![Find Le Week-End on Amazon](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BMTk3NzAxNTExMF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMDM0NjYwMTE@._V1_SX300.jpg)
Le Week-End Page #3
the whole collapse.
I understand it, apparently.
Who am I to disagree?
Hey, listen...
We're having a little
thing tomorrow.
I'd love it if the two
of you could come along.
- I don't know.
- I think we're free.
You are? That's great. May I?
May I write a little something?
Seriously, Nick, this
must be synchronicity.
things. Thank you, Meg.
Mmm. There's so much to talk about.
There is?
- Thanks.
- Eight o'clock.
You can be unfashionably on
time for once in your life.
Wow!
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, oh, my God!
Nick... Burrows!
Rue de Rivoli. Wow!
We were at Cambridge together.
Haven't you got his
book by the bed?
Possibly.
You read it twice and said it was a
bad day for the English language.
It was very well received.
It was a sensation.
He was in the year below me.
I introduced him to everybody.
What happened?
Life happened.
That's mine.
- Give it to me!
- No.
You're gonna get gum disease!
Yeah, I'll give you gum disease.
- Ow!
- Give it to me!
Oh, sorry.
Blood.
Show me your breasts.
Are you sleeping?
Awaiting your noises.
What are you thinking?
Should I have had the creme brule
instead of the poires belle Hlene?
It'll be my dying thought.
- Would it be okay...
- Mmm?
for me to briefly mount you...
Mmm-hmm.
and soon after ejaculate
a miniscule amount?
I'm dropping off.
Nick?
Nick?
Nick?
What is it? What's happened?
I thought you'd gone.
Wasn't that what you wanted?
Hold me.
I've got you, darling.
I've got you.
- I thought you'd gone.
- It's all right, it's all right.
I've got you. I've got you.
in the papers at home.
It's good.
- Bonjour.
- Bonjour, madame.
Over here?
You know, Morgan seems
to really like you.
He wasn't joking. He really
does want to see you.
Why?
What have I got that he
could possibly want?
Me, for a start.
- Oh.
- Couldn't he help you?
- I like your collage.
- You do?
Yeah, it looks great.
- You look great.
- Thanks.
You've always had
elegance and grace.
You've always had class.
Thank you!
Well?
Well... Thanks.
- What about me?
- What about you, what?
Have I got class?
What?
I want to do the ultimate
Cambridge novel.
God!
Beginning in the '70s.
Orgies, drugs, work, kids,
divorce,
multiple sclerosis,
assisted death...
I'd rather stick
pins in my breasts.
Haven't you got any
less tired ideas?
Don't put me down.
Mistress Realism, you used
to call me. You liked that.
Up to a point.
What are you doing?
Come on. Take what you want.
You can cut out the pictures.
I'll pay.
Be kind, don't look.
Every time I take off my knickers,
I think there's going to be an eclipse.
I love to look at you.
Slightly chubby in places
now. Voluptuous.
I don't want to be f***ing
chubby in places. Any places.
I thought you'd like
to be appreciated.
Well, I am.
The other day, I'll have
you know, a young man,
not entirely retarded,
tried to pick me up in Waterstones.
Doesn't surprise me. You're hot.
Thank you.
Hot but cold.
Our generation was
into weird living:
Communes,
vegetarianism,
lesbianism.
Nothing straight where possible.
But I'm glad we got married. That's why
I wanted to celebrate this weekend.
It's the commitment...
The sacrifice of other
pleasures that makes it work.
You're terrified.
- Of what?
- Being left alone.
You follow me round the house like
a child with a popped balloon.
self-obsessed, Nick. It's getting worse.
Some people brag about
their ability to be alone.
But I've started to feel a sort
of physical dread of desertion.
Oh, come on!
Why doesn't anybody
want my company?
Do you like the shoes?
Do I please you, monsieur?
Tell me who you bought
those shoes for.
What do you mean? You know who.
Who, for me?
For you? For me, you idiot.
I've decided to give
up everything I like.
- Why?
- It's a discipline,
the only advantage of masochism.
I want to stop desiring
things which are impossible.
You won't like this, then.
What?
What?
Get down.
Look.
Can you see?
Let me smell you.
Please... Just a sniff.
You're a naughty dog.
Get ready while I put my dress on.
Haven't got any...
Anything to get ready in.
Stay here, then, and
write your masterpiece.
Just leave it, like Jack does.
I wouldn't rely on him
in matters of the head.
You envied him.
You made sure he had
more of you than I did.
He was the child. Now you
want him back in the house.
You can't let anyone go.
I haven't seen this
since I read Gramsci
and contemplated kidnapping
a captain of industry.
This is the last time I save you.
What?
On the room, madame?
Always on the room.
It's my new mantra.
"On the room."
Everything on the room.
I think I'm gonna ask Morgan to help you
get your philosophy book published.
What's so amusing?
You are always about to write a book
or about to decorate the bathroom
or about to tell me something which
But you know what you are?
You are the postman
who never knocks.
And you know why that is?
Please, darling, lighten
my burden of ignorance.
I'm not sure you've got any balls.
When we met, you were part
of the feminist Taliban
and you insisted I contact
my feminine side.
Have I not contacted
it sufficiently?
Contacted it?
You practically married it.
Perhaps one day I'll
be as tall and manly
and as nifty with
Microsoft Word as Melik.
Melik.
The computer guy? Melik?
Yes, Melik.
Well? Are you going to admit it?
Admit what?
Your lover.
Yes?
That kid?
That bald, sweaty nerd
in a badly-fitting T-shirt?
Are you having a nervous breakdown?
Admit it.
How many times do you expect me to
believe your bloody laptop can go wrong?
Admit it!
You're ill!
I saw how you were with him.
Tell me the truth.
You're an idiot. I've
had enough of you.
Meg, tell me the truth.
Have I ever lied to you? Ever?
What on earth was I thinking of,
depriving myself of love,
of sex, of male company,
to keep this pathetic thing going?
I thought you were
interested in someone else.
- It's me I want more of!
- Why? What for?
- I want to sell the house.
- What?
I'm to be thrown out
of my own home?
- Get a flat.
- I don't have an income.
Divorce happens to everyone now.
You went with a student!
Fifteen years ago. How could
you bring that up now?
Just as Jack was having all
those problems at school,
all you said was, "He'll be fine."
I was out of my mind with worry.
You couldn't believe
that any child of yours
could possibly have
anything wrong with him.
I was isolated. You
preferred the boys to me.
Do you blame me?
Meg. Meg...
If we go in there, our lives
will never be the same again.
Great! Let's hurry,
let's open the door.
In fact, why don't you stay out here
whingeing and complaining as usual?
I actually want to go to a party.
Come on, Meg!
Meg, please.
F***ing apologise!
Translation
Translate and read this script in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Citation
Use the citation below to add this screenplay to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"Le Week-End" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Sep. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/le_week-end_12350>.
Discuss this script with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In