02x03 - Pressed Duck

[bunniefuu]

[bright instrumental music]

♪ ♪

[bright easy listening music]

♪ ♪

- Oh, I believe we've arrived.

- Oh, Paris.

Oh.

Oh, and it feels just the same.

It's been waiting for us.

[chuckles]

- I told Jean I prefer
never to look back,

but that's not entirely true,

not when the past
looks like this.

- I was an embryo here,
just getting started.

But you have a legacy, Paul.

You left a mark.

- Two days.

Just the two of us.

- [honks horn] [speaking French]

- [speaking French]

- Hmm?
- Go on and check us in.

I'll, uh... I'll
handle this scoundrel.

- Don't hurt him too much.
- No, no, no, no, no, no.

- Bonjour.
- Oh, bonjour.

- Julia.

Julia!
- Avis!

- Oh. They told me

your train from Nice
had a slight delay.

But you're right on schedule.

- Yes, we made up time.

What are you doing here?

- You invited me.
- I did?

- Yes.

You wrote, "You must
come to France."

So I did.

- Well, that's just
a thing people say.

- I've made friends with
the front desk clerk.

He's a lovely guy.

Long story short, we
have adjoining rooms.

- Oh.

- You all right, Paul?

- Oh, I'm great.

I've really missed this.

Can you believe it?

Paris.

I'm going to be a flaneur
again for two straight days.

You?

- No flaneusing for me, alas.

I wish.

I have an Alp's worth
of work in my briefcase.

I'm allowing myself one lunch

with an old pal I used to edit.

- Anyone I know?

- [clicks tongue]

- Ooh.
- Hmm.

[both humming]

- I'm just getting some
fresh air, mon chéri.

- Save some for me.

- Oh, I thought
you'd never come.

- [chuckles]
- Champagne?

- Oh, darling.

You shouldn't have.

- To g*y Paris.

- To g*y Paris.

[chuckles]

- Mm.

Let's really go to
town, as they say.

Indulge.

Forget our troubles.

Come on, get happy.

- The thing is, Avis...

- Julie!
- Paul...

be back in a flash.

- [humming]

- Oh.

[both humming]

- Where should we go first?

Jeu de Paume? L'Orangerie?

- No museums.

- No museums?

- No. I think I'd rather be

a tourist of our past this time.

- Poet.

- So much has changed.

Even in these last
few months with Simca,

I sometimes feel like I'm
losing track of who I am.

- Hmm.

- Maybe if we went back
to where it all started...

to Le Cordon Bleu.

- I see it.

I may even have some
surprises up my sleeve.

And down my pants.
- Ha!

- I'll call to tell them.
Then we can be on our way.

- You hold that
thought, Paulski.

You've made me all
hot and bothered.

[laughs] I may just need
to air out the merchandise.

[chuckles]

You were saying?

- Cigarette?

- Oh, I shouldn't.

Well, just a puff
for old times' sake.

- Were you smoking?
- [scoffs] No.

You know I don't smoke alone.

Or... or drink alone.

Yet.

[chuckles] No, it's
just the aroma of Paris.

- I'm running away.

- How fabulous.

From what?

- I know we're running
away, but so what?

Let's embrace our final
weekend in the past,

before we are thrust
back into the hustle

and bustle of the present.

None of that until
the plane lands.

Okay, kitten?
- Hmm?

[shutter clicks]

- It's a little warm
for hot chocolate.

But oh sh*t, it's legendary.

And it's not like I'm coming
back when the weather turns.

- The thing is, Avis,
dear, Paul has... oh.

- Don't be alarmed, Julia,
but there's a tiny woman

on the next balcony

who bears a striking resemblance

to a lush we sometimes
entertain in Cambridge.

- You don't say.

- Well, the jig is up.

The thing is, Avis, dear,

Paul is planning a rather
remarkable romantic trip

down Memory Lane
for us this weekend.

- [laughs] Well, why
didn't you just say so?

- Well, because you
came all this way

based on my
rhetorical invitation.

- I am perfectly capable

of entertaining myself in Paris.

- And you don't mind?

- Mind? I insist.

Just not too romantic.

We share a wall.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

- Sorry I'm late.

- Oh, no need. No need.

You're here for the big news.

Now gentlemen, as we all know,

things can't continue the
way they've been going.

As much as I hem and haw

about fresh ideas
and new content,

I need to put my money
where my mouth is.

I've made the difficult decision

to cancel "I've Been Reading."

- This is their doing.

Hunter, I know his
audience is limited,

but as a non-reader,

I have learned so
much from "Reading."

The show, not actually reading.

Don't succumb to
a female agenda.

- I appreciate that, uh, Roman,

but this has nothing to
do with those ladies.

I'd save it if I could.

I've racked my head
against the wall

trying to figure out how.

- If I may?

I... I just think you need
to try some noisier guests.

Controversial.

Provocative.

Dangerous, even.

- Like who?

- Off the top of my
head, I don't know...

Helen Gurley Brown, "Sex
and the Single Girl."

See if he can step
up to the times.

- Albert and "Sex
and the Single Girl"?

[laughs] I, for one, have never
been a sexual single girl.

I've barely been a
sexual married man.

I can't speak to the content.

Alice?

- Hmm? What?

- You're single, right?

- What... what do you mean?

- Is sex interesting to you?

- I gotta pee.

- Lovely.

Um, doesn't exactly
instill confidence.

- [exhales] Oh! Jeez.

- Oh.
- Oh, sorry.

- That's all right.
It's all right.

- Sorry. Oh, hey, Russ.

Um, seeing as Hunter sort
of wants new ideas from us

yesterday, I was wondering

if you could spare a few minutes

to spitball with me.

- Spitball? I love
the TV lingo, pal.

Did Elaine teach you that?

But no can do.

I've got an anti-w*r
movement to spotlight.

I'm actually
meeting some members

of the Socialist
Party of America.

- Socialism. Radical.

- Day one of pilot filming.

The great work begins.

- Well, good luck.

- Are you okay?

- Me? Why do you...
why do you ask?

- You're looking
a little sweaty.

Are you feeling all right?

- Oh.
- Oh.

No, no, no. Let
me try that again.

Marian tells me women
don't appreciate

those kinds of observations.

She definitely doesn't.

Ixnay on the weatsay.

More like a glow.

A misty glow.

You're glowing, Alice.

- [speaking French]

[door opens]

Julia?

- [speaking French]

- Oh, Monsieur Bugnard.

Monsieur Bugnard.

[scattered applause]

[shutter clicks]

[cheerful music]

♪ ♪

- But it's true.

It's all meaningless.

- You can't stop, Jean-Paul.

You can't stop writing.

- Why? What's the point?

I understand that
just like any writer,

I'm doomed to tell
the same story

until the day I die.

But having that knowledge?

It just makes it, uh, not
only futile, but petty.

- Okay.

You're bringing me down, JP.

I have one day in Paris.

I wanna be inspired,
rekindled, awed.

- Try Camus.

Maybe he's in town.

- How can you be so flip?

This is your life's work.

And for whatever it's worth,
this is my life's work, too.

And you telling me my
life is meaningless

is, frankly, pissing me off.

- Well, I'm sorry
it's pissing you off,

but that does not
make it less true.

Open your eyes.

All that survives is crap.

The Bible... garbage.

It does not even hold
up dramaturgically.

Shakespeare... incomprehensible,
sentimental tripe.

- Enough.

Another word on the
subject, and I'm leaving.

I didn't come all the way
here to get a lecture.

- Maybe Bugs Bunny...
he has insight.

Apart from that,
I'm drawing a blank.

- A Mel Blanc.

- This place has a really
nice junior high school vibe.

I hadn't thought of myself as
having cooties in 20 years.

- Julia talks about a
confederacy of women,

although I'm pretty sure
she meant a sisterhood

and not a traitorous army.

- Well, whatever she meant,
we really need her back.

I mean, we need reinforcements.

- I have an idea for a show.

For our female audience...

Julia's audience... as
per Hunter's instructions.

- This is why I said yes when
you asked me to take this job.

- Okay.

[sighs]

Maybe we should take our
brainstorming session

someplace else.

Dinner tomorrow night?

- Yes. You're on.

- I know a mediocre diner I
can afford on my GBH salary.

Breakfast all day.

- Oh. How are the eggs?

- Greasy and great.

I'm so sorry.

Will you excuse me for a minute?

[exhales]

No.

No. You are not pregnant.

[retches]

- Editing my translations,

you always had such confidence

in how they would be
received in English.

- You and Camus.

I was still a kid, practically.

Playing masterpiece
sandbox, immersing myself,

working like a dog
with you two nutcases.

I don't know where I
found the confidence.

- I remember you
were having an affair

with that fat, boring,
married American.

- That fat, boring, married
American is now my husband.

- Ah.

Americans.

They can make anything
Puritan, even their affairs.

[chuckles] So devoted
to their mistakes.

- You know what?

I think I'm done.

[speaking French]

- Fancy seeing you here.

- Likewise.
- [laughs]

Oh, you have a little
hot chocolate mustache.

- So do you.
- [laughs]

- Avis DeVoto, Jean-Paul Sartre.

- Oh.

- Enchanté, madame.

- Hello.
- [laughs]

I actually have to
get back to the hotel.

- Oh.

- Yeah, I'm desperately
behind with work.

I was hoping our time
together would inspire me

to dive in with newfound vigor.

Oh, well.

I'm waiting for
the next piece, JP.

I do not accept this
extension of your philosophy.

If nothing else, write it down.

- Well, uh, it was
nice meeting you.

- Oh, don't leave me all alone.

I'll k*ll myself.

I'm so f*cking depressed.

- Me too.

- He wanted to come in.

Why did you not let him?

To take off your clothes
with another person

is one of life's
only real pleasures,

even if you're as old
and saggy as we are.

- It's a butterflies problem.

I don't have them.

With Bernard, my husband,
I always had them.

- But he is dead, no?

- Yes.

- I don't understand.

Stanley is not a replacement
for your husband,

but for loneliness.

- Hmm. Maybe.

- It's funny. You're upset

because Stanley gives
you too much attention.

Try getting too little.

When I come home,
will Simone be there?

- I'm guessing no?

- I probably won't
see her until morning,

if I'm lucky.

But that's l'amour.

There is always one who
loves the other more.

It's never equal.

- My marriage was equal.

- I guess you achieved what
Romeo and Juliet could not.

- I guess so.

- What happened when your
husband took a lover?

- He never took a lover.

- Well, what about
when you took a lover?

- I never took a lover.

- C'est impossible.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

- Aren't they all
marvelous, Julia?

- Oh, they are.

- Only at Le Cordon Bleu.

- Oui.

- Oh!

- [laughs]

- Bon soir.

- Bon soir, madame.

I hope you had a pleasant day.

- You've obviously
never spent an afternoon

with an existentialist.

- Oh.

You have a number of messages.

- Oh, look at me.

How popular am I?

- They're all coming
from the same person.

Someone named Blanche.

- Read them to me.
I can't bear it.

- All right.

"I need an update on the
Sylvia Plath estate now!"

There is an exclamation point.

"Where are you?

I thought you were
coming home today."

"I call you at your hotel.

Where are you?"

"People don't answer their
phone in Paris, huh?"

"Your assistant knows nothing."

"I fire your assistant!"

Exclamation point again.

And...

- I'll be working in my room
this evening, and ordering in.

No calls.
- Bien.

- Merci.

- Staring at Simone's apartment,

waiting for her or her
lover to emerge post-coital,

doesn't seem to me to be
the best use of time, JP,

even if life is meaningless.

- I never said life
is meaningless.

You don't understand
existentialism.

- No, I probably don't.

sh**t me.

But didn't you write
"hell is other people"?

- Oh, you saw "No Exit"?

- No, I read that
line in a magazine.

Then why all these extra
people in your life?

Why this endless
parade of lovers

that drive you
crazy with jealousy?

That seems inconsistent.

- You think I should
be consistent?

- You are Jean-Paul Sartre.

- Is every psychiatrist sane?

- Oh, well, you make a point.

- Is every priest a saint?

- Now you're gloating.

- You expect me to live
by my own philosophy

every single second?

This from a woman who believes

that a chance meeting with
a man at the age of 18

was ordained by the universe

as her only shot at happiness?

- It made me happy
for a long time.

Isn't that good enough
for a working philosophy?

- You should write a book.

[church bells ringing]

- So what's the plan?

- We wait all
night, if necessary.

- Okay.
- What else?

- I know you didn't come to
Paris for me to cook a fish.

- No.

It was a very nice fish.

- You're looking at
me like it's 1948,

on our first night in France,
and I'm only 36 years old.

- No.

I'm looking at you
like it's today,

and I've never changed
how I felt since then.

[romantic music]

♪ ♪

- I've watched every
episode three times,

and I think it's fascinating

how much the show has
evolved in just one season.

And I noticed that things that
were mistakes in episode one,

by episode four,

they were incorporated into
the rhythm of the show.

- No, at first Julia's
mistakes gave me angina.

But I figured out pretty quickly

that the flaws were the
show's greatest strength.

Never cut.

Never start over.

You'll miss something
distinctly Julia.

Over here, it's just a
limitation of our setup.

When you're sh**ting her moving
from the oven to the counter,

it's very tough to get around
on her on camera three,

so I just come very
close with camera two,

and she knows by now
to cheat to camera.

She's completely instinctive.

- Stick close by, Russ.
I'm gonna need you.

- As I told Julia, I'm
just down the hall.

- May I ask, why did you
leave in the first place?

- Because today I
got to do the work

I've been dreaming
about my whole life.

- ♪ I once was lost ♪

♪ But now I'm found ♪

♪ Was blind, but now ♪

♪ I see ♪

[applause]

- Amen.

The altar is now open for
anyone to receive Jesus.

- Dear God, long time no see.

Um, I guess you know
how desperate I am

just by me being here.

But I'm willing to try
anything at this point.

Please, please, I beg of you...

- You didn't call
me back last night.

Too busy for your mama,
but you have time for this?

I'm dubious, to say the least.

- Are you actually
mad that I'm praying?

- Mad? Not mad.

More confused.

Suspicious. What did you do?

What trouble did you
get yourself into?

- I... I needed
inspiration for a new show.

I thought he could help.

- That is a waste of his time.

- Can we discuss this later?

- [sighs] I'll see
you in the lobby,

at which point we'll discuss
proper kneeling attire.

- Mother!

[romantic music]

♪ ♪

- I have missed this place.

Oh!

Mm.
- Ooh, la, la.

Oh, fantastic.

[cork pops] Oh! Oh!

- [laughs]

A toast to us.

[chatter]

- [speaking French]

[laughter]

- They were just shellfish!

[laughter]

I wish you could have seen her.

Le Cordon Blue,
the great Bugnard,

all in service of her vision.

- Well, Bocuse's vision.

But still, the fish was
lighter than a feather,

which I cannot
say for this duck.

It's marvelous.

- We haven't indulged like
this since you two left.

- Has it been that dreary?

- The man who replaced
you, George Drummond...

a nincompoop.

- Oh, now, I liked George.

- He was a plodder, playing
checkers to your chess.

- Oh, I do miss the
challenge of it.

- And he did not
understand French.

- Oh.
- Well,

I always prided myself on that.

- Wow.
- Mmm.

- They were, I think it is
fair to say, anni mirabiles.

- Oh, tout a fait.

- The Marshall Plan.

All across Europe, would
there be democracy without it?

- No.

- Here in Paris, the work we did

with the Joint
Distribution Committee

for the Jews
resettling in France...

returning their homes,
their businesses,

their possessions, the things
they left behind in exile.

I remember them all, every face.

The Rosenthals,

the Wiets, the Blochs,

the Levis, the Steiners.

They became friends of
ours... uh, some of them.

We gave them back their lives.

- Huh.

- And what does that mean?

- You know France less
well than you think.

- Annette.
- No.

What's the point of this?

It means we do not
change the world,

only who does the hurting.

- Leave it as you
remember, Paul.

What does it matter?

- It matters.

It was his life's work.

- Florent?

- Turns out, we...

we didn't do half the
things we thought we did.

- No, you did them.

It just didn't change anything.

France doesn't change.

Paul Child or George
Drummond, so what?

We are who we are who we are.

[jazz music]

[chatter]

- You are so comfortable
in your skin.

- [laughs] Not always.

But always when I move.

♪ ♪

- [laughs] Life is
full of amazing things.

They are not all the same.

You should be open
to all of them.

♪ ♪

- You couldn't sleep?

- No.

- Well, we had a lot to drink.

All four of us.

We know what we did.

I know what you did.

The Rosenthals, for one.

I know what we did for them.

- That Rembrandt.

You know, Rosa was
the one with the eye.

- [chuckles]

Yeah, but he was the
one with the money.

- [laughs]

- It's been such
a wonderful trip

in every other way.

And we still have eight hours
until the plane takes off.

Let's find them.

I miss them now.

[whimsical music]

♪ ♪

- Ugh!

♪ ♪

Evan Jones, please.

The United States.

That's Beekman 64541.

Evan.

No, I'm fine.

I missed my flight.

Is that okay?

[laughs]

[knocking at door]

- Oh! Ow.

What?

[mischievous music]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

Huh?

[laughs]

Ow. Oh.

- This isn't dangerous, Russ?

- They're peaceful
protests, Marian.

And I'm just filming them.

- Yes, but socialists.

- Against the w*r,
not the government.

And this is the United
States of America.

You're allowed to
say what you think.

- Okay.
- [sighs]

They marched to the
statehouse yesterday,

and I filmed it all.

Some students,
mostly. Some retirees.

Oh, I even interviewed
a housewife like you.

- How open-minded.

- Television is the key, Marian.

I can connect people
all across the country.

Instead of 100 small protests,

now they're part of a movement.

[baby crying]

Oh.

Oh. No, no, no.

That's right.

Make noise.

Make noise, little Vicky.

Your daddy's gonna
change the world.

- After that, maybe
a few diapers.

- You bet.

- This is something
you two cooked up?

Look, if I had wanted
to expand my repertoire

to include the subgenre

of lightly pornographic
self-help literature,

I would have let you know.

- I'm sorry, Albert,
but the author

of "Birdwatching: An
Ornithological Diary

in 30 Species" had to cancel.

- Let me guess.
Bad clams again?

- Well, last time it
was... it was Updike.

And that worked out well.

- Surely even you
and Ms. Levitch

can see the difference
between John Updike

and... and Helen Gurley Brown.

Oh, that can't be her real name.

- Albert, as a new
and now die-hard fan

of the show myself,
I'm just trying

to entice a new audience.

- Well, what will
it be next, Levitch?

I strip to my
skivvies and juggle?

- How am I gonna get that
visual out of my head?

- Now, uh, what I found tit...
titillating about your book...

- Why Albert, you pussycat.

What did you find titillating?

- [laughs nervously]

Uh, your focus on
financial independence.

I hadn't thought of it that way.

That's... well, that's
not so terrible.

- Rather big of you to say.

- Big of me?

- Very big.

Financial independence
and sexual freedom

are inextricably intertwined.

I was 37 when I got married,

but you don't honestly believe

I was a virgin at 37?

- I guess I don't.

- So isn't that the truth of it?

- Well, young lady,
you know what they say.

Good girls go to heaven.

- True. But bad
girls go everywhere.

- [laughs]
- From the age of 20...

what the hell, 19...

I explored my options sexually

until I met the right partner.

I had my fill of all
shapes and sizes.

- Good God.

- Having my own income allowed

for some adventurous
discernment.

The gift of time.

Did your wife have a chance

to explore her options sexually?

- Well...

- I bet she did.

She just didn't tell you.

Now, it's not your
fault, professor.

It's societal.

And that's what my
book, and now the movie,

are here to dismantle.

- You know, in my day,

we read books like
"Anna Karenina"

and "The Scarlet Letter,"

and women were punished
for their sexuality.

[clears throat]

- Your day has passed, old man.

- I have to pee.

- This was one of my favorite
apartments in all of Paris,

and my very favorite couple.

- Yes.

- Bonjour.

- Uh, bonjour, mademoiselle.

- [speaking French]

- Au revoir.
- Au revoir.

- Au revoir.

- Hmm.

- [singing in French]

[romantic music]

♪ ♪

- [gasps] Merci.

- [speaking French]

- [speaking French]

- In the long dark
tunnel of night

that is human existence,

last night was a revelation.

- You mean you had a good time.

- I'll still never put
pen to paper again.

That's useless folly.

But from now on, I shall
dance whenever I can.

- [laughs]

- When I got home, Simone
was so worried and jealous.

Who stays out till


[chuckles]

We never went to sleep at all.

- Oh. Well, glad I could help.

- Simone wants to meet you.

This woman who can bring
people back from the dead.

Will you join us?

- For lunch, dinner?

- Oh... there can
be dinner too.

- Oh.

Oh! [laughs]

Oh, really, JP.

[laughs]

I'm seeing someone.

- I still know my way
around the Paris bureaucracy

as well as any man.

An address for the Rosenthals.

You okay, Jule?

- It's from Chef Bugnard.

- Oh.

"I was so happy to
see you today, Julia,

"all these years later.

"Teaching you was one of
the great joys of my life,

"and now you are
my teacher, too.

"But I will be
happy to miss you,

"because your work
is in America now.

"Do not be afraid of the new.

"It does not erase the
past, only build on it.

"Show the world how to cook,

daughter..." [laughs]
"of Escoffier,

"madame ambassadress,

my shining student."

[cloth rustling]

- Hello?

Oh, Mom.

What... what are you
doing with those?

- Did you stop
ironing your sheets?

- I never ironed my sheets, Mom.

- You know they actually last
longer if you care for them?

- Did you pop over here
just to tell me that?

- No, I came to talk to you.

The sheets called out to
me from the other room.

- I will try to find
some time this weekend.

- Unless you're in
church again, I suppose.

- It's possible.

- Alice.

Alice.

Even if you have no one else
to talk to, you always have me.

And I answer quicker than God.

Can I help you with anything?

- No.

No. I'm just blocked at work.

- Well, her fangs were out.

What can I say?

We should never
book New Yorkers.

- Is that right?

- You know, I admit I
didn't properly prepare

the way I like to.

But have you read it, Hunter?

"Sex and the Single Girl"?

It's trash.

I don't know how to help trash.

- But don't you realize, Albert?

She was there to help you.

- How do you mean?

- Do you want me to
spell it out for you?

- I understand that
times are changing.

I do.

I mean, it's happening
at the college, too.

I recently added Willa Cather
to my syllabus, and a Bronte.

- Well, that's terrific.

I'm sure your students
will appreciate it,

especially those
of the fairer sex.

- It meant losing "Moby-d*ck."

You can't add
without subtracting.

- Took the words
right out of my mouth.

Albert, this is not easy.

I've actually had
stomach issues for days

just figuring out how
to say this to you.

It's not gonna work, Albert.

- Okay. Invite her back.

I'll do better.

I'll do better this
time, I promise.

- You can finish out the season,

and we'll give you
a proper sendoff.

You've been a vital part of
WGBH since the beginning,

and for that, I'll
always be grateful.

- Oh.

I see.

Well, then.

Thank you, Hunter.

I hope someone treats
you with the same grace

when your time comes.

And it's coming.

- Oh, my God, I almost feel bad.

- Don't. She wiped
the floor with him.

He was a mop.

- He was a wet, wet mop.

[laughter]

You know, her sexual
politics are an A-plus,

but her food politics...

I don't know if
you read the book.

They're just the worst.

If she saw two
women eating dessert

with nary a man present,

we'd be thrown into girl jail.

- And it's all a
little grandiose.

And true, she talks
about sexual freedom,

and quite frankly at that,

but without any real
nuts-and-bolts information

about how to take
care of yourself

within that freedom.

- You mean orgasms?

- I mean pregnancy.

Okay. I had a night.

A... a great night.

A really great night.

- Sounds like a great night.

- It was, but now I am afraid

that it's going to cost
me the rest of my life.

I'm nauseous, I have this
weird pain in my side,

and I have to pee all the time.

- When did you have your night?

- It was four days ago.

- No, you're not pregnant.

And the odds of getting pregnant

from having sex one
time are super low.

- [whispering] It
was three times.

- You're still not pregnant,

and if you were,
you wouldn't know,

not yet.

Can I ask you an
intimate question?

- I mean, you can ask.

- After all those
times, did you pee?

- No.

But we spooned.

- You should have peed.

It's, uh, sort of
a rule, my dear.

- A rule?

- To prevent you
from getting a UTI.

You have a UTI.

- Oh, uh...

- A urinary tract infection.

- Oh.

Oh, how wonderful!

Oh.

Oh, thank you.

- So we need to get you
on some antibiotics,

and then, if you want to
have sex a fourth time...

- Yes, I do.

- You need to get
on contraception.

And I will help you.

- Well, you are amazing.

You should write a book.

- Maybe I should.

My parents would plotz.

- Or better yet, make a show.

Women talking to
women about things

no one else talks
about on television.

- Is this what you
wanted to spitball about?

- Mm-hmm.

- Cool.

- To Julia.

For bringing us together.

- To Julia.

[chuckles]

- I didn't know my
aunt and uncle well.

- Well, they were
wonderful people.

- And so charming.

And they had us over one
night for Friday night dinner.

And I discovered challah bread,

and nothing's been
the same since.

- [chuckles]

- Are they no longer in Paris?

- They tried.

That's probably
when you knew them.

But it was very hard

for many Jewish
people after the w*r.

Guilt made the anti-Semitism
worse, not better.

After all, Paris stands
because she gave up her Jews.

We were made to feel like
thieves in our own homes.

Neighbors would stare.

Worse than stare.

It was too much for
my aunt and uncle.

They sold the flat
and moved to Israel.

- Oh.
- Gosh.

- Yes.

[melancholy music]

- I'm sorry for
taking up your time

and dredging all this up.

- No, no, no.

It's nice to remember.

Well, not nice, but important.

My parents converted.

They didn't want to leave,

and that felt like the
safest way to stay.

France is their home.

My aunt and uncle
didn't understand.

But for us, it was
the right thing.

- Yes, you poor soul.

♪ ♪

- Your aunt and uncle had a
magnificent art collection.

It was part of my job
to... to help locate it.

- I'm sorry.

- Please don't
apologize. There's...

there's nothing, uh, for
you to apologize for.

- I just wish I had
a better answer.

- Yes. I do, too.

♪ ♪

It's stunning.

♪ ♪

- "Donor unknown."

They've been erased.

- You tried, Paulski.

- What does it matter?

- It matters to me.

And I'm sure it
mattered to them.

- They lost everything.

What I lost...

We just have no idea, do we?

What any of it means.

What we do.

[soft music]

I sometimes wonder,

if we had had children...

- They would have
been who they are,

not the sum of
everything we gave them.

♪ ♪

You were the one
who reminded me,

we don't control what
the things we do mean,

only what we want them to mean.

- I did, didn't I?

- The show is our baby.

It's growing up,
and it needs us.

We still have chapters
left to write, Paulski.

We don't need to
look back anymore.

The cl*max of the story

always occurs in the second act.

That's the best part.

[Ann Sothern's "The
Last Time I Saw Paris"]

♪ ♪

- ♪ The last time
I saw Paris ♪

♪ Her heart was warm and g*y ♪

♪ I heard the laughter
of her heart ♪

♪ In every street café ♪

♪ The last time I saw Paris ♪

♪ Her heart was warm and g*y ♪

♪ No matter how
they change her ♪

♪ I'll remember her that way ♪

♪ I dodged the
same old taxicabs ♪

♪ That I had
dodged for years ♪

♪ The chorus of
their squeaky horns ♪

♪ Was music ♪

♪ To my ears ♪

♪ The last time I saw Paris ♪

♪ Her heart was warm and g*y ♪

♪ No matter how
they change her ♪

♪ I'll remember her ♪

♪ That way ♪