You wanted to see me, sir?
You read The Times this morning?
Avershays Press announced a deal with Irving Gattinger.
Gattinger said that he was done with writing.
Yes. He hasn't written a book in 10 years.
It's a brilliant move.
Based on name recognition alone, it'll be an instant bestseller.
Yes.
What do you think about Weldon Parish?
Parish is one of my personal favorites.
Why, are you thinking of signing him? The man hasn't written anything in 20 years.
All the more reason. What do you know about him?
Um, Weldon Parish.
He left the United States in the mid-1980s...
moved to a small Italian village, and, after his wife died...
he simply gave up writing. He's become a recluse.
- He doesn't even give interviews. - Hmm.
We could sign Weldon Parish.
We would set the publishing world on its ears.
I want you to go to Italy and talk to him.
Mr. Benton, with all due respect, and believe me...
no one would like to see a Weldon Parish novel more than myself...
it's just not going to happen.
People have tried. The man is just not interested in writing.
Well, I expect you to make him interested.
Have a nice trip. Goodbye, Jeremy.
Hi.
All the rooms have a private bathroom.
Ah, you speak English?
Does it sound like English?
- Yes. - There you go.
Great. Look, I have some bags in the... Excuse me?
I have a couple more bags in the car.
Perfect.
Thank you.
What, are you kidding? I carried the bags.
I opened the door.
You opened the door.
- Is the room okay? - Yes.
The room itself is fine, but...
There's a...
There's a couple next door to me...
- and they're... - Screwing.
Yes.
They come here every chance they get for privacy.
Ah.
Anyway, I'm actually in town looking for Weldon Parish.
You wouldn't by any chance know him, would you?
No.
Well, any idea where he lives?
No.
No?
Really? He's lived here for 20 years...
and you don't know him and you have no idea where he lives.
Yes.
Right.
Weldon Parish?
Excuse me, do you know where I can find Weldon Parish?
Weldon Parish?
- Ciao, Bernardo. - Gustavo, buon giorno.
Okay.
Hello, Mr. Parish. My name is Jeremy Taylor.
Hello, Mr. Parish.
Hi, Mr. Parish. My name is Jeremy Taylor.
Pearce Learner Publishing.
Hey, Weldon, I'm Jeremy.
He's not here.
I just thought I would tell you...
so you wouldn't waste the whole day talking to the door.
Are you a reporter?
Me? No. Why?
'Cause Papa hates reporters.
He says they are the lowest form of human life.
My name is Jeremy Taylor. I'm an editor with Pearce Learner Publishing.
That's even worse.
He says that editors don't even qualify as human life.
Oh.
- Well, it can't hurt to talk to him, can it? - No. It could hurt very much.
The last editor who came here, he chased down to the water with an ax.
Okay, well, I'll take my chances, if you don't mind.
Okay, he's around the back.
In the cellar.
Excuse me.
I didn't catch your name.
Isabella.
Mr. Parish?
Mr. Parish.
My name is Jeremy Taylor, I'm with Pearce Learner Publishing.
I have to say this is a great honor for me, sir.
What?
Yes, I know he's here. He's talking to me.
Can't you see he's talking to me?
Who are you talking to?
The king of the elfin realm. The all-knowing little one.
We're having Spam for lunch. Do you like Spam?
I like mine with raisins.
Um, you are Weldon Parish?
The writer?
They say I am.
Were you looking for someone else?
Yes, I think I was.
Okay, okay.
Hold on a second.
Did you find him?
Yes, I found him.
What happened to him?
No one really knows.
His mind just broke.
That's why everybody protects him?
Is.
It's just such a waste.
I'm gonna check out in the morning, if that's okay.
Bene.
He just came in.
No, he thinks you're completely crazy, Weldon.
He's leaving tomorrow, okay? Ciao, ciao.
That was a pretty elaborate ploy to get me to go away, don't you think?
Apparently it wasn't elaborate enough.
- Mr. Parish, I came a long way to see you. - I didn't ask you to.
See ya.
Do you know what "go away" means?
All I'm asking for is a few minutes of your time.
You're not going to go away, are you?
Uh, I'm sorry to be so persistent...
but nobody ever got anywhere by taking no for an answer, right?
All right, make your pitch.
As I said before, I'm with Pearce Learner Publishing...
a place where we pride ourselves on being able to work with creative individuals.
We believe in bringing the writer's vision to the page.
And as a writer myself, I understand how important that is.
What do you write?
Well, I'm actually still working on my first novel.
And, I don't even know if it's any good, but I have always dreamed of being a writer.
And being a writer, you think you can understand me?
- Well, yes. - Well, you can't.
Actually, Mr. Parish, I think if you were to give me...
Look, you made your pitch, I'm not interested.
- But I'm not finished. - Yes, you are.
That's Bruno.
Bruno dislikes strangers more than I do.
- Now would be a good time to start running. - What?
Oh, my God. Oh, my God!
Fuck.
- Hello. - Ah, Jeremy.
How's it going over there?
Hello, sir.
Not well.
Well, did you meet him?
- Oh, yes. Yes, I met him. - What's he like?
Hmm.
The word "unstable" comes to mind.
Well, show me an artist that isn’t, eh?
Well, I think I can say with a great deal of confidence...
that the man is not interested in writing.
Well, it is up to you to convince him.
I'm expecting results, Jeremy.
Jeremy?
Jeremy, are you there?
Yes, yes. Sorry, I'm still here, but you know what? I've actually...
I've gotta run right now. Can I call you back later?
Perfect. Thank you. Bye.
Ciao.
- Hi. - Hi.
I heard about what happened this afternoon.
The dog. Yeah.
Yeah, your father's a very funny man.
I'm so sorry. I tried to warn you.
So, where are you going?
- I was actually just looking for a place to eat. - Oh. Okay, well, there's only one place.
You would like that I take you?
- Yes. Yes, I would. - Come.
Have you decided?
- No. We haven't seen the menus yet. - There is no menu, only specials.
Okay, then what are the specials?
Mixed green salad and spaghetti with pesto.
- Anything else? - No.
Perfect. Then can I have a mixed green salad and some spaghetti with pesto?
- Excellent choice. Isabella? - I've eaten.
All right.
You know, if you've eaten, you really don't have to stay here with me.
No. People shouldn't eat alone.
I eat alone all the time, so I'm used to it.
You changed your hair. It looks good.
Really?
Thank you.
So, Isabella...
what is it that you do here?
I work with my horses, I help with the vineyard.
That doesn't sound too bad to me.
Your father seems to have adapted well.
Well, my father is not an ordinary man.
Why do you want him to write so bad?
Well...
- Honestly? - Mmm-hmm.
When I was 12 years old, I broke my collarbone...
so I had to stay in bed for five weeks.
And I don't know if you've ever tried...
but it's not easy to keep a 12-year-old in bed for five weeks.
One day, my aunt brings me a book...
The Shadow Dancer by Weldon Parish...
and, as I'm reading this book...
something absolutely miraculous happens to me.
I am transported into a different world...
and every day for five weeks, I lived through those words.
And to have the talent...
to instill those kinds of feelings in other people is a gift...
and it just should not be wasted.
- You should have spoken to him like that. - Like what?
I see the passion that you have for his work. You should have let him see it.
- Well, I tried. - No.
You tried to sell him, and I know my father.
He responds to honesty. You should have tried using some.
If you want another chance...
he'll be at Carina's later.
It's a bar just outside of town.
You don't have the straight.
That, my dear friend, you will have to pay to find out.
This is interesting.
You're acting like you have it. You're trying to make me believe you have it.
- So? - So, in a way, you're lying.
Priests shouldn't lie, Giovanni.
There is no lying in poker. There is only bluffing.
And God forgives bluffing.
What, I can't come have a drink at the bar?
You could have a drink at the hotel.
- Well, I would have, but there's no one there. - Well, boo-hoo.
Why don't you let me buy you a drink?
Just so you know, there's no hard feelings about today.
Thank you.
Okay. Why don't you ask it? Then you can go.
Ask what?
The question that's burning a hole in your little brain.
Why did I stop writing?
Okay. Why did you stop writing?
I didn't have anything else to say, Ollie.
Okay, it's that's simple.
Now you can go.
A writer always has something to say.
Oh, now you're an authority. How the hell do you know what I have to say?
- No, no, no. Mr. Parish, all I'm... - Look, we said we'd have a drink.
I don't remember anything about a conversation.
The mere act of accepting an invitation to have a drink...
implies a certain degree of conversation.
- I hope you don't write like you talk. - Why? How do I talk?
Like an uptight jockstrap.
Okay. What would you have said?
Actually, I wouldn't have said anything.
I would have gotten the hint about not wanting to talk.
You're not one of those...
namby-pamby guys that nurses a drink all night, are you?
Very impressive.
Okay, hasta la bye-bye.
No.
I bought this bottle of wine, and I intend on finishing it.
Eh?
See you guys tomorrow.
What do you mean, "see you guys tomorrow"?
You said you were going back to London.
No. You said I was going back to London.
Hey, kid.
You're too... You've had too much to drink. We're gonna drive you back to the hotel.
Come on. Come on, come on. Come on.
What's this? You guys gonna rough me up a little bit?
Hey, serious... What's that? What're you doing back there?
It's obvious that you just won't go away.
Hey, whoa, hey, Father, you just gonna stand by and let this happen?
- This is God's will, my son. - I don't know why you can't understand.
I think I've gone to great lengths to make myself clear.
- Come on. I was just trying to do my job. - Well, now you're going to join the others.
- What others? There are others in there? - They wouldn't go away, either.
Okay, but I will. I'll go, I promise.
I don't believe you. I think you're just saying that so that I'll let you go.
No, no. No, no. I will absolutely go. Tomorrow. As soon as I can.
- I think he's telling the truth. - Yes! Listen to him.
- I don't believe him! - No, whoa!
No, there's no need for this!
Arrivederci.
What does "go away" mean, Mr. Taylor?
It means go away.
I'll expect you to do just that.
I baptizing you in the name of the Father...
the Son and the Holy Ghost.
- What are you doing? - Baptizing you.
I'm Jewish.
Not anymore.
Hey, ciao.
Unbelievable.
You've got balls, boy, I'll give you that.
And you've got my car keys.
Here you go.
Is that all?
Yup.
You know what? That's not it.
Because whatever reasons you have for not wanting to write...
I accept them as being personal, but that's still no excuse for you to be such...
an unbelievable!
I guess I'm not for everyone.
You know, I'll admit, I only came here because my boss sent me...
but underneath, I came because I have always wanted to meet you.
I thought that maybe if I could meet the great Weldon Parish...
perhaps you could teach me how to be a better writer...
but I realize now that the only things you have to teach me...
are bitterness and mistrust.
How goes the grape business, Weldon?
What brings you to town, Ian?
I just finished my new novel and came in for a drink.
You remember how it was when you finished a book...
way back when you still had something to say.
Oh, I'm sorry. Did I strike a nerve?
Ah, it must be tough being all dried up inside and having to live on past glories.
At least he has past glories to live on.
And who might you be?
- Jeremy Taylor. - Ian McBain.
Ian McBain, the novelist?
- I know your work. - You're a fan?
- No, I didn't say that. - Jeremy.
Actually, I would say that your themes are all the same...
that your narration lacks depth and imagination.
- Jeremy. - Your prose struggles for wit.
Overall, your style is sluggish at best...
and contains absolutely nothing...
that your average Joe with a typewriter couldn't produce.
- He punched me in the nose. - You'll live. I'll drive.
Your trusty steed shall carry us to battle well.
No, no, no, no, no, no.
Oh, my God. Weldon, no. Please, please, no.
Weldon!
That was great, wasn't it?
You are completely out of your mind.
- You know that, right? - Don't you feel it?
Feel what?
- Oh, my God. - Life!
Will you sit down, you maniac!
Okay, I'm serious, stop now. Brake, brake.
We're having some people up at the house tomorrow.
Why don't you come by?
Thought you didn't like me.
I don't, but I dislike you less than I did yesterday.
Ciao, Isabella. Weldon?
Hi.
Still mad?
Someone could have got killed yesterday.
In all fairness, it wasn't entirely your father's fault.
Exactly. He gets into enough trouble on his own.
He doesn't need help from anyone.
But, look, I'm sorry, but Ian McBain was saying...
that he was all dried up and living on past glories.
I couldn't just stand there and let him say those things.
I love my father very much...
but tell me, which part of that statement isn't true?
That's an awfully cruel thing to say about your own father, don't you think?
Really?
- Well, yes. I mean, it's none of my business - No. I know what you see.
You see the great Weldon Parish...
a man's man...
a man who lives life on his own terms, and others be damned.
But you don't have to pick up the pieces.
You don't have to watch a man who was once strong and gentle...
slowly destroying himself.
How long has it been like that?
Since the day he stopped writing.
Are you saying you think he still wants to write?
Of course he wants to write.
- Then why doesn't he? - Because he's afraid.
He's afraid that what was once...
great about him is gone.
He's afraid that Ian McBain is right.
Jeremy, these are my two other daughters, Dinnie...
- Hello. ...and Maura.
Pleasure to meet you both.
Jeremy Taylor.
Buon appetito.
- Appetito. - Appetito.
I didn't see you at mass this morning, Mr. Taylor.
Oh, are you Catholic?
- No, I'm not. - Careful, he'll try to convert you.
I know. He's already tried, actually.
What does it matter what religion we are?
In the end we all die.
There's no stopping the fact that one day...
we all will be rotten corpses...
in a dark, damp grave.
Cheers.
So what is it you do, Mr. Taylor?
Why don't you all stop picking at him and let him eat?
He's a book editor.
Yes, he's a book editor.
I'm sitting next to a book editor.
Please, try to make him write, my son.
God gave him a tremendous talent.
It's true.
No, I'm a priest. I'm a priest. I can't tell you.
- You can tell me, but nobody else. - It's a secret.
- Buon giorno. - Buon giorno.
How much do I owe you?
Jeremy, this is Amalia.
Pleasure to meet you. How do you do?
Weldon...
that's the bill for my car repairs.
I noticed one of my cows was missing this morning.
You wouldn't know anything about it?
I've got her for safekeeping, till this is settled.
- You stole my cow. - Call it collateral.
Excuse me.
- Hello, Amalia. - Hello, Ian.
You're looking very beautiful today. Could I speak to you in private for a moment?
- I'm busy. - Oh.
Well, I just came by to ask if you'd, if you'd like to go to the town party with me.
I can't. I'm going with Weldon.
It's news to me.
One of these days, you're gonna push me too far, Weldon.
Yeah? Well, let's hope you're standing by a cliff when I do.
What?
Get dressed.
- What? - Get dressed!
Get dressed. Get dressed.
Seriously, what are we doing?
Why, taking an evening stroll.
There you are, sweetie.
I've come to take you home from the bad man.
Weldon...
I am not stealing a cow.
This is my cow.
I can't steal something I already own.
- Then what do you need me here for? - She can be a little temperamental.
I'm gonna need you to get behind her, give her a push.
No. No way.
Come on.
- What's this? - What does it look like?
- No, I mean, what's it for? - For you. Get rid of that computer.
Why? The computer makes it easier.
Writing's not supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be hard.
Typewriters make you think about the words you choose more carefully...
because you can't erase them with the push of a button.
- Do you know how? - I don't dance.
I'll teach you.
No, no, no, no, no. Look, look, you don't wanna write, I don't wanna dance, okay?
So if I would write, you would dance?
Maybe.
I don't wanna dance with you that bad.
Everybody has their price, Weldon.
I mean, there has to be something you want.
What's your price?
What would you do to get me to write a book for you?
Well, for starters, I could offer you a large advance.
I don't need money.
Okay, but there has to be something that you want.
I want you to kiss my ass.
- No, seriously. - I'm serious.
I'm going to drop my drawers...
and if you'll kiss my ass in front of everybody...
I'll sign a contract.
Hey.
- Okay. - Oh, my God. Whoa, whoa, whoa!
No, not okay. Not okay at all.
Don't say I didn't give you a chance.
- I wouldn't call that much of a chance. - All you had to do was use your imagination.
Pretend I was a beautiful woman.
One-tenth of a second.
It would all have been over, and you would've had what you wanted.
Okay, fine, I'll do it.
Too late.
- What? - Too late.
Life is about seizing the moment...
and you just let this one slip by.
- You knew I wouldn't do it, didn't ya? - Of course.
You're far too concerned with what a roomful of strangers might think of you...
to do anything foolish or spontaneous.
- Well, that's called restraint. - Boring.
Perhaps, but it's better than being a lunatic.
Everybody needs a little lunacy.
It's what frees us from the pain of this world.
There's a wild man inside you, Jeremy.
I can see him in your eyes. Why don't you let him out?
You might like him.
If he's anything like you, I think I'll keep him locked up, thanks.
Look, would you mind terribly putting on your pants?
I'm not really comfortable standing next to a naked man.
I'll just...
I used to come here with my wife.
Back then, I never had time for the little things.
I was always so afraid I...
wouldn't get a thought down or I'd forget a line of dialogue.
Then one night, the police came to tell me that her car had...
After that, nothing mattered.
Now I wish I could go back...
just for one day.
Time is a precious thing, Jeremy.
And the years teach much which the days never knew.
It's now or never
Come hold me tight
Kiss me, my darling
Be mine tonight
Tomorrow
Will be too late
It's now or never
My love won't wait
When I first saw you
With your smile so tender
My heart was captured
My soul surrendered
I've spent a lifetime
Waiting for the right time
Now that you're near, the time is here
At last
It's now or never
Come hold me tight
Jeremy.
Hi.
Weldon told me to tell you to be at his place at 5:00.
- Um, what? 5:00. Okay, fine, 5:00. - 5:00.
She is beautiful, isn't she?
- Who? - "Who?" That's a good one.
- Still mad at me? - No.
My father told me it wasn't your fault.
He's right, you know. It really wasn't.
"Who?"
- What's that? - I have no idea.
Um, would you care to take a seat?
- Sure, okay. - Okay.
- You are writing? - Well, trying.
Mostly, I'm just looking for inspiration.
You finding anything?
Uh, yes. Yes, I think I'm starting to.
Are you missing London?
No.
Actually, no, I'm not, really.
Your family?
Well, I don't have too much family left.
Both of my parents died when I was 16 years old...
and then I moved to London to live with my aunt...
but she passed three years ago.
I'm so sorry.
Ah, well, you didn't know. Thank you.
You have a girlfriend?
No. I did, but you know how those things go. It didn't work out.
Come on, that's not fair.
- You don't speak any Italian, huh? - No, not a word.
- No. - No.
Well, if I can ever help you...
Well, actually, since you offer...
there are a couple words that I've been meaning to learn.
For instance, "beautiful."
Bello.
Okay. And "lips."
Labre.
Right.
And how would you say "kiss"?
That's enough Italian for one day, uh?
Okay.
- I see you later. - Oh, yeah.
Describe it to me.
Now.
What you're looking at, describe it to me.
Well, I see the sun setting...
the green of the hills, the blue sky...
No, describe it to me as if you were writing it.
The sun dropped in behind the...
The sun dropped?
English is your first language, isn't it?
I can't think on the spot like this.
Jeremy, anyone can use words. It's called talking.
But writers arrange them in a way so that they take on a beauty in their form.
Think of words as colors...
and paper as a canvas.
All right, well, if it's really that easy why don't you try painting it?
I'm sorry. I realize you don't wanna do that.
You're right.
But, if I did do it...
I'd probably say something like...
the sun set...
slowly...
igniting the sky in fiery shades of red and orange.
In the distance, dark clouds rolled over the horizon...
riding the summer winds.
Soon, day would give way to night.
And with it, would come...
the silence that washes over everything.
Buona sera.
Oh.
I was wondering if you were coming.
When have I ever missed a Monday night?
- What is this? - Karaoke night. What do you think?
- You guys actually do this? - Yeah.
And so do you.
- Oh, no. No way. - You'll be fine.
No, no. Seriously, I won't do it.
You just need a couple of drinks.
I don't care how many drinks you put in me, I am not getting up and singing.
Walk, walk
How you tried
To cut me down to size
Telling dirty lies to my friends
My own father said give her up, don't bother
The world isn’t coming to an end
He said to
Walk like a man
Talk like a man
You walk like a man, my son
No woman's worth
Crawling on the earth
So walk like a man, my son
Walk, walk, walk, walk
Pronto.
Jeremy, is that you?
- Yes, sir, it’s me. - Any progress in this Parish affair?
A little, yeah.
Well, what seems to be the problem?
Well, he seems to think that he doesn't wanna write...
but I think that he does.
You think he genuinely likes you?
Yeah. Yeah, I think so.
Good, use it. Gain his confidence.
Get him to see that his writing is in everyone's best interest.
Well, what if writing really isn't in his best interest?
Jeremy, the function of business is to get things done.
That is what you are there for, to get things done!
Now do it!
Ok, look, I understand what you're saying...
that writing comes from experience.
But even after you've experienced something, you still gotta get it down on the page.
That's called talent.
Weldon, the other day...
when you described the sunset, that was great.
No, it was. That was great.
And I gotta tell you, I think it would really... It would be helpful for me if you could...
I don't know, throw something like that down on a page...
and just let me see it, you know?
What are you doing?
- Why, nothing. - We had a deal, remember?
We would talk about writing, not about me writing.
- Right, no, I just wanted... - I know what you want.
What do you think I am, an idiot?
You don't think I know what it would do for your career if you signed me?
That's not why I'm doing this.
All right, we were talking about experience.
If you are writing a fight scene...
it helps if you've been in a fight.
Have you ever been in a fight?
- Me? - Yeah.
Closest I ever came was getting punched in the nose the other day.
That's pathetic. If you were writing a character...
who got punched in the stomach, how would you describe it?
Just use my imagination.
Okay, go ahead, tell me what it would feel like.
I'd double over in pain, I'd be gasping for breath.
Mmm. What else?
I don't know.
Okay, now.
You've got the doubling over and gasping for air part right.
But there's also that burning sensation in your gut, the pounding in your head...
the weak legs and teary eyes.
Oh, notice the snot hanging out of your nose.
There's a feeling that you're never gonna breathe again, and then...
your lungs fill with cool, fresh air.
That's experience.
Stop trying to manipulate me.
Father, am I disturbing you?
No. No, no, my son.
I... I was just preparing the sacraments for the evening prayer.
I, uh, I've been expecting you.
- You have? - Yes.
I am a priest, and part of my job...
is to help those who need it.
You wish to speak about Weldon and writing.
So how do I reach him?
Do you believe in fate?
Uh, Father, I don't know.
I do. I believe that each of us...
are predestined to walk a path in life.
Along this path we meet others...
and through knowing them, we change their lives.
Okay, but what does that have to do with Weldon and writing?
There is an old story about a bird who loved to fly.
One day, while he was high up in the air...
it began to rain...
and its feathers became so heavy...
that when it tried to land, it broke its wing.
Time passed, and the bird became better.
It wanted to fly, but no matter how hard it tried...
something inside stopped it from leaving the ground.
Day after day it tried, and day after day...
its fear held it down.
Then one day, a strong wind came...
and lifted it high into the sky.
It opened its wings and it realized that it could fly.
I know. Okay. I get it, I do.
Weldon's the bird and he's afraid to fly, right?
No, Jeremy.
Weldon is the bird, and you are the wind.
That is the path fate's chosen for you.
Hi.
Hello.
Father Moretti tells me you had a nice little chat today.
Obviously I didn't punch you in the stomach hard enough.
I need to apologize for earlier.
Look, I only went to speak with Father Moretti because I didn't understand what hap...
- This is my manuscript. - I know.
Where did you get this?
I went to the hotel and told Gustavo you wanted me to get it for you.
You had no right to do that, Weldon.
You've got talent, Jeremy.
You're a good writer.
The problem is, you don't trust your talent.
You don't believe you can find that part of you that has something to say.
Well...
- How do I know when I've found it? - Believe me, there's no mistaking it.
I know there's a lot of time and effort put into those pages.
Have enough faith in yourself to let them go.
Take what you've learned from them and start again.
Ciao.
I have absolutely no idea what you just said.
But it sounds good.
- Want some company? - Sure. Come.
With the horses, huh?
Jesus, I'm gonna die.
Phew.
When was the last time you were on a horse?
Uh, let's see...
the last time I was on a horse was, um...
Oh, whoa. Uh, that would be never.
- Never? - Yes, never.
- Why did you come? - It's a new experience. I'm big on... Oh.
Big on new experiences lately.
So how is the writing going?
Um, I don't know, actually.
I'm really starting to question whether or not I have what it takes.
Ah, yes, self-doubt.
It is a common thing with creative people.
Do you find that a lot of creative people are...
- Crazy? - Yes, crazy.
Of course, they're crazy.
There are thousands of writers and artists.
For most of them, their dreams will never come true.
You have to be crazy.
Well, thanks, Weldon, that's very encouraging.
No, that's reality, Jeremy.
Art is not something you choose to do.
It's something that chooses you.
Why did you wanna become a writer?
- Because I think that I have... - No, it's not something you think.
It's something you know.
Tell me when you know the answer.
It's amazing how much she looks like her mother.
Sometimes I'll walk into her room and for a moment I'll think...
Describe her to me.
- Come on, not this again. - Just do it, will you?
Sunlight frames her body in a golden glow of honeyed light...
while the wind dances gently through the long strands of her hair.
Her face is strong, proud...
with eyes that don't easily give away their secrets.
It's a face that doesn't call out...
but softly beckons.
How was that?
You tell me.
By the way...
how long have you been in love with my daughter?
No.
- Ciao, Weldon. - Ciao.
What?
You two are the couple next door?
Are you ready for the party?
Yeah.
I wasn't stealing. I was accepting charity.
Weldon, it's going to be a late night.
Why don't you all stay at the hotel?
Half price, of course.
Okay, free.
When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bendin' in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance, you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have the magic technique
When we sway, I grow weak
I can hear the sound of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now
You were gone when I woke up this morning.
You had a dream.
It's funny 'cause it felt pretty real to me.
Yes, but last night was last night.
What exactly does that mean?
It means I wanted to see how I felt with you.
And how did you feel?
Jeremy...
we live in different worlds, uh?
There's no reason why you couldn't come and live in my world.
Do I look like I belong in London?
My life is here with my family and my horses.
Isabella, I don't wanna just let this slip away.
I know.
I'm sorry, I...
I just wanted to share something with you.
You wanna know what my problem really is?
I'm afraid.
Of what?
Of life.
Of love. Of everything.
I want my own villa, Weldon.
I wanna grow grapes and write great novels.
So what's stopping you?
Fear.
Fear... I mean, I've built this whole life for myself in London.
I don't think I can just change.
Well, Jeremy...
most people are perfectly content living in their dreary little worlds.
They just cling to the edge of the toilet bowl...
trying to keep their heads above water...
hoping some fool won't come along, pull the chain.
It's only when they hear that flushing sound and they begin to slide down into the abyss...
that they start taking stock of their lives.
What about the people who are so comfortable in their suffering...
they don't even know that the chain's been pulled?
I know that you wanna write, Weldon.
Oh, you just can't leave it alone, can you?
No. No, I can't.
But tell me I'm wrong.
Weldon, look me in the eye and tell me that you don't wanna write.
- I don't wanna write. - You know what I think?
- I think that you miss it. - No!
I think that all the drinking and all the craziness...
is just your way of covering up what's missing in your life.
- Right. - And everybody knows it, Weldon. Everybody.
Your daughters know it, Father Moretti knows it...
Gustavo knows it, I know it.
But what's worse is you know it.
Tell me, hotshot, you think knowing me a couple of weeks...
and living 25 years of a sheltered existence...
gives you the right to tell me how to live my life?
25 years or 25 minutes, the truth is still the truth.
My life is fine the way it is!
I do what I want when I want!
I pick a few grapes once a year. That's all I have to do!
I was just a writer, for God's sake!
That's all I was!
I didn't cure cancer, I didn't walk on the moon!
The world isn't gonna stop spinning...
- lf there isn't another Weldon Parish novel. - You're right, it won't...
but maybe yours will start again.
And you are a writer, Weldon.
It is what you are and you're a great one, at that.
A great writer knows when he is not a great writer anymore.
- So then what, he just gives up? - I didn't give anything up.
20 years ago I lost something.
Something more important than my writing.
How can I explain it to you? I can't explain it to myself.
- Stop it. Just stop. - Stop what?
If you don't wanna write, that's fine, but stop blaming it on your dead wife.
What do you want from me?
You want to prove I'm miserable?
You know, you say you don't wanna write, Weldon...
but you write every single day.
You just stopped putting the pen to the page.
Sometimes life tosses you this way, that way...
and you find yourself in a place you never...
imagined you'd be in.
Before you realize it, it's too late to go back.
- No, it's never too late. - I can't do it.
I don't believe you, Weldon.
- I can't. - Why?
- Because... - Because why?
Because I'm afraid!
Weldon, you're not afraid of writing.
You're afraid of failing.
We all fail.
Courage is in the trying.
Are you all right?
You should've seen me today, Father. You'd have been proud. I was very clever.
What happened?
I forced Weldon down a road he didn't wanna go...
and I'm a little afraid of what he's gonna find at the end of it.
Sometimes you must knock something down in order to build something new.
Did it ever occur to you that maybe the great Weldon Parish...
just simply does not have anything left to say?
You don't really believe that, do you?
I know that you think I'm his salvation, but I'm not.
I am just not.
Every night, I go home, and I struggle to write...
one paragraph that tells me that I have something...
anything important to say.
And there is a man who can do it standing on his head...
and he chooses not to, he chooses that.
And I'm supposed to feel sorry for him? Well, I'm sorry, I don't.
And I know life has dumped on him, but life dumps on all of us, Father.
And we move on, we get past it. At least most of us do.
Look, I'm not responsible for Weldon Parish.
I only did what I was sent here to do...
and I told him that right from the very beginning.
It's not like I lied to him.
If that's true, why are you so upset?
Maura, where is everybody?
Still sleeping.
What are you all gawking at?
You act as if you've never seen a writer before.
You could stay.
And do what?
Write.
Besides, I don't think I'd be the only one sad to see you go.
I don't know about that.
Jeremy, what have you got to go back to?
My life, my job.
I can't just pull up stakes and move out here, Weldon.
Why not?
I have...
I just can't.
Well...
What about the contracts?
- What about them? - Can't sign if you don't give them to me.
You know...
Why don't you just see how it goes?
I want you to write the book for yourself.
There's no need for you to have to deal with the pressures of editors and publishers.
And if you like what you've written...
then, believe me, we would be happy to publish it.
- Arrivederci. - Arrivederci.
Bye.
- Ciao, Jeremy. - Ciao.
Goodbye, my son.
Ciao, Jeremy.
Isabella?
In Italy, we say a good friend is someone who is there through the good and the bad.
- Sir. - Yeah?
And it's because I can't imagine doing anything else.
- What? - That's why I wanna be a writer.
Because I can't imagine doing anything else.
Okay.
- Bye, everybody. - Ciao.
Ciao, Jeremy.
I don't know... He broke his wing?
No fly. No fly.
Ah, no fly, no fly.
No fly.
Si, mama.
5@y3