Gerald's Game Page #2

Synopsis: When a harmless game between a married couple in a remote retreat suddenly becomes a harrowing fight for survival, wife Jessie must confront long-buried demons within her own mind - and possibly lurking in the shadows of her seemingly empty house.
Director(s): Mike Flanagan
Production: Netflix
  2 wins & 3 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.7
Metacritic:
77
Rotten Tomatoes:
91%
TV-MA
Year:
2017
103 min
3,800 Views


Oh, my God. Thank God.

I thought... I thought you...

My goddamn arm!

- [stammers] I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

- The dog, right?

- You were so right. I was so wrong.

- The one you fed.

Uncuff me and hold me. I'm so sorry, baby!

The goddamn dog.

That goddamn dog.

The goddamn dog you had to feed.

Smelled the blood, did what dogs do.

F*** you, roadkill! I hope you choke!

Should've let you cut up all the steak.

Maybe it would've filled him up.

But I guess they always smell

fresher meat.

Do you remember the joke I told

at Christmas last year?

You came up behind me.

I was, like, four or five

into the night already.

I was loose but not slurring yet.

It was Tom Reynolds I was talking to...

in this low and conspiratorial, in that

very specific "guys only" f***ing tone

that says, "You'll appreciate this,

brother, but only you."

You didn't hear the beginning

of the joke, just the end...

"And what is a woman anyway?"

And I waited.

That cocky little pause I take

before a punch line

that really makes me proud of myself,

and Tom said, "What?"

like he already knew the answer,

and I said...

"A life support..."

Come on.

"And what is a woman, anyway?"

- "A life support system for a c*nt."

- Yeah, that was it.

You never told me you heard it.

You never raised an objection.

You smiled through the night,

hated me a little bit,

- but never once brought it up.

- Because you're not like that.

- You don't talk that way.

- Yeah, was I just putting on a show?

For a client?

Stooping to his level

to get something I needed,

or was that who I really was,

underneath it all?

Don't ask a question you don't wanna know

the answer to, I guess.

I guess.

A life support system

for a stupid f***ing c*nt is more like it.

How many hours you been chained

to that bed?

You never heard me breathe, not once.

And you know the sound.

You've heard it every night

for the last 11 years.

That tiny rumbling snore I make

in the back of my throat

that sometimes. I make when I'm lost

in thought. I forget myself. I zone out.

That tiny little "Gerald only"

f***ing purr.

Hours of not hearing that sound,

total f***ing silence, and you knew it.

Five minutes after my head hit the floor,

you saw blood. You heard the silence,

and you knew it, but you just laid there,

wasting precious minutes and hours

and breath and life, calling my f***ing

name, talking to a corpse on the floor.

What's happening?

Well, I'm pretty sure

you just lost your mind.

Seeing a dog eating your husband

will do that.

If you're gonna have a mental breakdown,

that's a great excuse.

Right.

The blood stopped spreading.

A while ago.

And you did what you always do

when it gets too much, you ran.

In here.

You just laid here,

calling my name again and again,

and let critical time tick by

- like a stupid f***ing...

- Stop it.

You should have been thinking

about life support.

Maybe that's why

you're remembering that joke now.

Gotta be for some reason, after all.

And why is that?

- Time.

- That's right!

You're a life support system.

You've been unplugged.

There's still juice in there,

but the charge is running down.

And if you don't get out of the cuffs,

it will go all the way to zero.

When did we get here?

One-ish, I think.

And how long till we got into bed?

- An hour, maybe more.

- Call that two o'clock, then.

And I dropped dead...

Ten minutes, maybe, after.

When's the sun been setting?

- 7:
15 or so.

- Oh, that's pretty close.

That's another 15, 20, tops.

So, let's say... five hours, so far.

Five hours you've wasted,

screaming for neighbors

that are half a mile away.

[both] If they're even here yet.

And, you know,

if you really think about it...

- Nate and Kelly said they wouldn't...

- They wouldn't be heading up until June.

The maids came to prep for us yesterday.

Because the bed is made

and the house is dusted.

Which means they're done and gone,

and the grass...

- ...was cut, fresh.

- Which means no gardeners.

Because I arranged it all

to get the place ready for us today.

And I wouldn't want them

interrupting my little game,

so I probably gave them

at least the weekend off.

- So, who could possibly...

- ...possibly hear you scream?

Except Cujo over there?

[grunts]

- You tried that.

- I know.

You can pull till your wrists break.

You're not getting out of those cuffs.

[Jessie yells]

[bones cracking]

[laughs] I told you.

I told you.

[grunting]

It's that easy.

Oh, babe, you're really losing it now.

Except your hand won't fit

through the cuff

and the bedpost is reinforced.

- Nice thought, though.

- Shut up.

Don't listen to him. He's the reason

we're here and look how he ended up.

I'm just telling her

how things really are.

No, you're doing what you always did,

minimizing, condescending.

Men aren't so much blessed

with penises as cursed by them.

[laughs]

And we might die here today

because of Gerald's five inches.

Our life has to add up to more than that.

- I can't get out.

- What about the stories on the news,

where mothers lift their cars

to save their children?

She's no mother.

What's that supposed to mean?

No maternal instinct.

- Your career always came first.

- That's what you said.

Maybe you even started to believe it.

I'm not so sure you can hide things

from me now.

You're wasting precious time here.

I can't get out.

- You have to.

- I am chained to the goddamn bed!

Don't recite facts to me. Wake up.

Says the voice in your head.

This is you... all over.

Problem, panic, denial.

Hoping if you look away,

it'll magically vanish.

If you don't wake up,

you're gonna die in those handcuffs.

And we both know you've been sleepwalking

since you were 12 years old.

- Not now.

- If not now, when?

Not now, what?

He put you in those handcuffs

way before Gerald did.

Who's "he"?

If I can get to the phone...

Phone's gonna die anyway.

I never charged it.

Or did a load of laundry, for that matter.

Tough luck.

Okay, scrap that.

Phone might as well be on Mars.

If you can't get off the bed...

live long enough

for someone to find you on it.

Yeah.

[moans]

What's wrong?

My head hurts.

You know why?

Life support.

How long do you think

someone lives without water?

Three days?

At best.

Yeah, seems like

I've heard three days somewhere.

That feels about right.

And it's been, what? Five...

six, seven hours.

I wanted to please you so badly.

This was such a stupid f***ing idea.

Remember when I first

started taking those?

I hid it.

For what, six months?

I found the prescription.

You found it and never said anything.

But I knew you'd seen it,

and I just stopped covering it up.

- We never talked about it, though.

- There was that one time.

That one time.

Late one night, you tried without a pill,

and it just wasn't working.

- I was as soft as a kitten.

- Until...

- Until...

- Until you held my wrists above my head.

- I hadn't done that before.

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Mike Flanagan

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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