Hampstead Page #7

Synopsis: An American widow finds unexpected love with a man living wild on Hampstead Heath when they take on the developers who want to destroy his home.
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Romance
Director(s): Joel Hopkins
Production: Scope Pictures
 
IMDB:
5.9
Metacritic:
47
Rotten Tomatoes:
45%
Year:
2017
102 min
511 Views


if you hadn't seemed

quite so humiliated up there.

I was humiliated.

I was humiliated about myself,

and that's the truth.

And you know what else?

I was...

Mortified about what...

You might think of me, you know.

Who I am and what I've become.

Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?

(SIGHS)

You muppet.

Oh.

(CHANTING AND CHEERING)

ALL:
Save the shack! Save the shack!

REPORTER:
Donald,

how are you feeling today?

(MUFFLED CHANTING AND CHEERING)

REPORTER:
Is it today, do you think, Donald?

Is today the day you're gonna lose

your home? Mr Horner?

REPORTER 2:
Donald!

Give us a smile, big man.

- (GAVEL BANGS)

- JUDGE:
Right!

Let's get started, then, shall we?

Can you please say what Mr Horner did next?

He wrapped the notice around a parsnip

and handed it back to me.

And did you accept it?

- May I object?

- I did not accept that parsnip.

No. It was a carrot.

(AUDIENCE LAUGHING)

- (GAVEL BANGS)

- Please. That's quite enough.

And so, Mrs Neal, as a member

of one of Hampstead's

leading conservation groups,

to your knowledge, how long

has Mr Horner been on the Heath?

To my knowledge, he is a recent arrival.

Recent? Ah. So does that mean

more or less than 12 years?

Definitely less.

(MURMURING)

Nothing further.

Forgive me, but one more time,

just to make it irrefutably clear,

prior to Brevon International's efforts,

in the entire time that you lived

in your home on the hectare

of land in question,

had anyone ever approached you

and asked you to leave?

- No, sir.

- Thank you.

That's all I have, Your Honour.

Keeping to the lowest council tax band,

approximately 15,000 over the last 17 years

would have been paid by you,

had you legally owned a property.

- Would you not agree?

- I don't know what to say to that.

Well, I do. Because I pay for all my services.

Rubbish collection, local education,

even the daily operations

on Hampstead Heath.

Can you say the same?

Mr Horner?

Your Honour, as Mr Horner

is clearly having difficulty

remembering just how

he contributes to society...

No, you're right, I don't contribute

to society and I don't drive.

And the relevance of that is?

That means I don't take a 600 yearly

dump of carbon dioxide into the air.

I grow all my food, which means I don't

add to the 7,000,000 tons of food

and packaging waste

that costs this beautiful country,

I think, over 5,000,000,000 a year.

Well, do you want me to go on? I can go on.

But, actually, if it's society

that you're worried about, Mr Crowley,

ten to one, you cost it

a hell of a lot more than I do.

(CHEERING)

Please, will you not do that?

- It's not Britain's Got Talent.

- (LAUGHTER)

Thank you, Your Honour.

Please, let's stick to the point,

and the point being is that a homeless man...

I'm not homeless. I have a home.

I built it 17 years ago from nothing.

Recycled bits and bobs, and imagination.

From nothing.

Yes, but can you prove it?

All of this is unsubstantiated.

There are no documents, no witnesses.

Course I have no witnesses.

I go out of my way to stay out of the way.

Look...

For all of these years,

I've watched life evolve all around me.

I've spent thousands of afternoons

on Parliament Hill,

watching families sailing kites

so spectacular it would make you dizzy,

and those same families growing up,

going away,

making space for the new ones.

And I have disturbed no-one.

The way I live might seem

different to a lot of people.

How I live life...

Well, people will think what they think.

All I care about is my home.

It's where I've been living for these 17 years.

It is a home.

It's my home. It's where I belong.

And, in that regard,

I am no different to any of you.

(MURMURING)

Kindly resume your seat, will you?

Thank you, Mr Horner, for your candour.

It's clear that your words are heartfelt.

However, heartfelt words

are no substitute for documentable proof.

You understand the dilemma.

Well, it's been a long day

and we're at the end of it.

We adjourn today, pick it up tomorrow

morning, 9:
00 sharp. Thank you.

I made a balls of it.

Donald, we don't have time to wallow here.

I'm not wallowing. I'm reporting the truth.

If you want to feel better,

maybe you should just go home.

Hey, what's wrong with you?

Every time someone threatens your pride

or hurts your little fat feelings,

you puff up like an emotional porcupine.

An emotional porcupine?

That's very good, that.

- No, no. That's brilliant, actually.

- Just stop, will you?

- An emotional... An emotional porcupine.

- Just stop. I'm freezing in here.

Donald.

- The oven.

- What about it?

Didn't you tell me that someone helped you

bring it here? Remember?

(STUTTERS) You called him an arse.

- That's what you... Yeah.

- He was an arse.

- He couldn't drive a nail in straight.

- Don't you see?

This arse can testify that he was

here with you 17 years ago,

- building this shack, so he's a witness.

- That's not proof.

It's better than nothing.

You have to take us to him.

EMILY:
Here?

(HUSHED CONVERSATION)

(DOORBELL RINGS)

You. I remember you.

That's him.

Bang, bang, bang.

That's what it sounded like.

So, I look out the window again,

he's still there.

- And by "he", you mean...

- That wanker. Him there.

(LAUGHING)

If we could just...

- So what happened then?

- Right. Well, I see him struggling

with all this IKEA junk that I'd binned, so...

I drive him and the junk

to where he's building this little cottage

thing out on the Heath,

and I help him out for a couple of hours.

But then he starts getting all critical on me.

How I'm slanting the boards

and the laying ain't even

and I'm using a drywall nail

when I should be using a short shank.

I know my short shanks, thank you!

(LAUGHTER)

And that's when it happened.

Got me in such a heat, I got all distracted...

And I drove a short-shank nail

through my left long finger.

Uh, deeply sorry to hear that.

Now, Mr Fife, when you say

you drove Mr Horner to the place,

can you say specifically where?

Oh, the grounds of the old hospital

on the Heath.

West Heath Road side.

I remember 'cause I could hardly find

my way out, bleeding and all.

Thank you. That's all I have.

Mr Fife, umm...

You might sympathise with us

if we have a little difficulty

in accepting why a man such as yourself,

in the dead of night, would extricate himself

from the safe confines of his flat

and go to such extraordinary lengths

to help some strange tramp...

Sorry, homeless person.

A man whom he had never before met.

You can understand our concern, can't you?

- Sure, I can completely understand that.

- Mm. Thank you. Umm, because...

If you didn't know

that I was once homeless myself.

- (MURMURING)

- I'm... Sorry?

Nearly a year on the streets.

That's why I did what I did.

Your Honour, this is a very sweet tale,

and for all we know some of it may be true.

But as you yourself alluded to yesterday,

what this is not is documentary proof,

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Robert Festinger

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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