California Suite Page #3

she'll grow up

to look like that...

Blonde hair, blonde teeth,

blonde life.

God, I can just hear

the quips flying

when you and

the second-best mind

since Adlai Stevenson

get together.

Sitting there freezing

under a blanket

at the Washington

redskins games,

playing anagrams with the names

of all the Polish players.

Your mind clicks off

bric-a-brac so goddamn fast,

it never has a chance for an honest

emotion or thought ever to get through.

And you're so filled

with honest emotion,

you fall in love every time

someone sings a ballad.

You're worse than a hopeless romantic.

You're a hopeful one.

You're the kind of man who would

end the world famine problem

by having them all eat out,

preferably at a good

Chinese restaurant.

Oh, for god's sake, Hannah.

Let's stop this crap.

I don't know if your bitterness

is because Jenny ran away

or because she ran away

to somebody whose lifestyle

epitomizes everything

you consider cheap and banal.

I don't have a lifestyle.

I have a life.

You have no legal rights

to her. You understand that?

- Certainly.

- Then tell her to come home with me.

I did. She would like to

try it with me for a year.

She's not happy

in New York, Hannah.

Nobody's happy in New York,

but they're alive.

What a snob you are.

Thank god there's

a few of us left.

What is there so

beautiful about your life

that makes it so important

to put down everyone else's?

New York is not the center

of the goddamn universe.

I Grant you, it's an exciting,

vibrant, stimulating, fabulous city,

but it is not mecca.

It just smells like it.

To hell with New York

or Boston or Washington.

I don't care where Jenny lives.

I care how.

She's a bright girl

with an intelligent mind.

Let it grow and prosper. What the hell

is she gonna learn in a community

whose greatest literary achievement

is the map of the movie stars' homes?

Tell me about it, Hannah.

Tell me about the political elite

on Martha's vineyard in July.

I remember vividly

those charity luncheons

to raise money for

the California grape pickers.

A teeming mob of women

who must have spent

$12,000 on Gucci pants

so they could raise 2,000

for the grape pickers.

Why the hell didn't they just

mail them the pants?

You were terrific when

you used to write like that.

I haven't seen your newest film.

I'm told it grossed very well

in backward areas.

Jesus. Was I anything

like you before?

I couldn't hold a candle to you.

No wonder nobody here talked

to me for the first two years.

Lucky you.

Look, we have

to settle this today.

If you respect Jenny as a person, then

respect her right to make a free choice.

You get her for the summers.

That's enough.

It takes me the other ten months of the

year to get the seaweed out of her brains.

How much time do you

spend with her?

How often do you have

breakfast with her?

How many nights a week

does she eat dinner alone?

You really think she's happy

with that $20 bill you give her

every time you go off to

Washington for the weekend?

The girl is growing up

lonely, Hannah,

and she's flown out here on her

own savings to prove it to you.

She has two dogs,

a Dominican cook,

and every good-looking boy in the senior

class living off my refrigerator.

Despite her Gothic reports, she is

not living the life of Jane Eyre.

Would you like to know what

Jenny has to say about you?

She told me. She thinks

I'm a son of a b*tch.

She also thinks

I'm a funny son of a b*tch.

She loves me, but she doesn't like me.

She's afraid of me.

She's intimidated by me.

She respects me,

but she doesn't wanna

become like me.

We have a perfectly normal

mother-daughter relationship.

How the hell

can you be so flippant

when it comes to your

own daughter's well-being?

And how the hell

can you be so pompous

not to recognize a perfectly normal,

rebellious attitude in a young girl?

If she didn't complain, I'd probably

send her to an expensive shrink.

Since she's with me

ten months of the year,

it is only normal you're the

one she's going to miss.

I think by and large she and I

have managed quite well.

But like all young girls,

she needs a father image.

I don't mind. If it's only July and

August, it might as well be you.

This is April, and she came

out without your permission.

She never had

a good head for dates.

What would you do if

I just keep her here with me?

I will call my friend, the Attorney

General of the United States,

if she's not on

the 9:
00 plane tonight.

Why didn't you ever run

for office, Hannah?

I always thought you'd have made

a hell of a governor.

I don't think a Democratic

system really works.

Offer me a monarchy,

and we'll talk.

It's 2:
30.

Will you call Jenny or shall I?

No.

No, what?

No, sir.

The truth, Hannah.

You know if we leave it up to Jenny,

you don't stand a chance in hell

of getting her on that plane.

Certainly. Why else

would the ninny run away?

Who said we don't have problems?

She is 17 years old,

and when we go at each other, she

needs another shoulder to cry on.

But I'll be goddamned if

I'm gonna give up a daughter

for a pink cashmere shoulder

three thousand miles away.

This is an event.

It's the first time in my life

I've ever seen you so nervous.

I'm not nervous.

I'm scared to death.

That's good of you to admit it.

But honesty always was

one of your strengths.

You're pretty cute yourself.

I mean it.

Oh, why do men have to get better

looking when they get older?

Remind me to bring it up with

the equal rights commission.

So where are the stars?

I don't see any stars yet.

They come out at night.

I'll pick you up for dinner

at 6:
30 in front of the hotel.

Suit and tie,

or sloppy like you?

Look at that beauty. Mmm!

They fall out of the trees

here like oranges.

Lucky thing I didn't move out here.

I'd be bald, like you.

How come you're so preoccupied

with sex, sex, sex?

I thought all that jogging,

you'd forget about sex.

- You know something better?

- Thank you.

Here you go. Thanks.

You're still the same...

Girls, girls, girls.

You fall apart every time

you see a tuchas.

Hello?

Oh, yes.

How are you?

Well, she's a bit nervous,

I think.

Do you really think she will?

Well, let's hope so.

Oh, yes, and, uh, thank you for

the flowers and for the fruit

and for the lovely suite

and for the caviar

and for everything else

you send up by the hour.

One moment, Joe.

Diana, it's Joe Pickman.

Tell him I'm in the can.

The man has paid for this trip,

he's paid for this suite.

He's given you the best part

you've had in five years.

I am not gonna tell him

you're in the can.

Then I'll tell him.

Joe, darling.

I told Sidney to tell you

I was in the can.

I didn't want to speak

to you, that's why.

Well, because I feel

so responsible.

I don't want to

let you down tonight.

I know how much this film

means to you,

and I want so much

to win this award for you, Joe.

No, there was

no picture without you.

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