Evening Page #4

Synopsis: The love which binds mother and daughter -- seen through the prism of one mother's life as it crests with optimism, navigates a turning point, and ebbs to its close. Overcome by the power of memory, Ann Lord reveals a long-held secret to her concerned daughters; Constance, a content wife and mother, and Nina, a restless single woman. Both are bedside when Ann calls out for the man she loved more than any other. But who is this "Harris," wonder her daughters, and what is he to our mother? While Constance and Nina try to take stock of Ann's life and their own lives, their mother is tended to by a night nurse as she journeys in her mind back to a summer weekend some fifty years before, when she was Ann Grant, a young woman who has come from New York City to be maid of honor at the high-society Newport wedding of her dearest friend from college, Lila Wittenborn. The bride-to-be is jittery, and turns to her maid of honor rather than her own mother for support. Ann stays close to her friend,
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director(s): Lajos Koltai
Production: Focus Features
  2 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.5
Metacritic:
45
Rotten Tomatoes:
27%
PG-13
Year:
2007
117 min
$12,406,646
Website
241 Views


They lose their fascination.

Hey, hey. Look. Look.

Do you think there's a message inside?

Sure, how could there not be?

I'll bet you Carl threw a dozen of them

in the water last night

for Lila to find this morning.

No, it's for us. It's for you and me.

Just you wait.

There'll be a note in there

that says something like,

"Lila, I'll love you forever."

I was thinking more like,

"Whoever finds this bottle

"gets to make three wishes."

So you start thinking of wishes.

And?

It's wine. It's really old wine.

Don't drink it.

Annie, I'm not that far gone.

No, I'm sorry. Of course you're not.

Hi.

Look what I found.

Oh, my God, her Queen of the Night dress.

Do you remember her wearing this?

Just barely.

Whenever I think of Mom

I see her in this dress.

Going off to work.

She loved it so much.

In her masochistic way.

In a real way.

Singing at the occasional wedding

was not what she had in mind.

Do you remember

when she took us to hear Peggy Lee

at the Algonquin?

That was awful.

No, it wasn't.

Mom cried, hard.

Because she was moved.

Because she was sitting there

with two little girls in party dresses

and Peggy Lee was the one

up there on the stage.

Just how unhappy

do you need Mom to have been?

Translation, please?

Let's let it go. We're both exhausted.

No. Let's not let it go.

Great.

All right.

It seems to me that you're counting on Mom

to have been as unfulfilled as you are.

And I'm not going to let you do it.

How dare you?

I'm not going to let you badger her

on her deathbed

about supposed old miseries

that are probably, in fact, just fever dreams.

Who are you to tell me I'm unfulfilled?

Whatever the hell that means.

Okay, so you're fulfilled and I'm not.

The fulfilled one has the career

and the husband

and the house and garden which just

happen to be three towns away from Mom.

Mom needed someone close by.

And cleaning women.

You don't know how frail she's been,

these last few years.

You've just breezed in and out.

Family dinners at least three times a week.

And no more sex

because even if you weren't too tired,

the children would probably hear you.

Stop this!

So I hope you'll understand if I tell you

I don't look at you and say to myself, "Hey,

that's one fulfilled woman over there."

Let's talk about your life then.

Okay. Let's.

You've had four different careers.

Go-go dancing didn't count as a career.

You were going to be a real dancer.

Do you have any idea how hard it was

for me to admit that I was not good enough?

I don't think you really tried, not really.

Luc is your umpteenth boyfriend.

How many, exactly, is umpteen?

And you're about to dump him.

I look at you and I think,

"In five years she'll have a different job

and another new boyfriend,

"and five years after that,

she'll have another new job

"and another new boyfriend."

So?

Nothing gets its hooks into you.

You just drift.

Well, something has.

I'm pregnant.

You are?

Uh-huh.

Sweetheart, sit down.

Two months, Con, I can stand.

A little slip-up.

It can happen to even

the most determined commit-ophobes.

Come on, sit down.

Okay, I'll sit if it will make you any happier.

It will.

You could be a great mother.

You really love your kids, don't you?

More than anything.

Got that.

That doesn't mean

they don't drive me crazy.

It doesn't mean

I don't wonder sometimes if...

I should be a surfer chick

with seven stupid boyfriends.

Got that, too.

Will you not get mad if I say something?

I'll do my best.

If you go on being the bad girl,

if you insist on screwing up everything

and everyone that comes your way,

there's a very real chance

you'll end up alone.

Nina, I'm sorry.

See,

at least I'm not mad.

Hello there.

What am I doing here? Who are you?

I'm the night nurse. Remember?

You said you've met my husbands.

No, I'm afraid I haven't.

I married Ralph Haverford.

He was the best man.

Isn't that strange.

Do you think I took it literally?

That I couldn't say.

I left him on the sidewalk

like a piece of chewing gum.

Some maid of honor, right?

Are you feeling better now?

Then I married Phil, Nina's father.

He had such nice hair.

Nice hair is nice.

Are you married?

Yes, I am.

Do you love him in that crazy way?

We've been married almost 40 years.

I've been married for 40 years.

More than 40. To Harris.

I just haven't seen him the whole time

we've been married.

Well, maybe that's the best way.

Is there anyone special

you'd like me to call?

Oh, Sis.

You nervous?

Yeah, a little.

You look fantastic.

Just breathe.

Yeah, okay. All right.

Peach...

You think maybe Peach and Pip

could be next?

Pip's a little stuffy.

Peach likes stuffy.

Hey. We're on.

And then there's the question of Buddy

for Lizzie.

Do you really think that

everybody in your wedding party

should just marry everybody else?

No. But it would be nice

if my wedding inspired another one.

Ann.

Are you ready, sweetheart?

Yes, ready.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on."

Are you ready?

I guess so.

...sing Time after Time.

Time after Time.

Hi, everybody. Hi.

When Lila asked me to sing at her wedding,

I told her that I usually only sing

for drunks and tourists.

And we're not tourists.

But she wouldn't take no.

So, Lila, this is for you.

What good are words I say to you

They can't convey to you

What's in my heart

If you could hear instead

The things I've left unsaid

Time after time

I tell myself

That I'm so lucky

To be loving you

So lucky to be

The one you run to see

In the evening

When the day is through

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You kept my love so young, so new

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

so lucky to be loving

you

Where did you go?

I snuck out. I felt like a fool.

No, you were nothing like a fool.

You were a hero.

You were the hero. I hit most of the notes.

No, honestly, I didn't sound that great.

I don't mind that.

There was something about being up there,

just now, singing that song for Lila.

I don't know.

I've always thought of myself as just sort of

singing into the room, I guess,

but, I mean doing it specifically for her,

it was so different.

You got a gift, kid.

You know, honestly, for the first time,

right now, I feel like

maybe I do.

I want to be good at this, you know?

Not just all right but really, really good.

I want to sing on Mars one day.

If you sing on Mars, I'll shut down

my practice and fly up to see you.

Do you think we need another star for this?

Yeah, I do.

Well, I think it should be close to the one

that you picked out last night.

There's a nice one, just south of it.

Oh.

That's rather modest, don't you think?

Well, there's lots of stars,

this is only our second one.

Hey there.

Whoops. Am I interrupting something?

No, Buddy.

Tonight it's all about love, right?

In all its forms and guises.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm so lucky

Come on, let's dance.

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Susan Minot

Susan Minot rhymes with 'sign it' (born December 7, 1956) is an American novelist, short story writer, poet, playwright, screenwriter and painter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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