Love Letters (1999)

[bunniefuu]

-I'll take those off your hands, senator.

-I'll keep them. Thanks, Kitty.

-How did things go, senator?

-Fine.

No. Not fine. I got through it.

-Charlie, look up something for me.

-Sir?

Find out who said, "Every funeral

we go to is really our own."

-The office, senator?

-I think I'll go home.

You've got the chamber of commerce

at 5 and a finance meeting at 5:30.

Home.

Cover for me, will you, guys?

Say that I'm....

-Indisposed?

-No.

-Working on the education bill?

-No, no, no.

Mourning the death of an old friend?

Yes. Say that.

-They won't buy it.

-That's because it's the truth.

-You sure you're all right?

-He's not--

Leave him alone, Charlie.

-Hey, Jake.

-Your missus isn't home yet, senator.

I'll be in my study, Ella. Thanks.

Get down! Jake! Jake! Stop.

Give us a break. Come on.

You'd think he'd lost

an election, huh?

"Andy writes again."

"Dear Melissa."

"Dear Melissa."

"Dearest...

...Melissa."

Dear Andy.

Melissa?

Who else?

Hi.

I saved everything

you ever wrote to me.

I did the same with yours.

I bet you never knew

I was such a pack rat.

Good Lord. Is that all me?

Not bad for a girl

who hated writing letters.

Getting it together, eh?

Good man.

What's that?

A Dead Sea Scroll.

Andrew Makepeace Ladd III accepts

with pleasure the kind invitation...

...of Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Channing

Gardner for a birthday party...

...in honor of their daughter Melissa,

on the occasion of her 7th birthday.

Dear Andy, thank you

for the birthday present.

I have lots of Oz books,

but not The Lost Princess of Oz.

What made you give me that one?

Sincerely...

...Melissa.

I'm answering your letter

about the book.

When you came into second grade

with that nurse...

...you looked like a lost princess.

Remember that?

I do.

I do.

Everyone stand.

I pledge allegiance to the flag

of the United States....

Ready or not...

-...here I come.

-And to the republic...

-...for which it stands....

-One--

Over there, Melissa.

One nation, indivisible,

with liberty and justice for all.

This is called the salutation.

Now, let's all put our pencils

to our papers.

Dear...

...sir...

...or....

Dear madam, will you help me get

the milk and cookies during recess?

Dear sir, I will...

...if you won't ask me

to marry you again.

Andy Ladd...

...whom have you chosen

to help you with refreshments?

-Melissa Gardner.

-Melissa Gardner.

Yippee!

-Who washes your shirts?

-My mother.

-Who washes your shirts?

-My mother.

My mother doesn't have time

to do laundry.

She goes to too many

c*ck parties.

Is my shirt dirty?

No, but it has too much starch

in the collar.

Well, at least

will you be my valentine?

I will, unless I have to kiss you.

I should have anyway,

then and there.

"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady."

Dear Andy, merry Christmas.

I made this card myself.

It's not Santa Claus.

It's a kangaroo jumping over

a glass of orange juice.

I hope you like it.

I like you.

Melissa.

Dear Melissa:

My father says

I have to apologize in writing...

...for when I went swimming

in your pool.

I apologize for sneaking

into the bathhouse...

...while you were changing.

tell your stuck-up nanny, Miss

Hawthorne, I apologize to her too.

Here's a picture of you and me

without our bathing suits on.

Guess which one is you.

Don't show this to anyone.

I love you.

Here's a picture of Miss Hawthorne

without her bathing suit on.

You can't draw very well, can you?

Thanks for sending me

the cactus plant in the donkey.

Got lots of presents in the hospital.

I've gotta write thank-you notes

for every one.

I hate it here.

My throat is sore all the time

from where they cut out my tonsils.

Also, they take my temperature

the wrong way.

You made me promise

to send you a postcard.

This is it.

You're supposed to write personal

notes on the backs of postcards.

For example, here are some questions

to help you think of things to say:

Do you like Lake Saranac?

Is it fun visiting your grandmother?

Are your parents really

getting divorced?

Do you swim in the deep part

of the lake, or does Miss Hawthorne...

...make you stay in the shallow part,

where it's all roped off?

Is there anybody there my age?

I mean, boys.

Please write answers

to all these questions.

No, no, yes, yes, no.

I'm sending you this picture

that I drew of our cat.

I put jiggly Iines around the tail

because sometimes the tail behaves...

...Iike this completely

separate person.

I love that tail.

There's a part of me

that feels like that tail.

And here's some bad news.

My mother got married again,

to a man named Hooper McFail.

Help!

Let me out of here.

Dear Mrs. McFail:

I want to apologize

for my behavior in your car...

...coming home last night

from Billy's birthday party.

Charlie and I were just goofing

around, and it got out of hand.

I'm sorry you had to pull over...

...and I'm sorry

we tore Melissa's dress.

My father says you should send me

the bill, and I'll pay for it.

Dear Andy, Mummy brought

your letter up here to Lake Placid.

She thought it was cute.

I thought it was dumb.

I could tell your father

made you write it.

As for the fight in the car, you and I

both know it was Charlie's fault.

He never apologized for it,

thank God.

That's why I Iike him, actually.

As for you...

...you shouldn't always do

what your parents want.

Even at birthday parties,

you're always doing the right thing.

You're a victim

of your parents sometimes.

That was why I picked Charlie

to do the rumba with that time.

He, at least, likes

to hack around occasionally.

I'm enclosing a picture I drew

of a puppet on a string.

You are the puppet.

Your parents are the strings.

This is you, Andy, sometimes.

I know it seems jerky,

but I like writing, actually.

I like writing compositions in English.

I like writing letters. I like writing you.

I wanted to write that letter to your

mother because I knew you'd see it.

Like talking to you

when you weren't here.

-But a letter doesn't--

-You couldn't interrupt.

My father says people should write

as much as they can.

It's a dying art.

He says letters are a way...

...of presenting yourself in the best

possible light to another person.

I think that too.

I think you sound too much

like your father.

But I'm not gonna argue

with you by mail.

Anyway, the skiing's too good.

Get well soon.

I'm sorry you broke your leg.

Mummy says I broke my leg

on purpose...

...because I'm

a self-destructive person.

All I know is, I wish

I'd broken my arm instead...

...so I'd have a good excuse

not to write any more letters.

I'm enclosing this picture I drew

of the bedpan.

Don't you love its shape?

They've shipped me off

to this nunnery.

Help. Let me out of here.

It's the end of the absolute world.

They've made me room with this fat,

spoiled Cuban number...

...who has nine pairs of shoes.

All she does is lie on her bed

and listen to Finian's Rainbow.

Who gives a crap

how things are in Glocca Morra?

It's here where they're miserable.

Come save me, Andy.

Yes!

Harwood!

Let's go, let's go!

At least write...

...just so I can hear a boy's voice...

...even on paper.

I got shipped off too.

Got a scholarship to this fancy

boys' boarding school.

My father thinks it's time

I was with all boys.

And my mother thinks

I'm a diamond in the rough.

I'll write as soon as I'm smoother.

Dear diamond, don't let that school

smooth you out too much.

I like the rough part.

Don't you think boarding school's

a crock?

-No.

-I do. I think it's the pits.

-Except for this art course I'm taking.

-You still like to draw?

And paint and sculpt.

My teacher thinks I have talent.

Has she seen your masterpiece:

Kangaroo Jumping Over

a Glass of Orange Juice?

She took me to her studio

in town...

...where we did life drawings

of her lover in just a jockstrap.

Would you ever pose for me

in a jockstrap?

Who needs a jockstrap?

Are you boasting or complaining?

-Now I know.

-Very funny.

Sorry to hear about your mother,

by the way.

About divorcing Hooper McFail?

I never liked him anyway.

He was a pest and a pill

and tried to paw me all the time.

-That son of a beechnut tree.

-It's okay.

-I'm going to a psychiatrist now.

-I went to one once.

I talked about you.

It's almost New Year's.

How about making it official?

Let's go steady.

Not on your life.

Why not?

Mom said you should meet

as many boys as you can...

...so you don't make a mistake

when you marry.

Okay, everybody,

time to change partners.

Jeez, Andy, you've

hardly noticed me tonight.

No, Gretchen, I have. Really.

You stand out in a crowd.

Subtle as a truck.

Look who's talking.

Blanche DuBois over there.

Stay away from that guy.

He's bad news.

Who are you, my guardian?

I see why your mom put you

in boarding school.

Oh, yes? Well, I'm not going back.

I'm going to California instead.

-California?

-My father's sent for me.

Melissa.

Try this on for size.

Don't mind if I do.

Nine, eight, seven, six...

...five, four, three, two...

...one. Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, Andy!

Ditto, Gretchen.

-Any port in a storm.

-Yeah, yeah.

-I'm sore at you.

-Oh, come on.

Say hello to Granny and goodbye

to me. I'm on my way to the airport.

I'll say hello to Granny.

Hello, Mrs. Pommeroy.

-We'll miss her, won't we, Andrew?

-Depends on how she behaves.

I want you to know

I hate that Bob Bartram.

I hated him even

when I necked with him.

He's telling everyone in town

he French-kissed you...

-...and touched both your breasts.

-That's a lie.

tell everyone right back that he

should be strung up by his testicles.

How come you kissed him, then,

and not me?

You were kissing Gretchen.

-Only after I saw--

-Andy, stop.

With us, it's different. You know that.

You're more like a friend to me.

Or a brother maybe.

Thanks a bunch.

No, I mean it. Maybe if we

didn't know each other so well...

...or hadn't written so many letters,

we could--

Melissa, darling.

You'll be late for your plane.

Write me in California?

I count on you, Andy.

Sometimes I think I'd go stark raving

mad if I didn't have you to hold on to.

-You exaggerate....

-Everything.

-Not this time....

-I swear.

Write me about California.

How's your second family?

Did you get my letters? I checked

with your mom, and I had the address.

How come you haven't answered me

in over six months?

Back at school now.

Hope everything's okay with you.

Did you get my letters

in California...

...or do you have a wicked stepmother

who confiscates them?

I don't want to talk about California.

Ever.

I thought I had two families.

Now I know I don't really have any.

You're very lucky, Andy.

You don't know it, but you are.

Back at school, but not for long.

Caught nipping gin in the woods

with Bubbles Harramin.

Had to pack my trunk by tonight

and be out by tomorrow.

Mummy's pulling strings

all over the eastern seaboard...

...for another school.

My art teacher thinks I should go

to Italy and study art.

What do you think?

To answer your question

about Italy...

...I think you're too young to go.

I think you should go to another

school, graduate, go to college...

...then afterward, when you're

more mature, you could go to Italy.

That's my advice, for what it's worth,

which is probably not much.

Here I am at Anna Walker's Academy

for Young Lesbians.

Help! Let me out of here!

Plus a change,

plus c'est le same crap.

Are you coming straight home

in June?

I want to see you.

Or are you still in love

with Gretchen?

For your information, I'm not taking

Gretchen Lascelles out anymore.

My parents don't Iike her.

I guess her big chest

is disturbing to older people.

-I hope to see you in June, then.

-I can't come home in June. Sorry.

I need to earn money,

so I got a job...

...as a counselor at a camp

for underprivileged kids.

I'll have to demonstrate social

responsibility till August 1 7th.

I'll write you, though,

and I hope you'll write me.

I don't want to write letters.

I really don't. I want to see you.

You need more confidence

in your letter-writing ability.

Will you stop writing about writing

and come home...

...to the Campbells' sports party

before you go to the stupid camp?!

Please!

I behave better when you're around.

In person.

Please!

Dear Andy, just thought you should

know what Melissa Gardner...

...your one and true love,

did at the Campbells' sports party.

She wore a bright-red bikini bathing

suit and drank four gin and tonics...

...and ran around goosing people

and pushing them into the pool.

She put a tennis ball in her

cleavage and dared boys to take it out.

Now I hear she's just sitting around

painting pictures...

...while the rest of us work for a living.

Just thought you should know.

Your former friend,

Gretchen Lascelles.

Don't you want the respect

of other women?

I'm sorry to say this...

...but what I heard made me

slightly disgusted, frankly.

I sent you a letter

from New Hampshire.

Did you receive it?

Are you sore at me?

I'll bet you're sore at me.

I'm sorry.

I apologize. I'm a stuffy b*stard

sometimes, aren't I?

Oh, the hell with you, then.

Big, tough Andy

using four-letter words like "hell."

-Screw you!

-Don't you wish you could.

Everyone else seems to be.

Dear Andrew Makepeace Ladd,

the turd:

Don't believe everything you read

in the papers.

I just want you to know

you hurt me very much.

I just want you to know that.

So let's just leave each other alone

for a while, all right?

All right.

My mother wrote

that your grandmother had died.

Please accept

my deepest sympathies.

Thank you for your note

about my grandmother.

I loved her a lot.

Even though she could be

a little boring.

Congratulations

on getting into Briarcliffe.

I hear it's a great college.

Thanks for your letter about Briarcliffe.

It's not great, and you know it.

Thanks for your letter about Briarcliffe.

It's not great, and you know it.

But it's close to New York.

I can take drawing at the Art

Institute three days a week.

And in two years, if I stick it out...

...Mummy's promised

I can go live in Florence.

Congratulations

on your scholarship to Yale.

I see you're still with all boys.

Dear Melissa:

Would you come to the Yale-Harvard

game Saturday, November 1 6th?

I'll be there. Plan to drive up stark

naked and flash everyone in sight.

Hey, handsome!

You look like fun.

Hop in.

Duty calls, guys.

-Since when the car?

-Since Granny died.

She left me tons of dough.

Now kiss me.

Where's Bob Bartram?

-Where's Gretchen Lascelles?

-History.

Ancient history.

Where to?

-Got a choice.

-Good. I'm very choosy.

Okay. I made a reservation

at the Taft Hotel, which is very nice.

And loaded with parents

milling in the lobby...

...eyeing those who go up

in the elevator.

That's the problem.

-What's my other choice?

-The Danton...

...but it's a pretty seedy joint.

Make it the Danton.

Melissa has chosen.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Perfect.

Wait.

What about the game?

What game?

The football game.

Which is what you came for.

Is that what I came for?

Why don't you ditch that guy

and come with me.

Couldn't possibly.

-You going with him?

-All my life.

-Maybe it's time to trade him in.

-Why?

I haven't taken him out

on the highway yet.

You mean, you and him

haven't even...?

Not yet.

-Then why are you smiling?

-Because tonight's the night.

-I almost forgot.

-What?

This.

And...

...this is for you.

Put it on while I go change.

I figure, after all these years,

we should fly first class.

At the Danton?

I believe in strong contrasts.

Here begins a new chapter

in an old story.

Maybe I had too much booze.

Maybe I did.

Maybe...

...there were too many other people

in this room.

Other people?

Here?

It seemed my father was here.

And your mother and grandmother,

even your nanny, Miss Hawthorne...

...all standing around the bed...

...shaking their heads

or egging us on.

I think the trouble was letters.

Letters?

We know each other more by mail

than we do in person.

Those darn letters messed us up.

-You think?

-I really do.

And I plan to do something about it.

So do I.

Melissa?

Melissa?

I checked with the doctor,

and he said these things happen...

...especially when there's

pressure involved.

It didn't happen with Gretchen.

You can ask her if you want.

Forget Gretchen. Forget the doctor.

I've got the solution.

Wait, I can't hear you. Wait.

Guys, guys!

I've got the solution.

Namely this.

This telephone. I've had a private line

put in my room.

-You get one too.

-I can't afford that.

-I'll pay for it, then.

-Melissa--

Don't argue. Send me the bill.

We'll get to know each other in life,

not just on paper.

I've gotta keep writing.

A telephone call is dead as soon as

it's over, but a letter can last forever.

It's a special present of myself...

...and you can keep me and read me

any time you want until you die.

Hello.

Who is this?

Right!

You're that wild man from Amherst.

Sure. Count me in.

You telephone, and I'll write letters.

Now...

...come back to Yale next weekend,

and I promise...

...I'll put down my pen...

...and I'll give you a better time.

Dear Andy, guess what.

While I was reading your letter,

Darwin called from Amherst...

...and asked me up there.

-Drive one out here!

-So I said yes...

...before I got to the part

where you asked me.

-Nice try, Andy!

-Way to go.

-Lose your best friend?

-How'd you guess?

Sorry, sweetheart.

Looks Iike the telephone wins

in the end.

Hey! Look where I am.

Florence.

I mean, Firenze.

-I love it!

-What are you doing in Florence?

What am I doing? Painting.

-Among other things.

-Good luck on the painting.

Go slow on the other things.

Merry Christmas.

Happy birthday.

Mother wrote you won an art prize

in Perugia, said it was a big deal.

Congratulations.

Heard you graduated summa

c*m laude, with all sorts of prizes.

Sounds disgusting.

Merry Christmas

from the Land of Oz.

Feliz Navidad

from the Costa del Sol.

And Harvard Law School?

How come?

Getting all stuffy and self-important?

As you know,

I have always liked writing letters.

Now I'll be writing laws,

which are, after all...

...the letters that civilization

writes to itself.

Yes, you are getting all stuffy

and self-important.

Decided to put off law school...

...until I've fulfilled

my military responsibilities.

Dear Second Lieutenant Andy Ladd:

It's a stupid w*r!

And you are stupid...

...to give up your student deferment,

and I am stupid to care.

Dear Melissa:

Here I am again, writing letters...

...this time for the Army in Saigon.

They go like this.

Dear Mr., Mrs., Miss--

Insert name of recipient.

I'm writing on behalf of--

Insert names of responsible officers.

Who extend their sympathies

to you...

...for the loss of your

son, husband, father, brother.

You should know that--

Insert first name or nickname of...

...deceased, if possible.

Was a good friend to us all

and to the cause of democracy.

Sincerely....

P.S.

I'm beginning to hate

writing letters.

I'm glad you've finally discovered

the limitations of letters.

Now take care of yourself...

...and concentrate on your life.

Dear Melissa:

Sorry I haven't written lately.

I've been...

...extremely busy.

Busy, my eye.

Rumor has it you've hooked up with

some Vietnamese bargirl out there.

Say it isn't so.

Dear Andy,

are you getting my letters?

Mother wrote you're living with some

exotic Cambodian concubine.

Your family's all upset.

Is that true?

Did you get my letter?

You're so far away, and your

Army address is so peculiar...

...I'm not sure I'm reaching you.

I hear you're seriously involved

with a lovely Asian lady.

Would you tell me about her?

Merry Christmas

and happy New Year.

You might appreciate this card.

It's a print by the 19th century

Japanese artist Hiroshige.

It's called Two Lovers Meeting

on a Bridge in the Rain.

Hey, you sly dog.

Are you getting subtle

in your old age?

Are you trying to tell me something?

If so, tell me more.

I told my psychiatrist

I felt terribly jealous.

He said American men

have to get involved...

...with a dark-skinned woman

before they connect...

...with the gorgeous blond

goddesses they really love.

Did you get my last letter?

I hope it didn't sound too flip.

I've actually just become involved

with someone myself.

You remember that guy

from Amherst, Darwin?

He now works on Wall Street, where

he believes in survival of the fittest.

P.S. I'd love to hear from you.

Your mother told my mother you've

decided to marry Madame Butterfly...

...and bring her home.

Oh, no.

Gasp, sob, sigh.

Say it isn't so.

I've decided to marry Darwin.

He doesn't know it yet, but he will.

Won't you at least wish me luck?

Second Lieutenant

Andrew M. Ladd III regrets...

...that he is unable

to accept the kind invitation.

Dear Andy, thank you

for the lovely bowl.

I'll put flowers in it

when you come to visit...

...if you come to visit,

and if you bring flowers.

Maybe you'll bring your Asian friend...

...and we can all sit around

and discuss Nixon.

I know you'll like Darwin.

When he laughs, it's like

Pinocchio turning into a donkey.

We're living in New Canaan,

in a carriage house...

...close to the train station,

and I've got a studio all my own.

P.S.

Won't you please write to me

about your big romance?

Mother said your parents

won't even talk about it anymore.

Dear Melissa:

I'm writing to tell you this.

Outside of you, and I mean...

...outside of you...

...this was the most important thing

that ever happened to me...

...and I mean "was"

because it's over.

It's gone, and I'm coming home...

...and that's all I ever want

to say about it ever again.

Can I get you anything before I go?

-It's fine, Ella.

-I put your dinner in the fridge.

-Just heat it up when you're hungry.

-Thanks.

Oh, and the missus called.

She said that she'll eat at the

university and be home later.

Fair enough.

Look what Darwin and I did.

Congratulations on baby.

Come have a drink with us sometime.

We're right near New York...

...and sooner or later,

everyone comes to New York.

I read the review

of your show in Stanford.

It sounds like you're causing

a series of seismic shocks...

...up and down the Merritt Parkway.

I can tell you've been reading

that major New York newspaper.

Enclosed, see what other critics said.

Notice they think I'm good.

I am too.

Or I could be, if I could only focus.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know you're

good. I've always known it.

I hear you made law review...

...whatever that means.

I assume you review laws?

I wish you could review

some of the marriage laws.

Are you in trouble?

I don't understand your last note.

We're fine. All fine. Everything's fine.

Congratulations on baby

number two.

"Number two" is the perfect way

to describe this particular baby.

Greetings from Washington.

Clerking for a Supreme Court justice...

...which isn't quite

as fancy as it sounds.

Dear Andy:

I was very sorry to hear

about the death of your father.

I know he was a great

influence on you.

He was a good, decent man...

...and I always knew

where I stood with him...

...when you'd bring me home to your

family, back in the Land of Oz.

Hey. Hi.

-I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ladd.

-Melissa, how sweet of you to come.

-Still full of surprises, I see.

-I wanted to touch base.

-You look great, by the way.

-New hairdo. Darwin hates it.

Darwin's a lucky son of a....

-We're at a funeral.

-Okay.

I know you loved

your father very much.

Yes, he was a classy guy.

-I also know he didn't like me.

-Oh, hey.

Oh, admit it.

He thought I was bad for you.

He thought most good things

were bad for me.

Yeah. At least he thought

you were worth worrying about.

Wish I had a father like that.

He kept reminding me

of my responsibilities...

...at the expense of everything else.

Is that why you came back

from Saigon alone?

I guess, and why I chose the law...

...and why I probably will

go into politics later on.

Politics?

Good Lord, then I would

be bad for you.

Why don't you come back to the

house. Come on, just family, friends.

I should get back. I want to see

the girls before they go to sleep.

-Let Darwin do that.

-Darwin's away, per usual.

-He's found a little friend.

-Oh, boy.

Can you live with that?

-I can live with a lot of things.

-Yeah, I guess you can.

Not that it's easy.

Everybody wants more.

The gallery wants more paintings.

The girls want more mothering.

Darwin wants more dinner parties

when he's home.

And you?

What do you want?

-I think I'd settle for more booze.

-Oh, Melissa.

I made my bed, didn't I?

I have to learn to sleep in it.

God, I sound like your father.

I'm going to be

a good mother, Andy. I....

My children are gonna

grow up with two parents.

-Even if the parents--

-Oh, don't love each other?

It's all right.

Well, what's marriage anyway?

For most people, after a few years,

it's just an arrangement.

I'm gonna arrange

this one if it kills me.

Greetings from south of the border.

Here for a few weeks,

then home by way of Washington.

Hope you'll take me to lunch.

May I take your coat for you?

-Guess who.

-The Lost Princess of Oz?

What?

What are you staring at?

A pimple on my nose?

No, you look sensational, that's all.

It's my Mexican tan.

You look pretty good yourself.

And successful. Clerking for the

Supreme Court. My, my.

-Next year, you'll be chief justice.

-No, just associate.

He wants us to sit down and shut up.

Thank you.

-So how's everything?

-No chitchat, please.

I want you to consider this

a business lunch.

-Business?

-Yes.

I have business to transact with you.

You see, while I was in Mexico...

...I didn't spend my entire time

climbing pyramids...

...and chugging Kaopectate.

-You didn't?

-No, I didn't.

I spent some time

in a lawyer's office...

...divorcing that clod

I used to be married to.

-Oh, boy.

-And....

So the reason

I stopped by Washington...

...is I thought you might be

looking for a roommate.

A roommate?

Three roommates,

when I get my children.

Four, really, counting the nanny.

I know we'll need a larger place.

Is Georgetown nice?

Do you like those red brick houses?

I'm paying, of course.

That goes without saying.

-Melissa--

-Speak now, forever hold your peace.

-I already have a roommate.

-The more the merrier.

We'll fix him up with the nanny.

What's his name?

Her name is Jane.

Jane?

Jane.

Would monsieur or madame

be interested in a c*ck?

-No, thank you, we wouldn't. Right?

-Wrong.

I'd like a double vodka

on the rocks with a twist, please.

And hurry.

-You see, the thing is--

-Just, just...

...let me get my drink first, Andy,

and then I want to hear all about....

-What's her name again?

-Jane.

Jane.

And then I want to hear

all about Jane.

Melissa Gardner Cobb regrets...

...that she will be unable

to accept the kind invitation of....

Dear Melissa, thank you

for the wedding present.

A hand-painted tray.

Hand-painted by you, I'll bet.

I hope all goes well with you,

as it does with us.

We'll be moving

to New York in the fall.

I've got a job at one of those

high-powered law firms.

Might be a good jumping-off place

for something political.

We both want you to come

to dinner once we've settled in.

And don't say you never

come to New York.

"Sooner or later,

everyone comes to New York"...

...as someone once wrote me

long, long ago.

Merry Christmas from us to you.

Where are you these days?

Happy birthday. Even a married

man never forgets.

Get well soon. Mother wrote

that you had had some difficulties.

I hope it's nothing serious

and by now you're feeling fine.

You have a visitor, dear.

Me?

Oh, no.

I can't remember exactly what one

dozen roses are supposed to say...

...but here they are, and I hope

they say "cheer up."

-I'll put them in her room.

-Thank you.

Hey.

I brought you some flowers.

Did you see them?

Do you like them? Do you like me?

Thank you, Andy.

Thank you for coming

all the way up here.

-How are you doing?

-I'm fine.

Actually, I'm not. It's costing me $550

a day to learn to stop saying that I am.

-How can I help?

-You can't.

I became slightly too dependent

on the old Kickapoo Joy Juice.

A habit which they tell me

I picked up back in the Land of Oz.

Oh, Melissa.

I've got no one to blame but myself.

A fact which makes me slide

into these terrible lows.

Mom says I drag everybody down.

I guess she's right.

You don't drag me down.

You're sweet.

tell that to Darwin.

He took over custody of the girls.

-Oh, God.

-Here I am, popping tranquilizers...

...talking my head off

in single and group sessions...

...becoming one of the biggest

bores in the Boston area.

Have you thought

about painting again?

-I've thought about it.

-You were good, and you know it.

-You should keep it up.

-Maybe I will. I'll channel my rage.

Enlarge my vision. All that.

-How about you?

-You know, life goes on.

Does it? I'd forgotten.

I'm doing a lot of corporation law.

-Do you like it?

-Not enough.

I'm seriously thinking

of getting into politics.

Oh, my.

At a local level.

State legislature maybe.

You'll win. You always do.

-Thanks.

-And how about...?

Wait.

It's sloshing around in the cellar

of my leaky old memory bank.

Got it.

How about Jane?

Oh, she's fine.

Fine? That's a dirty word

around here.

She's pregnant, actually.

-Does she barf before breakfast?

-She does.

tell her welcome to the club.

It's time for your medication, Melissa.

You'd better go, Andy.

These things, they make me

soggy and hard to light.

-Well, that's okay.

-I'd bore the pants off you.

-Never.

-Just go, Andy.

You were wonderful

to come, but please....

Please, just don't

come back here again.

I don't like being seen like this,

least of all by you, so....

Please.

Okay.

Merry Christmas from Andy

and Jane Ladd and Andrew IV.

Greetings from Egypt. I'm trying to

start again in the cradle of civilization.

Seasons greetings

from the Ladd family.

Mother wrote you were planning

to marry again?

I was. I did. I'm not now.

Donner, Rhodes and McCalister...

...announce the partnership

of Mr. Andrew M. Ladd III.

Merry Christmas from San Antonio.

I can see the most incredible shapes

from my bedroom window.

And there's a pretty incredible

shape now sleeping in my bed.

I'm planning to run for Congress.

What do you think?

Go for it. I'm thinking

of moving to Los Angeles.

Do you know anyone in Los Angeles?

Does anyone know anyone there?

Joy to the world from all the Ladds:

Andy, Jane, Drew, Nicholas and Ted.

Remind me to send a check

to Planned Parenthood.

Andy and Jane Ladd and family

have moved to....

Merry Christmas.

Hey, you, what's going on?

Just when I move to New York,

you've scampered off to the suburbs.

-I find the suburbs generally safer.

-Chicken.

-You're right.

-Congratulations on your election...

...Congressman Ladd.

Too bad you're a Republican.

I love all politicians...

...but I find Democrats

are better in bed.

I'm a liberal Republican with

a strong position on women's rights.

Doesn't that count?

I suppose it depends

on your position.

Paintings and drawings

by Melissa Gardner.

The Hastings Gallery,

88 Prince Street.

Opening reception,

March 20th, 6 to 8 p.m.

Note I've gone back

to my maiden name. That's a laugh.

I'd love to have one of your paintings.

We could use a little excitement

on our living-room walls.

-What would one cost?

-Come to the show and find out.

I never made your show.

Sorry, things came up.

Chicken again.

You're right again.

Actually, it's just as well.

I'm going through

what the critics call an...

...anarchistic phase.

They say I'm dancing

on the edge of an abyss.

You better stay away. I might

take you with me when I fall.

You better stay away. I might

take you with me when I fall.

Dear friends,

Jane tells me it's my turn...

...to write the annual

Christmas letter, so here goes.

Let's start at the top

with our quarterback, Jane herself.

Not only has she been

a superb mother to our three sons...

...but she now studies environmental

law at the university...

...three evenings a week.

More power to Jane, so say we all.

We're also proud of all three boys.

Drew is captain of his Little League

team and excels at soccer as well.

Nicholas is the top reader

in his class, while young Teddy...

...already plays clarinet in the school

band at Dickinson Country Day.

I've enjoyed very much

serving in Congress.

All my life, it's been my wish to do

something in public service.

And it's been with great pleasure

I put that wish into practice.

Jane and the boys join me

in wishing each and all of you...

...a happy holiday season.

-Are you finished?

-Why?

Dear Andy:

If I ever get another one of those

drippy, xeroxed Christmas letters...

...I think I'll invite myself out

to your ducky little house for dinner.

And while you're sitting there,

eating terribly healthy food...

...and discussing important things...

...and congratulating yourselves

on your accomplishments...

...I think I'll stand up on my chair...

...turn around and moon

your whole freaking family.

You're right. I apologize

for my annual Christmas letter.

Jane normally writes them, and

they sound better coming from her.

From here on in, I'll have to

stick to writing letters just to you.

As far as my family's concerned,

we try to keep our heads above water.

Jane and I took a trip

to deal with our problems...

...and the boys, for the moment,

are out of trouble.

I'm thinking of running for the

Senate this fall if O'Hara retires.

Senate, yet.

I don't know, Andy.

Haven't you heard?

It's no longer all boys.

By the way, start writing

care of my office.

Jane gets a little upset

when she sees your letters.

-Did you lose a molar last night?

-No. Why?

The tooth fairy just dropped that on

my desk. Note the number of zeros.

Good God, this is almost ill*gal.

It's a cashier's check,

so it won't bounce.

-There's no note or anything?

-Just this.

Melissa!

Hold up, Melissa, please.

-What's--? What's the story?

-I'm avoiding you.

-Is this guy bothering you?

-Don't I wish.

Well, why didn't you

at least say hello?

I knew if we met,

we'd end up having coffee...

...in some New York-y joint,

and I'd have to fill you in on my life.

I go to an exercise class,

where I concentrate on my thighs...

...and I'm dating a younger man,

named Jean-Pierre...

...who concentrates on them too.

And I'm drinking again.

No, wait.

White wine only. Only after 6.

I give scads of money

to anyone who asks...

...so they butter me up

at benefits.

And what's wrong with that?

Nothing.

-Except I hate it.

-You look too good to be hating it.

Cut the bull, Andy.

It's a dumb life, I wish you'd say so.

-You doing any painting?

-Nope.

-Well, why not take it up again?

-I've decided I'm deeply superficial.

I think you're sensational.

I always have.

Thanks.

I needed that.

Maybe I will go back to it.

Now, back to the hairdresser.

Oh, thanks for the

campaign contribution.

-You gave much too much, by the way.

-Oh, hell.

You're a symbol of righteousness

and rectitude in our godforsaken land.

Maybe it's just me that's godforsaken.

Congratulations on your election,

Senator Ladd...

...and greetings from Hickory Hill.

A slight regression in the liquor

department. It's in the genes.

God knows, my mother

has the problem...

...and my father too, in the end.

Anyway, I'm working on it.

Darwin's being a real heel

about the girls.

He's cut down on my visitation rights,

so when you get to Washington...

...I want you to write a special law

about vindictive ex-husbands...

...banishing them to lower Slobovia

forever and ever. Amen.

Seasons greetings from Senator

and Mrs. Andrew M. Ladd and family.

Seasons greetings indeed.

Is that all you can say to me

after all these years?

I swear, Andy, keep that stuff up,

and I'll moon the whole Senate.

Sorry, my staff sent that out.

Merry Christmas, old friend. How

are you? Where are you these days?

Living in New York.

Alone, for a change.

But the big question is,

who am I these days?

That's the toughie.

I keep thinking about that

strange old world we grew up in.

How did it manage

to produce both you and me?

A stalwart, upright

servant of the people...

...and a boozed-out,

cynical, lascivious old broad.

The best and the worst, that's us.

Don't be so tough on yourself.

Get back to your art.

I'll try.

Merry Christmas,

happy New Year and much love.

"Much love."

"Much love."

God, Andy, how sexy.

Do you remember how much

that meant in our preppy days?

If it was just "love,"

you were out in the cold.

If it was "all my love,"

you were hemmed in for life.

But "much love" meant

it could go either way.

Remember?

Merry Christmas

and love from us all.

Saw you on 60 Minutes talking about

economic policy in Latin America.

You looked fabulous, but don't forget

to keep your eye on the ball.

-What ball?

-The ball...

...is that money

doesn't solve everything.

It helps, but not as much

as people think.

Take it from one who knows.

That's the ball.

Merry Christmas with love.

What are you up to these days?

I'm trying to work with clay.

I'm making dogs, cats,

anything that moves.

I'm trying to get back to some of those

old, old feelings of the homeland.

I've got to find feelings,

any feelings, otherwise I'm dead.

Come down and help

me search. We could....

Well, we could at least have

dinner and discuss old times...

...couldn't we, Senator Ladd?

P.S. Did you know my mother

got married again...

...at the age of 82...

...to my father's brother, yet?

So you have to call her Mrs. Gardner

again, just like in the old days.

It seems the wheel

is coming around full circle.

Hint, hint.

On the way to the airport.

When you write, put "Mrs. Walpole"

on the envelope.

She'll pass your letters

directly to me.

Otherwise the whole office staff

seems to get a peek. I gotta go.

I'm having a show

January 28th to February 25th.

Would you come? I'd love to have you

see what I've been up to.

Maybe it'll ring a few old bells.

What I did with that one was

I took a rock...

...just a regular, garden-variety rock.

I took it back to the studio....

Notice that little man

who's just leaving?

-Yes. Why?

-He's the critic for The Times.

Oh, God, then he hated me.

You can't tell, Melissa.

After all, he came, didn't he?

And he stayed 10 minutes.

And he ate up all the cheese. Relax.

Have a drink. Oh, I'm sorry.

Have a soda, then.

-Oh, another fan.

-Who? What? Where?

Oh, my God. What is this?!

An official visit from the National

Endowment for the Arts.

You're under arrest.

Have some wine.

Have some cheese.

Have some art.

Hey.

I've got five minutes, literally.

There's a contingent

eager to drop me at the airport...

...so they can pig out at 2 1 .

But, hey.... Wow.

Wanna buy something?

Everything's going fast.

Seriously?

I wish.

We could use excitement

on our living-room walls.

Jane might not agree.

I'll just have to smuggle it

into my study, then.

What do you recommend?

Well, there is something over here

that might ring an old bell.

What is it?

I call it Kangaroo Jumping Over

a Glass of Orange Juice.

I made it out of that stuff we used

in Mrs. Mickler's art class.

-Plasticine?

-You remember.

And the stamps

are a secret tribute to you.

Thanks.

So how are you, by the way?

Fine.

Oh, I thought that was a dirty word.

Sorry.

-Well, you look fine. I can say that.

-Really?

-Do you like my hair?

-It's fine.

-Well....

-Oh, well, go if you're gonna go.

Send me the kangaroo and the bill.

For you, it's a freebie.

I wish I could stay.

Why don't you?

Duty calls.

My mother always told me when

duty calls, hang up immediately.

Well, maybe I will someday.

I won't hold my breath.

Still too much starch.

I'll write.

That's what I'm afraid of.

Wasn't that Senator Andrew

Makepeace Ladd III?

I didn't know you knew him.

-We're lovers.

-What?

Since second grade.

I thought he was a family man.

-We're lovers through letters.

-Letters?

Some like whips. Some like chains.

This one likes letters.

Your mother was right, I hung up.

Let's go someplace.

I liked your grandmother.

I loved her a lot. And thank God

for the dough she left me.

Without that, we'd be meeting

on a little walkup on skid row.

Yeah, my mother once said

if I married you, I'd be set for life.

Granny said the same about you.

She clocked you for a winner

a long time ago, Senator Ladd.

-Where'd you get this?

-Granny took it.

It was our first play date, remember?

My mother was in Reno...

...so Granny asked you over.

Even then, she thought

you'd be good for me.

I remember, the butler brought us...

...ginger ale and cookies

on a silver tray.

-We played kickball in the ballroom.

-We rode the elevator up and down.

And then we got stuck between floors,

and then you kissed me.

Maybe we're still stuck in that elevator.

Except...

...you're going up,

and I'm going down.

Knock it off.

Hey, what's going on?

I'm not sure.

Well...

...whatever it is, it should

probably go on in the bedroom.

Did you ever dream

we'd be so good in bed?

Two old Wasps going at it

like a sale at Brooks Brothers.

I figure a lifetime

went into that little tussle.

Let's go for an afterlife.

I love red roses.

I'm beginning to know

what they mean.

All I know is that after last night,

I have to see you again.

-When do you come back?

-Soon, I swear.

Not soon enough.

Andy...

...are any other fundraisers

coming up in the near future?

Mrs. Walpole, are you

delivering the mail?

Darling, I'll have to ask you

not to telephone the office.

Every call has to be logged in...

...and most of them are screened

by overeager college interns...

...who like to run back

to Cambridge and New Haven...

...and announce

to their classmates...

...that Senator Ladd

is shacking up on the side.

The phones simply are not secure.

At long last, the letter

beats out the telephone.

-Oh, no.

-And guess what.

I'm writing this with my old Parker 51 ...

...my father gave me

when I went away to school.

I found it in the back of my drawer

next to the Zippo you gave me.

I know you never liked writing letters,

but now you have to.

Dear Andy....

As for business, I'll be

in New York next Wednesday...

...and let's take it from there.

Sweetheart, I loved seeing you.

When's my next appointment?

I'll be stopping through

a week from Friday.

I have to go to San Francisco

to visit the girls.

Couldn't we meet on the way?

I don't see how we could

possibly go public.

Some country inn,

some deliciously seedy motel.

-I don't see--

-More than a few hours--

-Price we pay--

-Think about nothing--

I'm not sure I can change

my life so radically.

Other politicians have gotten

divorced: Rockefeller, Reagan.

Jane, the children, my constituency.

You've become

the center of my life.

If you left...

-...I don't think I--

-Because of the election...

...I don't see how we can.

How'd you get away

from those reporters?

Down the back stairs,

out the back door.

I'm going home to meet Mother.

Do you want to meet me there?

Not a good idea.

I want to see you

for more than a few hours.

Well, that's a tough one

at the moment.

How about some

weekend somewhere?

Some deliciously seedy motel?

Hey, how about the Danton,

for old times' sake?

We'll work out something.

Those lucky ducks.

Well, let's move...

...before someone recognizes me.

A reporter stopped me on the street.

What should I say if it happens again?

Nothing.

I suppose you know all this.

There was a crack about us

in one of the weeklies...

...and Mother heard some radio

talk show where they name names.

What should I do, go away? What?

Nothing.

They talked to Darwin, you know.

They tracked him down.

The son of a b*tch said it'd

been going on for years.

Yeah, I wish it had been.

I hate lying.

Isn't there something

I can say to people?

Just say that we're good old friends.

Friends, I like. Good, I like.

Old, I'm beginning

to have problems with.

Just change the subject.

This too shall pass.

-Will I be seeing you soon?

-Better not for a while.

-I mean after the election.

-Better lie low for a while.

-I'll miss you terribly.

-Better lie low.

Last week, I sat by the phone

for three hours, hoping you'd call.

-Finally, I called you.

-We agreed not to use the telephone.

-I hadn't seen you in 10 days--

-The coming election, darling.

-Surely you can--

-If I wanna be re-elected--

You're Senator Ladd. I met you

at the benefit for Bosnia last March.

Oh, yes?

And you're the missus, right?

Don't I wish.

-Am I interrupting--?

-Yes, you are.

Well, excuse me.

Well, that didn't help.

-I'm sick of playing Bonnie and Clyde.

-Yes.

I've got a campaign meeting.

We'd better go back separately.

I need you, Andy.

-I need to be with you.

-Just hold on.

Hold on.

You're my anchor these days.

-I don't know....

-The election, Melissa.

The election.

I haven't heard from you

in six weeks, Andy.

Are you trying to tell me

something, Andy?

Is this it?

Andy?

Congratulations on a landslide

victory.

I hear there's a White House

in your future.

Love...

...Melissa.

Can we meet at your place

this Sunday?

Oh, thank God.

I meant that we have to talk, Melissa.

Talk? I'm scared of talk.

Me...

...I'm into letters.

-Who's that?

-It's just me.

My master's voice.

What's all this?

I was thinking it's time to move on.

You know, Andy, I don't have to.

I haven't sold the joint yet.

I could unpack in a minute if I--

If you--

If you and I....

That's what I wanna talk about.

sh**t. No blindfold.

I can take it.

This is the....

The toughest decision

I've ever had to make.

Oh, and you've made

some tough ones, Senator Ladd.

I honestly feel...

...that we've gotta go one way

or the other, and the other....

So you mean we're stuck

in the elevator again.

We are, sweetheart.

We are, and we've got

to get back to the ground floor.

-Which is?

-For me, it's my basic responsibilities.

-And for me?

-Your career, art, a life of your own.

-Get real, Andy, for once in your life.

-And "real" is what?

So long, Jane, I'm running

to Oz with the Lost Princess?

So once again, the princess

gets to run off on her own.

I have responsibilities, sweetheart,

to Jane, to my boys...

...to my constituency, for God's sake,

who stuck by me...

...in spite of all that crap in the papers.

Country, family, yourself,

in that order.

Your father would be proud.

I'm sorry. I know I sound

like a stuffy prig...

...but these things are who I am.

-Who you've become.

-Maybe.

But I can't just walk away

from my whole life.

I can.

I have. Several times. Try it.

It's fun.

Oh, Melissa.

We'd last about a week, you and I.

We're carrying too much

baggage on our backs.

I suppose-- I suppose you're right.

All of a sudden,

this feels very...

...very...

...heavy.

We can-- We can still

write letters, darling.

Melissa, we can always have that.

Letters-- Letters are our strength.

Senator and Mrs. Andrew

M. Ladd III and family...

...send you warm holiday greetings

and every good wish for the new year.

Andy Ladd...

...is that a picture of you?

Blow-dried and custom-tailored...

...and jogging-trim...

...hiding behind that lovely wife...

...with her heels together

and her hands discretely folded...

...over her crotch.

Is that your new dog, Andy?

And are those your sons and heirs?

And help?

Is that a grandchild

nestled in someone's arms?

God, Andy...

...you look like the Holy Family.

Season's greetings

and happy holidays...

...and even merry Christmas.

We who are about to die salute you.

I just reread your last note.

What's this "we who are

about to die" stuff?

May I see you again?

I want to see you again.

Dear Melissa, your mother wrote...

...that you'd returned

to the Land of Oz.

I'm flying up Thursday to see you.

No.

Don't, please.

Please stay away.

I've let myself go.

I'm fat. I'm ugly.

My hair is horrible.

I'm locked in the funny farm all week.

Then Mother gets me

on weekends if-- If, if I've been good.

They've put me on these new drugs.

Half the time, I don't make sense at all.

I can hardly do finger painting.

My girls won't even talk to me

on the phone now.

They say I upset them too much.

I've made a mess of things, Andy.

I've made a total, ghastly mess.

I don't like life anymore. I hate it.

Sometimes I think...

...if you and I had just....

If we had just....

Oh, but just...

...stay away, Andy, please.

Arriving Saturday.

Will meet you at your mother's.

Don't.

I don't want to see you.

I won't be there.

I'll be gone, Andy, I swear.

I'll be gone.

Dear Mrs. Gardner:

The first letter

I ever wrote was to you...

...accepting an invitation

for Melissa's birthday party.

Now I'm writing you again,

about her death.

I want to say a few things on paper

I didn't say at her funeral...

...both when I spoke and when

you and I talked afterwards.

As you may know...

...Melissa and I managed to...

...stay in touch with each other

over the years...

...through letters. Even as I write this

to you, I feel I'm writing it also to her.

Oh, you're in your element now.

We had a complicated

relationship, she and I.

All our lives...

...we went in very

different directions...

...but somehow,

over all those years...

...I think we managed to give

something to each other.

-Damn right.

-Melissa expressed all those...

...dangerous and rebellious feelings...

...I never dared admit to.

Now you tell me.

And I like to think I gave her

some sense of balance.

Balance?

Oh, hell, I give up.

Have it your own way, Andy.

Balance.

Most of the things I did in life,

I did with her partly in mind.

And now she's gone.

I really don't know how

I'll get along without her.

-You'll survive.

-I have a wonderful wife...

...fine children and a place

in the world I feel proud of...

...but the death of Melissa suddenly

leaves a huge gap in my life.

Oh, now, Andy.

The thought of never again being

able to write to her, to connect to her...

...to get some signal back from her...

...fills me with an emptiness...

...which is hard to describe.

Oh, stop, Andy.

I don't think there are many men

in this world who've had the benefit...

...of such a friendship

with such a woman.

But it was more than friendship too.

I know now that I loved her.

I loved her even from

the day I first saw her...

...when she walked

into the second grade...

...looking like

the Lost Princess of Oz.

Oh, please, Andy.

I don't think I've ever loved

anyone the way I loved her...

...and I know I never will again.

She was at the heart of my life...

...and already I miss her desperately.

I just wanted to say this

to you, Mrs. Gardner...

...and to her.

Thank you, Andy.