(intense music)
- I want my money.
- Oh, you'll get your money.
When we get the Hitler painting.
- This is my father's world.
I don't want anything to do with it.
- Well, that's not a choice you get to make.
- When he brings us the painting,
she'll get the finder's fee.
Unless, you persuade her to step aside?
- 16 years ago, (speaking in German)
was stolen from its owners.
- Where did Barnaby go?
(body thuds)
(groans)
- [Woman] It's Bruges.
- Barnaby had a boner for that place.
- [Woman] Dad took him there, 16 years ago.
(upbeat bright music)
(lighter clicks)
- Well!
This is fun.
(laughs)
Barnaby, enough with the boring tapestries.
I have an idea to boost your confidence.
Why don't you ask that chap over there
to do a caricature of you?
- Can you come with me?
- When a grown man wants a caricature done of him,
he doesn't take his father along with him.
Now, give him this.
- That's a lot of money.
- Yeah, it's called the Euro.
Mickey Mouse money, if you ask me.
Go on.
Hello.
May I ask your name?
- Elise.
- Bailey.
Beautiful, beautiful.
- [Waitress] Thank you.
- Here, I'll take that.
I think I'll go and ask the waitress for that bill.
(door creaks)
- Where am I?
- A pointless and, if I may say,
a rather predictable question.
Let's just say, you're welcome to stay
for as long as it takes.
- As long as what takes?
- (speaking in German), Mr. Walker.
- I don't know where it is.
- Hmm.
Well, possibly your father gave you
some clues to its whereabouts?
- He didn't.
- I find it hard to believe that in all your conversations.
- [Barnaby] We didn't talk.
- Ever?
- Not really.
- Hmm.
Not really.
- Yes.
Well, not yes.
No, I meant.
He didn't talk.
- Perhaps not, but I'd be remiss if I didn't do my homework.
Shall we see if Yuri can't prod your memory.
(metal clanking)
(chuckles)
(Barnaby retching)
My brogues!
Ernstrom wore these to the Beer Hall Putsch!
- Sorry.
- Not to mention, Eichorn's kerchief!
The painting, Mr. Walker.
Mr Walker?
(Barnaby groaning)
Now, where were we?
(Barnaby groans)
Oh (speaking in German).
- I told you dad was a pathological bullshitter
but always said we had one rule.
Keep the home Kosher.
- Rules, this is comin' from a guy
who did business with Jihadis and neo-Nazis
who would sell anything that wasn't nailed down
and screw anything that had a pulse.
- Do you mind if I write that down?
Only it's his funeral today and I'm going
to deliver a eulogy.
- Sorry I'm not kissing your ass right now
but if we don't find that painting today,
Barnaby is dead.
- And whose fault is that?
You flipping Bill Cosby-ed him.
- [Nina] I did what I had to do.
- You are despicable and that's coming from me,
ya bloody chicken head.
- Do you even know what a chicken head is?
- No, but you called me one
so I assume it's very unpleasant.
- Before we go in, daddy left these with the lawyers
in case he couldn't say goodbye.
So Nina, maybe you could hang onto Barnaby's?
- Sure, sweetie.
- Here you go darling.
I'm so glad he's with friends today.
On his stag do.
- And he'll be back tomorrow.
- [Fiona] Yeah, I miss him.
I miss them, both of them.
- Oh mum.
- I hope I've made enough cocktail sausages.
2000 should do the trick.
(paper crinkling)
(Leah sighs)
- "To Leah, sorry about all this.
"Remember if you find yourself in a tight spot,
"look to the family, dad."
- Great, dad wrote me a final goodbye
with the emotional depth
of a fortune cookie.
Didn't even have the decency
to wrap it in a fucking biscuit.
(bell tolling)
Where's Barnaby?
Where's my brother, you fruity son of a bitch?
- You're really trying my patience.
I came to offer my condolences.
Nigel was, and I don't say this lightly, a mensch.
- Nice shorts.
- My (speaking in German),
traditional Austrian mourning dress.
Guess whose.
- You need to leave you Nazi piece of shit.
- We actually don't like using the N-word,
well, not that one, Nazi.
- [Nina] Excuse me?
- It's rather reductive.
I prefer to identify as a supremacist.
It better reflects my lived experience.
- I know what you are, you motherfucker.
- I really think your time would be better spent
finding (speaking in German)
before I start posting you Barnaby's sticky hot bits.
Cheers.
(mournful somber music)
- Okay, come on, up.
- It's not finished.
- It basically is.
- I can still see the coffin.
- Happy now?
- Not really, my dad's being incinerated.
- Leah, Leah, we have to go, now.
- I'm sorry mum, it's just too much.
(mournful music) (shoes clattering)
Nina, are you having a hot flush?
- The Shermans hired a bounty hunter
and that bitch will kill anyone
who gets in between her and Barnaby.
Okay, all right.
That SUV with the tints, that's her.
- How do you know?
- [Nina] No plates.
- Are you sure paranoia isn't a side effect of menopause?
- Damn it. - I just rolled that.
(suspenseful music)
- I'm gonna go over there,
use this to smash the glass, okay?
- I just lent you this jacket.
- All right, fine, then use your wrist
and cut your goddamn arteries, see if I care.
- All right, all right, all right.
(suspenseful music)
(Leah grunts)
- [Nina] Gimme that!
(glass shatters)
(suspenseful music)
Shit, shit, shit.
(engine rumbles)
♪ Everybody dance now ♪
(upbeat music)
♪ Everybody dance now ♪
Fuck, fuckin' stick.
- What?
- It's a fucking stick.
- Stop saying stick, I don't know what you mean.
- Twist the brown wires, hurry.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
(electricity sizzles)
(upbeat music)
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
- It's all about clutch control.
You're gonna have to find the biting point, okay?
- Just start the goddamn car.
Hurry, hurry!
- (screams) fuck!
(tires squealing) (women screaming)
She looks good.
Okay, gently release the clutch.
Check your blind spot.
- [Nina] Shut up.
(tires squealing)
(women shouting)
- Oh for fuck's sake, woman,
it's not fucking rocket science.
- Then you do it! - Okay.
(horn honks)
Okay, the thing is I didn't actually pass my test,
I failed it like five times.
- I've seen you drive. - Yeah, yeah,
on automatics, they're a piece of (mumbles).
I suppose they have to be for Americans.
Okay, hands at 10 to two.
- [Nina] Go.
- Gently feather the accelerator.
- Go.
(tires squealing)
What the hell was that?
Jesus, oh my God.
Oh my God.
Sorry for your loss!
Turn, turn, turn, turn!
God, you can't fuckin' drive for shit!
(suspenseful music)
(door creaks)
- Is that gruel?
I don't want to be that guy
but is it oat or wheat based?
It's just that I'm allergic to gluten.
Plays havoc with my stomach.
Surely, I don't have to explain
to you the concept of intolerance.
(man grunts)
Thank you.
(door creaks)
(Barnaby grunting)
Definitely wheat.
(engine roaring)
- [Leah] Dad asked to be buried at the sea.
He loved sailing.
Either that or it's so other adulterers can't turn his grave
into a shrine like he's the Bin Laden of pussy.
- You better be right this time.
(footsteps tapping)
You never came down here?
- What, to watch dad in some shagged out pink chinos
stripping cockles off the arse end of dinghy?
Anyway, he loved being alone, out on the river,
working with his hands.
And I don't know,
I think there was a certain dignity to that.
- [Nina] Why's there a bed in here?
- Bastard!
- Maybe it's not like that.
Maybe he was just workin'
so hard he needed a place to lie down.
- [Leah] Beneath a mirror?
- Yeah, well, let's check out the places people usually hide
their heinous shit.
Even if the painting isn't him, maybe there's a clue
or a message or.
Why are you standing there?
Hustle!
- I'm looking, I'm looking.
(suspenseful music) (papers rustling)
Oh god.
- [Nina] You found it?
- If by it you mean the mental image
I will never ever be able to erase, then yes.
I have my father's poppers.
- Oh Jesus.
(suspenseful music)
(bottles tinkling)
What the?
(suspenseful music)
Do not play.
(tape whirring)
What the hell?
- [Leah] Oh shit, I know what this is.
- Get the fuck outta here.
Is that Barnaby?
- You do run your hand too much
which manly devotion shows in this.
- Maybe we've been a bit harsh on dad.
It's pretty sweet hanging onto this.
Maybe he really does.
What the?
- He's about to say something.
- God, whatever it is, it's really weighing on him.
Oh god. - Whoa!
- Oh that's Ingrid. - Who?
- Our au pair.
She was fired for stealing.
- Sure she was.
And for the record, that's a chicken head.
- Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
You don't know what else is on this.
- Nina, if this is how you get your rocks off.
- We'll just fast-forward, okay?
- Oh god.
(Leah groans)
No, no, no!
(phone beeping)
(tape screeching) (Nina shushes)
- Hide, hide, hide, hide.
What the fuck.
(Leah screams)
That dart!
Shit, take it out.
(bell rings)
Okay, come on.
(Nina grunting)
(Leah screams)
(Leah grunts)
(metal clattering) (Leah screams)
(Nina groans)
(Nina grunts)
(suspenseful music)
(Nina shouts)
(Nina grunting)
- [Leah] Bitch!
(Nina grunting)
(Nina panting) (suspenseful music)
- This bitch just won't die.
Come on. (Nina panting)
Oh my god.
(Leah snoring) Oh fuck.
(water splashes)
- This is becoming incredibly tedious, Mr. Walker.
- I'm sorry, just not very good with pain.
- And normally I look for that in a victim.
Until now I've never encountered anyone
whose sheer cowardice makes them impregnable.
- This is just a suggestion
but maybe you could try a little more carrot.
Maybe less of the stick.
- No, I'm sorry,
I have to host the boys alpha course tonight.
Yuri, fetch the wire cutters.
We can still catch the last post.
(Barnaby sighs)
- Face it, dad didn't give a toss about us.
He was too busy boffing Swedes.
And I was his favorite child.
Dread to think what he wrote in Barnaby's letter.
(paper crunches)
- It's the same fuckin' thing.
Look to the family.
- The family.
Clear the table.
It's acrylic paint.
Old smuggler's trip, dad showed me.
(suspenseful music)
- [Nina] Oh son of a bitch.
(Nina laughs)
- God, it looks like she's wearing fur pants.
Guess that was normal back in the day.
- The fuck you lookin' at me for?
(suspenseful music)
- Pinky has always struck me
as a particularly revolting digit.
I only employ mine in the pursuit
of my most unbecoming vices.
(suspenseful music)
(shears clanging)
- I rather like mine.
(suspenseful music)
- [Nina] As much as it pains me to admit it, you did good.
(man groaning)
- [Barnaby] Please, please, I told you,
I don't know anything.
Take a toe, take a toe please.
You have to believe me.
(groans) no!
(phone buzzing)
(phone dinging)
- Yes?
- We found it.
- Excellent.
You just saved me the price of a stamp.
(metal clatters)
(upbeat music)
♪ Everybody dance now ♪
(upbeat music)
♪ Give me the music ♪
♪ Everybody dance now ♪
(upbeat music)
♪ Everybody dance now ♪