Indignation (2016) Movie Script

[slow piano music playing]
Mrs. Anderson?
(Marcus, off) It is important
to understand about dying
that even though in general you do not
have a personal choice in the matter,
it is going to happen to you
when it happens to you.
There are reasons you die.
There are causes,
a chain of events
linked by causality,
and those events include decisions
that you have personally made.
How did you end up here,
on this exact day,
at this exact time,
with this specific event
happening to you?
[soldier shouts]
[thud on floor]
[singing in Hebrew]
May our mourners rise.
Today, we mourn the loss
of young Jonah Greenberg,
fallen in Korea,
fighting for his country,
at 19 years of age.
Moses Greenberg, please,
to recite the Kaddish.
[reciting in Hebrew]
[light chatter]
Yeah, sure.
Hi, Mrs. Greenberg.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Yes, Marcus.
You're such a clever boy.
Jonah, he always looked
up to you.
Maybe not such close friends.
But he respected.
We were teammates. He
was a really good guy.
He enjoyed.
Don't go into this war.
For your parents' sake.
You should be
a baseball star.
Don't go into this draft.
(Max) He's going to
college, Miriam.
They keep the ones in
college from the draft.
Such a clever boy,
A scholarship,
is that right?
Yes. In Ohio,
this college is.
how will you keep kosher?
(David) Only one thing worse than dyin'
by gettin' stabbed with a bayonet,
and that's dyin' by gettin' stabbed with
a bayonet when you're still a virgin.
And Greenberg
was definitely a virgin.
Yeah? I thought maybe you and Greenberg
had taken care of each other
before he shipped out.
Shut up, asshole.
So, when do you report?
Two weeks.
Ah, you'll be okay.
You're smarter than Greenberg.
Not as smart
as you.
[bell on door rings]
Mrs. Davidovich.
Two chickens?
Let me see. (Max) Of course.
Markie! Flick two chickens
for Mrs. Davidovich, will ya?
Turn them around.
Yeah. I'll wrap them for you.
So what will you do when this
one goes off next month?
(Max) The Mrs. will help.
Like the old days.
(Max) I can't keep him here
chopping meat like me.
I have to go see Gurevich.
You can close up early.
And bring home some
brisket for your mother.
I told you, Dad. I'm going out
with Davey and Sam tonight.
You didn't tell me.
I told you! We're going
to the pictures.
To the pictures.
I know what you boys are doing.
I heard from Mrs. Pearlgreen, about
that Eddie, going to pool halls.
Dad, I'm going to the pictures.
I told you.
I'm not Eddie Pearlgreen!
For Chrissake, I don't even
know how to play pool!
He took his father's car,
drove all the way to Scranton
to some special pool hall
they have there.
He bets, he gambles...
his father says he'll
be stealing cars next.
What does Eddie Pearlgreen
have to do with me?
Dad, I'm leaving
in less than a month.
You think I'm tempted
to steal cars?
[car horn honks]
Everything okay?
What's going on?
Your father.
What happened?
He went out.
Looking for you.
He was worried.
He's been talking to Artie Pearlgreen
again, it got him all riled up.
I think he smoked three packs of
cigarettes. Then he went. [sigh]
What's happening to him, Mom?
What's the matter with him?
He's crazy... he's driving me
crazy, he's driving you crazy.
It's your leaving.
It's all the boys dying,
Bennie and Abe in the last war,
now this new war, I don't know.
He's worried about you. He's
worried about Ohio... [door opens]
So, there you are.
Yeah, strange, here I am,
in my own house.
I've been everywhere
looking for you.
Why? Why? Why?
Somebody tell me why?
(Max) Because if anything
were to happen to you...
(Marcus) Oh, come on...
(Max) If anything were
to ever happen
to you.
What is this all about?
It's about life, Markie.
It's about the tiniest mistake
that can have consequences.
Christ, you sound
like a fortune cookie.
Do I?
Like a fortune cookie?
Not like the concerned father
that I am
but like
a fortune cookie?
I can't take this anymore-
I can't take this.
You know,
thank God I'm leaving.
Thank God!
So I don't end up...
What? End up what?
I don't know!
I don't know!
[quiet knock
at door]
Maybe I shouldn't go.
Come on.
You go.
You gotta stop worrying.
It's scaring Ma.
You go.
Just... be careful.
(girl) Everything's in the envelope.
You're in Jenkins 211.
That's behind the men's
quad, back towards the gym.
Keys are in there, and check your
class schedule, in there too.
And, looks like you're
doing a campus job.
The job board
is right over there.
Just take a ticket down from
the board for the job you want
and turn it back
in with the form.
I'd go now, otherwise all
that's left is the dining hall.
Hi. Marcus Messner.
Hey. Ron Foxman.
That's Bert Flusser.
Where are you from?
Where's that?
New Jersey.
Cleveland, Ohio.
Flusser's from Chicago.
(Ron) He's...
cultured, you'll see.
Oh, yeah? Does Flusser talk?
Oh, I talk all right.
I even talk in my sleep.
I have so much to say, so
much to share with the world.
Young freshman
Marcus Messner,
from Newark, New Jersey.
What a surprise to find yourself
in a triple with two other Jews.
What a coincidence.
Ronald and I are the only
two Jews at Winesburg
who are not
in the Jewish fraternity.
After all, we are juniors,
we ought to be living in
style over at Zeta Tau Mu,
not bunking
with young freshman
Marcus Messner.
(men singing on record
with Bert)
All of us with one heart
With the torch of freedom
March on! March on!
March on and on!
Chi Lai! Chi Lai! Chi Lai!
Bert. Close the door
at least.
Ronald doesn't like
Negro Communists.
Paul Robeson
in particular.
He doesn't like music at all,
in fact.
If Dean Caudwell ever heard you
playing that commie propaganda,
he'd probably toss you
right out of here.
Dean Caudwell loves me.
Dean Caudwell?
Dean of men.
And a man among deans,
if I do say so myself.
In fact he's addressing
us in 15 minutes.
Uh... chapel?
Didn't you read
the handbook?
Every Wednesday at 11.
You have to go to at least 10 of
them a year if you want to graduate.
Might as well
get started today!
(Dean Caudwell) To you who join
us today for the first time,
to you who enter
your final year,
looking out at the prospect
of what may seem to be
an uncertain
and dangerous horizon,
menaced as this country may be
by enemies both foreign and native,
fear not, puzzle not,
hesitate not,
for the spirit of Winesburg
will animate and fortify you.
And now, Dr. Donehower
will lead us in prayer.
(Dr. Donehower)
Righteous God,
who rules the nations,
we pray that you guard all the
strong young men and women
who enter the gates
of Winesburg College
in the service
of greater knowledge
and greater strength.
To our fellow Winesburgians currently
serving the cause of freedom in Korea...
Order, Arms...
Left Shoulder, Arms...
Order, Arms...
[phone rings]
Yes? (operator) Call
from Marcus Messner.
Yes, I'll accept the charges.
Marcus? Marcus, honey?
Yes, Mom. I'm here.
(Mom) You sound tired.
Are you tired?
No, I'm not too tired.
I'm just busy.
Tell me about your classes.
Have you gotten any grades yet?
It's only two weeks, Ma.
I have an American History
paper due tomorrow.
Hold on,
your father wants to talk...
So Markus, what else,
what else is going on?
Studying. Studying
and working at the library.
(Max) And what are you
doing to divert yourself?
Nothing. I don't need diversions.
I don't have the time for them.
Is there a girl
in the picture yet?
Not yet.
You be careful.
I will be.
You know what I mean. Yeah.
You don't want to get into any trouble.
I won't, Dad. Stop.
That Karpen boy,
the army sent him home.
They found that
he has flat feet.
Gershowitz gave him
a job at the grocery,
first thing he's delivering the
groceries and crashes the truck...
[Max continues speaking]
[loud classical
piano music]
at door]
You're Marcus Messner,
I'm Sonny, Sonny Cottler.
This is Marty Ziegler.
We're wondering if you
have a couple of minutes,
maybe head over
to the Owl for a soda.
What's this
all about?
We're with Zeta Tau Mu. The
Jewish fraternity on campus.
We'd love to talk
to you about rushing.
Look. I'm sorry. I don't think
I'm going to join a fraternity.
Well, you don't have to.
Why don't you just come over to
the house for dinner some time?
You can come tomorrow night.
It's roast beef night.
You'll have a good meal,
meet some of the brothers,
and there's no obligation
to do anything else.
No. I don't believe
in fraternities.
Believe in them? What
is there to believe in?
A couple of like-minded guys get
together for friendship and camaraderie.
We play sports together,
we hold parties and dances.
We share our meals together, it
can get awfully lonely otherwise.
You know that out of
1400 people on campus,
less than 80
are Jewish?
That's a pretty
small percentage.
The only other fraternity
that'll have a Jew is
the non-sectarian house,
and they don't have much going for
them in the way of facilities
or really anything.
I'm a senior, Marcus. And
president of the house.
I don't want
to pressure you
but some of the brothers
have seen you around,
they think you'd make
a great addition.
They say you seem
to be a real scholar.
Did you know that since Zeta Tau
was formed just ten years ago,
we've won the Inter fraternity
Scholarship Cup five times...
more than any
other house.
Sonny's being
modest, Marcus.
He's actually the president of the
Inter fraternity Council this year.
Listen, that's great.
I appreciate your coming around, but I'm
not going to be joining any fraternity.
Can I ask why?
I, uh... I have my job,
I have my studies.
I'm just not in the market for
anything more than that right now.
Thank you anyways.
I hope you're not offended.
Not offended at all.
I admire
your determination.
Give me a ring at the house if
you think about it some more
or if you need
anything at all.
And if you decide to stay for
dinner, all the better. Deal?
Sure. Sure.
...But the Puritans faced
a particular challenge
as, by the 1660s, the first
generation began to die out.
So in 1662 the Reverend
Solomon Stoddard
devised the so-called
Half-Way Covenant,
whereby members
of the community
could be half-members
of the church
if they agreed to abide
by its rules,
even if in their hearts
they could not profess
a complete Puritan
conversion... Yes, Jack?
So, "go along to get along."
That's right.
By allowing people
to stay part of the church,
and by extension,
the community,
the Puritan leaders were able to maintain
authority and political continuity. Yes?
Isn't that the same kind of hypocrisy
the Puritans claimed to rebel against?
(Marcus) Aren't they doing
the exact same thing
they accused
the Church of England of?
Well, Mr. Messner, hypocrisy
is a very strong word.
It is a strong word,
but as ironic as it appears,
I believe it is a word
that accurately describes
the political position of the
Puritans of the second generation.
(Sundquist) Pragmatism might
be an even more accurate term.
I do not now fool myself,
to let imagination...
...Jade me.
...jade me...
for every reason
excites to this,
that my lady loves me.
She did commend my yellow
stockings of late,
she did praise them
being cross-gartered
and in this she manifests
herself to my love,
and with a kind of injunction drives
me to these habits of her liking.
I thank my stars
I am happy.
I will be strange, stout,
in yellow stockings,
and cross-gartered, even with
the swiftness of putting on.
(Flusser) Jove and
my stars be praised!
I'll be revenged on the
whole pack of you!
Flusser's a real star.
You gonna come see
this thing?
You know as well as I
that Marcus is a scholar.
He hasn't time for frivolities
like the theater.
(Marcus, off) What is it that
pivots or turns a person
from existence
to non-existence?
For myself, perhaps it was
the unceasing movement
of Olivia Hutton's leg.
That night, I had to stay up
til 3 am to finish the homework
I didn't get done while I
was watching that leg,
rehearsing in my head how
I would ask my roommate
Ron Foxman the loan of his beloved
1940 LaSalle Touring Sedan,
building up the courage to ask
Olivia Hutton out on a date.
Weekday curfew
is 9pm sharp.
Okay. I will have her back by then.
Thank you.
Why are you
thanking me?
Uh, sorry.
And you're sorry because...?
I'm... just going to sit...
(Marcus, off)
Dear Olivia,
You think I've spurned you because of
what happened in the car the other night.
As I explained, it's because nothing approaching
that has ever happened to me before.
Just as no girl has ever
said to me anything
resembling what you said
to me in the library tonight.
You are different
from anyone I've known,
and the last thing you could
ever be called is a slut.
You're mature.
You're beautiful.
You are vastly more
experienced than I am.
That's what threw me.
Forgive me.
Say hello
to me in class.
You fucker!
Oh, I'm not the slut.
It's no fun
being in the hospital alone.
I brought these over
to keep you company.
It was worth
the appendicitis.
I doubt it.
Were you
in a lot of pain?
For about an hour or so
before I blacked out.
The best part came
in Dean Caudwell's office.
He called me in to grill me
about changing my dorm
I puked all over his trophies.
Then you turn up.
It's been a great case
of appendicitis all around.
Let me get something
to put these in.
Escargot. It's the name
of the restaurant.
I have a feeling Marcus Messner has
never seen them served or eaten before.
You want to try one?
Not really.
So Marcus Messner decided
to take Olivia Hutton
to the only fancy French restaurant
in all of Franklin County.
I'm so sorry. Do you want to leave?
Is this alright?
May I please speak
to Miss Olivia Hutton?
Oh, Marcus Messner.
Yeah. Yeah sure, I'll wait.
Can I leave a message?
Well, yeah, another message.
(Olivia) I don't mind talking about it.
They got divorced.
Irreconcilable differences.
I suppose that's why I left Mt. Holyoke
and transferred here closer to Cleveland.
My mother kept the house,
but she changed all the furnishings.
Even my room.
It now looks like
Marie Antoinette's boudoir,
if Marie Antoinette were a slightly crazed suburban
woman who wished she were still a teenager.
Thank you.
Thank you.
You're so intense.
Trust me,
I'm trying.
Tell me more.
Not about your classes,
or why General MacArthur
is insubordinate,
or why you're an atheist.
Though you have to admit I got all of
that out of you in a mere 20 minutes.
Pretty good seeing as I don't
believe you've spoken to anyone
for more than 40 seconds since you
got to Winesburg, am I right?
Yeah. Yeah,
you're right.
I want to hear
all about your mother,
and your father the butcher,
and what it's like working
in a butcher shop,
and what the girls
were like in Newark.
Okay. But first, you're going to
have to eat all those snails.
Oh, you think I ordered
these just to spite you?
I actually love escargot.
Alright... [clears
throat] let me try one.
How do you do this?
This one here.
This big guy.
Oooh, okay.
It's chewy.
But good.
Very good.
You grew up
eating these at home?
No, just at places like these.
My mother insisted;
part of my education.
So what'd
your father think?
He's a steak and potatoes man.
He never approved.
Maybe being a doctor, he thought
that snails were unclean.
Or simply un-American.
But perhaps
you're onto something, Marcus.
My father
washes his hands.
He's always washing his hands.
He washes them all the time.
Well, because they're dirty,
of course.
[orchestra music playing]
[music playing
on the car radio]
It's 55 minutes to curfew.
In case you were wondering.
Make a left at the next street.
[radio clicks off]
(Marcus, off)
What happened next
I puzzled over
for weeks afterwards.
Trying to reconstruct the morals
that reigned over Winesburg College,
and I wonder how my own sorry
efforts to overcome those morals
may have fostered so much
misunderstanding, even grief.
[heavy breathing]
[sound of zipper]
Even now I continue
to puzzle over Olivia's actions.
Hers, and maybe
even more so, mine.
I told myself, "It's because
her parents are divorced."
I could think of no other explanation
for a mystery so profound.
Because in Newark,
it was inconceivable that girls like
Olivia Hutton could do such a thing,
but then again,
there were no girls
like Olivia Hutton in Newark.
Thanks for the loan.
How'd she run?
Oh. Oh, yeah, great.
Thank you.
She should of.
Next I'm going to be working
on the suspension.
It's pretty good, though, huh?
She blew me.
She what?
I didn't even ask her for it.
She just did it.
Did you ever hear of anything
like that ever happening?
Huh. I think it's because
her parents are divorced.
Did she tell you that?
I'm just guessing.
She just did it.
We parked
near the cemetery...
Okay. Okay. Well,
I'm very happy for you.
But if you don't mind,
I've got some work to do here.
Oh, yeah sure. Sure.
Just thank you for the car. It wouldn't
have happened without the car.
Yeah. You're welcome.
She must have done it before,
don't you think?
Could be.
Huh. I really don't know
what to make of it.
That's clear.
You think I should
see her again?
Up to you.
(Max) So we understand
you met the Cottler boy.
Esther, what's his name?
Donald Cottler, Donald Cottler,
but they call him Sonny.
His aunt lives
here in Newark.
When we said where you were, she told
us that her maiden name was Cottler,
and her brother's family
lives in Cleveland,
and her nephew goes
to the same college
and is president
of the Jewish Fraternity
and captain
of the basketball team.
And something else.
What else?
President of the Greeks...
the Greek system council.
Right, right, right.
President of the council.
Imagine that, a Jew,
president of the Greeks.
Oh, yeah. Sonny. Yeah, right.
He came around.
So what did he tell you?
He made a pitch
for his fraternity.
(Dad) And? I said I
wasn't interested.
But his aunt says
he's a wonderful boy.
All A's like you.
And a very handsome boy,
I understand.
Extremely handsome.
A dreamboat.
What's that
supposed to mean?
Dad, please stop sending
people to visit me.
But you're there
all by yourself.
Dad, I can't take
any more of this.
But how do I know what's
going on with you?
You could be doing anything.
I do one thing.
I go to classes and I study.
And I make 18 bucks
a week at the library.
And what's wrong with
making some friends?
Some Jewish friends?
I... [clears throat] I gotta go.
I'm hanging up...
[loud orchestra music]
Hello, Marc.
I did that because
I liked you so much.
Um, um, um, pardon?
I said I did that
because I liked you.
I know
you can't figure it out.
I know it's why
I haven't heard from you
and why you ignored
me in class.
So I'm figuring it
out for you.
Any other mysteries?
No, no, that's okay.
No. It's not okay.
It's not okay with you.
You know,
I liked your seriousness,
I liked your maturity at dinner
or what I took
to be maturity.
I made a joke about it,
but I liked your intensity.
I never met anyone
so intense before.
I liked your looks,
Marcus, I still do.
It's just that I've um...
Did you ever do that
with somebody else?
I did.
So no one's
ever done it with you.
Not even close.
So now you think
I'm a slut.
I... No. Absolutely not.
You're lying.
That's why you won't speak to me.
Because I'm a slut.
But you did
do it before...
This was the second time. But
that doesn't make you a slut.
I was at Mt. Holyoke.
I was at a party at Amherst.
I was drunk.
The whole thing was awful.
I didn't know anything.
And I was drinking all the time.
It's why I transferred.
They suspended me.
I spent three months
at a clinic drying out.
I don't drink anymore.
I don't drink anything alcoholic
and I won't ever again.
This time with you
I wasn't drunk.
I wasn't drunk
and I wasn't crazy.
I wanted to do it to you
not because I'm a slut
but because I wanted
to do it to you.
Can't you understand that I
wanted to give you that?
I think so.
I'm trying. Really.
But you can't.
God, what is wrong
with you?
I used the razor
when I was drunk.
If I had been sober
I would have succeeded.
So three cheers
for ten rye and gingers...
they're why I'm alive today.
That, and my incapacity
to carry anything out.
Even suicide is beyond me.
I don't regret doing what we did,
but we mustn't do anything more.
Forget about me, Marcus.
There's no one around here like you.
You are not a simple soul
and have no business being here.
If you survive the squareness of this
place, you'll have a sterling future.
Why did you come
to Winesburg to begin with?
I came
because it's so square.
That's supposed to make me
a normal girl.
But you? You should be studying
philosophy at the Sorbonne
and living in a garret
in Montparnasse.
We both should.
Farewell, beauticious man.
[vehicle approaching]
(Dr. Hutton) Olivia! You
forgot your allowance.
I will see you
at Thanksgiving.
Your mother will join us.
Ah. What employment have we here?
Please, no Shakespeare
rehearsal tonight.
By my life,
this is my lady's hand.
These be her very C's,
her U's and her T's
thus makes she her.
'To the unknown beloved, this,
and my good wishes:'
her very phrases!
By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her
Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady.
To whom should this be?
Jove knows I love: But who?
Lips, do not move;
no man must know.
God damn it, Flusser!
'No man must know.'
What follows?
The numbers altered!
'No man must know:' unless
this should be thee, Malvolio?
What the hell
is wrong with you?
Hey, stop getting
all worked up.
How about a little bit
of respect, huh?
What? That's from the one
that blew you?
In my car?
How about respecting my car
by not driving around
with some slut in it.
You're in luck. There's
a vacancy in Neil Hall.
Mrs. Burgess in Housing
can get you the key.
It's rather... rustic.
Oh, and you will need to schedule
a chat with Dean Caudwell.
He likes to be informed
of these kinds of changes.
Can you come by Monday,
say, 2:30?
Volunteers are still needed
for Homecoming Weekend.
As you know,
last year's defeat
at the hands
of the College of Wooster
broke a winning streak
that will require,
shall we say,
all hands on deck.
I speak on behalf of Coach
Blauvelt when I say
the bulldog bite can only be
commensurate with the bulldog bark.
All of us
are responsible...
Olivia. Please.
Yes, Marcus?
If... if you could just...
sit next to me again
in class.
It would really help
me concentrate.
It's harder when you're behind me,
I keep wanting to turn around.
Okay. Maybe.
Alright. Thank you.
I heard you moved rooms.
Yeah. I had a disagreement
with my roommates.
I moved to Neil Hall.
You weren't
in Chapel yesterday.
I just needed a break.
I don't know how much more of Dr.
going on about "Christ's
example" I can take.
Maybe you could get some kind of
waiver for conscientious objection.
Why is that?
Because I'm Jewish?
I don't object because I'm
Jewish, I object I'm an atheist.
I know.
Thank you
for talking to me.
If I talk to you again, maybe you won't
have to stand under my window all the time.
[clears throat]
I, uh...
You know, it's funny,
I don't actually know...
which window is yours.
I'm on the third floor, on the left,
facing the quad, just for the record.
I rarely see you looking up.
If you're not a Peeping Tom,
what's the point?
It just makes
me feel as if...
like I'm making...
sure you're okay.
Oh, Marcus. I'm fine.
It's you I'm worried about.
You can come in now.
Come on in.
Marcus Messner.
I wanted you to come in
so we could meet
and find out if I could be of any help
to you in adjusting to Winesburg.
I see by your transcript that
you're a remarkably gifted student.
First in your family ever
to attend college.
Captain of your baseball team
at high school.
Scholarship from your temple.
I wouldn't want anything
at Winesburg to interfere
in the slightest with such a
stellar record of achievement.
Neither do I, sir.
Do you see any potential
difficulties on the horizon here?
No, sir. I don't, sir.
How are things
going with your classwork?
You're getting all you hoped for
from your courses?
[clears throat]
Yes. Yes, sir.
You're socializing enough?
Yes. Yes, I am, sir.
[sighs and clears throat]
Thank you, sir.
The only problem is that you
seem to have some trouble
settling into dormitory life.
Tell me, in your own words,
what seems to be the trouble?
I'm sorry.
Could you repeat your question, sir?
Calm down, son.
Try a little more water.
And no need to call me sir,
by the way.
So... what was the problem
with your accommodations?
In the room
to which I was assigned
one of my roommates
[clears throat]
Would always play the
phonograph after I went to bed
and I was not able to get
a good night's sleep.
I need my sleep
in order to do my work.
The situation
was... insupportable.
But couldn't you sit down
and work out a time
for his playing the phonograph that
was agreeable to the two of you?
You had to move out?
There was no other choice?
I had to move out.
No way of reaching
a compromise.
Did you seek the support
of your other roommate?
There was no compromise
with him, sir.
And my other roommate
was not sympathetic.
Are you often unable to reach
a compromise with people
whom you don't see
eye to eye with?
I wouldn't say often, sir.
I wouldn't say that anything
like this has happened before.
Really, Marcus, you don't have
to do that, calling me sir.
Call me Dean Caudwell, or
call me Dean, if you like.
Winesburg isn't
a military academy.
I don't mind
calling you "sir", Dean.
It says here your father
is a kosher butcher.
No. No, it does not.
I remember just writing
down just 'butcher.'
That's what I'd write
down on any form.
Well, that's what
you did write.
I'm merely assuming
that he's a kosher butcher.
He is. But that is
not what I wrote down.
I acknowledged that.
But it's not inaccurate,
is it?
To identify him more precisely
as a kosher butcher?
But neither is what
I wrote down inaccurate, sir.
I'd be curious to know why you
didn't write down 'kosher, ' Marcus.
Sir, if you are asking me
if I was trying to hide
the religion into which
I was born, the answer is no.
Well, I certainly hope that's so.
I'm glad to hear that.
Everyone has a right to openly
practice his own faith,
and that holds true at Winesburg just as
it does everywhere else in this country.
On the other hand,
under 'religious preference'
I see you didn't write 'Jewish, '
though you are
of Jewish extraction
and, in accordance with the college's
attempt to assist students
in residing
with others of the same faith,
you were assigned
Jewish roommates.
I didn't write anything
under religious preference, sir.
I can see that.
I'm wondering why that is.
It's because I have none.
I don't prefer to practice
one religion over another.
What then provides you
with spiritual sustenance?
To whom do you pray
when you need solace?
I don't need solace, sir.
I don't believe in God
and I don't believe in prayer.
I am sustained by what is real.
Praying, to me, is preposterous.
Is it now?
And yet so many millions do it.
Millions once thought
the earth was flat, sir.
Yes, that's true.
But may I ask you, Marcus,
merely out of curiosity,
how do you get by in life...
filled as life is inevitably
with trials and tribulations
lacking spiritual guidance?
I get straight A's, sir.
I didn't ask about your grades.
I know your grades.
You have every right
to be proud of them,
as I've already told you.
Well, then you know
the answer to your question
of how I get by just fine.
Well, if I may say so, it doesn't look
to me like you get along just fine.
It seems to me as soon as there's
a difference of opinion,
you pick up and leave.
Is there a problem with finding
a solution in quietly leaving?
But look
where you've wound up...
in the least desirable room
on the entire campus.
Frankly, I don't like the idea
of you up there alone.
But I did not end up there because
of lack of religious beliefs, sir,
if that is what you are
suggesting in a roundabout way.
Why is it, then?
As I explained
to you before,
the living arrangements
I was given were intolerable.
Tolerance appears to be something
of a problem for you, young man.
I've never heard that
said about me before, sir.
There appear to be several things you've
never heard about yourself before.
But before, you were living
at home,
in the bosom
of your childhood family.
Now you are living
at Winesburg as an adult,
and aside
from mastering your studies
your task is to learn
how to get along with people
and to extend tolerance to those who
may not be carbon copies of yourself.
Tolerance? How about extending
some tolerance to me, sir?
I don't mean to be brash
or insolent
but what exactly is the crime I
have committed? Here? Today?
So I've switched rooms.
Is that considered a crime
here at Winesburg?
Has anyone said
it is a crime?
You display a fondness
for dramatic exaggeration.
It doesn't serve you well.
It is a characteristic
you might want to reflect upon.
Now tell me, how do you get
along with your family?
I see from the form here,
you also have no siblings,
so it's just you
and your parents at home,
if I'm to take what you've
written here to be accurate.
Why wouldn't it
be accurate?
I was accurate when I wrote
down my father is a butcher.
He is a butcher.
It isn't I alone who would
describe him as a butcher.
He would describe
himself as a butcher.
You described him as a kosher butcher.
Which is fine.
But that's not grounds for
intimating that I've been in any way
inaccurate in filling out...
If I may interrupt, Marcus.
How do you three get along,
from your perspective?
That's the question I asked.
You, your mother, and your father:
how do you get along?
A straight answer, please.
My mother and I get along perfectly well.
We always have.
So have my father and I
for most of my life.
[clears throat]
From my last year
at grade school
until I moved to Winesburg
I worked part time
for him at the shop.
We were as close as
father and son could be.
Of late there's been
some strain between us.
Strain over what,
may I ask?
He's been unnecessarily
worried about my independence.
I think it has to do with many of my
cousins having died in the last war.
You say unnecessarily worried about
you because he has no reason to be?
None at all.
Is he worried, for instance,
about your inability
to adjust to your roommates
here at Winesburg?
I have not told him
about my roommates.
I did not think
it was important.
Nor is 'inability to adjust' a proper
way to describe the difficulty, sir.
I do not want to be distracted from
my studies by superfluous problems.
I wouldn't consider your having
to move out of your room
a superfluous problem,
and neither would your father, I'm sure,
if he were apprised of the situation
as he has every right to be,
by the way.
But be that as it may...
have you gone on any dates
since you've been to Winesburg?
Uh, dates?
Uh. Yes. Yes, I have.
A few? Some? Many?
Just one?
Sir! I object to being
interrogated like this!
I do not see
the purpose of it.
These are
my own private affairs,
as is my religious life and my
social life and how I conduct it.
I have broken no laws, I've
caused no one injury or harm,
and in no way have my actions
impinged on anyone's rights.
If anyone's rights have been
impinged on they are mine.
Sit down please,
and explain yourself.
I also object to having to
attend chapel forty times
before I graduate in
order to earn a degree.
I do not see where the
college has the right
to force me to listen to a
clergyman of whatever faith,
even once, or listen
to a Christian hymn
invoking the Christian deity,
given that I am an atheist
who is, to be truthful,
deeply offended by the practices
of organized religion.
I am altogether capable
of leading a moral existence
without crediting beliefs
that are impossible to
substantiate and beyond credulity.
I take it you are familiar,
Dean Caudwell,
with the writings
of Bertrand Russell.
Bertrand Russell,
the distinguished
mathematician and philosopher,
was last year's recipient
of the Nobel Prize
in Literature.
The work of literature in which
he was awarded the Nobel Prize is
his widely read essay entitled
"Why I Am Not a Christian."
Are you familiar
with this essay, sir?
Marcus, please sit down...
Sir, I was asking
if you are familiar
with this very important
essay by Bertrand Russell.
I take it
that the answer is no.
Well, I am very familiar
with this essay
because I set myself the task
of memorizing large sections of it
when I was captain
of my high school debating team.
Now, if you were
to read this essay,
and in the interest of open-mindedness
I would urge you to do so,
you would see that Bertrand
Russell, undoes with logic
that is beyond dispute
the first-cause argument,
the natural-law argument,
the argument from design,
the moral arguments
for a deity,
and the argument
for the remedying of injustice.
Having studied these arguments,
I intend to live my life
in accordance with them,
as I am sure
you would have to admit, sir,
I have every right to do.
Please sit down.
I'm sorry.
I see here that you are studying
to be a lawyer.
On the basis of this interview,
I think you are destined
to be an outstanding lawyer.
I can see you one day arguing a
case before the Supreme Court,
and winning it.
I admire your directness,
your diction,
your sentence structure,
even if I don't necessarily choose to
admire whom or what you choose to read
and the gullibility with which you
take at face value
rationalist blasphemies spouted by an
immoralist of the ilk of Bertrand Russell,
four times married,
a blatant adulterer,
an advocate of free love,
a self-confessed socialist
dismissed from his university position
and imprisoned during the First War
by the British
for what in plain English
I would call treason.
What about
the Nobel Prize!
I even admire you
now, Marcus,
when you hammer on my desk
and point to me so as to ask
about the Nobel Prize.
You have a fighting spirit.
I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know that
I pointed. I didn't mean to point.
You did, son. Not for the first
time and probably not for the last.
But that is the least of it.
To find that Bertrand Russell
is a hero of yours
comes as no great surprise.
There are always one or two
intellectually precocious students
on every campus, self-appointed
members of an elite intelligentsia
who need to elevate themselves and feel
superior to their fellow students,
superior even
to their professors.
Nonetheless, that is not what
we are here to discuss.
What worries me
rather is your isolation.
What worries me
is your outspoken rejection
of long-standing Winesburg tradition,
as witness your response
to Chapel attendance,
A simple undergraduate requirement
which amounts to, on average,
little more than a few minutes
per week of your years here.
In all my experience
at Winesburg
I have never come across
a student
who objected to that requirement
as an infringement on his rights.
What worries me
is how poorly
you are fitting
into the Winesburg community.
To me it seems something
to be attended to promptly,
and nipped in the bud.
I can't take any more of this.
[swallows hard]
Sir, I think I'm going to vomit.
Excuse me?
I feel ill. I think
I'm going to vomit.
I cannot bear
being lectured like this.
I am not a malcontent.
I am not a rebel.
I have the right to socialize
or not socialize
with whomever I see fit.
Furthermore, your argument
against Bertrand Russell
is not an argument
against his ideas
based on reason
but an argument
against his character,
i.e., an ad hominem attack,
which is logically worthless.
Sir, I respectfully ask
your permission to stand up
and leave now because I am afraid
if I don't I am going to be sick.
Of course
you may leave.
I just ask that you reflect on why
leaving appears to be the only way
you are dealing
with your problems here.
I'm genuinely sorry if you think
I've been wasting your time.
Leaving is not how I cope
with my difficulties.
I strongly object to you
saying that, Dean Caudwell.
Well, at least we got
over calling me 'sir.'
Just one last thing.
I have the impression
from your application
that you're a talented
baseball player.
Would you give a thought about
going up for the Winesburg team?
I played for that team myself
when I was a student here.
Dean Caudwell, my high school
had the worst team in the league.
I don't think
I could play at this level.
The pitching would be a lot
faster than what I'm used to,
and I don't think choking up on
the bat, the way I did back home,
is going to solve my hitting problems
at this level of competition.
So you're saying you're not
going out for baseball
because of the competition?
No! I am saying that I am
realistic about my chances
for making the team...
(Marcus, off)
I was always a light sleeper,
though I never could remember
my dreams
or even whether I had
any dreams.
But for that day,
and night, and day...
what with the anesthesia,
I slept a great deal...
I remember vaguely thinking
I was married to Olivia Hutton.
I remember us
sharing a bedroom,
of me going off to work,
an argument
we had over dinner,
of a long drive
through a series of small towns,
and then us reaching
the ocean,
and a cabin by the ocean.
It's strange, being dead,
as I am now and have been
for I don't know how long...
"if" now' can be said to mean
anything any longer...
that I remember those dreams
as accurately as anything
I actually experienced in reality.
Good morning.
You're in the hospital, son.
You had your appendix removed. Just
in the nick of time, the doctors say.
I had my what?
Your appendix out.
Your dean, from the college, Mr.
Caudwell, was just now here.
I sent him home -
didn't want to wake you.
He's called your parents.
They know you're fine.
Your mother will be here
in a few days.
And you're to call your father.
But first...
I need you to do some business for me.
Into this.
Dear Marcus, I can't see you.
You'll only run away
from me again,
this time when you see the scar
across the width of my wrist.
Had you seen it the night of our date I
would have honestly explained it to you.
I was prepared to do that.
I didn't try to cover it up,
but as it happened
you failed to notice it.
It's a scar from a razor.
I tried to kill myself.
That's why I went
for three months to the clinic.
It was the Menninger Clinic
in Topeka, Kansas.
The Menninger Sanitarium
and Psychopathic Hospital.
There's the full name
for you.
My father the doctor
knows people there.
[faucet running]
Where will you be able
to see these best?
I see them best
in your two hands.
I see them best with you
standing right there.
Just stay like that
for the next couple of days.
What are they giving you
to eat?
Jell-O and ginger ale. Tomorrow
I start on the snails.
You seem very chipper.
I am.
Can I see?
My stitches?
Is the wound draining?
Is that tube dangling
down there a drain?
I don't know.
I suppose so. Yeah.
What about the stitches?
Well, we're in a hospital.
What better place to be in
when they come undone?
You are odd, you know.
Odder than I think you realize.
I'm always odd after I have
my appendix taken out.
Do you always get as big as this
after you have your appendix out?
Never fails.
Of course we shouldn't.
We could both get thrown
out of school for this.
Then stop.
[loud groan]
"I shot an arrow into the air.
It fell to earth I knew not where."
[door opens]
Excuse me.
[door slams]
Oh, my God. What is
she going to do now?
What do you
mean "nothing"?
How can you be so poised
about all this?
One call to the dean,
and we're out.
How do you know
she's going to do nothing?
She's too embarrassed to.
I don't understand
how you can be so...
So what?
Under control. So expert.
[faucet running]
Oh, yes, Olivia the expert.
That's what they called me
at the Menninger Clinic.
But you are.
You really think so,
do you?
I, who have eight thousand
moods a minute,
whose every emotion is a tornado,
who can be thrown by a word,
by a syllable,
am 'under control'?
You are blind.
Do you hate me?
No. I don't hate you.
I think maybe you hate me.
Maybe you should.
Will you come tomorrow?
I need to see you walk to the end
of the hall and back with this.
Then you can use
the bathroom yourself.
Oh, hey Sonny.
So Caudwell sent you?
Yeah. yeah. It's something we
do at the house, volunteer.
He said you gave the okay to go
into your room and get your books.
I basically grabbed
everything off the desk.
Quite a room
you got there.
Yeah, it's deluxe.
It was like
a medieval inquisition.
Except he was smiling
most of the time.
I think that's what annoyed me
the most.
You mind?
Yeah, dig in.
So you mixed it up
with old Dean Caudwell?
He's actually not such a bad
guy, he's just a blowhard.
He didn't make you move back in with that
moron Foxman and that queer Flusser, did he?
Huh? Uh, no.
But then, he started grilling
me about my beliefs,
my social life, my principles.
Mainly about Chapel.
I tried to explain to him
as clearly as I could,
as rationally as I could,
why the chapel requirement
is unjust.
I don't... I don't know how you
and your fraternity brothers
take all that Christ stuff,
week in week out?
Who goes to chapel?
You pay somebody to go for you and you
never have to get anywhere near chapel.
Is that what you do?
What else would I do?
You know, I went a couple
of times freshman year.
They had a rabbi once,
so I had to go then.
Otherwise it's Caudwell
and Donehower
and all the other great
Ohio spiritual leaders.
So how much do you pay?
For a proxy? Two bucks a pop.
That's nothing.
That's not nothing.
Look. Figure you spend 15
minutes getting off the hill
and over to the church.
An hour of subjecting
yourself to chapel,
and knowing you, you're seething
with rage the entire time, Mm-hm.
You're probably another half
hour afterwards still seething.
That's a hundred and
five minutes, times forty,
Four thousand two hundred minutes
that's 70 hours.
Yeah. Right.
And that's not nothing!
Alright. So how does it work?
Well, the guy you hire takes the card
the usher hands him at the door,
and when he hands it back at the
end he's signed your name on it.
That's it. You think a handwriting
specialist pores over each card
back where they keep
the records?
No. All you have to do
is pay somebody.
Yeah, but who? Plenty of
brothers willing to do it.
And it's work. I'll find
somebody if you want me to.
I can even try to find someone
for less than two bucks.
And if this person shoots off his mouth?
Then what?
You're out of here
on your ass.
No one would do that.
They'd be out, too.
Look, it's a business,
Clearly Dean Caudwell
knows what's going on?
Caudwell's the biggest
Christer around.
He couldn't imagine why people
don't love listening to Donehower
instead of having the hour free every
Wednesday to jack off in their rooms.
That was a big mistake you made,
bringing up chapel with Caudwell.
Hawes D. Caudwell
was the idol of this place.
Winesburg's greatest
halfback in football,
greatest slugger in baseball,
greatest exponent on earth
of all things Winesburg tradition.
Meet this guy head-on about this
stuff and he'll make you into mush.
You go around
guys like him, Marcus.
You keep your mouth shut,
your ass covered, smile...
and then
you do whatever you like.
Look, don't... don't take
everything so seriously.
You might find this is not
the worst place in the world
to spend the next four
years of your life.
At least you're not in Korea.
Plus... you've already located
the Blowjob Queen of 1951.
That's a start. I don't know
what you're talking about.
You mean she didn't blow you?
You are unique.
I still don't know
what you are referring to.
Olivia Hutton.
Look, blowjobs are at a premium
in north-central Ohio,
as you can imagine.
News of Olivia has traveled fast.
Don't look so puzzled.
Uh, I don't believe this.
What's not to believe?
She sounds like a bit of a nutcase.
There's nothing wrong with that.
I wish there were
more of them around.
I'll pick you up on Saturday. That's
when you're getting out of here?
You okay? Do you want
me to call the nurse?
No, no, I'm fine. I'm just in a
little bit of pain. I'm okay.
Yeah. Okay.
I'll see you Saturday.
I'll set you up
with a cot at the house.
[door closes]
Now, I want you
to tell me everything.
Everything about what?
About you.
I want to learn all about you.
I want to know
what made you you.
What about
what made you you?
You first.
[faucet running]
Well, I guess the shop
made me, if anything did.
Though what was made exactly
I can't say I entirely know anymore.
I've been in a very confused state
of mind ever since I hit this place.
Thank you.
It made you hard-working.
It gave you integrity.
Oh, did it?
The butcher shop?
Well... let me tell you
about my father.
Let me tell you about what he
gave me in the way of integrity.
We'll start with him.
Oh, good.
Story time.
Well, every week,
the fat man
would come into the store
and he'd pick up all the fat.
And the fat itself was stored
in a garbage pail.
After the fat man came,
I would take this can out front
of the store and I'd wash it out.
So one day one of the pretty girls
from my class came up to me
"and said," I stopped
at the bus stop
across the street
from your father's store
"and I saw you cleaning
the garbage cans."
So, I went up to my father and I said
"Boss,"I always called him "Boss,"
I said, "Boss, I can't clean
the garbage cans anymore."
You were ashamed?
No. No, you see,
that's what he thought.
To me, it was practical.
How am I supposed to ask them out,
if they know that I clean the cans?
Well, you asked me out.
But you didn't see me
clean the garbage cans.
I could have guessed.
So what did your father say?
Did he let you off the hook?
No. He said,
"What, you're ashamed?"
What are you ashamed of? All you
have to be ashamed of is stealing.
Nothing else.
"Clean the cans."
He could have told
Big Mendelson to do it.
Big Mendelson?
He worked there too
until things slowed down.
Boy, did he have
a nasty mouth on him.
He belonged in the back,
trust me, in the refrigerator.
I thought he was hilarious,
but we had to let him go.
What did Big Mendelson do?
Well, on Thursdays,
my father, he would come back
from the chicken market,
he'd dump all the
chickens in a pile
and people would come in and pick whatever
chicken they wanted for the weekend.
Anyway, this one woman,
Mrs. Sklon,
she would always come in,
she would pick up a chicken
and she would smell its mouth
and then smell its rear end.
It got to the point that one day Big
Mendelson couldn't contain himself.
He said, "Mrs. Sklon",
could you pass
that inspection?"
I swear I've never seen anybody
get more mad in my life.
She picked up a knife,
tried to stab the big guy.
So that's why your father
had to let him go?
Well, he had to. He had to. By then
he said lots of things like that.
But about Mrs. Sklon,
Big Mendelson was right.
She was no picnic
not even for me,
and I was the nicest
boy in the world.
Oh, I never doubted that.
For better or worse
that's what I was.
Am. Are.
You had humble origins.
Like Abe Lincoln.
Honest Marcus. Working side by
side, every day with your father.
He was, mm, he used to be,
something great. That's true.
Used to be?
He is.
So what about your father?
He's a doctor.
What kind of medicine?
You ever see him
working, at his office?
My father?
There's nothing to tell.
Nothing at all.
Surely there's something.
Marcus... practice tact.
You know, I can give
you a recommendation.
For what?
A summer job.
At Anker's Flower Shop.
You're a natural.
[knocking at door]
You have a guest.
I don't know what it is.
Is he sick?
Does he have something?
Markie, I think
he's losing his mind.
You know how he was with you on
the phone about the operation?
That's how he is with everyone,
about everything, all the time!
At the store, he's yelling
at the customers.
And my God, in the car,
in the truck,
he's been driving around
Essex County all his life
and suddenly everyone on the
road is a maniac except for him.
The horn, he honks the horn from
the second we leave the driveway.
We're losing customers, Markie.
They all go to the supermarket now,
and who can blame them.
People call, I take their
orders, make some conversation.
He used to like that I
talked to the customers.
Now he grabs the phone
from my hand,
"You want to talk to my wife,
you call at night,
not during business hours,"
and he hangs up.
What's happened, Markie?
Have I been living all these
years with a time bomb?
All I know is that...
something has made my husband into a
different person, into a monster.
You should have told me, Mom.
You should have told me how bad
it was getting. I'm sorry.
Why should I bother you?
At school, with your studies?
Take him to a doctor.
Take him to Dr. Shildkret.
Maybe he can give him
something to calm down.
He won't go.
He refuses to go.
There's nothing wrong with him. It's the
rest of the world that's in the wrong.
Then you see Shildkret.
Mom, you're as strong
as a person can be
and you've become a wreck.
He's killing you.
Oh, Markie. Darling.
Should I?
Can I possibly?
I came all this way
to ask you.
You're the only one
I can ask about this.
Could you possibly what?
I can't say the word.
What word?
Oh, Ma.
You're in a state of shock.
You don't know
what you're saying.
You've been married
to him for 25 years.
You love him.
I don't!
I hate him!
I sit in the car as he's
driving and screaming at me
and I hate him and loathe him
from the bottom of my heart!
That is not true.
Even if it seems so,
it's not a permanent condition.
Just see Dr. Shildkret, please,
at least as a start.
Do it for me.
I'm seeing a lawyer.
I've already seen him.
I have an attorney.
So you met in American,
you said.
American History to 1865.
I'm also taking Principles
of American Government,
but Olivia is
just in American History.
That's why she brought the textbook.
So I could study.
Your son, Mrs. Messner,
is a star student.
He always asks the most
interesting questions in class.
I wouldn't be surprised
if Professor Sundquist
weren't a bit intimidated
by Marcus.
Marcus has always been
a straight-A student.
It's because of that he has
been awarded the scholarship.
And you, Miss Hutton,
do you...
are you enjoying
your studies?
I enjoy the books, yes.
I'm going to be
a French Literature major.
French literature?
Is this something of which
your parents approve?
Well, my father is
a very practical man.
But he hasn't suggested any alternative,
so I have to assume that he believes,
from a practical perspective, that it would
be a waste of his time to think about it.
And your mother,
Miss Hutton.
Oh. My mother
isn't very practical at all.
But she has visited Paris,
and loved it,
so I think I should have her
vote if it should come to it.
It sounds like you have a very democratic
household. That's very American.
Yes we are - American.
Though as a student
of American civilization, Marcus,
you must remember how Benjamin
Franklin once defined democracy?
Democracy, he said, is two wolves and a
lamb voting on what to have for lunch.
[bell tinkles]
Marcus, I won't divorce him.
I'll bear him.
I'll do all I can to help him.
I'm sorry I even allowed myself
to have such thoughts.
I'm sorry I told them to you.
The way that I did it, here at this
hospital, with you just out of bed
and starting to walk around on your
own, that wasn't right. I apologize.
I wasn't thinking of you.
Marcus, you appear so strong,
you are in so many ways,
that I forget you are a boy,
a very sensitive boy.
A boy who loves
and honors his father.
You can cry, Markie.
I've seen you cry before.
I know I can.
I know...
I just don't want to.
Thank you. Thank you, Ma.
This is a great relief to me.
I couldn't imagine him
living all alone...
it was unimaginable.
Don't imagine it.
But now I must ask
for something in return.
Because something
is unimaginable to me.
I never asked
anything of you before.
I never asked
because I never had to.
Because you are perfect
where sons are concerned.
All you've ever wanted to be
is a boy who does well.
You have been the best son
a mother could have.
But I am going to ask you to have
nothing more to do with Miss Hutton.
Because for you to be with
her is unimaginable for me.
[clears throat]
Ma... Markie, you are
here to be a student
and to study the Supreme Court
and to prepare to go to law school.
You are here so someday
you will become
a person in the community
that other people look up to
and that they come to for help.
You are here so you don't
have to be a Messner
and work in a butcher shop
for the rest of your life.
You are not here
to look for trouble
with a girl who has taken a
razor and slit her wrists.
Wrist. She slit one wrist.
One is enough.
We have only two,
and one is too much.
Ma, you don't understand...
You think I don't understand?
You don't.
You don't understand. Markie,
I will stay with your father
But for this
I am offering a deal.
Markie, the world is full of young
women who have not slit any wrists -
who have slit nothing.
They exist by the millions.
Find one of them.
She can be a Gentile,
she can be anything.
This is 1951. You don't live in
the old world. Why should you.
Date anyone you want,
marry anyone you want,
do whatever you want
with whoever you choose...
as long as she's never put
a razor to herself.
A girl so wounded
as to do such a thing
will wipe out everything before
your life has even begun.
Ma, you don't understand.
It's not as serious
a relationship as you think.
She is serious for you,
because she is suffering,
she is weak.
And weak people, Markie,
weak people are not harmless.
Their weakness
is their strength.
A person so unstable
is a menace to you, Markie.
And she is a beautiful young
woman, she looks like a goddess.
Obviously she is
well brought up.
Though maybe there is more to her
upbringing than meets the eye.
You never know about those things,
about what goes on in people's houses.
When the child goes wrong,
look to the family.
Regardless, my heart
goes out to her.
I pray for her.
I have nothing against her.
But you, you are my son...
and my only child.
And I am your mother,
who will, who must,
do anything for you.
Do you understand?
I understand.
I understand.
And that means you will promise, no
matter the tears, the pleas from her,
no matter, you promise,
this will end now.
You promise?
I promise...
I promise.
By late 1747,
Celeron was marching
with over 200 French troops
and a party of Indians
down through Pennsylvania.
And then Southwest,
over here to the Ohio country,
reaching Pickawillany where the
Ohio and Miami rivers meet
and where Celeron engaged with the
Miami Indian chief known as Old Briton
who he threatened for continuing
to trade with the British.
(Anker) I have a wonderful
weekend planned.
Going to Kenyon
with some brothers.
That prick Harding just
sprang another paper on us.
There goes my weekend.
Harding? What are you
complaining about?
[conversation continues]
(Anker) Had it last year. I
have it upstairs somewhere.
[conversation continues]
(Kessler) That'd be great.
You know I still owe you
for that Nestrick paper
from last year.
No problem, anytime.
Sonny says you're in the
market for a proxy at chapel.
I got it all out of the way
by the end of sophomore year,
and I just polished off
Kessler's last three,
so I'm a free agent.
Sonny says
you're on scholarship.
I'll cut my fee
to a buck and a half. Deal?
By definition, the slope
is given by m,
which is the change in y
over the change in x,
or delta y by delta x.
(Marcus on phone) Yes, I'm trying to
reach Miss Olivia Hutton? Is she there?
Uh-huh. Yes, that's me.
I left word yesterday.
I know.
What was that?
You mean she's visiting home?
[dial tone
over phone]
Is Dean Caudwell free?
If he has a minute.
Why don't you have a seat and
we'll find out if he can see you.
(secretary) Dean Caudwell,
Marcus Messner is here.
Bring him in.
You look well, Marcus.
Maybe lost a pound or two
but otherwise you look fine.
Dean Caudwell...
I don't know
who else to turn to
about something
that is very important to me.
I didn't mean to throw up here,
you know.
You fell ill and you were
sick and that's that.
Lucky we got you
to the hospital in time.
What can I do for you?
I'm here
about a female student.
She was in my history class.
And now she is gone.
I told you I'd been on one date,
it had been with her.
Her name
is Olivia Hutton.
Now she's disappeared.
I would like to know
what happened to her.
I'm afraid something
terrible happened.
And I'm afraid I may have had
something to do with it.
What is it you think you did
that makes you think this?
I took her out on a date.
Did something happen on that
date you want to tell me about?
No, sir.
Dean... I'm 'Dean'
to you, please.
The answer is no,
Dean Caudwell.
Nothing happened that I would
like to tell you about.
Did you impregnate
this young lady, Marcus?
What?! No!
You sure?
Absolutely sure.
She wasn't pregnant as
far as you know? No.
You didn't force
yourself on Olivia Hutton?
No, sir. I did not force
myself on her.
She came and visited you in your
hospital room, did she not?
Uh, yes.
Yes, she did, Dean.
According to a member
of the hospital staff,
something occurred between the
two of you at the hospital,
something sordid occurred that
was observed and duly noted.
Yet you say you didn't
force yourself on her.
I had just had
my appendix taken out!
That doesn't answer
my question.
No sir, I did not.
I've never used force
on anyone in my life.
I've never had to.
"You didn't have to."
May I ask what that means?
No. No, you can't.
Dean Caudwell, this is very
hard for me to talk about.
But I do think that whatever happened
in the privacy of my hospital room
was strictly
between Olivia and myself.
and perhaps not.
Especially in light
of the circumstances.
Olivia Hutton had a nervous
breakdown, Marcus.
She had to be taken away
in an ambulance.
I really don't know what goes
into a nervous breakdown.
You lose control over yourself and
your emotions, like an infant.
You have to be hospitalized
and cared for like an infant
until you recover,
if you ever do recover.
The college took a chance
with Olivia Hutton.
We knew her mental
history, the relapses,
the electroshock treatments.
But her father is
a Cleveland surgeon
and a distinguished alumnus
at Winesburg,
and so we took her in
at Dr. Hutton's request.
Things didn't work out
well for any of us.
They especially didn't
work out for Olivia.
She is where?
At a hospital specializing
in psychiatric care.
She can't possibly be
pregnant, too.
Time will tell.
It's not me.
What was reported to us
about your conduct
at the hospital
suggests it could be, Marcus. I
don't care what it suggests.
Dean Caudwell, I will not be condemned
on the basis of no evidence.
Sir, I resent once again
your portrayal of me.
I did not have sexual
intercourse with Olivia Hutton.
I have never had sexual
intercourse with anyone.
Nobody in this world could possibly
be pregnant because of me.
It is impossible!
Marcus, it is possible...
Oh, fuck you it is!
(Wentz) To what do we owe this
outbreak of moral laxity?
To what do we owe
this shameful fall from grace,
and from Winesburg tradition?
A drunken brawl outside
The Owl this weekend.
Two students
suspended for cheating
on their mathematics
mid-term examination.
Let there be no mistake,
as God looks scornfully down
upon this assembly today,
he regards a community
that has lost its way.
(Wentz) God's all-encompassing
vision will from this day forward
find ample supplement
with a renewed and reinvigorated
supervision from me
and from the entire
administrative staff.
Let there be
no mistake about that.
(Marcus, off) I wonder if
everyone, after they die,
remembers all the little details
and decisions they made,
all the reasons they ended up
ending the exact way they did.
That's how I am...
I remember,
and replay those things,
even if I can't remember how
long I've been remembering...
maybe it's been forever.
And I speak to everyone...
Ma, Pa, Olivia, everyone,
even if they've been dead
already a million years,
but I keep speaking
to them. Forever...
[distant shouting
in foreign language]
[groans] [knife
sinking in flesh]
(Marcus, off)
Can you hear me, Olivia?
Can you hear me
when I tell you that it's okay,
whatever it is, that it's okay?
Because someone did love you.
At least I think that's what it was.
And you should know that.
You should know, Olivia.
You should know.
Mrs. Anderson?
Your pills.