Falling Water (2016) s01e03 Episode Script

1 Previously on "Falling Water" That's you, isn't it? You look happy.
Ma'am, you need to call 911! Send the police! 12 people laid down in a house and killed themselves.
We know they blew up the house, but they made no calls for violence.
These guys don't even have a known ethos, unless you count the word "Topeka.
" Have you ever been hospitalized for mental illness? - No.
- We know about - your time at Cranwell.
- Then why ask the question? Can't have a relationship that only exists in your dreams.
Do you think Jones is insider trading? The answer is, I have no idea.
It's always Topeka.
[gunshot.]
[ominous music.]
Why do we create monsters? Zombies and vampires and things that go bump in the night? Perhaps because the real monsters are too close.
Too familiar.
Too real.
This one amazes me.
The ability to make something so simple and contradictory.
The bodies look, uh Out of control? Like they're falling through the air.
Hm.
Flying, not falling.
Come on.
Let's fly.
Look here.
Elongated movement.
The way the couple's stretched out.
This is a dream.
You're gonna ruin it.
I remember this place.
We've been here.
We are here.
I didn't just dream you.
You're real.
Look at the picture.
I didn't invent you.
- Of course not.
- Then who are you? Are you dreaming too? Are we dreaming together? Look at the picture.
- [eerie whoosh.]
- [clock ticks faintly.]
[ominous music.]
Can you see it now? What are you doing? You can still see it, can't you? [thunder cracking.]
Imagine you're the man in the picture, falling, flying.
Put your arms out.
Now let yourself feel it.
[thunder rumbling.]
The air, the updraft.
Lifting you, carrying you.
Up into the sky.
[wind swirling.]
I thought you were gonna snooze the whole flight.
Sleep's a luxury.
Grab it where you can.
With who you can.
[unintelligible talking.]
Did you know Woody when he and Jones were at Deutsche? Nicholas brought them in as a package.
I think there was a Wharton connection.
God, I don't know how much more of this research I can take.
Rare earth metals.
Can't make cell phones without them.
Mining them's an environmental disaster, but who cares when there's money to be made? And the big mines are all in Mongolia.
Thank you.
You're cynical when you travel.
- Mm it's the dislocation - Thanks.
Turns me into a free-love hippie.
Our Belgian client has concerns about the hotel in Montreal.
He's always concerned.
Yeah, he's congenitally paranoid.
But he's also unloading his nine-figure holdings and we get a piece for finding him a buyer.
What are the concerns? The cleaning staff.
He doesn't want anyone from the hotel entering the suite once negotiations begin.
Mm-hmm, I'll make a note.
And have you taken care of the clocks? All clocks, phones, and miscellaneous small appliances will be removed prior to negotiations.
And no flowers.
He has allergies now? No living things.
Flowers, children, animals, they make him uncomfortable.
Also, at no point can he be left alone with the buyer.
He'll void the entire deal.
So we we need to tag-team on that, okay? Okay.
Rare earth metals? Nine-figure deposits in Mongolia.
[tense music.]
[dark music.]
[ominous music.]
Thanks for coming with me.
Hey, what could be more fun? An excursion in the country with my favorite client, the opportunity to meet your mother.
Am I really your favorite? How could you not be? I know I'm overdue on the bottled water thing.
But you haven't gotten the feeling.
I can't just randomly pick a design.
Yeah, that's why I brought the prototypes.
Hey, you'll spend time with them in a place you feel comfortable.
What if the feeling still won't come? We are not returning the retainer.
[laughs.]
Oh.
My daughter's.
Her therapist has her use it when she's scared to tell me something.
"Oh, I could have used one of these with my mother.
" Yeah, who couldn't? My mother's particular.
A therapist.
Kind with acolytes and seminars.
Oh.
Big, white hot center of her own universe.
"She catalogued my entire childhood as research.
There are boxes in the barn.
" Oh.
"Oh, there are 137 boxes.
" [tsks.]
Oh [chuckles.]
She's probably around back.
Oh.
[laughing.]
Look who's here! Hey, Mom.
Come here.
[kiss.]
This is Miranda.
- Hello.
Charlotte.
- Hey.
You should have told me you were coming.
I've already got six for dinner, and you know what a squeeze it is to get eight around that table.
We'll eat in the kitchen.
Pish-tosh.
Put your stuff in your room.
I'll tell Paolo to double the puttanesca.
Paolo's a stray poet I've taken in.
Part of my menagerie.
His writing's rather poor but his pasta's to die for.
I've got Maude Greenwald staying the week.
The young Beatties are due at 7:00.
With Sabine arriving for dinner, we're a full house.
Tell me, are you and Tess lovers? I'm her agent.
I don't need details, I just want to know how many beds to make out.
Do you have to? Oh, she brings home all kinds.
Men, women, usually figures of authority.
I learned years ago to put them in the same room, avoid the nocturnal traffic.
It's so lovely to have you here.
I can't break confidentiality.
Alice is my patient, and I'm not discussing Alice.
Alice is an outpatient? All of the members of my group are outpatients.
Cult deprogramming group, according to the orderlies.
Cult survivors.
You know, I found 12 dead people in a house.
I saw the news.
When I found them, they were all wearing the same green sneakers as Alice.
Help me.
Hey If you don't want to tell me about Alice, tell me about a girl like Alice.
And why does a girl like Alice join a cult? Cults are like families.
Lots of girls or people really grow up with imperfect familial connections, which make them vulnerable to the substitute families that cults offer.
When a cult member dies, they leave their possessions to the cult.
They want the cult to dispose of their bodies.
Their desire to make themselves whole leads them into a trap that they can't get out of and is oftentimes much worse.
[ambient dark music.]
Will that suffice for the NYPD? Yeah, it might.
Turn off the lights.
Don't touch the Post-its.
Rory, it's Tak.
Yeah, I need you to check something for me.
Call the Nassau County Coroner.
I want to find out if the 12 bodies from the house have been sent to a funeral home.
[dark music.]
[unintelligible police radio chatter.]
[tense music.]
[photo snaps.]
[engine turns over.]
[engine turns over.]
[Geiger counter humming.]
The Belgian's getting happy feet.
How much longer? We're done.
Gentlemen, this way, please.
[metal bowl clanks.]
[ominous music.]
[muttering.]
I thought you abandoned me.
[sighs.]
Don't worry, my mother'll leave you alone until cocktail hour.
So this is what 137 boxes looks like? 179.
Those 42 are my sister.
She must be envious.
Well, she was lucky.
My mother stopped cataloguing her life when I turned ten.
After that, I had her full attention.
You see anything marked 2009? Oh.
I like the bear.
You know, there are doll girls and bear girls.
- I was a bear girl.
- Yeah, that one's Sabine's.
We used to hide our tooth money in the back.
Lift the sweater.
[gasps.]
We should find yours and cash out, huh? It's up here somewhere.
I-I thought we could go for a walk or something.
Get you in the mood to look at the bottle designs.
Yeah, I'll look at them later.
You promise you'll pick one? Jesus, I promise.
Okay? [muttering.]
Tess.
Tess? Tess! Yeah? What are you looking for? [sighs.]
Records.
I need to find a date.
2009.
There's a gap.
That's February.
That's May.
There's a there's a two-month gap.
What were you doing in that gap? [exhales.]
I was at Cranwell.
What's Cranwell? An institution.
I had a breakdown.
I was manic, running around the city, staying up for days.
I thought there was this glow coming out of me.
My mother put me in Cranwell.
I lost my mind completely.
I was on all kinds of drugs.
Walls closing in.
Well, it happens to people with talent like yours.
But you came out of it.
Not until my sister got me transferred.
To Saint John Bosco in the city.
She works there.
[sighs.]
I need to go to Cranwell.
I need too pinpoint a date in that gap.
Can I can I borrow your car? I promise I'll look at the prototypes when I get back.
It's fine.
You'll get to it.
[ambient music.]
Thanks.
[ominous music.]
[unintelligible talking.]
He wants a nosh.
Just a question, but who put the Belgian together with White Sand? The head of White Sand had been talking to Jones about getting into the market for rare earth metals.
So when I came across the Belgian, Jones and I put two and two together.
Why? From the body language, White Sand's robbing your Belgian blind.
If you saw the numbers on the table, you'd think different.
If you're saying we don't care, that's fine.
I just need to know where our loyalty is.
Our loyalty is with the deal.
And to the client.
Which client? Yours or Jones's? You're as paranoid as the Belgian.
Get me some information on that guy over there.
This is your entire file.
I hope you forgive my handwriting.
I always felt badly we couldn't do more for you.
Oh, doubly so because of my professional connections - with your mother.
- This is everything? Well, you're not the first patient to come back wanting to understand their own recovery.
Didn't recover here.
I recovered at Saint John B.
What's this? Why is there a police report in my file? The police found you.
Found me when? When you absconded.
I don't know anything about that.
I guess you probably wouldn't.
Your delusions were at their peak.
You broke a window and you ran away.
No one ever told me.
Maybe your mother felt it was best.
She and your sister transferred you right after that.
How long was I missing? Three days.
They found you lost in the woods.
You were bleeding from where you cut yourself.
[sighs.]
I have to go.
[dramatic ominous music.]
[ambient music.]
[unintelligible whispers.]
[unintelligible whispers.]
[unintelligible whispers.]
[ominous music.]
You.
Come here.
Come back here.
Hey, NYPD.
Stop! Come here! Mom? [distorted electronic feedback.]
[ominous tone.]
[dark music.]
So I've had dreams about cigars.
[polite laughter.]
And once, the cigar was actually a cigar.
But that doesn't mean Freud wasn't full of shit.
Well, dreams are a window, not a curtain, right? May I have some more puttanesca, please? I'm abandoning food for alcohol.
Jung was a beginning, like Newton, like Darwin, but a simplistic foundation upon which we're still building.
I went to Cranwell today.
I spoke to Dr.
Stafford.
Why? Don't be confrontational.
Your sister has every right to visit her doctor.
A doctor who made her worse.
We had an interesting conversation.
Things I didn't know.
- Tess - Stop.
This is your sister's moment.
He told me I went missing for three days.
That I was found wandering in the woods.
That's right.
You never told me.
You were delusional.
The doctors at Sabine's hospital felt reminding you would be counterproductive.
I was convinced I was pregnant.
You showed me charts and blood tests and sonograms to convince me I imagined the whole thing, but you never bothered to tell me I broke out of the hospital and went missing for three days? Yes, well, I can see now that was a mistake, judging by your reaction.
My own guilt over sending you to Cranwell skewed my behavior.
It's been seven years.
And you've been healthy for seven years.
Which is why I'm glad you're strong enough to confront me like this.
She's going down the rabbit hole.
I'm fine.
Then let the past go.
She can't.
She needs to.
- I was lied to! - You were protected.
- From the truth? - From yourself.
God no, Mom no.
Don't interrupt me.
I know that you think that it's all healing, but it's not.
Tess, the world is not out to get you.
You are not being gaslighted.
But you need to find the strength to accept what has happened and move on.
Right.
Have you finished silencing me in my own house? God damn it, Mom.
You are not your sister.
So don't expect her to behave like you would.
She's strong.
She is healing.
And I'm proud of her.
You know, uh, John's brother, Donald, went through a similar crisis.
He spent a full year at Silver Hill [dark music.]
You know what I like about a business trip? Free drinks on the firm? The lack of obligation.
You're cut off, like a little bubble of freedom.
Freedom to crack open the mini-bar and eat $10 Toblerones.
Mm.
Now who's the cynic? [sighs.]
There's something off about this deal.
It's not normal.
A Belgian is selling a Canadian nine figures' worth of Mongolian mineral rights.
Which part of that is normal? I can't sleep lately.
Not well.
Things I think I know turn out to be like squeezing handfuls of sand until they're gone.
It's like how years ago, scientists used to think that atoms were the ultimate particle.
But then beneath atoms, we found protons.
And beneath protons, we found quarks.
And beneath quarks, we found strings.
Only strings aren't even particles at all.
[scoffs.]
They're just vibrations of energy.
You think the world is so solid, and then it melts.
Oh, good God, I'm drunk.
Wanna go upstairs? Split a $10 Toblerone? [lounge music playing.]
Diabetic.
[scoffs.]
Liar.
[both chuckle.]
[dark music.]
[faint screaming.]
[ominous tone.]
[slow-motion footfall.]
Is that for me? It's for the Belgian ambassador.
[slow-motion footfall.]
[ominous tone.]
[thunderous tone.]
[dark music.]
They always say it's going to rain when it's hot, when the air gets thick, and you want it to rain, a deep, cleansing rain that knocks the dirt out of the sky and leaves everything clear, but it never really does.
How many have you had? How many have you had? Let's have one more.
Let's go home.
Two more for the happy couple.
I thought we were leaving.
Can I get some pretzels? I'm allergic to peanuts.
My throat swells up and I foam like a rabid dog.
Let's go.
What are we doing here? - Don't.
- Or what? Forget it.
Who are you? Let go.
Where do you go when you're not with me? What lie do you want me to tell? [eerie tone.]
One double scoop cone, please.
[dramatic music.]
[ominous music.]
[gasping, choking.]
[choking.]
[dramatic tone.]
[exhales.]
[phone ringing.]
This is Burton.
[suspenseful music.]
[knocks.]
[knocks harder.]
Step out of the way.
Who is he? A friend.
You're gonna tell me, so don't waste time not telling me.
He's the Belgian ambassador to the UN.
What's he doing in Montreal? He was my silent partner.
You have to fix it.
Give me your phones.
Both of you.
We were having drinks.
And what else? Cocaine? He brought it.
We were celebrating.
Just the three of you? No girls? No boys? No.
Put your shoes on.
Take our client to his room.
Get him packed, get him to the airport.
Put him on the first flight back to New York, coach if you have to, but out of Canadian air space by 8:00 a.
m.
- What are you gonna do? - Call the police.
But whoa, whoa.
But what? He's dead.
I can only manage the fallout.
You, when the police contact you, you're gonna want to lie.
You're gonna want to make up a story.
I'm telling you, do everything in your power to resist the urge.
You were doing drugs.
He did too many.
You flew home because he was your friend and you freaked out.
Is any part of that untrue? No.
Take him.
Go.
- [claps twice.]
Move! - Okay.
[pounding.]
[rings buzzer.]
I'm not listed.
I'm a cop.
Yeah, I saw your patient.
She was out in the woods with a bunch of those green-sneaker people.
Thank you for telling me.
And she's still associating with that cult.
That would be the inference.
Alice is not some gentle little girl.
I saw her, she Robbed a bank? Killed a man? I am trying to help you.
No, you're not.
Whatever you saw in the woods unsettled you.
So you barge in here, inappropriately.
You are edgy and defensive, and you're demanding answers with the idea that it'll fix things, but it won't.
These people, they came out of the woods.
They poured out the ashes of my victims and flung them into the air.
Your victims? I found them.
You've found bodies before.
So what makes these 12 so special? There's a layer beneath what's going on here I can't explain.
I am not a patient on your couch.
Well, you're certainly behaving like one.
An emotionally-stunted boy who can't stand his own feelings of helplessness because it reminds him of the psychic trauma inflicted on him by his now catatonic mother.
Or at least that's what I would write up in my notes.
You have no idea what's going on with your patient.
[door opens, shuts.]
[dark music.]
Tell them it's called "Neige.
" Snow.
You're a magician.
The client will be very happy.
And we don't have to return the retainer.
All that worry for nothing.
I have to get back to the city.
[ambient dramatic music.]
Sure.
Yeah.
Uh I'll pack and come with you.
Yeah, if if you want to stay longer, I won't be offended.
This, your creation.
I knew this weekend would turn out.
[doorbell chimes.]
[door unlocks.]
[dark music.]
[line trilling.]
I thought you'd like to know.
The Belgian ambassador died in Montreal last night.
How'd you know where I live? I saw you in the woods, looking for your mother.
You're a good son.
[ominous tone.]
[sighs.]
No thanks.
I'm allergic to peanuts.
Throat swells up and I foam like a rabid dog.
Do we create our own monsters? Or do our monsters create us? Perhaps they need us to validate their own existence.
Or perhaps their own monstrosity?