Previously...
Ovitz! Hit the bricks!
See you at the Oscars, pal.
He ruined my career.
Daisy's family, and you fucked her shit up. Fix this.
"Vaginatown" is probably not gonna happen. The financing fell through.
- You're shitting me! - I wish I was.
The "wall of cocks" sequence alone would have blown people's minds.
Oh, hells, yeah! You got Daisy the part.
I had to invest 100 grand in his movie.
- I am pregnant. - I'm not the father.
There was only one guy, according to Sonja.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but Hank could very well be
the father of the child.
What the fuck is this?
Something to put in your book. We drove here together.
I ended up producing. She ended up alone.
Greetings.
You want to tell me what you're doing on my property?
I'm just... I wanted to know if the lady of the house was home.
- And you are? - I'm a friend.
I'm more of a friend of a friend.
My wife doesn't have any friends I don't know.
So you're married?
That's none of your goddamn business.
I appreciate the hostility. I'm not trying to break into your castle.
I'm a writer. I'm doing some research.
My name is Hank Moody. It's a pleasure.
There's no smoking here.
Outside?
There's no smoking outside? Really?
- Is everything okay out here? - Is this her?
Honey, it's okay. Go back inside.
My name is Hank Moody. I'm a writer. I was doing some research.
Did I...say that you could talk to her?
Jesus, you got a bit of an overprotective vibe happening here.
I want to ask you a question about Lew Ashby.
I asked you nicely to get off my property.
I don't know about "nicely," motherfucker.
I will leave your property when I'm good and ready...
Mothafuckah.
Who puts a fuckin' bush there?!
CALIFORNICATION
II, episode 18
I'm just saying, Ashby manor might not be the best place for you
in your current depressed frame of mind.
It's not the best place for anybody
since Asbhy let the douche bag within take up residence.
- You like that guy. - Julian Self, the snake-oil salesman?
10 grand a week that bearded bozo's making,
dispensing his diarrhea of the mouth therapies to the creatively blocked.
That's what you should have put the Runkle nest egg into. Self help.
That's sleazier than porn. I think you made the right choice.
Laugh it up, pal. One more day of shooting, we sell this puppy,
and I double my investment.
- You're sanguine about the whole... - I am sanguinissimo, baby.
Although I got to say,
I'm a little worried about being on that porn set.
I'm starting to feel like a gynecologist.
Did you ever think of that girl? She looks down between the stirrups
and she sees your gleaming orb looming straight up at her.
Did I ever think about penetrating someone with my head?
- I never did think about that. - Good.
Hey, Lew?
Lew!
Hey, Lew, you decent?
I knew you were a dick!
- I knew it. - Can we do this later, please?
Sure, no problem.
Come on. Let go of it.
You can do it.
All right, just smile.
Nice.
Please.
Oh, that's good. We're done.
Nice and secure on there.
I'm a little concerned with the bump here.
I don't want it to fall off.
Geez! For the love of fuck, guys!
Careful, huh?! I love this thing. More than life itself.
Thank you very much.
Baby!
What have you done to my house?
I'm sorry, okay? It's just the location fell through.
We have one more scene, and "Vaginatown" is a wrap, okay?
I figured you'd be working.
A girl can't come home a little early?
Knock off, relax, watch a little "Opes"?
I'm gonna need to knock a couple walls down in there.
What is he talking about?
What's that? Is that the spinner?
Didn't we shoot that scene already?
- This is my wife. - Oh... Sorry....
Hello. Ronny Praeger. Filmmaker.
You never told me your old dear was such a lovely bit of filth.
You dirty bastard.
So, sweetheart? You want to be in it?
I could easily see you and Daisy
engaged in a nice little bit of stand-up 69.
69 is a waste of time, stand-up or otherwise.
And don't you dare touch my walls.
You are spicy. I like it.
There she is. My leading lady.
Can you feel it? The sexual tension?
How do I look?
Don't stare, you fucking baboon. It's rude!
Christ on the cross, what did you do to yourself?
- You look like a fuckin' child! - A very hot child.
Who's been poorly waxed. You cheated on me.
I couldn't get an appointment, and he told me to shave.
I told you to trim. This is "Vaginatown," sweetheart.
They didn't have little heart shaped tufts of pubis in 1930's L.A.
I think my character was before her time.
Sorry. Who said it's your character?
We need a fuckin' merkin!
We've got a few of those lying around.
- You do? Why? - Don't you tell him, Marce!
Turn it this way, it's like he's staring at you.
Hank, you got to be kidding me.
- That could be anybody. - It's not.
It's "the artist within" a very nice young girl named Holly.
It's like one of those Jesus pictures,
except it's his balls that follow you wherever you move.
See that brute-like appendage? It's actual-size.
You came all the way here to show me that?
- You're 12. - No, this vindicates me.
Proves the guy's a douche bag.
He's a danger to women. He has to be stopped.
He's got to be stopped?
He fucks with their minds. You're friends with Sonja.
Go tell her. You should.
Possibly. But you're the father of her unborn child.
- I think that trumps "friend." - We don't know that for certain.
We don't know what kind of arrangement they have, either.
They live together.
Maybe they have one of those, you know, like,
open relationship or something.
That is disgusting. That is not a possibility.
The open relationship does not exist.
It's like an oxymoron, like "jumbo shrimp" or...
So that's where you draw the line?
- At open relationships? - That's thoroughly offensive to me.
The mouth-rapist who sleeps with prostitutes is offended.
My ethical unpredictability is default proof of its hard-won vitality.
Because I'm not by rote or programmatic about it.
I think this shit through, every issue.
Are you gonna go tattle to Sonja or do I have to? I'd be glad to.
Mind your own business. Get out of here.
Go pick up Becca. She's at school.
This conversation is not over.
Okay, captain. What's the plan?
We gonna be shooting something at some point?
I promised my wife that the things would clear out by, say...
You promised your wife?
What is it you think we're doing? Does this look like Chatsworth?
Do I look like a Ukrainian sex worker? No.
We are making erotic art here...
Something men... and women, God-willing,
will be pleasuring themselves to for decades to come.
I get that. And I respect your vision.
But the neighbors are getting restless.
I'd rather they don't call the cops and have us shut down.
It's your money. But if you're looking for transcendence...
- We should start shooting. - Bring in first team!
Where's Clittes?
Man, you look smokin' in that picture.
Happiest day of my life.
- Yeah, your dad looks so proud. - That's not my dad.
For Christ's sake, Marce.
You. It's time to go down and unleash the monster of cock.
Be careful what you wish for.
This is what you came home early for, isn't it?
- To do some cocaine. - And watch some "Oprah."
That thirsty little nose of yours is costing us some money.
Have you checked our bank balance lately?
Asshole, you just put the bulk of our nest egg
into a movie called "Vaginatown."
And you're gonna make me feel bad
about a little afternoon snack with Jake Clittes?
This movie is an investment, which we're in together, remember?
A little bit of support, please.
And it's "Clittes". Sounds like "titties."
If memory serves, this is the part
where you say you can handle it and that you can stop
whenever you want.
- I can stop. - Then stop.
For a day. For an hour.
You can say "no" all you want, Miss Winehouse.
I'm this close to booking you a room at Wishes.
What happened to promises?
Promises of Malibu is no longer in the Runkle family budget.
Wishes is in oxnard.
Runkle, bad news. Daisy's in her trailer.
She won't come out. She'll only talk to you.
We'll finish this conversation later.
Don't you be condescending to me, motherfucker.
I can stop.
I can stop whenever the fuck I want.
Good afternoon, ladies.
Ah, it's the sisterhood of the traveling flannel.
On time for a change. Impressive.
We're still going to Lew Ashby's, right?
Yeah, we want to go, too.
- "We"? - Oh, sorry.
Hank Moody, this is Annika Staley of Rolling Stone Magazine.
The one that used to have some cultural relevance?
I am delighted to meet you, Annika Staley
from Rolling Stone Magazine.
Sorry to crash the party. I'm trailing Mia for the day.
She's gonna be in our "hot" issue.
Oh, she's hot, is she?
Feverish?
Will you excuse me a moment?
- Sorry. - Sure.
It's you, isn't it?
I made a mess of your bush this morning.
That's, uh... Shit, that came out wrong.
Flowers. She's got this...
potted-flower thing, and I...
It was nice talking to you, ladies.
This is a coincidence. I'm here picking up my daughter...
- I got some mail for you. - You do?
You are "resident," aren't you?
I doubt that you need your carpets cleaned.
Or your drapes. I bet your carpets are immaculate.
Do you always make this good of a first impression?
It's a second impression. Hank Moody.
They're only gonna get worse,
so I'm just gonna lay my cards on the table.
Do you know Lew Ashby?
Famous record producer. A rock'n'roll legend.
- I'm writing a book on him. - Good luck.
I'm gonna need it because the guy's a cypher.
I can't get anywhere.
Then just print the legend.
That's what people want to read. One long rock'n'roll bacchanalia
where music never ends, the groupies never get older,
and your dick never shrivels up and falls off
from some unspecified venereal disease.
That was unkind to my dick.
I had to get you back for ruining my bush.
I've known him for six weeks
and the only genuine moment we've had
is when he told me about this woman that he never got over
and a Mustang that wouldn't go in reverse.
You'd have better luck finding the Mustang.
Why is that?
It actually existed. Blue with grey interior.
- What about the girl? - Figment of Lew's imagination.
I like your trailer.
I drove out here in this piece of shit.
I was gonna be a big star.
Look at me now.
If you don't want to do this, if you want to get out of porn...
I don't want to get out of porn. I love porn.
- Why? - 'Cause I love sex.
And I lost it at the movies. Literally.
I was 15, and my boyfriend took me to the drive-in.
They were showing a revival of "Dirty Dancing."
I love that movie! Definitely in my top 10.
Mine too.
I got so turned on, I just jumped his bones then and there.
And ever since, I've associated movies and sex.
And I started to think,
"Why does it have to be a guilty pleasure?"
Everybody watches it.
- You do, right? - Very much so, yes.
Some might call it a soft addiction.
But then I got out here and...
I saw what it really is.
Just an endless series of disgusting scenes
shot by disgusting people.
But then you came along.
And you got me this close to my dreams.
That's a good thing, right?
But it's scary. I mean, what if I suck?
You do not suck, Daisy. Trust me.
If there's one thing I know, it's porn, okay?
And you got something,
that those Silicone Valley gals don't... the 'x' factor.
You're the girl next door, America's fuckable sweetheart.
I'm starting to get that feeling, Charlie.
What feeling would that be?
The same one I got at the drive-in.
We better get you inside, then.
Please. I beg you...
Okay, people, let's do this thing!
Come on...
What's wrong with Clittes?
Coke dick.
Coke dick?
Too much blow, and the cock won't grow.
Thanks to your old lady, Jake is as useful as tits on a nun.
We're gonna need a stunt cock.
You, drop your pants.
Call yourself a man?
I weep for you.
- Runkle, what are you packing? - Me? What about you?
Why don't you whip out your hitchcock and give it a cameo?
Our leading man is circumcised. I am not.
Besides, I can go for hours. We don't have time for that.
Oh, well, in that case...
- Honey... - What?
You've delivered many one-minute money shots in this living room.
One more's not gonna kill you.
You lost your mind, woman? You want me to do this?
No, but I also don't want to live in Park La Brea
and eat cat food when I'm old.
100 grand, Runkle... The nest egg.
And if our blessed union means anything to you,
you will get in there and drive Miss Daisy, ho.
I think what I love most about Mia's book
is how visceral it is.
That's my daughter.
Oh, yeah. Yeah, great.
I guess it's too much to ask of a writer from Rolling Stone
to love music.
- It's not my beat. - You cover words.
All words or just...
Just the hot ones?
Why don't you find out? Let me interview you.
Oh, God, no. No.
Come on. You know you want to.
No, I don't want to.
We can have a drink, we'll talk about Mia.
I'm sure Mia is perfectly capable of talking about herself.
Will you excuse me for a moment?
That is a lovely shade of blue your face is wearing.
Oh, God. I think I'm... I'm gonna...
You gonna...
Everyone said it would stop in the second trimester.
Crap, did I get some on your foot?
No worries. Unlike you, I'm not a big sympathetic vomiter.
Julian thinks that all...
physical illness... Thank you.
... is due to some, mental weakness.
- Oh, really? - Yeah.
What causes cancer?
- Bitter... no. - Bitterness.
That's not it.
No, it's not that. Wait... Fear.
Fear. Well, let's alert the fuckin' media!
Let's get that shit taken care of. End suffering in our time.
Isn't he here? I thought he was working with Lew.
No. He was. Earlier.
Laying hands on the faithful.
- Only his hands? - Possibly more.
Every time he comes over here, he ends up boning some groupie.
And that's fucked up, right?
When you're with somebody, you shouldn't be
boning some stranger, doggy-style, right?
Right? That's bullshit.
You're not reacting the way I thought.
- We have an open relationship. - No shit.
- Yeah. Well, it's how you grow. - Is that how you grow?
You have to validate yourself, assuage your own insecurities
because you can't rely on others to bring that shit to the table.
If he's not being faithful to you
and he's not the father of your child,
what is he bringing to the table?
Aside from the facial hair.
Okay, look. This could be my last chance.
And fuck it.
I'm not one of those people who works alone.
I need to be with somebody. I mean, for Christ sakes,
I was married to a big homo for like 10 years, right?
- Shit. - You all right?
No. I mean, I don't know.
You got to puke again? You got to poop?
No, I don't have to poop! I felt something move!
I've never felt that before.
Hang on. Here. Just feel that.
Anything?
- No. Little gas, maybe. - It's not gas.
No. Nothing.
- I swear. - Hold on. Let me.
Hello, in there.
Anybody home?
- Oh, shit, I felt... - Isn't that weird?
Hey, guys. This feels kind of familiar.
Oh, God, Karen. Hey.
- Sounds good. - Thanks.
I'm gonna...
I'm gonna go try to find Julian. Thank you.
I don't say this often enough, so I'm just gonna say it.
- What? - You were right.
- About what? - They have an open relationship.
You couldn't stay out of it, could you?
- No. - Good.
What does that mean?
Only an asshole would get someone pregnant
and then sit back and do nothing about it.
And you got involved. That's progress for you. Well done.
- Becca. Come on, let's go. - No way. This is too much fun.
Grab your stuff.
It's late. Don't argue with me. We're going.
Fine.
Don't worry, Karen. I've been keeping an eye on her.
That's great. And who's been keeping an eye on you?
Good night, sweetie.
Such nice friends.
You kind of look like you could use that drink.
Not so rough.
Would you quit squirming around?
I'm just trying to make your man bush a little more camera-ready.
Yeah, and I'm getting the feeling
that you're not so okay about this.
I'm as okay as I can possibly be.
You, on the other hand, don't seem that excited,
especially for a guy who's about to get a little
wife-sanctioned strizz-ange.
Maybe a little less with the scissor.
And, I don't know. Could you, like...
Do that thing... you do?
Oh, Jesus.
Almost ready for you, Runkle.
I knew you had it in you, missus.
Do you mind?
There's the porcelain monkey I know and love.
I'm doing this for us.
I know.
Now go get 'em, quickdraw.
You're gonna be great, co-star.
How's it look? Does it look okay?
It's perfect, Charlie. You're perfect.
All right, quiet, please!
Rolling! And...action!
Oh, shit.
I know that look. He's gonna blow.
Slow it down, Runkle.
Forget it, Jake. It's Vaginatown!
And cut!
Did we get that? Please tell me you got that.
That'll do, Runkle.
God, you're... Exactly like your books.
- I'm exactly like my books? - Yes. Totally puerile...
Crass... Adolescent...
No, I know what "puerile" means.
I'm just a little surprised that you read my books at all.
Oh, yeah. Well, sure.
I try to read all the great misogynists.
It really fuels my feminist fire.
I actually wrote a review of your first novel.
Did you? What'd you say?
- For a magazine in Chicago. - What'd you say?
I said the main character was a self-righteous prick
no woman would ever sleep with.
- I called it "a retarded man's"... - "Portnoy's complaint."
I remember that review.
That was one of the worst reviews I ever got.
I don't know if we can be drinking buddies anymore.
- That was vicious. - Thank you.
What would possess you to write that?
I was going through a rough patch in my life,
was working out my issues with guys.
You think? When I read that,
I wanted to muff-punch you with my typewriter.
You still want to?
Fuck!
Okay...
I may need to take back "puerile."
So you're saying you're willing to reevaluate my oeuvre.
- Do we got aftershock? - No. Toe cramp.
Fuck, that hurts!
I got it. Like a doctor.
Please, I just need some water. I'm really dehydrated.
I just need something with electrolytes.
Vagatorade.
Good one. That was nice.
Who's the screamer?
It's the writer woman from Rolling Stone.
Nice! Got me off my rhythm, though.
The chick I was with... Just about to come.
Hears the other one scream, jumps right out of her skin.
For a second I thought she was gonna hit me,
punch me. Me likey.
Excuse me, gents.
Me likey.
Hail, Caesar.
CALIFORNICATION II, Episode 18
Subtitling MONICA REU