, and get writing.
Bye Jane.
He’s not gone, has he?
Would be our chance to talk about my screenplay.
French really appreciate my work, you know?
Connaisseurs de cinéma.
We should have him over. Your wine.
Bathroom.
I know you, don’t I?
Where was it we met?
Chapter two. I’m in the opening chapter, of course,
but you only really get to know me from chapter two.
Darsie?
What do you think?
- I think I’m talking to my protagonist. - I prefer heroin.
What are you doing here?
It’s a very intense narrative.
I've personally suffered from a broken engagement
and two bereavements so far. - Yes, I know.
That’s all right. - No no no. Please don’t apologize.
I think it’s gonna make me a stronger person in the end.
The end?
Yes. So you’re gonna go back and finish it?
I can’t do that, not without you?
Why can’t you finish it, Jane?
What are you afraid of?
Get a hold of yourself, will you?
Gets me every time. Three times now.
It’s that ending.
Don’t talk to me about damn endings.
Do your marking. - Okay.
It’s silly.
Jane says hi.
That poor lassie.
She must have lived such a shocking life to write like that.
What are you saying?
Well, the lonely page, the endless introspection,
the mind plagued by funky thoughts…
that’s how writer’s taking it.
So misery, no poetry.
- Yeah. - Did you speak to Jane Lockhart?
Yes, she’s happy, very happy.
Happier than she’s ever been apparently.
And the novel?
Tom? Hello, you’re still there?
Tom!
I have a problem I believe may be suited to your particular talents.
Let’s say
a miserable writer, through the supreme efforts of her publisher
and her only good talent, becomes successful and happy.
Are you listening?
- Hello, sir. - Amber, Roxane!
That’s your boyfriend, sir?
Say nothing, just keep very still, you don’t want to antagonize them.
- Can we get back to my problem? - Yeah, okay.
Miserable writer becomes successful and happy, I get it. And?
And, being happy, she’s unable to finish her latest miserable novel.
So, in order to help her, the selfless publisher
embarks on a course of action to return her
to the fragile mental state in which
she wrote her highly perfectible debut!
You wanna make Jane Lockhart’s life a misery
so she can finish writing her book.
That’s seriously messed up.
They teach you this stuff in France?
We study a broad curriculum.
So, how do we make someone completely,
totally miserable?
Why are you asking me?
I dedicated the last ten years to encouraging
young minds, planting hope and aspiration.
Put that away, stand in the corner and face the wall!
Little shit.
Okay, maybe I’ve some experience in the field.
The trick is not simply to upset her, you have to get her in the right mood.
It’s a special kind of misery you want, a melancholy.
A right dose sense of dissociation and alienation
that’s the source of every artist creativity.
It’s like drain-on blocker for novelists.
Keates? John Keates?
Your plan involves actual poetry?
I think by definition that makes it a shit plan.
All right, settle down, you lot, settle down.
William Wordsworth.
Wordsworth was of course the first of the romantics to use a MacBook Pro.
Careful. You’re gonna kill that thing.
You know, it was a birthday present from my dad.
He showed up out of the blue with a card and baby plant
and he said
“I owe you, darling. I owe you the world.”
And…
and then he left
and I didn’t see him again for six years.
How many Ps in deprivation?
- Just one. - One.
Coffee cake.
That was your mom’s favorite. - I know.
Your mom was a big fan of cake in general.
She always made a cake for my birthday.
Do you remember when you were six,
your mom and I would take you to the zoo,
and the monkeys threw rotten fruit at us.
I slipped on a bit, fractured my foot in three places.
Damn monkeys were laughing at us.
Do you remember? - Yeah. I remember.
That’s in your book, isn’t it?
The Happy thing.
Ending. It’s called Happy ending and yeah,
the main character does go to the zoo with her dad, but he’s not you.
And they’re not monkeys, they’re penguins.
The penguins threw fruits, uh?
It’s different, it’s a story, not real life, you know? They’re not the same.
Whatever you say.
Damn monkeys.
There’s a new book, then? - That’s cooking.
And Tommy?
Don’t call him Tommy, his name is Thomas Duval,
he’s from Saint-Tropez, a place they named a fake tan after.
You call him Tommy, you make him sound he’s from here, like he’s normal.
With his stupid, stubbly face.
You see a lot of Thomas Duvals around here?
There’s Dashful, he played for Rangers.
Anyway, forget about Tom.
I’m about to sign with a new publisher, Klinsch and McLeish?
The red and white covers?
I liked Tom.
Dad.
I mean, nobody else wanted your wee book, didn’t they? He showed faith in you.
No, he showed faith in my book.
You know he changed my original title. - Did he?
- Was it a good title? - That’s not the point.
Was what that original title?
Nothing. Nothing, it doesn’t matter…
Tell me. I like that kind of stuff,
stuff that other people don’t know.
It makes me feel… closer to you.
Okay. I was gonna call it…
The endless anguish of my father.
For fuck’s sake!
The endless anguish of my father!?
I knew it was about me, I knew it!
No, it’s not about you, it’s a character I made up.
People at work looked at me differently when it came out, I knew it!
I’m going back to the depot.
You never read it.
You’re not allowed to be hurt until you’ve actually read the damn thing.
Do you not think I’m hurt my own dad hasn't read my novel?
I will read it. I will read it just as soon as I get over my anguish.
Dad?
Target acquired. Over.
It’s a pot plant, Roddy. Not a nuclear reactor.
Just warn me if either of them comes back.
Roger that. Understood loud and clear.
That is a solid copy.
Right. Time for some low-level unhappiness.
The twilight sad.
Hey Roddy, are you there?
Maverick to Ice Man. We are all scum, Mike.
Five feet from extraction point.
We have a clean visual on– Bollocks.
Tom, Tom, Tom, she’s back.
- What? - She’s coming up the stairs!
Shit!
Damn it man, get out of there! Abort! Abort!
Ah, that’s horrible, she’s really upset, I’m not looking at that.
Yes! Oh! What was that for?
You’re enjoying this too much.
It’s for her own good.
And it’s not as if I actually killed her plant.
So what do you think?
I think this is the end of Les Miserables
Yes. You should write something like that.
Oh yeah, thank you, great suggestion.
Bit French, people dying of consumption and all that.
I’m a bit more urban Scotland, primal scream, unhappy nineties childhood.
- Sorry? - She wasn’t talking to you.
I wasn’t talking to you.
Willie?
Do your characters ever, uh,
talk to you?
Sure. All the time.
That’s why I’ve got this. Drowns out the bastards.
See, when I’m writing, I like to hear the one voice.
- Mine. - Charming. Quite the hero.
Aww. You’re still blocked?
A 101 ways to beat writer’s block?
Beat your block to a pulp?
What would Jesus write? Seriously?
Okay, so what is the deal? Are you gonna stalk me until I finish my novel?
Yes, I believe that’s how it works. Now, can we talk about the last chapter?
What about it?
Our romantic heroin. I don’t want to end up unhappy.
It’s not that easy.
You don’t really get to choose your ending, it has to follow from what came before.
Or it doesn’t feel true.
Please. I want all to turn out okay.
Jane. Don’t let us down, darling.
Jane Lockhart?
I thought it was you!
Shauna Haybridge, proprietor of Marcabooks.
Can I just say it’s such a pleasure to meet
the woman who helped pay for my new kitchen?
I just lo-o-o-o-ved Happy ending, it’s so sad.
I can't wait for your next one. Is it finished yet?
It’s gonna be, uh…
It must be difficult, I mean so much to live up to.
How do you come back after the extraordinary success of Happy ending?
We are interrupting the muse?
I’m sure you’re eager to get back to the page.
And I have my eye on a gorgeous bathroom!
Please take that with my compliments. - Thank you so much.
- I just need to write that title. - Ah, no!
Blocked?
Dad?
Come in.
I was just making strudel.
I can’t stay anyway.
I just wanted to say…
I had that in my head what I was gonna say.
I don’t supposed you had a whole stock for words.
Listen.
We don’t really know each other.
And I would like to, to get to know you.
I mean the mess again, there at the end, the symmetry,
I was out of word.
I was and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, darling.
I’ve said and, uh,
I'm gonna go and meet the boys for quiz practice, I’m off.
Right, okay, I’m off.
Dad?
It’s okay.
I know how complicated all of this is and, uh,
can I be on your quiz team?
I think you may be a bit busy for a daft quiz team.
Please.
I’d like to.
Get to know you.
- Really? - Really.
Great!
We need you.
Rory’s showing signs of early dementia.
That would be great.
Welcome to the family!
Thanks! Thanks so much!
Please excuse Dr. Klinsch, she does have a tendency
to pee her pants whenever we sign a new author.
That was just the one time.
Okay. So, Klinsch and McLeish!
I can’t quite believe it!
I’m gonna be published in one of those classic red and white covers!
It’s obviously not just about the covers, but they’re so pretty.
And your list's amazing too, you published Glen Bucking.
Ah, Glen, fabulous writer.
And you know that you have something in common.
Really? No, what, you think so?
God, he’s up there with Rushdie and McEwan
Quite possibly.
No, I meant that you were both discovered by your former publisher.
- Tom. - Yes, he didn’t last,
they went their separate ways before the first novel was published. By us.
Yeah, sounds like Tom.
Anyway. Enough of the past, here’s to the future.
So exciting!
Blocked on this too, eh?
I’m so sorry, would you excuse us, uh, me,
for just a one second? Where’s your bathroom?
What are you doing here?
Well, I figured what is going on.
You can’t write the ending because once it’s finished,
you’ll have no reason to see Tom ever again.
Oh, that is such a load of rubbish!
Jane, dear, is everything all right?
Yep, fine, I’ll just be a minute.
In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about to leave Tom
and sign with a new publisher.
Oh, and one more minor detail,
I’m not writing my ending, I’m writing yours.
And I’m not you. - No, of course not,
and your first novel wasn’t a barely fictionized
recant of your relationship with your father.
Oh, and remind me your middle name, Jane Darsie Lockhart?
That means nothing, and anyway, I was gonna change your name, so you…
Still here.
Sorry, I’m so sorry.
Now then, young lady, ready to go with a real publisher?
Let me get this straight: you only take on writers you love.
Writing I love.
How interesting.
No, no, it isn’t.
Can we get back to making Jane miserable?
Fine. If that’s what you really want.
Have you thought a bit about what will happen if you succeed?
Yeah.
I win.
Yes, but you’ll lose her.
Who cares? It’s not as if she wants to stay.
Motivation. The heart of self-improvement.
A. Achieve your dreams. Avoid negative people, things and places.
B. Believe in yourself and in what you can do.
C. Consider things on every angle and aspect.
Motivation comes from the…
One of us really needs to get laid.
Oh God, yes.
We should. Next week.
There’s a girl at the chippy
Q. Quitters never win, and winners never quit.
So choose your fate, if you’re going to be a quitter, or a winner.
Okay. Here’s the thought.
We could kill her dog.
I didn’t know she had a dog.
She doesn’t. We could buy her one, and then kill it.
It wouldn’t be a cute dog.
And you don’t think that’s a little bit,
how can I put this, psychotic?
Yeah, you’re right. She hasn’t got a dog.
But she has got a screenwriter.
I’m not helping you kill Willie Scott, am I?
Tom?
Damn it. She’s still baking.
Bad cute cupcakes of Satan!
Okay. Here goes.
I hate these things.
I prefer the Route Master 2670 myself.
It’s a bus joke. Sorry.
No, no, I- I get it, it’s um,
it’s just I’ve never really met anyone else who made a bus joke before.
Hello, Jane.
Hello. What do you want?
- I’ll tell you what I don’t want. - What?
I don’t want a cupcake.
So, two writers living under the same roof.
How is that working out? I bet it’s fantastic.
Sharing ideas, be having float discussion, Willie must be a great boom.
Yes, yes he is.
So, what does the big man make of the new novel?
You’re right, it’s not fair to ask you, I should ask him.
What, no, no, no, he loves it.
He just loves it. Naturally he has… notes. - Naturally.
Willie has not asked to read one single page, has he?
He’s very busy with his screenplay.
Yes, the adaptation. How’s that going?
Terrific. It is going terrificly.
You don’t know, do you?
He doesn’t discuss it with you?
- What’s your point? - He’s using you.
That’s rich, coming from you.
Come on, it’s common knowledge, he wouldn’t be adapting
Happy ending if you hadn’t insisted.
- Oh yeah? - Willie Scott’s writing career peaked
sometime around 1998.
He’s a tonicless hack without a brain or a conscience
who doesn’t give a damn about you or your novel!
- Yeah? - Behind you.
Hey!
Willie!
- Is that fruit cake? - Yeah. It’s frozen.
I brought a couple of spares, it's for your nose.
Look, I’m sorry about Willie.
He shouldn’t have hit you even though you did deserve it.
He caught me off-guard.
Usually, I don’t go down after the first punch.
Usually, it’s about the third or fourth.
How did I get here?
I made Willie carry you.
- No, you didn’t. - What’s wrong now?
It’s not very manly,
being carried upstairs by another bloke.
He’s not still here, is he?
No, I sent him outside to calm down.
Look, Jane, there is something I need to tell you.
Something I’ve never said before.
What’s the capital of Ethiopia?
A 1001 trivia questions? What’s this for?
Your dad hasn’t…
You’re on the team!
We’re in the finals, actually.
So that was it?
That’s what you needed to say?
No.
I…
What I meant to say is
Happy ending.
At the end, when things became, you know.
With us.
And the title.
I never told you.
The book.
It’s good.
It’s like the saddest music I’ve ever heard.
What the hell was that?
What are you up to?
- I’m not doing anything. - Yes you are.
All this sad music crap and filling my head with doubts about Willie.
Why would you do that, why, unless…
Unless…
Oh, I know why.
You want me to sign a new book deal with you.
Like you couldn’t hear me through the obvious concussion.
Pay attention, it is never going to happen.
- I have a concussion? - Oh, get off. Get off this bus.
You know what?
You really think I’d want you back?
Why?
Why would I do that to myself?
You’re distant at the best of times
and when you’re writing, your characters were more real to you than I was.
So no, Jane, I do not want you back.
How’s the screenplay coming along?
Your screenplay. I was just thinking,
we haven’t really discussed it much. At all.
And since, well, I wrote the novel,
maybe I could… you know.
What I mean is, we should have more ebb and flow.
That’s not a bad idea.
You know the scene in the book when the father goes on a bender,
doesn’t turn up for the mother’s funeral…
Yeah. I remember.
Would you miss it?
What? You—what— you can’t—
Willie, I think we need to talk this through.
I know what this is about, Janie.
You haven’t written a word in two weeks,
so you want to talk, instead of dealing with your blockage.
How many times? I am not blocked.
There was this writer I knew and...
got stuck on a long lost sibling story ark and
thought it was the end of his career, but...
But he beat it. Do you know how?
How?
He wrote naked.
Yeah. Yeah, right.
Seriously. The idea is you release yourself from the restrictions of the everyday
so you can express your ideas in an uninhibited fashion.
Oh, okay.
I think you just want to be able to sit there and write
while you stare at my tits.
They are great tits.
Tom?
I want it on record that this is going too far, okay,
she’s only just started rebuilding her relationship with her dad.
I’m just trying to help her finish her book,
and she’ll thank me in the end.
First, we get rid of Willie.
Then, we work on papa.
So, Mr. Scott, Willie,
our senior development executive has been looking
for a very special screenwriter with a distinctive voice
for a project which she has slated for next year.
When she heard you were adapting Jane Lockhart’s
Happy ending, she was excited. We were all excited.
What company is this again? Have you spoken to my agent, or?
Yeah, thank you, Priscilla. You too. Ciao.
Sure, she put us right on to you.
But if you’re too busy right now, perhaps we should just leave it.
Oh, no no no.
I’m excited, it’s a...
it’s not just, uh, just adaptations that I do.
I have my own material, you know. - Terrific!
Well, we—you, you can share all that with our senior VP Bob
and our head of deputy acquisitions Wonda who—
they’re gonna be over there next Friday.
You live in London, right?
Mainly, but you know, I’ve got my place up country too, obviously.
Well, apologies, but it may involve dragging you out to the middle of nowhere.
But we’re scouting Stephen’s next pick.
Stephen? Seagal?
Soderberg!
He’ll probably drop by and say hi, if that’s okay?
Aye, that would be fine!
- Taxi’s here. - Where’s my ticket?
It’s in your bag, where you put it two minutes ago.
Jane, this is an important trip for me.
These people are working with Soderberg.
They called me, and that just never happens.
You’re right. Doesn’t.
And it’s all because of you.
The truth is, they would never have asked to see me
if I hadn’t been adapting your novel.
That is rubbish. You’re a great writer.
Yeah, you’re right.
Where’s my treatments, did you tie it up?
Willie! Breathe!
- How’re you feeling? - Good.
- Sharp? - Sharp, really.
- Rory? - Brand-new.
Mind you, I’m a bit worried because we don’t know what he’s gonna ask us.
- It’s a quiz. It’s a quiz, Rory. - All right, yeah.
- Mr. L! - Tom!
Good to see you.
- Big night, eh? - Big night.
This is the final. The winner gets a holiday in America and two tickets to Disneyland.
Wow. That’s wonderful! Good luck with that!
Thanks, Tom, thanks.
Listen, I know that Jane and you haven’t always seen eye to eye but
I’m sure she’ll be really happy to see you here.
Where is she?
She’s not here yet, but the quiz doesn’t start till 8.
- Oh, well. Plenty of time then. - Plenty of time.
That was quick!
I wasn’t expecting you for another ten minutes.
I was just around the corner. Where’re you going?
East end, please, the Walter Scott?
- Tada! What do you think? - Lovely!
Me and the lads discussed it. Want to make her captain.
When she was a little girl, every penny her mother gave her,
she put in her piggy bank, save it up, you know, to go to Disneyland.
Every birthday was Mickey Mouse, Disneyland, Mickey Mouse, you know?
Every birthday.
Well…
Until the seventh birthday.
Her mother took her to Woolworth for her present, her gift,
and they were late at getting back...
I lost it, Tom, you know, I was “Oh, I want my dinner on the table”.
That was the night I walked out on them.
If only that was the worst thing I did that night.
Excuse me, where’re we going?
- The Rabbit buns. - No, I said the Walter Scott.
- You sure? - Of course I’m sure.
Hey! There’s no need for that!
They’re both iconic pillars of our national literature,
I can’t be responsible for the over-romanticization of Scottish history,
that process to this date! It’s an easy mistake to make.
All right, please, just please, hurry. Please.
Hello, it’s Benny Lockhart here,
if you leave a message, then I’ll get back to you soon.
Okey dokes! Bye!
Do you know why they were late back?
Yeah.
Yeah, of course you do, because it’s in the book, isn’t it?
Her mother dropped dead in Woolworth.
Her mother was lying dead in the aisle and—
Daddy was spending her Mickey Mouse money on booze!
I swore I would never touch another drop after that, not a drop.
You look familiar. You on the telly?
No, I’ve done a few interviews, but—
I know, you’re that writer, Jane something!
Aye, my wife read your book. - Oh yeah?
- Yeah, what’s it called again? - Happy ending.
Happy ending. Aye, She was greeting her eyes out by the end
And you wrote it? That’s amazing.
God, you must be a right miserable cow.
Do I know you from—?
I'm out of gas!
No, come back, I need to get to the… pub.
Years later, I discovered that the police brought her back
two minutes after I’d left home.
Two minutes, Tom.
You know, I realize that I can never make it up to that little girl,
that seven-year-old Jane.
Can’t do it.
But if we win tonight, Tom, if we win tonight,
I’m gonna take her to Disneyland.
Aye! I don’t mean the shit one in Paris, the real Disneyland.
No offense, I know you’re French.
None taken.
Gentlemen, ladies, can you please take your places for the quiz final.
She’ll be here, she’ll be here.
Nothing’s gonna happen, not again, no.
Help! Help!
You know what? I’ll see you in a sec.
- Tom? - Roddy.
Call if off, call it off, bring her here, immediately.
She’s gone.
We’ve lost her.
Sorry!
Captains, last call, can you please bring your team lists to the adjudicator’s table.
Benny! If I don’t get your list, you’ll forfeit your place.
- Benny, come on. - Come on, Benny.
Two more minutes, lads.
- Benny, I’m—I’m sorry. - It’s okay, son.
It’s not your fault. - Well, actually—
Okay, that’s enough, let’s be going with us.
Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the grand final of the Walter Scott…
Dad!
Dad?
Question one:
who was William Shakespeare’s wife?
The indisputable winners, Benny and his Jets!
Fact is,
we’re not dog killers.
What was the worst thing we actually achieved?
Kidnapping a pot plant.
There’s our fatal flaw.
At heart, we’re nice guys.
I’m going to tell her everything.
I will not do nudity unless it is essential to the plot.
Oh, you must be joking.
Jane?
- Just go away! - I’ve got to talk to you.
Please, open the door.
Hold on a minute.
Willie? - Wait to hear about our great deal on home insurance.
Have you ever thought about Your meringues, Jane.
what would happen if your house caught fire… Shit! Shit!
- Jane! You okay? - Shit!
Stop looking!
What the hell are you doing here anyway?
I came to apolo— wow.
Is that my novel?
No no no, give it back. Give it back!
I paid good money for this! I’m going to read it.
No, you don’t get to read anything until it’s finished.
Okay.
Here.
Thank you.
Good to know you can behave like a grown-up
once in a— where is the rest of it? Tom!
Come out of there! You thieving bastard !
Give me back my novel!
How could you do that?
I can’t believe you. Even you.
So what did you think?
It’s merely the first couple of chapters, so who can say?
However, putting to one side that you’re whining
of a paid author who clearly got lucky with her debut,
I’d say this is a very good start.
Well...
Coming from an ever even has-been,
owner of a third way publishing company,
I’d have to say thank you.
Naturally, I have a few notes.
Naturally.
For instance,
the first page, I don’t get it, there is something…
The phone.
Willie! - Hi, Janie.
Hi! How’s the trip going, did you meet Soderberg?
There was no meeting.
I’ve been stuck in the arse end of nowhere,
couldn’t get a cab, I’ve been walking for nine hours in the rain,
my phone died, I’ve only just now found a phone.
Ah, Willie.
I’m cold and wet and so… so miserable.
You know, the funny thing is,
even though the trip turned out so badly,
it made me realize a few things.
I miss you, Janie.
You’re the best thing in my life and…
I love you.
Janie, let’s get married.
There we go.
- He’s sick! - Oh come on, he’s just taking a piss now.
He said he loves me.
You heard him.
Actually I didn’t.
Maybe it was in your vivid imagination.
And I love Willie too. He makes me…
happy.
Any chance of that cup of tea, doll?
Aw, he’s a sweetheart.
Priscilla? Listen, sweetheart, get out the big pen.
It’s time to build a bastard from a first draft.
I’ve just finished the script.
A lifetime with Willie Scott.
If that doesn’t make her miserable, nothing will.
Look, I know things haven’t worked out for the two of you, but
surely you don’t really, actually, totally,
completely want her to be unhappy.
Of course I don’t. I mean—
Oh, tu comprends rien.
It’s tricky, okay? - Whatever.
Which is why Shakespeare never left New York again.
Okay, um, chapter 21,
read it or be punished.
He’s only gone and changed the ending!
Wow! All you did was change her title
and she thought you were a complete wanker!
That’s Wan Kere, he was a 19th century
South American revolutionary.
This is gonna break her heart.
Yeah well, great.
Now all you gonna do is make sure she reads it.
Mission accomplished. - Yeah.
You’ve given it a happy ending?
And your point?
The point is Jane’s novel doesn’t end happily.
Who the hell wants to walk out of a movie feeling miserable?
- You have to change it back. - I don’t think so.
That script says more about my love for her
than I can ever put into words.
She doesn’t know it yet, does she?
Do you have any idea what this’ll do to her?
To both of you?
I made a mistake and I can’t take it back,
but Willie, if you truly love her, change it.
What’s going on here?
You just don’t get her, do you?
Oh, I get her all right.
Every night I get her.
Any way up I fancy.
Hit a sick man, would you, eh?
What’s this, oh!
Remind me, does the bridge explode in the novel?
Hi, Janie, I’m home!
Any chance of a wee cup of tea?
WILLIE!
I just don’t understand how you can do this
over a dumb ending. - No, no you don’t.
Well, if there is any consolation, Janie,
I don’t think me and you would have worked out anyway.
I just don’t get all that worshipping your pain stuff.
Daddy issues.
Tom, if she hasn’t delivered,
you have to take Pandemic Media’s offer.
Mark my words: never going to happen.
Well, I’ll have no option but to declare you bankrupt and call it a deceiver.
- You’re my relationship manager, right? - Yes, so?
So what should I do about my relationship?
Oh, for God’s sake.
Do you love her? Tom?
- Jane! - Hi!
Tom’s not here.
He should be back any minute if you wanna wait.
No, I don’t think so.
I’m heading off for a bit of a break.
I just came to drop this off. It’s my new novel.
I finished it.
That’s a relief.
Between you and me, your books are the only thing
stopping this place from going tits up.
So where should I leave it?
- Just put it on his desk. - Okay. Bye.
- I don’t know what to do. - Don’t know.
Hold it. Jane!
Jane!
Bastard!
What? I should be stopping seeing you.
I finished it!
Leave me alone. All I want is to be alone!
Jane!
Listen, I know you’re in there.
And I know it sounds crazy, but I was trying to help.
Jane?
Your dad’s worried about you and so am I.
He told me where to find you.
All you care about is what my book can do
to your damn company.
Well, you got what you wanted.
Jane, please, open the door.
Jane, I’m not good at this countryside stuff, all right?
I think I saw a bear.
Jane?
I’m sorry.
Thanks a lot.
I deserve that. I’ll just go, shall I?
I’ll go.
Putain! Merde, voilà ce que t’es, une grosse merde !
Mais ta gueule le mouton ! Je t’emmerde !
Alors là ça y en a, alors des vaches et tout, mais du réseau… Putain !
It’s eight miles to the nearest village.
I don’t expect to see you when I wake up.
Good night.
What the hell were you thinking?
- About the plant? - No, about me! Idiot.
Here’s the thing.
You go to some dark places when you write.
You bring out stuff most people prefer to keep locked up,
so I thought maybe if I made you miserable—
I’d be able to finish my novel?
Well, that’s genius. - I was wrong.
Of course you were wrong.
You don’t have to be miserable to write,
you do it because you have to,
because it gnaws away at your insides if you try to ignore it.
Because if you don’t write, then you might as well be dead.
And what do you mean you were wrong, you got the novel, didn’t you?
And Tom and Roddy wrote the plan that was a roaring success.
Not exactly.
The last chapter, it doesn’t work.
It needs a re-write.
- How much of it? - All of it.
Are you all right?
No.
I’m bloody not all right and I want more chocolate.
Maybe it would help if you talked it through.
What have I missed?
I think the problem might be that
you don’t really get to choose your ending.
It has to follow naturally from what comes before,
or it doesn’t feel true. - Oh, it’s so insightful.
- I want to start with Darsie. - Goodie.
- I don’t understand her. - Okay.
I mean,
why is she in love with a man who betrays her so utterly?
He’s emotionally crippled, has an uncomfortable tendency
for mean spiritingness— - He has nice…
hair.
Okay, so yes,
maybe there’s an element of autobiography.
Which means you’re the reason I can’t write. - Me?
At some point during the last few weeks it dawned on me that
when I finished this novel, we were finished too.
And some insane part of me doesn’t want that to happen.
You’re my block, Tom. - But I want you to finish it.
Yeah, of course you want me to finish it,
and for what, so you can turn a profit.
I’ve sold it.
What?
I’ve sold the business.
No, you can’t have sold it.
That stupid company is you.
Get it back. You can’t do this to me.
I’m on the moral high ground here and I’m not getting off now.
You sold it. - Yeah.
And you can take all the time you need for the last chapter, I made it part of a deal.
Tom?
I didn’t sign with Klinsch and McLeish, I couldn’t do it.
Jane. I’ve spoken to my relationship manager—
If I hear the word sad, beautiful or music, you’re a dead man.
Apparently,
I block you. - And I block you too.
What? What could possibly be more important?
I know how it ends. I’m just gonna get my laptop.
I don’t care.
You are on fire!
You’re pretty hot yourself, baby.
Tom? What are you doing?
Tom? Oh, my God, Tom!
Why is it that the saddest endings always seem the truest?
In the stories I told myself, I was always the heroin.
Always reaching for my happy ending.
It didn’t turn out that way.
I won’t get to spend the rest of my life with him.
But I was loved
and that’s enough.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Jane Lockhart will now be signing copies
of her chart-topping new novel, You’ll catch your death.
Well, Darsie, back where you belong.
Are you actually talking to your book?
You don’t think it’s a little bit tacky?
Tacky? We have canapés. Now, get signing.
Right, you’re ready? Go on, just do it.
Okay, pay attention, class, pay attention!
Jane Lockhart, of course,
followed Charlotte Brontë as only the second writer in English
to design and build her own hovercraft.
Hovercraft. H-O-V-E-R-C-R-A-F-T.
See? They believe anything you tell them.
I thought you said that Pandemic Media people were coming today.
Where are they? - You’re looking at them.
What do you mean?
They want someone in the company
that won't let you get away with your usual extravagance.
Someone hard line. Someone disciplined.
- Cheers! - Brilliant!
- Cheers, thank you! - Thank you.
- You read it. - Yeah.
Her father was really bad to her. A nasty piece of work.
- No. No no no, he wasn’t nasty. - But...
She forgives him in the end.
Mr. L!
If you think that was bad,
wait till you see what she’s done with you in the new one!
Mr. Lockhart, Benny, would you give us a second?
- Yeah, sure. - Thanks.
- Look. - Yes?
You are frankly about the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,
which considering I work in Scottish publishing, is saying something.
But we couldn’t have got here without each other.
So Jane, what I'm saying is,
will you...
Could you...
Is that a contract?
Two more books and an option for a third.
Exclusive?
Naturally, we'd have to work very very very very closely.
- With lots of notes? - An excessive amount of notes.
Okay, I do.
I mean, I mean, I will.
I will, I mean--
Okay, just give it here.
Jamie Miller.
She's a new one.
100 pages of the bullshit. 100 pages.
Not even gonna read his.
Kaitlin. Doesn't turn up most of the time.
Hasn't even put his name on the front cover.
Who is this meant to be?
I can tell by his handwriting it's Paul's.
Paul thinks he can just draw pictures when I don't know what he's trying to say.
He's got another thing coming.
Shauna Wesburd. What does she want?
There's nothing in this, is there?
Hasn't even bothered to do it.