身为人母，Little Children

Little Children script

Want to take a walk with me?

...continue to protest the presence of a convicted offender

in their neighborhood. Michelle Betler reports.

Thanks, Rick. I'm standing here on Woodward Court,

the quiet residential street

that has become the focus of controversy

ever since 48-year-old Ronald James McGorvey returned here

after serving a two-year prison sentence

for indecent exposure to a minor.

In the past few days an organization

known as the Committee of Concerned Parents

began distributing these notices throughout the community

warning neighbors of what they call a quote,

"Dangerous predator in our midst."

I don't really like having him that close to my family.

I think it's outrageous. This block has too many children

for a offender to, uh, be moving in the neighborhood.

I-- I don't think it's a good idea.

Makes me very nervous. Makes me a little enraged.

Um, I'd have a problem if I see him on the street.

It's like having an alcoholic work in a bar.

They don't mix. They shouldn't be together.

The conditions of his parole expressly forbid McGorvey

to be within 100 yards of any playground,

school or recreation area where children normally gather.

These conditions seem to be of little comfort

to the many parents whose children play and go to school

in this formerly tranquil community,

and who in the coming days and weeks will be hoping for the best

but preparing for the worst. Rick, back to you.

My husband and I had an actual spiritual experience.

We did this intense spa treatment--

- Oh, come on. - No, listen to me.

It was on our vacation in Cabo and there were eight other couples

and this Mayan woman.

A goddess, just a goddess.

- She had-- - She's due in September.

She thinks she's gonna take three months off,

then it's Christmas, then she'll be back to work the first of the year.

Please.

Six months from now she'll be right here on this bench with us.

My friend Beth said that the way she did it

was to just take him with her every time she went to the bathroom.

- I find that strange. - Yeah, that's what I said to Beth.

It's Oedipal.

What's the rush?

Although I will say, when I was trying to potty-train Christian,

I opened the diaper and it was huge!

Like a grown man.

Smiling politely to mask a familiar feeling of desperation

Sarah reminded herself to think like an anthropologist.

She was a researcher studying the behavior of typical suburban women.

They weren't organic?

She was not a typical suburban woman herself.

Troy, stop that!

Paul and I were having the other night

and I drifted off right in the middle of it.

It happens.

Yeah, I guess. But when I woke up and apologized

he said he hadn't even noticed.

You know what you should do?

Set aside a specific block of time for it.

That's what Louis and I do-- every Tuesday night at 9:00.

"Whether you want to or not" Sarah thought,

her eyes straying over to the play area.

Even at such a tiny playground as this

Lucy didn't interact much with the other children.

Sarah didn't really know why they even bothered coming here,

except that she'd probably go crazy

trapped in the house all day

with this unknowable little person.

Morning snack time was 10:30 on the dot...

Snack time!

...a regimen established and maintained by Mary Ann,

who believed that rigid adherence to a timetable

was not only the key to a healthy marriage,

but to effective parenting as well.

- I'll take this one! - I want that one!

- Can I do it? - Yeah. Ready?

Mommy...

where's my snack?

I'm sorry, honey, Mommy can't find it.

- I forgot the rice cakes. - Poor thing.

- I'm sure it's in here somewhere. - Second time this week.

Well, who's going to keep track of everything?

- Bad mommy. Bad mommy. - Just calm down, please.

No calm down! I want my snack!

All right, you know what? It's--

it's just not here, okay? See for yourself.

Wait!

Troy, honey, give Lucy your goldfish.

No!

Troy Jonathan, give me those goldfish!

But, Mama, they're mine.

No back talk. You can share with your sister.

Troy has goldfish for you. Go sit down.

That's much more than 10.

- That's great. - Look how big I made my lawn.

Thank you, Mary Ann, you're a life saver.

It's nothing. I just hate to see her suffer like that.

Maybe you should make a checklist and tape it to the door

so it's the last thing you see before leaving the house.

That's what I do.

Yeah, thank you. That's-- that's a really helpful suggestion.

You're welcome.

Drink your juice.

Are you the plane again?

Look.

Now you have to act like me.

The prom king.

Oh my God, he's back.

Sarah followed the other women's gazes

over to the entrance of the playground,

eager to finally get a glimpse of the prom king,

the handsome and mysterious young father

who had been a regular at the Walker Street playground

for several weeks this past spring

before abruptly dropping out of sight.

I don't need a rest. I need an airplane ride.

His departure had left a gaping hole in the emotional lives

of Cheryl, Theresa and Mary Ann.

Barely a day went by without one of them speculating wistfully

about the reason for his absence and the likelihood of his return.

Here I come. There's no room for two of us, diesel.

You've done it again.

I hate steam engines.

When I come back I will pinch you with my pinchers.

Yeah? Well, when I come back

I'm gonna ram you with my rammer.

- Ready? - No, you won't.

Every time you win, diesel!

I know.

- Hello! - Mommy's home.

The jester's cap was something that truly disturbed Brad.

All day long the boy ate, played and napped in it.

But the moment his mother stepped in the house he had no more use for it.

As if the entire day up to that point

had been a pointless and somewhat useless charade.

You got some sun today, didn't you?

Did Daddy forget the sunscreen again?

What are you doing?

That's his full name. What's your favorite thing about him?

Um...

I like to come over to his house.

Hmm.

I think I'm gonna finally break down and get a cellphone.

- Really? - Mmm.

Why?

I have no way of reaching you when I'm out with Aaron.

You're done, right?

You've got one.

Don't you think it's strange that I don't?

Yeah, I do. You just never wanted one before.

Yeah, I know.

There's a family plan. We can talk for free.

Okay.

Let's just see where we are at the end of the month.

Yeah?

Are your hands okay?

As was her custom each week night after dinner,

the boy's mother sent Brad down to the municipal library

to study for the bar exam.

But he never quite made it through the door of the building.

Brad had been watching the skateboarders for weeks now,

sometimes for as long as an hour at a stretch.

But he never received the slightest acknowledgement from any of them.

He'd been the same age as these boys when his mother died.

- You do that! - No way!

- Nice. - Hey, that was nice, dude!

"I must have been like this," Brad sometimes thought.

"I must have been one of them."

Awful.

He should be castrated.

Quick and clean, just chop it off.

Then you wouldn't have to worry about notifying the neighbors.

You know what else you should do?

Nail his penis above the entrance to the elementary school.

You know, as a warning to other perverts.

You think this is funny?

I just can't believe you want to castrate a man for indecent exposure.

My brother used to expose himself when--

when we were teenagers. He'd do it in my bedroom,

he'd do it in the dining room, he'd do it in the back seat of a car.

He'd always figure out a way to do it so that nobody could see him except me.

Didn't you tell anyone?

No, I didn't want to get him in trouble.

Maybe he should be castrated.

It's not the same thing. He wasn't doing it to strangers.

Oh my God, there he is.

After all this time, two days in a row.

Where's the fire?

Maybe he needed a vacation.

From what?

From being the prom king.

It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it.

- Close it? - Close it.

Close the gate. There you go.

- It's open. - It's all right.

- Somebody else will close it. - Are we practicing?

Are we playing up on the swings?

Swing time!

What's he do for a living?

We've never actually spoken to him.

Really?

We don't even know his name.

I thought you guys said he was a regular here.

- It was awkward. - He made us nervous.

You had to think about what you were gonna wear in the morning.

You know, put on makeup. It was exhausting.

Mommy, push me!

Okay. I'll be right there.

Wait!

Five bucks if you get his phone number.

How old is she?

Lucy,

tell the nice boy how old you are.

I'm three.

My grandma lives in New Jersey.

She doesn't have a swim pool.

Do you like to swim?

I don't like sharks. They eat you up.

Don't listen to him.

We go to the town pool almost every day.

- I'm Brad, by the way. - Sarah.

You guys come here a lot?

No, just the last few weeks.

I usually go to the one over on Harris,

with the big wood things, you know, and the slide across.

Yeah, we actually rent a house right around the corner

from there on Ashforth.

That ice cream truck never leaves. Such a nightmare.

Yeah, tell me about it.

You know, you're the first person here who's ever talked to me.

You make 'em nervous.

Oh, right.

I guess they don't see too many fathers here during the weekdays.

You don't have to be polite. Go ahead and ask.

What?

You know, what the person who wears the pants in the family does for a living.

Oh. All right, what does your wife do?

- She makes documentaries. - Oh, wow.

- Like Michael Moore? - Uh, like PBS.

Oh.

Well, I think it's admirable you're here.

There's no reason fathers can't be primary caregivers.

I finished law school two years ago,

but I can't seem to pass the bar exam. Failed it twice now.

Maybe you just don't want to be a lawyer.

I'll take the test one more time.

If I mess up now

I'll just have to find something else to do with my life.

- Right, buddy? - Right.

Sarah was shocked by how Brad delivered this confession,

with no apparent sense of being in the least bit embarrassed by his failure.

Most men weren't like this.

Her husband Richard certainly wasn't.

She wondered if Brad was always this forthcoming.

If anything, he seemed a little lonely,

all too ready to open his heart at the slightest sign of interest,

like a lot of young mothers she knew.

I couldn't help noticing your stroller.

Do you have another child?

No, just Aaron. Got that at a yard sale.

Extra seat comes in handy for the bear, though.

Lucy refuses to go in a stroller or a car seat.

We have to walk everywhere. It takes us half an hour to go three blocks,

unless I carry her.

- Daddy, I'm finished. - Are you sure? We just got here.

I'm finished right now.

Okay. All right, here we go.

Ready? One, two, three.

- Oops. - Oh, hold on for a second.

- There, thank you. - Are you okay?

No problem.

It was then while watching Brad kneel down at his son's feet

that Sarah found herself gripped by an unexpected pang of sadness.

"Don't go," she thought.

"Don't leave me here with the others."

- It was nice talking to you. - Same here.

Wait! Um...

Come here. Just...

come here.

You see those women over there?

Just, yeah, don't-- don't look.

You know what they call you?

What?

The prom king.

Oh God, really?

Yeah, they mean it as a compliment.

You're a big character in their fantasy lives.

Wow.

Um, so one of them bet me $5 I couldn't get your phone number.

Five bucks, huh?

Yeah.

Could we split it 50-50?

It could be arranged.

It doesn't have to be your real number.

Oh, well, you know, in that case, sure. You got a pen?

Great. Oh shit, no I-- um, no I don't.

- Uh... - Well...

No wait, just-- wait.

You know what'd really be funny?

If you gave me a hug.

- You think? - Yeah.

- Yeah. - All right, come here.

Oh my God.

Do you want to really freak them out?

Yeah.

Who's gonna talk in there?

- Oh my God! - Troy!

- Lucy! - Isabelle!

Isabelle! Come here, Isabelle. Okay, we have to go.

- Isabelle! - Troy!

- I think that worked. - Yeah, I think so.

- Um, well, it was nice meeting you. - Yeah.

It's okay, yeah. We're gonna go.

- It's all right. - Lucy?

We're gonna go home.

Okay, here we go, good girl.

Good girl.

I'm sure your daughter found that very educational.

His name is Brad. He's a lawyer

and he's really very nice.

For the past few days Sarah hadn't been able

to concentrate on anything but the prom king

and the curious thing that had happened

between them on the playground.

She didn't feel shame or guilt,

only a sense of profound disorientation,

as if she had been kidnapped by aliens

then released unharmed a few hours later.

As he had so often in recent days,

Brad mentally reenacted the kiss by the swing set.

He still couldn't believe it had really happened.

And with all those women and children watching.

Troy! Troy!

Aaron had been particularly curious about what he'd seen.

Why you hugging that lady?

Well, that's what I'm trying to show you with Bozo.

Sometimes it's a game that adults play to show that they're friends.

You say, "Hi, I'm your friend."

Aaron was skeptical.

They returned to the playground the following morning,

but no one was there.

Sarah hadn't shown up at the town pool either,

though Brad remembered telling her that he and Aaron

could be found there most afternoons.

It didn't seem to matter that Sarah wasn't his type,

wasn't even that pretty-- at least not compared to Kathy,

who had long legs and lustrous hair

and perfect breasts.

Sarah was short, boyish,

and had eyebrows that were thicker than Brad thought necessary.

But even so, she'd walked into his arms that day

as if she were fulfilling a secret wish

he hadn't remembered making.

Hey, pervert!

Yeah, you, you pervert!

You like little boys, do you?

- Larry? - Yes, it's ing Larry!

Jesus, man, don't even joke about that.

What are you doing? Are you busy?

Uh, actually I'm supposed to be studying.

Taking the bar exam next month.

I thought you did that last year.

Yeah. See how well I did?

I got a better idea. Get in.

Come on. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.

Do you mind holding these? Try to keep them nice.

Oh, uh...

are you, uh, part of the committee?

I am the committee.

Wow.

That's-- that's quite a commitment.

Yeah.

Aren't you full time on the force already?

Yeah, I'm-- I'm taking a little time off.

You know what they should do to this bastard?

Just castrate him. You know, pfft!

Get it over with, right?

Yeah.

You look good.

You've been, uh, working out?

Uh, just push-ups, crunches...

a little light running.

The guys are gonna love this.

What guys?

Wow, this is something.

Yeah, it's pretty, but doesn't have a lot of give.

It's like playing on cement.

Hey, hold on a second.

Duane, I've really gotta talk to you about the committee.

I mean, it would mean a lot to have your support on this thing.

I told you already, Larry, none of us are gonna get involved in that shit.

We're here to play ball. If that's your thing, fine, but leave us out of it.

Okay okay, fine. I get it, I get it, I get it. Guys!

Bring it in!

Come on, come on, hustle up!

I want you all to meet our new quarterback.

- Quarterback? - Guy better not be a pussy.

He played in college.

Uh, I'm a little behind the curve.

Who are you guys?

- We're the Guardians! - We're cops.

Welcome to the Tri-County touch football night league.

Let's just work on some simple pass patterns.

Brad waited for his good sense to kick in.

There were lots of excuses available to him.

But it felt so good to be standing here beneath the bright lights.

And he was filled with a feeling similar to the one

he'd had right before kissing Sarah,

like his world had cracked open

to reveal a thrilling new possibility.

Okay, just let me warm up a little.

All right! Let's go!

Set, hut!

What the ?

That's a late hit!

This ain't Pop Warner, ace.

You ing faggot. You call yourself a quarterback?

Oh, this isn't me.

What are you doing?

What is that? What's that for?

I want the scumbag to know I'm keeping an eye on him.

Oh, shit. Oh, uh...

I don't think we want to be here, Larry.

It's not a question of want.

Joanie thinks I'm obsessed with this creep.

She thinks if I had a job, I wouldn't be driving past his house

five, six times a day. But you know what?

I kinda think this is my job.

There's a roll of duct tape in the glove compartment.

Would you grab it for me?

Honey?

Hi!

Where were you?

Oh my God. What happened?

I-- I-- I joined this group.

The Committee for Concerned Parents.

We're distributing flyers about that creep on Woodward Court.

These guys play a little touch football after.

This late?

Uh, it's a night league.

So it's gonna be a regular thing?

No no no no, just once a week,

after I'm done studying at the library.

Is that okay?

Uh, who are the guys?

You remember Larry Hedges?

The guy from the Sprinkler Park with the twins?

It's his organization.

I thought you didn't like him.

He's okay.

This committee makes a lot of sense. I mean it's--

it's pretty scary having a weirdo like that

living right by the playground.

Mmm. I know.

I hate to even think about it.

Guess you'd better take a shower.

Brad showered quickly, sensing a rare opportunity

to have with his wife.

"This is just what I need," he thought.

"Something to take my mind off that kiss."

Please don't.

Come on, Kathy, we've been through this before.

He needs to start sleeping by himself.

I know. He looks so comfy.

Well, he'll be just as comfy in his own bed.

I just miss him so much.

I'm getting a little tired waking up with his foot in my face.

It's a perfect foot.

Look at him. Just look at him.

He's a handsome devil.

Mmm, he's perfect.

Good night.

Number 2 Hillcrest

was an impressive piece of real estate.

Even so, Sarah was ambivalent

about the house she occupied.

She wasn't involved with its purchase or design.

The place was a hand-me-down of sorts from Richard's mother.

And the furnishings were leftovers from his first marriage.

By the time Sarah arrived here

Richard wasn't all that interested in redecorating.

And so she decided to leave it as it was,

with the exception of a single room that she staked out for her own

and gradually began to populate it

with the remnants of her former self.

From the moment Lucy was born

Sarah had refused to hire someone for child care.

Read me a story?

In a minute, okay?

- Can I sit on your lap? - I said in a minute!

Go finish your program, go.

She wasn't exactly sure why she had taken this stance.

The truth was she spent most afternoons marking time,

waiting desperately for the moment when her husband returned from work

and she could finally have a moment to herself.

But even this was not something she could rely on.

You're ready to roll?

Could you wait a few minutes?

I'm sorry, Richard's barricaded in the upstairs office

- finishing some stuff for work. - No problem.

I've got a little surprise for someone anyway.

She's a terror at night. I couldn't get her to nap again.

- Oh, the poor thing. - Poor mom is more like it.

Hello.

Is there a cute little girl in the house?

Oh, my goodness!

What--

what have I found?

- A beanie. - Oh, a beanie.

Jean, you didn't need to do that.

Oh, this little dog needed a girl to take care of him.

And I know a little girl who needed a dog.

Let me see.

Sarah was beginning to get angry.

Her evening fitness walk was the one thing

she looked forward to all day, and Richard knew this.

But if there was one thing life had taught Richard,

it was that it was ridiculous

to be at war with your own desires.

He could easily imagine what people would say if they could see him now--

Exactly the same thing they'd say if someone had told them

that Ray from next door was a transvestite,

or that Ted from work

had anonymous gay at highway rest stops.

"But we want what we want," Richard thought,

"and there's not much we can do about it."

He had stumbled on the site 11 months ago

while doing research for a consulting firm.

His office door was wide open.

But he clicked on the link anyway.

He was deeply engrossed in his discovery

when Ted knocked on his door.

I'm taking lunch orders. You want something?

Casually, but with great haste

Richard banished Slutty Kay from his screen...

Uh, yeah, I'll have a chicken Caesar.

...and reentered the flow of an ordinary day.

It wasn't until several months later

that Richard gave the slightest thought to the site he had stumbled upon.

Do you need me for anything else?

Uh, no no, you can head home.

I'm just gonna catch up on some e-mail.

Well, don't stay too late. Your dinner will get cold.

Lately Slutty Kay had become a problem.

He thought about her far too often,

and spent hours studying

the thousands of photographs available to him.

Some of Kay's practices struck him as bizarre,

even off-putting.

She had a thing about kitchen utensils,

spatulas, and dressing up like a little girl

and playing with balloons.

But who was Richard to judge?

Oh, that's it.

Though as close as Richard sometimes felt to Slutty Kay,

as much as he believed that he knew her,

he could never get past the uncomfortable fact

that she existed for him solely as a digital image.

The panties were an attempt to solve this problem.

Maybe a sniff or two would hurry things along,

so he could get back downstairs to his real life,

where his wife was waiting for him

her impatience increasing by the minute.

What are you doing?

Are you almost finished there? 'Cause I'd really like to go for my walk?

- You could have knocked. - I did!

We need to talk.

You're awfully quiet this evening.

- Everything okay? - What?

Yeah.

You'll have to walk without me tomorrow night.

I've got a book group meeting.

Okay.

You're sure everything's all right?

Yeah, sorry.

I guess I'm just a little tired.

So what are you reading?

"Crime and Punishment."

Wow. That's pretty highbrow for a book group.

Well, we have some very stimulating discussions.

You should come next month. We're doing "Madame Bovary."

You could be my little sister.

Little sister?

We're trying to get younger women involved.

We call them our little sisters.

I don't know, Jean.

I read "Madame Bovary" in grad school.

It's a pretty misogynist text.

Well, that's an interesting perspective.

- You should come. - Let me think about it.

Oh, would you excuse me, Jean?

Someone's at my door. I'll call you, okay?

Hi!

Hi!

Wow, God,

this is a surprise.

I haven't seen you since--

I-- I hope you don't mind. Your husband said you'd be back any minute.

Oh, no, not at all.

It's good to see you.

God, um, can I get you some tea or something?

I can only stay a minute. I just came to warn you.

- You know that guy, the pervert? - Uh-huh.

He's been riding his bike near the playground

- checking out the kids. - Oh, God.

Oh, God, do the police know?

Nothing they can do. He's not breaking any laws.

I guess they're just waiting for him to kill someone.

I just thought you should know.

Thanks, that's nice of you.

Let me get you some tea.

I'm sorry. I-- I don't think it's a good idea.

I didn't mean to kiss him.

I don't even know how it happened.

I'd better go. Mike's gonna worry.

You wanna talk?

I'm tired.

Hello.

Hey.

No, he's still sleeping.

Yeah, I'm, uh, I'm going through it right now.

No, I guess I don't need them.

Okay.

All right, bye.

H-hi.

H-hello?

Yes, I'd like to place an order.

Pierce, Sarah, Mrs.

Um...

it's the red bathing suit on page 29.

The hide-your-tummy halter neck.

Uh, I'm size...

10, eight? I mean, I think.

E-eight.

You want to go in the pool?

You do?

One, two.

Daddy, can I go in the pool now?

In a minute, okay?

Okay.

There you go.

Mommy, I have to go pee-pee.

Just go in the pool.

Huh-uh, I want to go to the bathroom.

Really?

Okay, come on.

Okay, ready?

There.

Swing down.

Hey, I'm drumming it.

Oh.

Wow.

- It's you. - Yeah, hey.

- Hi! - Okay.

I hope you don't mind. Lucy has sensitive skin.

She's better off in the shade.

Oh no, not at all.

It's nice to see you again.

Yeah, you too.

I'm sorry, would you get my back?

Um... okay, sure.

Thanks.

Right.

# Who is knocking on the door? #

- Thanks a lot. - # Knocking on the door #

# Knocking on the door #

- # Who is knocking on the door? # - It's okay, just...

# A way, hey hey. #

Lucy, say hi to the little boy from the playground.

Hi.

You remember him?

The pool became a ritual.

I was trying to think. I just didn't know the way.

- Oh oh, okay. - I'm here, I'm here.

We have the creature and we have flower.

Right.

Day after day they sat together in the shade

getting to know each other.

This needs mustard.

- Mustard? - Yeah.

Having little choice in the matter,

Aaron and Lucy formed a fragile friendship.

Aw, that's perfect.

Sometimes Brad and Sarah traded offspring.

Mama said, "What Papa told you was right.

It's not a good idea to talk to strangers."

It was the most fun Sarah had had in years.

But there was always that longing to touch,

to be touched by Brad.

And, as badly as she wanted this,

she wanted just as badly to hold on to the innocent public life

they'd made for themselves out in the open.

So she accepted the trade--

the melancholy handshake at 4:00

in exchange for this little patch of grass,

some sunscreen and companionship.

One more happy day at the pool.

Okay, no pasta for dinner, okay?

We eat way too much pasta around here.

I thought you liked my pasta.

No, I do. That's the problem.

Pretty soon I can sell advertising space on my ass.

No, that's okay. I've got to go.

I've got a 9:00 at Taps.

I thought you were already editing.

Yeah, so did I. It was just--

there's something in this family's story that really got to me.

The father was...

K-I-L-L-E-D

in a, um, mortar attack,

and, um, left behind a little boy.

I was talking to the mother the other day on the phone,

and she was saying she didn't know what she was going to do next Christmas.

Jeez, I bet.

No, it wasn't like that. It was more...

she was wondering, should she keep this tradition with her son

that began with the boy's father.

And she was saying he had this knack

for requesting odd Christmas gifts--

scuba gear one year

and rappelling gear the next.

She said he wasn't afraid to try anything.

Trying new things made him feel...

more alive.

I've got to go. See you later.

Patch one of your best and then we'll patch both of them.

Okay?

Hey, I got something.

Hot enough for you?

Yeah.

Yeah, it's so humid.

I've got football practice tonight.

Be like playing in a sauna.

Watch out for that Italian guy.

What's his name?

Corrente?

Yeah.

Remember what happened to your knee last week?

You should be careful, Brad.

I'll be careful.

Promise?

Yeah. Yeah, I promise.

Weatherman said scattered showers.

I don't see scattered showers.

Mom, could I please have some money for a snack?

No, sweetheart. You guys just had a snack. No.

Oh, okay.

All they want is sugar.

Constantly.

Oh, no.

It's him.

Oh, Jesus.

Oh my God, it's him.

He's in the pool.

Oh my God!

Jacob, get out of the pool now!

Oh my God. That's him.

- Get away from that man. - Why is everybody running to the pool?

Brooke? Jake?

Dale, you'd better get over here.

Get out of the pool!

Where's your sister?

Why'd we have to get out, Mom?

I'm scared.

- What did he do? - What's going on?

I'm scared.

Um, why the police is here?

Um, there's a man over there who doesn't have a ticket to get in,

so they're asking him to go home.

Mr. McGorvey. Mr. McGorvey.

It'd be wise for you to get out of the pool at this time.

Did that man go near you?

You're sure he didn't touch you?

Step out of the pool, sir.

I was only trying to cool off.

All right, let's go.

You can go back in the pool.

Bear with us, please. You know what that sounds means.

Let's go. Out of the pool. We're closing her up. Let's go.

Exit the pool and vacate the grounds immediately.

Okay, I'll see you tomorrow.

You're going to carry her? Come on, put her in the stroller.

No, she won't do the stroller.

- Really? - No, she will not do this.

Lucy, would you like to go in the stroller?

Can I interest you in a stroller? It appears she'd like a stroller.

It's out of your way.

No, it's fine. You don't mind, do you, Aaron?

Run!

You'd better come inside. You can't walk home in this.

Oh!

- You can put him down in Lucy's room. - Okay.

This is amazing.

She never naps.

Well, he'll be out for the next two hours.

We'll have to get him out of that nightgown, though,

before he wakes up or he'll never forgive me.

Nice place.

- You think so? - Yeah.

Well, Richard does all right for himself.

What's he do, again?

Lies. Um, please have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.

Better not, I might ruin your furniture.

I'll put these things in the dryer and get us some towels.

Okay.

Oh, God!

Oh, God!

Do you feel bad about this?

No, I don't.

I do.  www.130q.com

I feel really bad.

Okay.

Son?

Son?

Be well.

May knew it wasn't natural

for a grown man to be living with his mother.

No hobbies, no diversions.

It was like he was still in prison.

What he needed was a girlfriend,

and May intended to help him find one.

There are four whole columns of lonely women here,

and only a handful of men. The odds are on our side.

Why wouldn't one of these women want

to meet a nice person like you?

I'm not a nice person.

You did a bad thing.

But that doesn't mean you're a bad person.

I have a psychoual disorder.

You're better now.

They wouldn't have let you out if you weren't.

They let me out because they had to.

Well, maybe if you found

a girlfriend closer to your own age

you wouldn't have the bad urges so often.

I don't want a girlfriend my own age, Mommy.

I wish I did.

What are you going to do when I'm gone?

Who's going to take care of you?

What's the matter, Mommy?

Are you sick or something?

I'm an old woman. I'm not going to live forever,

Who's going to cook for you?

Who's going to wash the dishes?

I can wash the dishes,

You've never washed a dish in your life.

I could do it if I had to. I'm not a retard.

No, you're not.

You're a miracle, Ronnie.

We're all miracles.

You know why?

Because as humans,

everyday we go about our business,

and all that time

we know, we all know

that the things we love,

the people we love...

at any time, it can all be taken away.

We live knowing that

and we keep going anyway.

Animals don't do that.

Now I'm not asking you to get married, Ronnie.

I'm just saying put an ad in the paper, see what happens.

Fine. I'll do it if it will make you happy.

But just one date. All right?

You have a nice smile, why don't we start with that?

What else?

You always eat what I put in front of you. You never complain.

What else?

You're trying to get back in shape.

You exercise.

Wait right there, young man.

If you're going out for some exercise,

you can post this now.

Hmm.

Mmm.

Come on.

Let's do it again.

All right.

God, it's hot as hell up here.

What's wrong with the laundry room?

No mattress.

Come on. Lie down.

You're nervous, aren't you?

What? What do you mean?

The game.

Don't worry. You'll be great tonight.

I don't know. I haven't played in 10 years.

It used to be my whole life.

Then when I stopped, I just...

stopped. I didn't even miss it.

Now that I'm playing again, I...

feel I--

I don't know.

You feel alive.

Yeah.

That's good.

That's how you're supposed to feel.

You're right.

I guess it's just been awhile.

Yeah.

Shake.

- Call it. - Heads.

Heads it is.

Ready?

- Hello? - Hi, Mom. Did I wake you?

Oh, no honey. Is everything okay?

Yeah, I'm fine.

You don't sound fine.

No, there's nothing wrong. I just wanted to say hi.

Well, hi.

Hi.

So how's my little guy?

He's great. He's sleeping right here next to me.

He's such a cutie.

So where's Brad?

Brad's out.

Oh, I'm surprised the library stays open this late.

Well, he's not at the library.

He's playing football with some buddies.

Oh, honey. Do you remember when your father took up golf?

He's not like dad.

Honey, they're all the same.

Well, he's not.

You work so hard.

Now listen...

I could keep an eye on the boys when you're at work;

make sure they're staying out of trouble.

- Do you want me to come up for a visit? - No no, Mom, don't come.

Well, honey, I worry about you kids.

Now what are you going to do if he fails the test again?

He's not going to fail the test.

Oh, honey, that's what you said last time.

Now how are you doing for money?

We're fine.

I'm going to send you a little extra this month.

- Mom... - Honey, it's no burden.

- Mom... Mom, please. - I'm happy to help.

Aw, shit.

Although the Guardians lost by 26 points,

Brad felt oddly exhilarated in the bar after the game.

He could feel a new respect in the way the cops looked at him.

- What you drinking, buddy? - He wasn't on probation anymore.

He was a member of the team.

Ice and Advil.

If all else fails, you can always see the team physician,

Dr. Daniels. All his friends call him Jack.

- To the good doctor. - Hear, hear.

- Larry? Here, you go Larry. - Oh, thanks.

Let me just grab a chair.

Oh, we just gave you a shot. We just gave you a shot.

I had no business being on that field tonight.

I let you down.

I let the whole team down.

I'm slow and I'm fat.

I let that guy piss all over me.

Come on. That guy was offsides the whole night.

Joanie left me.

Took the kids and went to her mother's.

Jesus, Larry, that's a tough break.

Oh, I deserved it.

Me and my big mouth.

I called her a ing whore,

right in front of the kids.

Why did you do that?

Huh, I don't know.

I was in a bad mood or something.

Now I'm ed.

Hey, did you hear about the pervert?

He went swimming at the town pool.

- What? - Yeah.

- Who told you that? - Nobody. I saw it myself.

- The town pool? - Yeah, during the heatwave.

- The town pool? - Yep.

Th-that place is crawling with kids.

I mean, my boys go there.

Yeah, well, you know what, it was just that one time.

Um, he-- he won't be back. The cops came.

Cops? What cops? Anyone from the team?

Uh, no.

You sure?

- Anyone from the team show up there? - No no.

- Yes or no! - I'm saying no.

- No, nobody... - Jesus Christ,

that little ing weasel.

Larry, slow down.

Slow down, Larry!

- What now? - Good evening, Mrs. McGorvey.

We were wondering if Ronnie was home.

You leave him alone.

We just want a little moment of his time. Just a little chat.

This is my house. I pay the mortgage,

and I say who is and isn't--

Yoo-hoo, Ronnie!

- Get your perverted ass down here now. - I'm calling the police.

I hear they're well-disposed to child molesters.

It's okay, Mommy. Can I help you, gentlemen?

Ronnie, you go on upstairs.

Larry, let him go. I think he gets the point. We can go home now.

You listen to me, you little piece of shit.

You stay the away from the town pool.

- You hear me? - You're a bully!

My Ronnie would never do what he did.

That poor child at the mall--

what you did to him.

Larry?

Larry?

Why did she say that?

Oh, don't pretend you don't know about me.

Everybody knows. Everybody!

Look, h-honestly, I-- I don't know anything.

I remember hearing something...

a few years ago when we first moved here, but--

something about a-- a shooting

at the mall.

That's-- that's it. That's all.

I didn't even know you then.

I'm sorry.

Sorry.

It's okay.

Dispatch said there was a shooter loose at the mall.

It was 10 minutes from the end of my shift.

10 minutes and there would have been someone else.

I can still see that boy's face staring up at me.

Yeah, but-- but it was an accident.

You were trying to stop a guy,

and the-- the boy g-got caught

in the crossfire, right?

No, I panicked.

There was no shooter.

Just the boy.

Antoine Harris was his name.

He was big for his age, only 13 years old.

He was a good kid. Thought it was a joke,

waving around an air gun at his friend

in the Big 5.

They were acting out some scene from some movie they liked.

Shop girl saw it from across the way,

called 911.

Jesus, that's terrible.

That...

well, you didn't know.

It could have been real.

But it wasn't.

His parents...

uh, his parents--

I had to...

I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress syndrome

by three different psychiatrists.

That's why I retired.

I couldn't do the job anymore.

- So why don't you do something else? - Like what?

Drive a forklift at Costco?

Maybe you could go back to school.

I loved my job.

I don't wanna do anything else.

You ever think about the term "homeland security"?

I mean, really think about it?

The day that you found out

that your father had been killed in Iraq,

do you remember that day?

Can you talk about that?

You feel comfortable talking about that?

After the men came

to tell my mom,

I cried,

but she didn't.

She just went up to her room

and grabbed the pillows off the bed,

cut the tops off of them with a pair scissors.

There were feathers all over the place.

That must have really frightened you.

No, she was trying to find the crown.

The crown?

The crown you leave in your pillow

when you've slept on it for a long time.

My--

my father had two crowns.

Stop there.

- You hungry? - No.

Mind if I get some lunch?

No, go ahead.

Brad?

Honey, you there?

Pick up. I know you're there.

It's Aaron's nap time.

Okay, I guess you guys are out somewhere.

Um...

I love you both.

Bye.

I certainly did.

Here we go.

I don't know, Jean. I don't think I'm up for this.

Well, now don't be silly.

- It'll be fun. - Really?

You're not the only little sister here tonight.

- Oh, that's good. - Oh!

Hi, would you like a glass?

Did anybody like this book? Because I really just hated it.

It's so depressing.

She cheats on her husband with two different guys,

wastes all his money, then kills herself with rat poison?

Do I really need to read this?

Well, there is a lot of good descriptive writing.

It's supposed to be depressing.

It's a tragedy.

Madame Bovary was undone by a tragic flaw.

What's her flaw?

Blindness. She didn't see

that the men were just using her.

She just wants a little romance in her life.

- You can't blame her for that. - It's about women's choices.

Back then, a woman didn't have a lot of choices.

You could be a nun or a wife.

- That's all there was. - Or a prostitute.

She had a choice.

She had a choice not to cheat on her husband.

I found it refreshing to read about a woman

reclaiming her uality.

Is that a nice way of saying she's a slut?

Madame Bovary's not a slut.

She's one of the great characters in Western literature.

I was a little puzzled by some of the ual references.

Look, like this one.

Um...

"He abandoned every last shred

of restraint and consideration.

He turned her into something compliant,

something corrupt."

Does anyone know what that means?

It means she's a slut.

Is he tying her up

or something?

Anal .

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Did everyone get that but me?

Let's set that aside for now.

I'm really eager to hear what

our other little sister has to say.

I'm not sure if you know this, but Sarah has a Ph.D

in English lit.

Just a masters.

I never wrote my dissertation.

Well, you still have a lot more expertise

than the rest of us.

I think I understand your feelings about this book.

I used to have some problems with it myself.

When I read it in grad school,

Madame Bovary just seemed like a fool.

She marries the wrong man,

makes one foolish mistake after another.

But when I read it this time, I just fell in love with her.

She's trapped.

She has a choice. She can either accept a life of misery

or she can struggle against it.

And she chooses to struggle.

Some struggle-- hop into bed

with every guy who says hello.

Well, she fails in the end, but there's something beautiful

and even heroic in her rebellion.

My professors would kill me for even thinking this,

but...

in her own strange way,

Emma Bovary is a feminist.

Oh, that's nice.

So now cheating on your husband makes you a feminist?

No no no.

It's not the cheating. It's the hunger.

The hunger for an alternative,

and the refusal to accept a life of unhappiness.

Maybe I didn't understand the book.

She just looks so pathetic.

Is she pretty?

Who?

Your wife.

Degrading yourself for nothing.

It's a simple question.

She's pretty, okay? Do we have to talk about this now?

I mean, did she really think a man like that was gonna run away with her?

Possibly.

How pretty is she?

A knockout.

Beauty's overrated, Sarah.

Brad had meant this to be comforting.

But at 3:00 in the morning, it had precisely the opposite effect.

He had a beautiful wife,

a knockout, and she was sleeping beside him right now.

Only someone who took his own beauty for granted

would have been able to say something so stupid

and with a straight face.

Weekends were difficult for Sarah.

48-hour prison stretches

separating one happy blur of weekdays

from the rest.

I'm going to the ocean.

- You are? - I'm going to the ocean.

Is he doing his ocean dance?

Sarah sometimes let herself be carried away by fantasies

of a future very different from the life she was living now,

in which she and Brad were free to love each other

in broad daylight;

where they had no one to answer to

but each other.

It could happen, she thought. It had to,

because she wasn't sure she could keep living like this

for very much longer.

Open your mouth again.

No, I don't want to.

May your mouth be open.

May your mouth.

This is coming into your mouth.

Open your mouth, little fishy.

Hungry, hungry.

Little fishy is not hungry?

You okay?

Yeah, fine.

- How about you? - Great.

So how was your weekend?

You really wanna know? It sucked.

How was yours?

Terrible.

- Really? - Yeah.

Yeah, we went to the beach and all Kathy and I did

was argue the whole time.

Oh, you did?

Yeah, it was our annual argument

over taking the bar exam,

like our whole life depends on it.

Get it over with. You'll feel better.

It's this whole thing.

Gotta take a train on Wednesday.

It's a two-day ordeal.

I'm not even gonna pass.

- You'll be fine. - No.

No, I won't.

I haven't cracked a book all summer.

I missed you.

I missed you, too.

Don't-- don't do it.

- What? - The test.

- Oh. - Blow it off.

We should go somewhere,

just for a night, you know?

Richard's out of town till Friday,

and I'm sure I can get a sitter for Lucy.

No, I can't do that.

I gotta take the test.

That's good.

- Looks good? - Yeah.

Well, I have a good feeling about this whole thing.

In fact, I think I'm gonna go buy a bottle of champagne

and put it in the fridge, and we can open it to celebrate

when we get the good news.

Don't get your hopes up.

We've been through this before.

Huh-uh. This time's gonna be different.

I can feel it.

Can you believe it? This is our first date.

Like a date, you know, without the kids, I mean.

How was Lucy? Did she cry or anything?

No, are you kidding?

With Jean there, she just about shoved me out the door.

I thought we could make something really beautiful.

I have so many things here.

We could make...

a picture frame.

Or a jewelry box.

Or a hat.

Something for my mommy.

Okay.

- Stop it, stop it. - No, Ronnie.

Ron-- Ron-- Ronnie, just hold on.

Now there.

You look handsome. She won't be disappointed.

Wait'll she hears about my criminal record.

I don't think you need to get into that just yet.

Why don't you stick to small talk?

What if someone recognizes me?

That's highly unlikely. I made the dinner reservation

at a restaurant over in Haverhill.

Sheila.

- Sheila. - Yeah.

Something wrong with the food?

No, it's fine.

Back at the house you mentioned you were on medication.

- What kind? - All kinds.

Mostly psychotropic.

So you had some kind of a breakdown?

Mm-hmm, my junior year in college.

You were that young?

What happened?

I don't really know.

Well, nervous breakdowns don't just come out of nowhere.

Something must have caused it.

I guess.

But I was fine before I left for college.

I don't know. Maybe it was the stress

of being on my own.

Maybe it's a chemical imbalance in my brain.

Every psychiatrist I go to has a different opinion.

This one guy, Dr. Faris,

he said I must have been ually abused as a child.

When I told him I wasn't,

he said I must be repressing the memory.

Right, um, so what happened after that?

Did you drop out of school?

Not right away.

My mother wanted me to go

to the campus counseling center.

And they wanted the problem fixed, like I could just

snap my fingers and everything would be okay again.

Yeah, I know all about that.

You do?

Yes, I do.

So they said I could leave school

and get married and have lots of kids like my sisters,

and I can't take care of kids.

I can't even take care of myself

most of the time. Besides, who's gonna marry me?

You're not so bad.

What?

You're-- you're not so bad.

I haven't had a real boyfriend in six years,

not since my second breakdown.

I had this thing happen on a Greyhound bus.

- I was-- - Do you want me to wrap that up?

Oh, no, thank you.

No, wrap it up, please. I'll take it home.

Folks gonna want dessert?

What do you say, Sheila? You wanna share something sweet?

Let's make a little stop.

Take the next left.

Turn off the lights.

I had a nice time tonight.

The last guy I went out with,

you know what he did?

He ditched me.

He got up to go to the men's room,

never came back.

Stuck me with the check.

Never said goodbye.

Never called to apologize.

He wasn't my type anyway. He was a big-shot CPA.

Super normal guy. Didn't want to be dating some psycho.

But you seem like a nice person.

Better not tell on me.

You hear me?

You better not tell, or I'll ing get you.

Hold on, Mom. Hold on, Dad.

You should park the car on the escalator, and back...

- So? - What?

- Up, down and then up. - Test, dummy. How'd it go?

It was all right.

You didn't call home last night.

I was worried.

Go on the escalator.

Guess I could really use that cellphone.

Go on the escalator.

- Well, look who's back. - Oh, hi.

Hi, Jean.

Thanks.

You're a lifesaver.

So how was your old roommate?

Oh, great.

Yeah, thanks for doing this on such short notice.

Let me give you something for your time.

That's not necessary.

No, really. I insist.

Please don't.

Okay.

Uh, any calls?

Nope, it was very quiet.

She's asleep on your bed. It was a very busy day.

That's great.

Um, Jean, is everything okay?

Yeah, she's a wonderful child.

Mommy.

Mommy!

Yeah.

Are you coming?

- I have something. - What?

I have something for you.

Just give me a second here, okay?

Brad.

Brad.

Hmm.

Aaron's been telling me about his new friend Lucy.

She sounds like a sweet little girl.

What's her mother like?

Nice enough, I guess.

I can't even remember her name.

Isn't it Sarah?

Sarah?

Yeah, Sarah,

from the pool.

Her daughter's name is Lucy.

Oh, Lucy's mom. Yeah, I forgot. That's right.

Her name is Sarah.

Hmm.

Yeah, it might be really nice for Aaron

if they came over for dinner.

Okay.

So you're in advertising?

No, that's-- that's a common misconception.

I'm not in advertising. I'm in branding.

And that's very different.

Richard's pretty high up in the company.

Yeah yeah, I have these clients

and they'll come to me when they have,

you know, a new product they wanna sell.

Like, um, these guys, they were in a couple weeks ago.

They're trying to open this chain of Chinese restaurants, right?

They're talking to me and I-- I look down at the table

and I realize that none of these guys were Chinese.

Where were they from?

They're a bunch of fat cats from Tennessee.

They think they can start a chain of Chinese restaurants good enough

to fool the average American boob.

Oh, God.

Mmm!

- This is delicious. - Isn't it?

Brad's a fantastic cook.

So you guys see these fliers with the guy's face

plastered all over our village?

Lots of Sturm und Drang in our quiet little town, huh?

Yeah, it's crazy.

What I want to know is why they let a creep like that out of prison.

Some of the people going after him are just as crazy.

- What do you mean? - Well, just today I heard that

some nut's been spray-painting the poor guy's house,

lighting fires on his porch. God knows what else.

- Do they know who's doing it? - Huh-uh.

They think it's some ex-cop.

You know, that guy who killed that kid at the mall.

Yeah, I don't think it's him.

You're biased. You're friends with the guy.

Brad's on that Committee of Concerned Parents

with him.

I didn't know you were on that.

I play on his football team.

He asked me to distribute some fliers.

He's on your team.

You never told me that.

Yeah.

You know what's weird? I've never even seen this McGorvey guy.

- We did. - No, we didn't.

Not you. Me and Brad.

That day at the pool, remember?

Yeah, I-I totally forgot.

- Well, what happened? - Sexual tension is an elusive thing,

but Kathy had pretty good radar for it.

It was like someone had turned a knob a hair to the right,

and the radio station clicked in so loud and clear

it almost knocked her over.

Once she became aware of the connection between them,

it seemed impossible that she'd missed it before.

On a hunch, Kathy dropped her fork

in the hopes that while retrieving it

she would catch Sarah and Brad playing footsie,

- but she was mistaken. - Asked him to leave, and he left.

But you know what? He didn't look scary, right? I mean--

No, it-- it wasn't that big of a deal, you know.

- No, he's like a regular guy, you know? - Yeah, I mean--

Kathy, are you okay?

Uh, yeah.

Just a sec.

Brad had convinced himself

the dinner party had gone well.

That he and Sarah had managed to put Kathy's suspicions to rest,

at least temporarily.

She certainly hadn't accused him of anything,

or behaved in a way that made him think

she'd noticed anything untoward.

I'm really glad they came over.

- Good night. - Good night.

Two days later, however,

his mother-in-law showed up for a surprise visit...

- Thank you, John. - ...of ominously indeterminate length.

And from that moment on, she accompanied Brad

and Aaron everywhere:

To the playground;

- We need some butter. - To the supermarket;

And to the town pool.

Hi, Aaron.

Hi, Lucy.

The worst of it was the pool.

Nevertheless, after threatening all week

to go the football game, Brad's mother-in-law decided against it

at the last minute.

- So are you coming? - Well, I'd like to,

but I'm a little tired.

You sure? You're welcome to.

No, go ahead. You and Aaron

sure kept me hopping this afternoon.

Looks like you're on your own.

Oh, that's my ride.

- What time are you gonna be home? - I don't know.

Pretty late, though.

Be careful and stay out of trouble.

Winds whisper of high hopes,

victory is in the skies.

One joins with many on the summer's green field.

At 0 and 5, the Guardians were the basement dwellers

of the Tri-County Touch Football Night League.

The Controllers, a team of young hotshots from the financial district

were 4 and 1 with an explosive offense

that regularly racked up 40 to 50 points a game.

But from the opening kickoff,

this ragtag group of law enforcement officers

decided to crunch their own numbers.

But the Controllers scored first

after recovering a Bart Williams fumble

deep in Guardians' territory near the end of the second quarter.

The Guardians evened things up early in the second half...

moving methodically downfield

on an 80-yard touchdown drive.

The Controllers regained the lead with a fourth quarter field goal.

With less than a minute to go, trailing by three,

the Guardians faced the extinction of their hopes.

- Down! - It was their last chance--

4th and 5 on their own 35.

Set!

Hut, hut!

Yeah yeah yeah!

Yeah yeah!

Yeah!

Oh my God!

Yeah!

Brad, Brad!

What do you want?

Everyone is waiting for us at the bar. Are-- are-- are you coming?

Why don't you go on ahead? I'll catch up later.

You're gonna come, right? I mean, we gotta celebrate.

Yeah yeah yeah, I'll be there.

- You promise? - Jesus, Larry, I just told you.

- Well, you got a ride? - Yeah.

Okay.

I'll have a cold one waiting for you.

Larry, you have to go home now.

Just give me five more minutes. He promised he was coming.

I don't care what he promised, I want to lock up.

Now get your butt out of here!

Now!

When I looked up there and saw you it was just...

wow... wow.

Thank God you came.

I don't want to go home.

I want to stay right here forever.

No, I do. For the first time in my life

I feel like anything is possible. Like I can do anything, you know?

What are we doing?

What do you mean?

It's not real, Brad.

What?

This. It's wrong and it's weird.

How long are we gonna sneak around together?

How long can that last? I can't do this anymore.

No, no don't say that.

As long as I know that we're gonna have this--

Have what?

What is this?

Look...

if that dinner at your house was any indication,

you seem pretty happy with your wife.

You know, you have a perfect life

- and I don't wanna to be the-- - Okay, stop stop stop.

Run away with me.

What?

You don't mean that.

You believe in me.

Come on.

We'll go away, figure this thing out.

It's not weird.

The kids are comfortable with each other.

I know there's more to it than that, but...

let's do this.

Please. Please, Sarah.

Oh my God.

You really mean it, don't you?

Yes.

Okay.

Okay. Okay. Yes!

Yes! Okay, yes.

Fucking Brad, I'm so sick of hearing about Brad.

I'm ing over it.

I don't even like him. He's a loser.

"Brad made the ing touchdown."

Yeah, you know why he hasn't the balls to show up here?

'Cause I ing made the block. It's bullshit.

That's why he's not even here, he's ing embarrassed to see me.

I don't even like anybody in this ing town.

Wake up, wake up!

Wake up, Woodward Court!

Okay, I'm awake.

Open your eyes! Get your goddamn heads out of the sand!

My heads? My goddamn heads?

Don't you people love your children?

Don't you want to protect them from evil?

Woodward Court, there's a pervert in your midst!

There's a goddamn pervert in your midst!

Open your eyes! Protect the children!

Save the children!

Wake up and see the grass!

- Just stay inside, Ronnie. - Save the children!

Open your goddamn eyes!

Wake up and save your children!

You dirty son of a bitch! Get off my lawn!

Who the hell do you think you are, Mr. High and Mighty?

No perverts in Woodward Court!

You think you're God? Far from it!

I don't think I'm God! I never said I was!

You murderer, you killed the boy.

I didn't murder anyone. Now why don't you go back inside, put some clothes on?

You shot him through the neck. I read it in the paper.

- No perverts in-- - You son of a bitch. Give me that.

Hey hey!

Give me that! You're--

- You need to go home. - The police are coming.

I mean, you're scaring my kids.

Your kids need to be frightened!

They live across the street from a pervert!

Ow! Oh!

Oh my God, Mrs. McGorvey. Are you okay?

May. May!

May-- I think we should call an ambulance.

Karen, call an ambulance, right now!

- I'm doing it! - Oh, .

- May! - This is all I need.

Excuse me, Mr. McGorvey, we need to ask you some questions.

$14.35.

The Fed continuing its campaign against inflation

by raising short-term interest rates for the 10th time yesterday.

Usually there is a correlation between inflation and gold prices.

Let's take you over to our stocks desk...

Cafe con leche?

Thank you.

Kim Bryson, please call the operator.

Madre.

Me too. She's resting.

Get down, knock it off!

Quiet.

Bring him around.

It's all yours.

Mr. McGorvey.

Mr. McGorvey.

I'm afraid we have some bad news.

Do you have a mortuary to make arrangements for you?

It's not a problem. The hospital has a list that I can provide you with.

Here's what's going to happen:

Your mother's body will remain in her bed

for up to three hours.

Three hours is typical.

But if there's a request for more time, depending on our occupancy,

that's usually not a problem.

If there's anyone you need to call--

family, friends--

they're welcome to full bedside visitation privileges

before the body is taken downstairs

to be prepped for transport.

Do you have any questions that come to mind?

Anything I can help you with?

- No. - Okay.

I'd like to remind you to take your mother's personal belongings with you

before you leave the hospital today.

And all I need from you now

is to sign this release- of-remains form.

Aaron.

Hey hey, buddy.

Can you wake up?

Could you take your hat off for me?

Just for a second.

Are you mad at me, Daddy?

No. No no no, not at all.

I just want you to know

that I love you very much,

and I would never do anything to hurt you, okay?

Okay.

Now you can go back to sleep.

Lucy, come on.

Let's go.

I will not go in the car seat!

- You have to go in the car-- - I will not go in the car seat!

Yes, you will!

- You will go in the car seat. - No, I won't!

Yes, you will. Go in the car seat.

I will not go in the car seat!

Okay, just...

you don't have to go in the car seat.

You can just go here. No, actually...

go on the floor. Okay.

Okay, go down on the floor. You have to stay down, okay?

Mommy is gonna get arrested. Just stay down, okay?

Okay.

Mommy, I want to go home.

Yeah, in a minute,

as soon as Brad gets here.

Hello?

Ronnie?

Oh my God.

- Are you all right? - Yeah! Let's do it. Let's go!

Hey, dude!

What's the hurry?

Yeah! Oh!

- This is so sick. - Damn.

- Nice. - Oh, man.

Yeah, man.

- How about you take a run? - What?

Yeah, give it a shot. See what happens.

You guys are crazy, I can't do that.

It's not about that, it's about skating.

Whoo!

Come on. Come on.

Do you need help?

She's g-- gone.

She's gone.

Who? Who's gone?

Mommy. Mommy's gone.

I...

I'm sorry.

She loved me.

She's the only one.

Mommy died.

Mommy died.

Lucy?

Lucy! Lucy!

Lucy!

Lucy! Lucy!

Lucy!

Get in the car seat! Get in the car seat!

It's okay, Mommy.

Lucy.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Would you like to go home?

Yeah?

Brad.

Brad, can you hear me?

D-- don't move. The ambulance is on its way.

Jesus.

What happened to me?

These kids say you've been out cold for the last five minutes.

- You almost had it. - Dude, you were awesome.

- That shit was gnarly, son. - Back up, back up! Give him some space.

You just hold still, all right? Hold still.

Hey, bro!

Here, this fell out of your pocket.

I don't need it anymore.

- Hey, Duane. - Hm?

Could you call my wife?

You got it, buddy.

Here we go.

I'm so sorry, Ronnie.

I really am.

I never wanted anything like this to happen.

Are-- are you-- are you okay?

- Oh, no! - Gonna be good now.

Oh my God!

Hold on, Ronnie.

You hold on.

I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.

You hold on there, okay, buddy?

In his wildest dreams

Larry would never have imagined he'd once again be in this position,

where precious minutes count.

Tonight he could save a life.

He knew Ronnie had done some bad things in the past,

but so had Larry.

You couldn't change the past.

But the future could be a different story.

And it had to start somewhere.

身为人母，Little Children

Kids. They can be so darned exasperating. Especially when they're in their 30s or 40s or 80s. Pre-pubescent youngsters cavort and splash through the parks, playgrounds and swimming pools of Todd Field's "Little Children," but they're not the most obnoxious or ill-behaved creatures on the screen. The ostensible grown-ups are much more cruel, stubborn and oblivious to the indiscriminate damage they're doing -- to their children, each other, and themselves. Yes, they're old enough to know better, but of course that's the point: They don't even know that much about themselves.

"Little Children" shows us a sun-dappled New England that's every bit as creepy and disturbing (and sometimes eerily beautiful) as the Halloween version: Stephen King in summer. Stagnation and moral rot are as hot and heavy as the air itself, and there are little monsters scurrying everywhere. A husband and father haunts a seamy porno Web site. A convicted child molester lurks beneath the surface of the public pool. A raging bully prowls the streets after dark, stalking his scapegoat with unfathomable fury. These people sweat guilt, paranoia and recrimination; the bad feelings bead up on their skin but won't evaporate.

It's an odd and squirmy movie, in some ways as slick and facile as "American Beauty." But that movie had an empty plastic bag for a heart, and "Little Children" is more than arch yuppie satire -- though it's that, too. There's a humane sensibility beneath the surface that's simultaneously sympathetic and fiercely judgmental. Maybe it's that New England Puritanism, angels and devils endlessly wrestling.

The characters, all of whom share a mind-boggling immaturity, break down (and break up) into couples: Sarah (Kate Winslet) is a mom with a master's degree in literature who feels closer to Madame Bovary than she does to her young daughter, whom she views as an alien being. She's married to Richard (Gregg Edelman), an older and extremely unattractive person. This marriage is a contrivance, which exists only so Sarah can feel an overwhelming compulsion to leave it. www.130q.com

Brad (Patrick Wilson), the househusband and former Golden Boy whom the women at Kate's playground nickname the Prom King, is great with his son -- but not so much with his coldly pretty wife Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), a manipulative documentary filmmaker whose brittle exterior doesn't quite conceal the soul of a shark. Like Sarah with her books, Kathy has more feelings for a child she interviews for her film than the one in bed beside her. They are a perfect-looking family. So, you know that can't last.

Then there's Ronald James McGorvey (Jackie Earle Haley), a offender (he likes to flash little girls), who has been released from jail to live with his mother, May (Phillis Somerville). Mom thinks Ronnie is a good boy who needs to find a nice girl his own age, oblivious that he does not want one. Larry (Noah Emmerich), a former cop and pathetic loser, whips up anger and fear against Ronnie and covers the town with flyers identifying him as a child molester.

Brad and Kate meet cute near the swingset, then fantasize about a present and future together. In a story rife with implausibilities and absurdities, perhaps the most egregious is that we're told we should accept Kate Winslet as somehow "unattractive," compared to Kathy -- and Brad, who shatters her when he says beauty is overrated. The moment is funny and painful, but disingenuous assumptions like that can undermine a movie's emotional credibility.

"Little Children" is far from a bad movie, but it's not as deep and subtly disturbing as Fields' "In the Bedroom" or as infernally funny as Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor's film adaptation of Perrotta's novel Election. I didn't like any of these characters, but I kept pulling for them anyway -- right up to the shock-o-riffic ending, when I felt I'd been sucker-punched. It turns out, the novel's denouement is more nuanced and less sensationalistic. The final scenes of "In the Bedroom" show Field could have brought it off. It's unfortunate he lost faith in the story, and characters, this time.

身为人母，Little Children

In "Little Children," the arrival of a convicted child molester in East Wyndam, Mass., triggers outrage throughout the community. But in this movie's reverse code, Ronnie the pedophile (Jackie Earle Haley) is practically one of the good guys.

We don't approve of his behavior, of course, but we empathize with a tormented soul who's hounded by high-minded citizens in a flurry of leaflets and sanctimony. And we understand who the real offenders are: people like Larry (Noah Emmerich), the obnoxious ex-cop who takes a bullhorn to Ronnie's house at night, and Mary Ann (Mary B. McCann), a frosty homemaker who denounces the pedophile before her regular gathering of playground moms.

Director Todd Field and co-writer Tom Perrotta (who adapted his book of the same name) have rigged our sympathies, making us root for whoever offends these high and mighty New Englanders. And they've done this in the service of a hugely absorbing social drama that is, by turns, excruciating, sad and sardonic. We're caught up in its emotional sweep, feeling compassion for all the pariahs, including Sarah (Kate Winslet) and Brad (Patrick Wilson), whose extramarital romance provokes gossipy tongues.

There's something irresistibly compelling about the movie's Olympian perspective -- the movie employs a narrator (Will Lyman, the voice of dozens of documentaries) -- which puts the flaws, graces and sins of suburbia into ironic context. (It should be noted, however, the filmmakers don't subscribe to the notion that a little narration goes a long way.) There's no essential difference, "Little Children" suggests, between Mary Ann, whose over-regimented life includes with her husband on Tuesdays, and Ronnie, whose idea of excitement is snorkeling among the kids at the local pool. At least Ronnie's aware of his issues; his valiant attempts to keep them under lock and key are his version of moral behavior.

As with his 2001 movie, "In the Bedroom," Field takes moral stock of a New England community, though the earlier film, which presented the case for vigilantism, centered on one family's response to an unpunished murderer. "Little Children" takes on subtler crimes, such as prejudice, self-deception and civic hysteria. And it's wider in scope, following the grand design of films like "Crash," in which a collection of unrelated characters are connected by thematic forces.

What links the well-to-do residents of East Wyndam is a deep-seated frustration. The happiness everyone seeks -- in jobs, marriages, relationships or lives -- seems to be missing. They're not so different from other communities, perhaps, but the movie shows how their protests and outrage against public scapegoats are plaintive echoes of their own personal turmoil.www.130q.com

Sarah seeks out Brad after her husband, Richard (Gregg Edelman), starts keeping virtual company with a porn site queen. Brad's wife, Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), a documentary filmmaker, belittles him constantly for his failure to pass the bar exam. But it's a mark of the movie's benevolent spirit that we feel remorse when Kathy finally realizes how much she loves Brad -- right at the moment her husband is busy elsewhere, caressing Sarah's naked rump.

Winslet is extraordinarily good, transforming persuasively from a woman lost in herself to one radiantly in love. We're moved by the internal struggles she undergoes before allowing herself to feel that ecstasy. As the overgrown kid who'd rather be skateboarding than hitting the law books, Wilson (Raoul in "Phantom of the Opera" and the torturee in "Hard Candy") exudes a perfect air of arrested development. And though she's playing a one-note harpy -- at one point, telling a book-reading group that Madame Bovary is nothing more than a "slut" -- McCann plays that single tone with chilly precision. You can't imagine this movie without her.

The most affecting performances, however, come from East Wyndam's most feared household. Haley, a former teen star and original Bad News Bear, shows the debilitating struggle between Ronnie's reflexive perversions and his humanity. And Phyllis Somerville is a subtle triumph as Ronnie's mother, May, who refuses to be intimidated by the bullies outside her door. She never makes May's actions, despite extraordinary circumstances, seem like anything more than mommy business as usual.

Not surprisingly, most of the scenes involving mother and son are the toughest on the audience, whether for heartbreak, tension, comic irony -- or all three. There's something amusing but devastating about May's advice to Ronnie not to mention his ual problems at a first date. That ensuing dinner with Sheila (Jane Adams), a formerly wounded soul trying to get back on her feet, becomes one of the movie's most touching and shocking developments. But the subtext, that Ronnie's undergoing this ordeal -- that's how the date feels to him -- to please his mother, the only woman who truly loves him, is the closest he can get to heroism. That's enough to choke you up right there.

身为人母，Little Children

"Little Children," Todd Field's long-awaited follow-up to his 2001 debut feature, "In the Bedroom," is exactly the kind of movie I supposedly like, and instinctively root for. It's a big, messy, ambitious melodrama that depicts the ordinary life of American suburbia as a zone of high passion and tragedy. Its characters may lie, scheme and betray each other; they may make atrocious decisions in the middle of the night. But we recognize something of ourselves in them, and forgive them. It's very "Short Cuts," very "Magnolia," a little "American Beauty."

That's exactly the problem. Why did I come out of "Little Children" (which premieres this weekend at the New York Film Festival, and opens in theaters Oct. 6) feeling so profoundly dissatisfied? Because Field has made a type of movie rather than an individual movie, an upscale formula picture that announces its own moral seriousness rather than something built organically from mind and heart. I had much the same reaction to "In the Bedroom," which is ponderously paced and full of earnest, soul-searching dialogue that sounds nothing like the way people actually talk. These flaws were redeemed, or at least papered over, by the film's fatalistic Greek-tragedy plot, its prodigious cast and Field's unquestioned ability to create memorable shots.

Some of those ingredients remain present in "Little Children," but Tom Perrotta's Cheever-esque novel of the same name (jointly adapted by Field and Perrotta) provides a more unwieldy vehicle than the miniature Andre Dubus story that inspired "In the Bedroom." Field and his cinematographer, Antonio Calvache, repeatedly rescue scenes through their exquisite pictorial composition, their leisurely crawls through comfortable haute-suburban yards and spacious, but never ostentatious houses. Certainly Kate Winslet, as an intellectual trapped in suburban wifely hell, has never looked more beautiful.

Even Winslet's porcelain skin and exquisite figure create dramatic problems for the film. Her character, Sarah, is supposed to be an ordinary-looking woman who lures Brad (Patrick Wilson), a hunky stay-at-home dad known to the playground moms as the "Prom King," into an affair -- sweet and platonic at first, then very much not so -- and away from his knockout wife (Jennifer Connelly). I understand that this is an American movie, and they're simply not going to cast somebody who's below, say, 7.7 on the hotness scale. But making Sarah look like Botticelli's Venus, just with messy hair and a cardigan, destroys an entire plot point.

It may seem unbearably pretentious to complain that a film actress is too beautiful for her role, but in this case it's symptomatic of a larger problem. Field has lots of ideas about how to shoot individual scenes in "Little Children," but none about how to stick them together. I'm not opposed in principle to voice-over narration in dramatic films, but one should always ask what purpose it's serving. The talky narrator who comes and goes, seemingly at random, throughout "Little Children" is not one of the characters but a quasi-ironic, godlike voice who tells us what the characters are thinking. This isn't cleverness or postmodernism; it's desperation. When your story just isn't working, just insert some dude to tell us what's going on and what it all means.

"Little Children" has a large but somehow impoverished cast of characters who bump around the town of East Wyndam, colliding in ways that are meant to be significant. Only Sarah and Brad seem reminiscent of real human beings, and only one of them is in any way interesting. I can't honestly tell if Patrick Wilson can act or not; he looks like the young Kevin Costner, plus an impressive pile of extra gym-toned muscle, and that, plus a certain affable, depressed sweetness, is about all we get from Brad. He's supposed to be studying for the bar exam at night, but instead he hangs around the schoolyard watching teenage boys skateboard, plays touch football with cops, or hits the local hot-sheet motel with Sarah. www.130q.com

Of course we're going to root for Brad and Sarah, idiots though they are, because everyone else in the movie is a grotesque caricature, more inherited from generations of other movies and TV shows than drawn from life. There's released offender Ronnie (onetime "Bad News Bears" kid star Jackie Earle Haley), who's a hopeless perv but probably not dangerous. There's Larry (Noah Emmerich), the disgraced ex-cop leading the town's hysterical anti-Ronnie campaign. There's Sarah's husband, Richard (Gregg Edelman), whom we see with some porn star's mail-order panties over his face.

I suppose Brad's wife, Kathy, Connelly's character, is not a caricature. She's a nonsensical nonentity who plays almost no role in the story; I can't imagine why Connelly's agent told her to take this part. We're apparently supposed to believe that a documentary filmmaker, working on a project about kids whose fathers were killed in Iraq, is paying the bills in this expansive suburban home while Brad flunks the bar and boffs the Botticelli babe. And what lies between this couple, anyway? Do they love each other, or are they the kind of good-looking creeps who married each other out of sheer eye-candy narcissism? Even the snarky narrator can offer no clues.

Winslet wanders through this unspecific Northeast Corridor bedroom community with a sort of distracted luminosity, repeatedly rescuing the picture from its own pointlessness. At a gruesome meeting of a ladies' book club, Sarah defends "Madame Bovary," both the book and the character, pointing out that Western literature's most famous desperate housewife is, after her own fashion, a crusader for women's ual freedom. "In other words, she's a slut, " proclaims one of her snake-tongued playground rivals. It's a funny, affecting scene, but if Sarah is our Emma Bovary, the consequences of her actions never become clear.

In fairness, Field and Calvache load the film with lovely and mysterious images: Sarah's 4-year-old daughter standing alone on the street at night, watching the huge moths bounce off the big halogen light fixture high overhead; Ronnie sitting by himself on the playground swings, weeping. "Little Children" seeks, and occasionally captures, a genuine and almost ubiquitous phenomenon: We may find ourselves on the cusp of middle age, with a whole scheme of mortgages, children and careers laid out before us, but that does not free us from the anarchic lusts, the endorphin highs and lows, of adolescence.

But I'm sorry, an interesting premise, a keen eye and a veneer of emotional seriousness are not enough. "Little Children" is going to get some very good reviews, and right now its producers are expecting to line up onstage at awards shows toward the end of winter. That doesn't change the fact that it's an unholy mess, simultaneously too Gothic and too sarcastic, that preaches liberation and delivers only puritanism. It's a craftsmanlike but robotic imitation of "interesting" filmmaking, only in patches, and by accident, the real thing. Let it win awards; no one will even remember it in five years.

身为人母，Little Children

It's not necessary to look at the color of the leaves to determine the season of the year when movies of this power come along. Little Children, the second feature from director Todd Field (In the Bedroom), is the rarest of movies - a literary multi-character drama. From the erudition of the voiceover narrative to the three dimensionality of the characters, Field's film is the closest it's possible to get to a book without reading one. The story is presented in an unhurried fashion with all the characters and situations being allowed to develop and expand in a natural fashion.

Although this is an ensemble piece, there are two anchoring characters. They are Brad Adamson (Patrick Wilson) and Sarah Pierce (Kate Winslet), neglected spouses who find happiness in each other's company as they chaperone their children's playdays. It takes a while but they eventually give in to the inevitable and become lovers. They dream of being with one another, but that seems more like a fantasy than a hope grounded in reality. Other characters orbiting like satellites around the main pair include Kathy (Jennifer Connelly), Brad's controlling wife; Richard (Gregg Edelman), Sarah's porn-obsessed husband; Ronnie McGorvey (Jackie Earle Haley), a convicted pedophile; and Larry Hedges (Noah Emmerich), an ex-cop turned vigilante.

There's enough material here to fuel a series of lurid melodramas, but Field (who co-wrote the screenplay with Tom Perrotta, upon whose book it is based) keeps things low-key and under control. The scope of the project never gets away from him. The voiceover (unlike most voiceovers) is helpful, since it emphasizes the story's literary roots. Delivered in a smooth baritone (that of Will Lyman, who can be heard on PBS' Frontline), it offers observations and editorials on the action, occasionally with more than a hint of sardonic wit.

The performances, especially those by Kate Winslet, Patrick Wilson (the tortured pedophile in Hard Candy), Noah Emmerich, and Jackie Earle Haley, are tremendous. Winslet and Wilson face the challenge of portraying regular, intelligent people who are trapped by the normalcy of their lives. Emmerich and Haley, on the other hand, must play individuals with monstrous personality defects, and they do so without making their characters seem either unduly sympathetic or reprehensible. This is especially difficult for Haley, considering the nature of Ronnie's crime (he exposed himself to an underage girl), but the actor succeeds.

It might seem to some that Little Children meanders too much or could have been better focused. While I agree that any of the characters would have made an excellent choice for a feature film, Field's goal here is to present a slice of the community - the soccer moms, the bored housewives, the disempowered husbands. The main story deals with Sarah and Brad, but the other characters are given existences of their own, which is rare in motion pictures, and Little Children is richer for it. With In the Bedroom, Field demonstrated his mastery of difficult dramatic material and his ability to direct actors. His sophomore feature, which avoids the dreaded "slump," reinforces those characteristics and gives us reason to believe Field is a director whose next project should be met with anticipation.