Some Kind of Beautiful

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It's important you understand.

It's not you, it's me.

What we have is so special.

I love you more than I can say,

but I'm sorry, truly,

because... I f***ed up.

Look...

I owe you an explanation, but honestly,

I don't know where to begin.

Well...

maybe there, at the beginning.

You see, I grew up above a great party.

- Gordon!

- Mommy?

- She's in the kitchen.

- What are you doing?

I'm waiting for your mother to bring out

the hors d'oeuvres. Now bugger off.

After school, I used to love

to listen to my father lecture.

Now the faculty would have me

teach you it was Wordsworth,

Keats, and Coleridge,

who in writing about love,

defined the Romantic age.

And they've told me to ignore Byron.

Mad, bad, and dangerous to know was

how one of his many lovers described him.

He was controversial.

Now did you know,

this esteemed establishment told Byron

that he wasn't allowed to bring

his beloved dogs to college?

So he said screw the rules. He went out

and he bought himself a bear.

Brought it to class on a chained leash.

He tied up to that very pipe just there.

So you see, it was Byron who defined

the Romantic age, which wasn't about love.

It was about going your own way,

defying authority

and following your heart,

sticking it to the man,

and as many women as possible.

Now that... that is Romantic.

And if the faculty

don't like me saying so,

well, they can take this job

and they can shove it.

Because like Mr. Bob Dylan, I ain't gonna

work on Maggie's farm no more.

Dad hated authority,

and everyone loved him for it.

All I wanted was to be just like him.

Forget the critics.

Let them have their opinions.

Let them publish their books and brag

about them at tedious faculty parties,

and let university librarians

file those books away.

The faculty has called this class

"The Romantics and Literary Theory."

I want you all to forget

the second half of this sentence.

There's nothing theoretical

about the romantics.

"Where true love burns,

"desire is love's pure passion.

"It is the reflex

"of our earthly frame...

"that takes its meaning

from the nobler part

and but translates...

the language of the heart."

Wakey, wakey, Professor Haig.

Oh, sh*t. It's Saturday, isn't it?

No, don't look like that.

Are you sure about this?

I mean, I make a terrible

first impression.

Will you relax, Richard?

My dad is gonna love you.

- Really?

- Yeah, you'll have lots to talk about.

Yeah? Corporate hard-nosed raider

meets libidinous lit professor.

- It's a match made in heaven.

- I just want my dad

to meet the wonderful man

I've been dating for the last six months.

- Six months?

- Broke your record, didn't I?

- Crazy.

- "Love is begun by time,

and time qualifies the spark

and fire of it all."

Relax, you're still very sparky, darling.

Really sparky, I mean...

Well, my liege, I must hie me

to Heathrow, thou to London,

- chimes of 6:
00 sharp.

- Sure, of course.

- Sharp.

- Sharp. 6:
00. Chimes.

Sal.

Sal, I've got to go. Why?

Because we've been talking for so long

I've lost track of time, space, and myself.

Hello? Hello? Olivia?

- Not to worry, madame.

- I'll call maintenance.

- We'll fish it out later.

- Are you there? Can you hear me?

- Please don't.

- Hello?

Olivia?

Apa!

There you go. They fishing

your phone out of the drain?

No.

I told them not to.

I am cutting myself off from the world.

Footloose, fancy-free.

Won't that be lonely?

An island unto yourself?

- No.

- Madame?

- Can I have a glass of red wine, please?

- Yes, madame.

No. I would populate the island

with all new people.

People that I actually like.

Yes, but then things change.

The people you thought you'd like...

turn out to be as bad

as the people you left behind.

Soon you're moving to another island,

and so it goes on, ad infinitum.

You know my solution?

Get along with everyone.

Really?

Then why are you here alone

in a hotel bar on a Saturday night?

Well, I certainly

wouldn't keep you waiting.

Exactly. Because you never know

what kind of...

handsome stranger

I might start talking to.

"I do desire we become

better strangers."

Pulling out the Shakespeare.

Is that line successful

for you normally?

I had my moments with it, you know?

Comme ci, comme ca.

Excuse me, sir. Ma'am.

Thank you. You're so kind.

There you go. Back on the grid.

Why is that the most helpful people

are always around

when you do not want any help?

Give him a minute.

He'll be back with a shoemaker.

On the other hand, it's nice to be

looked after every now and then.

The other day I found myself

opening a door for a man.

What happened to chivalry?

- You know why guys open doors for women?

- No.

So we can check out your asses

as you walk by.

Well, you're just full of all these

amazing insights, aren't you?

I can tell within one minute

of meeting someone...

if I want to be with them.

How about me?

Do you want to be with me?

Yes.

For one more minute.

Okay.

You've got a minute.

What are you going to do with it?

Olivia? Oh, my God! Hi!

What are you doing here?

I was in Dublin in the book festival,

and Dad called me and told me

that you were coming,

that he was meeting you here, and that

I should come and surprise you. Surprise!

- He flaked on us, didn't he?

- Yes.

So how did you two make

the connection? Hi!

You're the famous Olivia?

My beautiful sister Olivia.

Olivia, my gorgeous Englishman...

- ...Richard Haig. Thank you.

- You look great.

So me, my dad, and my mom are staying

at this hotel that we always stay at,

and my dad keeps running off saying he has

meetings, or appointments, or whatever.

And finally my mom gets fed up,

and she decides to tail him one day

to one of his "meetings".

Ends up following him

to the other end of the beach

where Livvy is staying with her mom.

And all hell breaks loose.

Our dad is leading a double life,

- like raising two families at the same time.

- What a naughty boy.

Right? Crazy.

Anyway...

I take Kate to the beach, I'm sitting there

and I'm trying to process everything.

What my father did, my poor mom,

and the fact that I have

this little lovely sister.

For me, I mean, I was stoked.

I always wanted a big sister.

And I decide the only way we can protect

each other from this craziness

is if Kate and I make

a pact, no secrets.

Absolute honesty.

From this day forward,

we would tell each other everything.

No matter what, always.

And we have.

And we're, like, best friends.

So, Livvy...

how is your Alan?

What?

Please. Tell us about Alan.

He's great.

Livvy's Alan is the Alan Sloan.

You know, the romance writer?

And Livvy edits his books,

and they're totally in love.

Madly and totally in love

with a romance writer.

- That sounds fascinating.

- Well,

no more than the Romantics professor's

passion for his students, surely.

- Livvy, be nice.

- Yes, Kate.

Would either of you like

a little taste of my steak?

- No thanks.

- It's very tender.

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