I love you, too.
So, Frank, how's work? They gonna survive without you?
Actually, something kind of funny happened the other day.
I did some dumb little piece of work to get myself off the hook with Bandy,
and suddenly, I'm the bright young man.
- That's always the way, ain't it? - It's incredible.
I mean, I knocked this thing off in a couple of minutes
and now they want me to join their team of "specialist" salesmen.
Morons.
Well, it would be funny if they weren't offering
so much damn money.
So, are you tempted?
Well, it's just kind of ironic, don't you think?
I thought you turned the job down.
Not yet.
It's just an option, that's all.
With the kind of money they're talking, things could be different for us here.
We could get a better place. Travel.
The point is, we could be happy here, at least for a little while.
It is possible that Parisians aren't the only ones
capable of leading interesting lives, April.
So you've made up your mind?
No. No. Like I said, it's just an option. That's all.
And supposing you're right.
You make all this money and we have this interesting life here.
Won't you still be wasting your life toiling away at a job you find ridiculous?
Maybe we let that be my business, all right?
Your business?
You know what? It's too hot for this. I'm going to go get wet.
- You don't want to go, do you? - Come on, April. Of course, I do.
No, you don't. Because you've never tried at anything.
And if you don't try at anything, you can't fail.
What the hell do you mean I don't try?
I support you, don't I? I pay for this house.
I work 10 hours a day at a job I can't stand.
- You don't have to. - Bullshit!
Look, I'm not happy about it.
But I have the backbone not to run away from my responsibilities.
It takes backbone to lead the life you want, Frank.
Where are you going?
If it's all right with you, April, I'm gonna go use the bathroom. Okay?
What the hell are you going to do with this?
And what do you think you're going to do?
- You're going to stop me? - You're damn right I am!
Go ahead and try.
Listen to me. You do this, April, you do this and I swear to God I'll...
You'll what? You'll leave me? Is that a threat or a promise?
When did you buy this, April?
How long have you had this? I want to know!
Jesus Christ.
You really are being melodramatic about this whole thing.
As long as it's done in the first 12 weeks, it's perfectly safe.
- That's now, April! Don't I get a say? - Of course you do!
It would be for you, Frank. Don't you see?
So you can have time, just like we talked about.
How can it be for me when the thought of it
makes my stomach turn over, for God's sake?
Then it's for me.
Tell me we can have the baby in Paris, Frank.
Tell me we can have a different life. But don't make me stay here. Please.
- We can't have the baby in Paris. - Why not?
I don't need everything we have here. I don't care where we live.
I mean, who made these rules, anyway?
Look, the only reason we moved out here was because I got pregnant.
Then we had another child to prove the first one wasn't a mistake.
I mean, how long does it go on?
Frank. Do you actually want another child?
Well, do you? Come on, tell me.
Tell me the truth, Frank. Remember that?
We used to live by it.
And you know what's so good about the truth?
Everyone knows what it is, however long they've lived without it.
No one forgets the truth, Frank. They just get better at lying.
So tell me, do you really want another child?
All I know is what I feel.
And anyone else in their right mind would feel the same way, April.
But I've had two children. Doesn't that count in my favour?
Christ, April! The fact that you even put it that way!
You make it seem as if having children is some sort of a goddamn punishment.
I love my children, Frank.
And you're sure about that, huh?
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
April, you just said our daughter was a mistake.
How do I know you didn't try to get rid of her,
- or Michael for that matter? - No.
How do I know you didn't try to flush our entire fucking family
- down the toilet? - No, that's not true. Of course I didn't.
But how do I know, April?
Stop. Please just stop, Frank.
April, a normal woman, a normal sane mother
doesn't buy a piece of rubber tubing to give herself an abortion
so she can live out some kind of a goddamn fantasy.
Look, all I'm saying is you don't seem entirely rational about this thing.
And I think it's about time we found somebody
to help make some sense of your life.
And the newjob's going to pay for that, too?
April, if you need a shrink, it will be paid for.
Obviously.
Okay. I guess there isn't much more to say then, is there?
So I guess Paris was a pretty childish idea, huh?
I guess maybe it was.
April, we can be happy here.
I can make you happy here.
We've had a great couple of months. It doesn't need to end.
We're going to be okay. I promise.
I hope so, Frank.
I really hope so.
Thank you for waiting. Mr Pollock will see you now.
Thanks so much.
Foiled by faulty contraception.
I can't say that I'm sorry.
You'd have been sorely missed in the old cubicle, I can tell you that.
Wouldn't have been the same without you.
Besides... Well...
What?
The plan always seemed a touch unrealistic, don't you think?
I suppose it's none of my business, really.
No. No. I suppose it isn't.
Well...
They'll be celebrating in the secretarial pool.
Hey! Do you remember the first time you brought us here?
Absolutely.
You said it takes a special kind of taste to enjoy Vito's Log Cabin.
It's so awful, it's kind of nice.
Look at me. I'm just so happy. Our little gang's back together again.
How do you like the boys in the band? Aren't they swinging tonight?
- Hey, Europe's not going anywhere. - That's right.
April, honey, how about a dance?
Not right now. Maybe later.
- I'll dance. - Okay.
Guess she's still pretty blue about Paris, huh?
Think she'll be okay?
Sure. Give us girls a couple of days and we can get over anything.
Right.
Frank.
Are you okay? Are you okay? Milly?
I'm so sorry.
Excuse me.
That's just great.
How the hell are we supposed to get out now?
Oh, boy.
Don't worry about it, Shep. We can wait. Really.
What about the sitter?
Listen, why don't you drive Milly home, then go home yourself.
That takes care of both sitters. Then Shep can take me home later.
- Yeah, it's fine by me. - Okay, then.
- You... You'll be all right? - Sure.
Okay.
- Good night. - Good night.
Feel better.
I'm sorry you're not going away any more.
I know it was important to you.
Don't take this wrong, but I've been there.
They don't have so much we don't have here.
It didn't have to be Paris.
You just wanted out, huh?
I wanted in.
I just wanted us to live again.
For years, I thought we shared this secret.
That we would be wonderful in the world.
I didn't exactly know how, but just...
Just the possibility kept me hoping.
How pathetic is that?
So stupid.
To put all your hopes in a promise that was never made?
See, Frank knows. He knows what he wants.
He's found his place. He's just fine.
Married, two kids.
It should be enough.
It is for him.
And he's right.
We were never special or destined or anything at all.
Yes, you are.
You're...
You're the Wheelers.
You're a terrific couple. Everybody says so.
I saw a whole other future.
I can't stop seeing it.
Can't leave,
can't stay.
No damn use to anyone.
Come on.
Let's do it.
Let me take you somewhere.
No. Just do it here. Now.
April.
This is what I've always wanted.
I love you.
Don't say that.
No. I mean it, I love you.
Please, just be quiet for a minute.
Then you can take me home.
It's beautiful out.
Yes, it is.
You know what today is?
- It's 12 weeks. - That's right.
Look, this has been kind of a crazy summer.
We've both been under a strain.
I mean, I understand why you're upset.
You know I'm not sleeping with you, and you want to know why.
Well, I'm sorry, Frank, but I really don't feel like talking about it.
All right. Then what should we talk about, April?
Would it be all right if we didn't talk about anything?
I mean, can't we just take each day as it comes, and do the best we can,
and not feel like we have to talk about everything all the time?
I don't think I'm suggesting that we talk about everything all the time.
Look, my point is we've both been under a strain
and we ought to be helping each other out as much as we can right now.
I mean, God knows my own behaviour has been pretty weird lately.
As a matter of fact, there is something I'd like to tell you about.
I've been with a girl a few times, in the city.
A girl I hardly even know.
It was nothing to me,
but it's over now, really over.
And if I weren't sure of that, I guess I could never have told you about it.
Why did you?
Baby, I don't know.
I think it's a simple case of wanting to be a man again
after all that abortion business.
Some kind of neurotic, irrational need to prove something.
No. I don't mean why did you have the girl.
I mean, why did you tell me about it?
- What do you mean? - I mean, what's the point?
Is it supposed to make me jealous or something?
Is it supposed to make me fall in love with you,
or back into bed with you, or what?
I mean, what would you like me to say, Frank?
Why don't you say what you feel, April?
I don't feel anything.
In other words, you don't care what I do or who I fuck or anything?
No, I guess that's right. I don't.
Fuck who you like.
April, don't you understand that I want you to care?
I know. I know you do.
And I suppose I would if I loved you.
But I don't think I do any more. And I only just figured that out.
And that's why I'd just as soon not do any talking right now.
Don't give me that shit, April. Don't give me that.
- You know goddamn well you love me. - You think so?
You know goddamn well!
Anyone home?
I'm sorry dinner's late. Would anyone like another drink?
Don't worry. It's nice to just sit a bit and socialise.
You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble.
With all your packing and whatnot.
I imagine you have a lot on your plate. No pun intended.
Actually, there's been a change of plans.
I thought maybe it was obvious.
April here is pregnant.
- Congratulations. - Oh, April!
I can't tell you how pleased I am!
But I expect you'll be needing a bigger house now, won't you?
Hold it a second, Ma. Hold on a second, Ma.
I don't get this. I mean, what's so obvious about it?
I mean, okay, she's pregnant, so what? Don't people have babies in Europe?
- John... - Suppose we just say
that people anywhere aren't very well advised to have babies
unless they can afford them.
Okay. Okay, it's a question of money. Money's a good reason.
But it's hardly ever the real reason.
What's the real reason? Wife talk you out of it or what?
Little woman decide she isn't quite ready to quit playing house?
No, no, that's not it. I can tell.
She looks too tough and adequate as hell.
Okay, then. It must've been you. What happened?
- John, please. You're being very rude. - No, no. What happened, Frank?
You get cold feet?
You decide you're better off here after all?
You figure it's more comfy
here in the old hopeless emptiness after all, huh?
Oh, wow, that did it. Look at his face.
What's the matter, Wheeler? Am I getting warm?
- All right, Son. I think we'd better be... - You know something?
I wouldn't be surprised if he knocked her up on purpose
just so he could spend the rest of his life hiding behind a maternity dress.
That way he'd never have to find out what he's really made of.
Now look, I think that's just about enough out of you.
I mean, who the hell do you think you are?
You come in here and say
whatever crazy goddamn thing comes into your head,
and I think it's about time somebody told you to keep your goddamn mouth shut.
- He's not well, Frank. - Not well, my ass!
I don't give a damn if he's sick or well or dead or alive,
he should keep his fucking opinions
in the fucking insane asylum where they belong!
- Let's go, Son. - Come on, John.
Big man you got there, April.
Big family man.
I feel sorry for you.
Still, maybe you deserve each other.
I mean, the way you look right now, I'm beginning to feel sorry for him, too.
You must give him a pretty bad time
if making babies is the only way he can prove he's got a pair of balls.
- You fucking... - No! He's not well, Frank!
All right, John. Let's get on out to the car now.
April, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
Oh, right. Sorry. Sorry! Sorry!
Ma, have I said "I'm sorry" enough times?
Damn! I am sorry, too.
I bet I'm just about the sorriest bastard I know.
But get right down to it, I don't have a whole hell of a lot to be glad about.
Do I?
But, hey, you know what?
I am glad about one thing.
You want to know what I'm glad about?
I'm glad I'm not gonna be that kid.
Okay, okay, don't tell me.
Don't tell me, let me guess.
I made a disgusting spectacle of myself, right?
Right.
And everything that man said is true, right?
Is that what you're going to say?
Apparently I don't have to.
- You're saying it for me. - Well, you're wrong, April.
- Really? Why am I wrong? - Because the man is insane.
He's fucking insane! Do you know what the definition of insanity is?
No. Do you?
Yes, it's the inability to relate to another human being.
It's the inability to love.
April. April.
April! April!
The inability... The inability to love.
Frank. You really are a wonderful talker.
If black could be made into white by talking,
you'd be the man for the job.
So now I'm crazy because I don't love you. Right?
- Is that the point? - No. Wrong.
You're not crazy and you do love me. That's the point, April.
But I don't. I hate you.
You were just some boy who made me laugh at a party? Once
and now I loathe the sight of you.
In fact, if you come any closer, if you touch me or anything,
I think I'll scream.
Come on. Stop this, April.
Fuck you, April!
Fuck you and all your hateful, stuck-up, little goddamn...
What're you going to do now? Are you going to hit me?
- To show me how much you love me? - Don't worry, I can't be bothered!
You're not worth the trouble it would take to hit you.
You're not worth the powder it would take to blow you up.
You're an empty, empty, hollow shell of a woman!
What the hell are you doing in my house if you hate me so much?
Why the hell are you married to me?
What the hell are you doing carrying my child?
I mean, why didn't you just get rid of it when you had the chance?
Because listen to me. Listen to me, I got news for you.
I wish to God that you had.
April!
- April! - Stay away from me.
- April, listen. - Stay away from me.
Can't I even get away from you in the fucking woods?
April, listen, I didn't mean that.
- Honestly, I didn't mean what I said. - Are you still talking?
Isn't there any way to stop your talking?
I need to think. Can't you see that? I need to think.
Please come back to the house. What're you doing out here, April?
Do you want me to scream again, Frank?
Because I will! I mean it!
Okay. Okay.
Good morning.
Would you like scrambled eggs or fried?
I don't know.
It doesn't really matter. Scrambled, I guess, if it's easy.
Fine. I'll have scrambled, too.
It's kind of nice having breakfast without the kids for a change, huh?
Yes.
I thought you'd probably want a good breakfast today.
I mean, it's kind of an important day for you, isn't it?
Isn't this the day you have your conference with Pollock?
Yes. Yes, that's right.
- Big deal. - I imagine it is a pretty big deal.
For them, anyway.
What exactly do you think you'll be doing in your newjob?
You haven't really told me much about it.
Haven't I?
Well, I think this whole thing is about Knox getting ready
to buy up one of those really big computers,
even bigger than the 500.
- Didn't I tell you about that? - No.
Why don't you tell me now?
Well,
you know, basically it's just a big, fast adding machine.
Only, instead of mechanical parts, you see,
you've got thousands of individual vacuum tubes.
I see.
At least I think I see.
Yes, it's really kind of interesting, isn't it?
Well, I don't know.
Yeah, I guess it is kind of interesting, in a way.
You should value what you do, Frank.
You're obviously good at it.
Well, I guess I'd better be getting started, huh?
Listen, though, April, the...
This was really nice.
I mean, it was a swell breakfast. Really, I...
I don't know when I've ever had a nicer breakfast.
Thank you. I enjoyed it, too.
Then you don't... You don't hate me or anything?
No. No, of course I don't.
Have a good day.
Okay, then. So long.
Hello. Milly? Everything all right?
Well, no, I'm afraid I'm not feeling any better. That's really why I called.
If it's not an inconvenience for you, this evening would be great.
What?
Oh, no. No. Not if they're outdoors playing.
Don't call them in.
Just give them each a kiss for me,
and tell them I...
Tell them...
You know. All right. All right. Thank you, Milly. Bye.
I think I need help.
115 Revolutionary Road.
- Frank. They tell you what happened? - Jesus Christ.
Shep, I didn't understand half the things he told me.
He said the foetus was out before they got her here.
And they had to operate to take out the, what do you call it, the placenta?
And now she's still bleeding.
He said that she'd lost a lot of blood before the ambulance came,
and now they're trying to stop it.
He said a whole lot of things I didn't understand about capillaries...
He said that she's unconscious. Jesus.
Okay, Frank, why don't you just take a seat?
What the hell do I want to sit down for, for God's sake?
Okay, Frank. Just take it easy. Take it easy.
- Frank, have a cigarette. - She did it to herself, Shep.
She did it to herself.
I'm gonna get you some coffee.
They were such wonderful people. Weren't they, Shep?
It's just devastating. Poor April.
Thank you.
Frank lives in the city now. Where is it that he works?
- Bart Pollock Associates. - Computers?
Interesting firm.
- Have you seen him since? - No. Not back here.
There are too many memories, I think. Shep has seen him in the city.
Haven't you, sweetie?
Frank is just devoted to those kids.
Every spare moment he has, he spends with them.
Excuse me.
You all right?
I don't want to talk about the Wheelers any more.
Okay.
We don't have to.
Daddy, Daddy, watch. Watch, Daddy.
I can't tell you how pleased I am
about the little Revolutionary Road place, Howard.
And now whenever I drive past, it gives me such a lift
to see it all perked up and spanking clean again.
All the lights in all the windows.
And do you know? I was just thinking, I've loved that little house for years.
And the Braces are the only really suitable people I've ever found for it.
Really nice, congenial people, I mean.
Well, except for the Wheelers, you mean.
I was very fond of the Wheelers.
They were a bit whimsical for my taste. A bit neurotic.
I never stressed it, but they were often
very trying people to deal with, in many ways.
And actually, the main reason that the little house was so hard to sell
was because they let it depreciate so dreadfully.
Warped window frames, wet cellar, crayon marks all over the walls,
filthy smudges around the door knobs and the fixtures...