- I want my money.
- 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,
was stolen from its owners.
- Where did Barnaby go?
- It's Bruges.
- Barnaby had a boner for that place.
- Dad took him there, 16 years ago.
- Well!
This is fun.
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.
- Thank you.
- Here, I'll take that.
I think I'll go and ask the waitress for that bill.
- 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?
Mr. Walker.
- I don't know where it is.
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.
- We didn't talk.
- Ever?
- Not really.
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.
My brogues!
Ernstrom wore these to the Beer Hall Putsch!
- Sorry.
- Not to mention, Eichorn's kerchief!
The painting, Mr. Walker.
Mr Walker?
Now, where were we?
- 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.
- 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.
- Yeah, I miss him.
I miss them, both of them.
- Mum.
- I hope I've made enough cocktail sausages.
2000 should do the trick.
- "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.
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,
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.
- 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
before I start posting you Barnaby's sticky hot bits.
Cheers.
- 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.
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?
- No plates.
- Are you sure paranoia isn't a side effect of menopause?
- Damn it. - I just rolled that.
- 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.
- Gimme that!
Shit, shit, shit.
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.
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!
- fuck!
She looks good.
Okay, gently release the clutch.
Check your blind spot.
- Shut up.
- For fuck's sake, woman,
it's not fucking rocket science.
- Then you do it! - Okay.
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.
I suppose they have to be for Americans.
Okay, hands at 10 to two.
- Go.
- Gently feather the accelerator.
- Go.
What the hell was that?
Jesus, my God.
My God.
Sorry for your loss!
Turn, turn, turn, turn!
God, you can't fuckin' drive for shit!
- 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.
Thank you.
Definitely wheat.
- 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.
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.
- 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.
- 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.
God.
- 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.
- Jesus.
What the?
Do not play.
What the hell?
- 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.
God.
- That's Ingrid. - Who?
- Our au pair.
She was fired for stealing.
- Sure she was.
And for the record, that's a chicken head.
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?
- God.
No, no, no!
- Hide, hide, hide, hide.
What the fuck.
That dart!
Shit, take it out.
Okay, come on.
- Bitch!
- This bitch just won't die.
Come on.
My god.
Fuck.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- Son of a bitch.
- God, it looks like she's wearing fur pants.
Guess that was normal back in the day.
- The fuck you lookin' at me for?
- Pinky has always struck me
as a particularly revolting digit.
I only employ mine in the pursuit
of my most unbecoming vices.
- I rather like mine.
- As much as it pains me to admit it, you did good.
- Please, please, I told you,
I don't know anything.
Take a toe, take a toe please.
You have to believe me.
no!
- Yes?
- We found it.
- Excellent.
You just saved me the price of a stamp.