Looking for Eric Page #5

Synopsis: Eric Bishop, a middle-aged postman working for the Manchester sorting office, is going through a dreadful crisis. For starters, his second life companion has not resurfaced although she was released from prison a few months ago. He is left alone with two stepsons to look after, which is no bed of roses since the two teens disrespect him and keep disobeying him. To make matters worse, Ryan, the older boy, fascinated by Zac, a dangerous gangster, has accepted to hide his gun in Eric's house. On the other hand, he is asked by Sam, his student daughter who has a newborn baby, to get back in touch with Lily, his separated wife. Now, Eric left her not long after she gave back to their daughter. As a result Eric panics... Having lost all his bearings, Eric Bishop soliloquizes face to the poster of his idol, another Eric, French footballer Eric Cantona, when the latter appears just like the genie out of Aladdin's lamp. Through a series of aphorisms peculiar to him, the footballer-philosopher w
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Fantasy
Director(s): Ken Loach
Production: IFC Films
  3 wins & 5 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.2
Metacritic:
66
Rotten Tomatoes:
85%
NOT RATED
Year:
2009
116 min
£215,173
Website
409 Views


What if he'd have missed?

You have to trust your teammates.

Always.

If not, we are lost.

It must have been tough on you

when you got banned.

Nine months? The bastards.

That twat got what he deserved.

I had to work hard, you know?

Dig deep inside.

I needed something to fill me up

when I was on my own.

Something to aim for, you know?

It's funny, innit?

Sometimes we forget that

you're just a man.

I'm not a man.

I am Cantona.

So what did you do

to keep yourself going?

I learn the trumpet.

- A trumpet?

- Yeah.

- You're taking the piss now, Eric.

- No. True.

Listen.

What?

Hi, Eric. I'm sorry about this.

I'm sorry to just call on you like this,

but your mobile's switched off.

Me mum's had a bit of a fall

and I'm gonna have to whip her

up to A and E.

Can you take Daisy for a couple of

hours? Just for a couple of hours

- while I get her up there.

- Yeah. Yeah. Of course.

- Can you grab the pram? Can I come in?

- Yeah, sorry, yeah.

- Come in, come in. I wasn't thinking.

- Cheers.

I'm just making tea.

Come straight through to the kitchen.

I've not tidied up in there yet, Lily.

Just come straight through.

So, butler on holiday, Eric?

Or have you sacked him?

Well, you know how it is

with two teenage lads.

- Oh, my God.

- I'll make a start on it anyway.

Hey, hello, baby. Hello.

Sam's gonna have to find somebody else.

- Lily.

- Sorry. Sorry.

Lily, don't run off like this. Lily.

Lily, wait.

Jess? Jess!

- What, man?

- Come here.

- Where's your bike?

- It's in the backyard.

Right, listen. Look after Daisy

for me for a while, right?

- What do you mean?

- Just look after her.

- Dad, I can't look after a baby.

- Yeah, well, learn.

Dad, I don't know how to. What do I do?

She's crying, Dad. Dad!

How's your mum?

My brother took her to hospital.

She's fine.

- She's just badly bruised.

- Look...

I just thought I...

I thought I'd better explain, really.

- Explain?

- Yeah.

Explain?

I was just 21, Eric.

I had your baby.

I loved you to absolute pieces.

You walked out on me.

Never come back.

And you left me to

raise a child on my own.

Do you want me to explain

how I cried myself to sleep every night?

How I fell apart.

And I had to rebuild my life.

Just go, Eric Bishop.

Because I don't care.

She hates you. Right?

Now we are going somewhere.

Well, we're going nowhere.

I mean, she's right,

I've totally flipped.

We're both f***ing grandparents.

What?

Look, I'm getting a bit fed up

with all this bullshit, right.

- Okay. I don't translate.

- Oh, that's fine with me.

Oh, f*** it. What does it mean?

- Oh, come on, tell us.

- No.

Oh, look. You can't just say it

and then just forget about it like that.

I will not be a burden.

Oh, you're not a burden, mate,

you know that.

You're welcome here any time.

There's no way you're a burden.

Just tell us what it means.

The noblest vengeance is to forgive.

She might forgive me?

Sh*t. It's Lily.

"Meet me in the pub.

You know which one. Now. "

F***ing hell.

I told you.

Hi, Lily. Would you like a drink?

- I'll just have half a cider, please.

- Okay.

- Can I have, half a cider, please?

- Yeah, sure.

There you go.

Seems like yesterday.

I know. It's hardly changed, has it?

But we have.

I'm really scared about opening

all this up, you know, Lily.

Just tell me, Eric.

I need to hear this.

- Just tell me.

- Okay.

The first time it happened was at

Sam's christening party. Remember?

At first I thought it was

just too hot, too smoky.

You know, too many people

in the same room.

All that hand-shaking and back-slapping.

"What's your plans now, son?"

"Different ball game now, son. "

On and on and on they went,

again and again.

Then the old man come over.

No back-slapping from him.

Just them hard little eyes

and that clipped tongue of his.

And I saw you in the corner with Sam,

you were feeding her.

I remember 'cause you blew me a kiss.

But for some reason, that made him mad.

And he sort of grabs me on

the back of the neck

like he used to do when I was a kid.

Shoving me backwards and forwards like

a f***ing game show

host with a contestant.

"F***ing kisses?

Let's see how long that lasts.

"You had the brains to go to college.

"Now we'll see what you're made of.

"You've made your bed now, son,

you can lie on it. "

Felt like me head was in a

plastic bag or something.

Then he started prodding me with that

stubby little f***ing finger of his.

I felt like...

I felt like I was floating off.

It was like I was

coming out of me own body.

I was up there stuck on the

f***ing ceiling looking down at meself.

Eric Bishop with Jack Bishop,

ironmonger, prodding me in slow motion.

Hey, where you going?

It was a panic attack, Eric.

They're more common than you think.

I mean, we come across it more or less

all the time at the clinic.

I didn't know what it was.

About half an hour later,

when I'd calmed down, I came back.

I came in and I just put an act on.

And you know what?

I've been doing that ever since.

Putting an act on.

But why couldn't you tell me?

I just blanked it out.

Even from meself.

I was terrified.

I thought I was going f***ing bats

like me Uncle Michael.

Later on, I'd see you feeding Sam.

And I don't know, I can't explain it,

but I just couldn't handle it.

I just couldn't handle it.

It freaked me out.

And then it got to the problem

where I was scared of going home.

Scared of going back to me own gaff.

I just thought you'd gone cold.

- No.

- Regretted the baby.

No way.

I just wanted you to touch me, Eric.

I felt fat, ugly.

My clothes always stinking of milk.

No.

And I remember I had

a right go at you, didn't I?

Oh, God, yeah.

I didn't know I could scream like that.

Neither did I.

Mind you, I don't blame ya.

Staying out, getting drunk.

Off with the lads all the time.

Excuses.

All the lies you told.

I know. It's not so much

the fact that I left you,

which I did, I hold me hands up.

I just couldn't get back.

I just couldn't get back.

Are you all right, Daisy? Yes, you are.

Oh. There you go.

And up again.

- Spleen, all right, mate?

- How are you, mate?

- Are you coming?

- I can't. I've got the baby, haven't I?

- Eric. You all right, mate?

- Hey, Meatballs.

- How's it going? How's it going?

- You all right, mate?

- Okay, yeah.

- Hey, little Dolly.

- Daisy.

- Hey, what do you reckon, Eric?

- Hiya, Dolly.

- Plenty of new blood, eh?

Tell you what.

Going from strength to strength here.

- We're on our way.

- Bring her with us.

You coming or what?

- You can get on and bring kid.

- Put her on the bus.

Hey. Yeah, I'll come,

I'll come one time, yeah.

No, I can't. I've gotta meet Lily,

haven't I?

- You're gonna meet who?

- Lily.

You're joking?

- No, I'm not. I'm not.

- When did this happen?

Hang on, we're only...

We only meet and have a chat when we

swap over the granddaughter, Daisy.

You're a bit of a sly dog, aren't ya?

Nowt to it, mate. Jesus Christ, don't

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Paul Laverty

Paul Laverty (born 1957) is a Scottish lawyer and scriptwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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