High-Rise Page #2

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Royal:
Oh, Laing?

My wife's giving a "thing"

the day after tomorrow.

Full of the sort of people

you should know

if you're to get the measure

of the place.

Laing:
Thank you.

Ann:
Why is there never a damn

switch for what I need?

I hope you're here to fix this.

I'm sorry?

I, um...

I thought this was in a museum.

Well, you were wrong,

weren't you?

F***ing hell.

Here, let me try.

Sorry about that.

It's inoperable, I'm afraid.

Simmons:

Doctor, this way.

Excuse me.

Charlotte:
Royal likes you.

It's unusual.

Do you know, he hasn't left his

penthouse since the accident.

Laing:

You seem to know everyone.

Charlotte:
But everyone thinks

they know me.

That's the trick.

There's a rigid

social hierarchy here,

whether Royal likes it or not.

Can you write me a script

for sleeping pills?

No.

Then tell me how

your sister died.

How do you know that?

Walls have ears.

I suppose I look like her.

You don't have to

tell me anything.

I only really want

to talk about myself.

There's a brothel

somewhere in the building.

I can find out for you

if you'd like.

- Toby:
Charlotte?

- Darling?

Charlotte?

Charlotte:
Hi.

This is Toby, my son.

- Hi.

- Where's Laura?

Laura:
Sorry.

Just warming the milk.

- Doesn't matter, I'm going out.

- I don't need a babysitter.

What you need is to go to sleep

or you'll be tired for school

in the morning.

I don't want to go to school.

Of course you don't

want to go to school,

but we all have to do things

we don't want to do.

It's what growing up

is all about.

Isn't that right, Robert?

- Yeah.

Yep.

Sweet dreams.

- Batteries.

- I haven't forgotten.

Come on, you.

Charlotte:

He's smart as a whip.

I call him the little professor.

He hates it.

Hmm.

Hmm.

You're going?

I...

I thought we were...

I thought we were doing this.

We've done it.

You know, you look much better

without your clothes on.

You're lucky.

Not many people do.

Fascist pig!

Announcer:
Welcome to

the 15th floor market.

Today we have a special offer

on French bread

and French fromage.

Thank you for shopping

on floor 15.

Would you like an autograph?

Actually,

I was looking for the Riesling.

- What?

- Grammaire.

Should I know that woman?

That's Jane Sheridan.

The actress.

She doesn't need all that stuff,

she just likes spending money.

She's preparing for a new role.

She's going to play

a desperately sad actress

who lives alone

in an apartment block.

Keep the change.

There isn't any.

Munrow. Banking.

Pangbourne. Gynecology.

My son's pursuing medicine.

Amongst other things,

I should hope.

Jane:
That's him.

He's quite reassuring

but rather cold hands.

Your husband appears intent on

colonizing the sky, Mrs. Royal.

And who can blame him when

you look at what's going on

down at... street level?

The German press

say he's a genius.

Ha! Germans.

We're award-winning.

You can't argue with that.

Munrow.

You feeling better?

Oh, you.

- Did you invite him?

- Of course not.

No, Royal did, actually.

I hope you don't mind.

Must be one of his funny

little social experiments.

What have you come as?

A dilettante?

Champagne, sir?

Yeah, thanks.

I wouldn't take it

personally, sir.

- No?

- No.

I've seen you at the gym,

haven't I?

Yeah.

You set a very good pace.

So do you.

Well, it takes a certain

determination to row against

the current.

Yes, it does.

Ah, Simmons, how are you?

Excuse me.

Won't be needing that.

Cheap bastard.

Wall?

So, how long were you stuck?

Not long,

in the scheme of things.

Teething problems.

Building is still settling.

Still, I hear all the floors

from the first to the twelfth

were out of power

for several hours.

Yeah. Probably more fun in that

lift than at Ann's party.

I must apologize for my wife.

She was brought up

in the insulation

of a large country house.

She feels a constant need

to re-establish herself

on the top rung.

We toy with each other.

Not sexually, of course.

By the way,

I hear you're f***ing 374.

Her name is Charlotte Melville.

Yeah, Charlotte. That's right.

She has quite a tight c*nt,

as I recall.

Royal:
Believe me, I understand.

At your age, straightforward,

biological reason supervenes.

But some of the people

who live here,

haven't you've seen them?

The vanguard of the well-to-do.

They've fitted themselves so

tightly into their slots that...

...they no longer have room

to escape themselves.

Slots designed by you.

I know.

I'd conceived this building

to be a crucible for change.

I must have missed

some vital element.

Miriam:
What are you

going to do about it?

There are women on my floor

with babies

and they can't even

boil a kettle

so they can sterilize

their baby's bottles.

Look... Look! If you lower

people overload the system,

- there will be cuts.

- Who are you calling "people"?

Look, I commend your bravery,

old son, but don't push it.

You know very well

that's not what we were sold.

I know for a fact

that you're in arrears

with your service payments,

Mr. Wilder.

You're hardly in a position

to take the moral high ground.

- Tell him.

- No.

Go on!

My daughter was interfered

with in the dark.

She's certain it was

someone from the top.

He was wearing expensive cologne

and stuffed a copy of the

Financial Times in her mouth.

We pay the same charges

as the top floors.

We want our fair share

of the power.

Now you pull your finger out or

I'll take it above your head!

I think you've made

your point, Wilder.

Hey, wait! Why don't you just

hold on a minute there.

Where the bloody hell

do you think you're going?

The service lift's out.

Gotta come up front.

White wine. Thank God.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Oi!

If you're thinking of taking

your grievances to the top,

I doubt you'll find

much sympathy.

You've met the architect?

Hovers over the place

like a f***ing albatross.

No.

One should pity him really.

Oh.

One should, should one?

Very magnanimous of you,

I'm sure.

Listen, you couldn't give me a

lift to the television studios,

could you?

Laing:
No, I'm sorry.

I can't seem to remember

where I left my car.

Wilder:

Funny, neither can I.

Why don't we have

to go to school?

I don't know,

I'll think of something.

You don't want mummy

to be lonely, do you?

That's not how you

spell "arse", darling.

...rioting, which broke out on

Tuesday after prisoners refused

to return to their cells

has escalated significantly

according to prison...

I'm sorry, it can't go on.

But it was you that pursued me.

It's over. Do you hear me?

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