Valley of Love

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1

They call this soup?

Sh*t.

Hello?

Chris?

Hello?

The service is awful.

You're breaking up.

What?

I can't hear you!

Hello?

What was that?

This goddamn heat.

Apparently it's 60C in Vegas.

F***...

Did you just get here?

Late last night.

I tried to call you.

- How about a drink?

- I forgot my phone, just a sec.

Which building are you in?

And you?

"A."

What'll it be?

You're looking well.

- Think so?

- Yeah.

I got fat.

Whatever makes you happy.

How could I possibly

be happy like this?

When did we last see each other?

In Venice.

- Positive?

- I think so.

I almost turned around in Vegas.

I did turn around.

And then I came back.

What the hell are we doing here?

This whole thing's insane.

But we said a week.

But we said a week.

I can't.

It's what you said,

you said a week.

A day won't make a difference.

My husband's in Paris,

so are my kids,

we haven't spoken in 2 days.

I can't reach them from the hotel.

Maybe it's for the best.

Suck it up for 1 week.

What's 1 week out of your life?

A lot, in my condition.

Our son is asking this of you.

You're here for him.

Do what he asks.

That's ridiculous.

You didn't go to his funeral.

I haven't been to a funeral

since my dad died.

- It's your son.

- Screw what you think!

You suffer more than me?

Is that what you're implying?

No.

I don't want to argue.

So why are you being such a sh*t?

Look!

What?

Did you see that thing?

Where?

It was running, running... Look!

I don't want to argue either.

I have to leave Thursday

for an important appointment.

We both have to be here,

otherwise it won't work.

Otherwise it won't work?

Exactly.

I'm not crazy.

In Paris, I met a woman,

a well-respected woman,

who advises politicians and execs.

She has a gift. I swear she does.

It may be hard to believe, but...

Does she charge a fee?

Obviously, what does that change?

Everything.

In that case,

a doctor who charges for care,

a dentist, say, is a quack?

A surgeon's a crook

because he gets paid!

That's so stupid.

Let's not have a fight.

Then stop picking one.

Fees, no fees,

you're being ridiculous!

So she's a psychic?

She thinks that...

Yes!

I couldn't reach you.

And you? How are you guys?

Did Tina get off alright?

Did it go well?

Yes.

Yes, of course.

Let me put the other earbud in. Yeah?

Why didn't she bring it?

She should've brought the big one!

A**hole!

What was his problem?

Dunno.

It's spectacular.

Yes.

Ever been here before?

It's been a while.

Has it changed?

Before...

there was no walkway.

You could walk right on the ground.

Here we're...

50m below sea level.

There's a sign, look.

Crazy.

They wrote it over there too!

- That's new.

- It's amazing.

I didn't see that.

Why did he die?

Why?

How should I know?

Michael was a loner.

We hardly saw each other.

I missed out on something with him too.

Like all of us,

we all miss out on something.

He took photos.

Where in San Francisco did he live?

A neighborhood called "The Mission."

He invited me a few times,

but I never went.

F***ing heat.

I'm going back to the car. Come on.

Do you blame me?

What for?

Is it our fault?

Of course it's our fault.

Good one!

We had him, we're responsible.

We have 2 more hours.

Go wait in the car, if you prefer.

You really want to wait 2 hours?

If it has to happen

the way he wrote it would.

But it's only what he wrote!

They're just words, just words...

Why overthink everything?

I'm not overthinking anything.

It's like some kind of pilgrimage.

He wanted us to get lost

in the middle of nowhere.

So we'd talk about him.

And that's where it ends.

He thought we f***ed up his life,

what do I know?

It's his way of punishing us.

He brings us to Death Valley,

so we spend a week together.

A kind of punishment.

This, the scorching heat... punishment!

Or maybe he wants to kill me.

We talk about him, about us, we sweat,

we say we miss him.

I'll play this game till Wednesday,

but Thursday, I'm gone.

I'm gone, it's too hot!

I went 7 years without seeing him.

How can you not see

your child for 7 years?

It was his decision.

I bore that child. I loved him.

How can you stop seeing

a child you brought into the world?

He refused to see the two of us.

Did he talk about me?

We didn't talk.

Did you meet his friend?

You'll have to face facts.

You can't keep running away.

What facts?

Why'd he never want to see me again?

I don't know.

What did you tell him?

- F***...

- What'd you say all those years?

I can hear anything.

Then listen to this:

You sent your son away at 7.

I put him in boarding school.

By 16, he wanted us out of his life.

15 years later, some a**hole informs us

that our son is dead.

That he spent a week here,

and when he got home,

he ate enough pills to end his life.

If those are your "facts"

this is hardly the place.

You're really a bastard.

Yeah.

I'm whatever you want,

an a**hole, a bastard, an alcoholic.

And the list goes on.

- Screw you.

- You, too.

Screw you!

Sh*t, and it's hot!

Are you asleep?

He's not coming.

We have 5 more days.

Four.

I waited for you by the pool.

I can't go back out there.

There are a**holes galore.

I want us to read the letters together.

I don't feel like it!

No, I really don't want to.

Not now.

- I want to hear it in your voice.

- I don't want to.

Please.

I'm Michael. I'm your son.

I'm the child you bore,

and now I'm dead.

I'm dead and you're alive.

As I write this, I'm not sick.

I don't do drugs or belong to any cults.

I'm of sound mind.

I can picture dad's face

as he reads his letter.

I don't like the way he's looking at me.

I've never liked that look.

And you, mom,

we haven't seen

each other much lately, huh?

3 years ago,

I went to that festival to see you.

I was a few feet away,

but I didn't go up to you.

You didn't see me...

but I saw you.

I stood there thinking about

how you were my mother.

How I came out of your stomach,

but it didn't mean much.

When I picture you,

it's always

with your anxious mom expression.

That's how I always knew you:

anxious.

Dad is a totally different story.

I love you, my parents.

I think I've always loved you.

I mean I could never bring myself

to fully hate you.

I won't get into it here,

that's not the point.

I'll cut to the chase, because...

if you do what I ask,

the three of us will meet again.

What I want,

and it's kind of my only dying request,

isn't for you to visit my grave,

or to think about me.

I don't want to get into how or why,

and I think things will be clearer

when we meet.

I'm dead, and that's a fact.

But I'm coming back.

Be in Death Valley on 12 November 2014.

Both of you.

Yes, you read right, you and dad.

It might sound like a bad joke,

but I swear it's the truth.

I swear on your... kids' lives.

My half-brothers and sisters,

and dad's kids.

It's my only shot at coming back.

That's the contract.

You both have to be there.

There's a schedule

with the exact places, dates and times

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