Empire Falls

In the beginning, the Knox river in Maine belonged to god...

Who leased it cheap to the algonquins...

who took their stewardship of the land seriously until they were wiped out...

By rum... And war and the clap

and christianity and other European diseases.

The new proprietors were white men...

Who first used the river for logging...

Timber!

Then for power to manufacture textiles...

and finally as a toilet

to flush their dyes and chemical wastes into the Atlantic.

The story was much the same on every river in new england

where tanneries and textile mills

sprang from the unoffending soil like noxious weeds.

The town that shot up along the banks of the Knox,

midway between Canada and the Atlantic ocean...

was no better and no worse than the rest.

Like the other mill towns along the Knox,

empire falls was built and populated

by European immigrants...

With names like Robideaux and Minty and daws...

And comeau and Callahan... And Roby.

Insomniacs of the world unite!

- 'Morning, Horace. - 'Morning.

I guess I'm gonna have to start locking my car, aren't I?

How come you're hot-wiring my car, old man?

A fella down in the keys taught me.

I didn't ask how, dad, I asked why.

I thought you was on vacation.

If I'd known you was back, I would have asked.

Where is your car?

Went down to Callahan's one night last week,

when I come out, it was gone.

Somebody stole that old beater?

Not exactly.

I must have forgotten to set the emergency brake.

Made it all the way to the river.

Get out of here. Come on.

How am I supposed to get around with no wheels?

Here, take the bus.

Dick.

Maybe the Robys and the Mintys and the daws

and the rodrigues built empire falls,

but... they didn't own it.

No.

The family that had ruled the town for more than a century

was named Whiting.

The Whitings didn't own the whole town,

just the parts worth owning...

The textile mill, the shirt factory

and the paper mill upstream.

When these enterprises ceased to be profitable,

they were sold to greedy multinational corporations

that looted their machinery,

converted their remaining assets to cash,

leaving behind nothing but decaying hollow shells

inhabited by ghosts.

- Bill, hi. - Miles Roby.

Did you hear? C.B.'s folly struck again while you were gone.

Yeah, everybody down by the river has got a full basement, I hear.

And this isn't even flood season.

Some spring after a bad winter,

this whole town is gonna be swept away.

It'd be a mercy if you think about it.

I don't know about that.

C.B.'s folly...

That'd be Charles beaumont Whiting,

who took it personally that every time it rained

the Knox river deposited garbage...

Great mountains of it... Right on C.B.'s doorstep.

Was god laughing at him?

If so, the Knox and maybe god for that matter

needed a good straightening out.

More about that later.

Miles, how was your vacation?

Over too soon.

So did you hear that someone might be buying the mill?

My restaurant is where all those rumors start, Lesley.

- That will be $63, please. - All right.

Miles, you've been summoned.

I was afraid of that.

- Hello, Susan. - Hello, Miles. She'll be with you in a minute.

Why are we having this conversation, Mr. Sampson?

We both know this proposal is a non-starter.

How about this? You...

The storied Whiting males.

Tragic figures, some would say.

Though shrewd in business,

every last one of them possessed an unerring knack

for marrying the one woman in the world who would regard

making them utterly miserable as her life's noble endeavor.

Charles beaumont, the last of the Whiting males,

imagined he could cheat destiny by avoiding the altar.

To this end, he decided to build himself a grand new house

and live in it as a bachelor.

The perfect spot was called Robideaux's neck,

which was owned not coincidently by some people named Robideaux,

who regarded it as worthless unless you collected river trash.

Stunned to learn that C.B. Whiting wanted to purchase Robideaux's neck,

they quickly sold it to him at a fraction of the price

he had been prepared to offer.

At the closing, C.B. Couldn't help noticing young Francine Robideaux

who, unlike the rest of her clan, had been to college

where she'd learned among other useful things

the subtle art of flirtation.

Only after they were wed, did it occur to C.B. Whiting

that he had forgotten his resolution to remain a bachelor.

He looked his new bride over carefully and tried to imagine the day

when, like his father, grandfather and great-grandfather before him,

he would want to bludgeon her with a shovel.

Being young, his imagination failed him.

Hello, dear boy.

Hello, Mrs. Whiting.

- It's a rogues gallery, is it not? - Yep.

They were all mad as hatters.

That one, old Elijah,

once chased his wife around this very room with an axe.

Nice town.

Where is it?

Seeing you standing there gives me a good idea.

You should be the mayor.

- Of the model? - No, of the town.

Are you offering me the job?

- No, you overestimate my influence. - Do I?

People are always confusing will with power.

Your mother was like that.

You wanted to see me.

I have a surprise for you, dear boy.-?

Come to the house on Tuesday and I'll show you.

It's time we had our state-of-the-grill meeting anyway.

- Say 2:00? - Okay.

Incidentally, your father phoned me three times while you were away,

- asking for money naturally. - I'll speak to him.

- Please do, he's a pain in the ass. - You're telling me?

Miles!

I didn't ask you. How was your vacation?

Short.

Wonderful, actually.

You return to Martha's vineyard every summer, don't you?

Has it ever occurred to you to wonder why?

I've got some college friends who have a house there.

It's the only vacation I can afford.

Didn't your mother tell me

that she took you there once?

When I was 10, yeah.

"And so we beat on,"

boats against the current,

- borne back ceaselessly..." - "...Into the past."

- Yes. - Scott Fitzgerald.

I went to college, Mrs. Whiting.

So you did.

You return to Martha's vineyard every summer, don't you?

Okay, this is an adventure, Miles.

Just try to have fun, okay? It's important to mommy.

When's dad coming?

You'll have to wait till he's out of jail.

You didn't know that, did you?

- That he's in jail? - That's a lie.

When I was a boy,

I thought god actually lived in the steeple.

Imagine god so close, just a couple of stories up.

Talk me down, okay?

Okay, Miles, you're gonna be fine, just with your right foot.

Bring it down nice and easy, you've got about 12 inches.

Now you've got three...

Two. Yeah, you feel it? There you go.

Now the next. Bring your foot back in.

There you are. All right, same thing.

Okay okay. Okay.

I thought we'd agreed you weren't gonna try

- to paint any higher. - Yeah, we did, I guess,

but every time I look up there, it's an accusation.

- Then don't look up. - That's fine advice

for a man of the spirit to give.

I think father Tom is making off with the cash-box again.

Yeah, I know. Don't worry, Ms. Koss will fetch him.

Come back here, you old bat!

Father Tom! Father Tom! Bring that back!

Who says god has no sense of humor?

Tick Roby!

Let's just make way for Tick Roby, make way here.

Just keep walking.

She's got a horny new friend.

My god, Zack Minty is so hot. I can't believe you broke up with him.

Loser.

Yo, it's Mr. Mayer. We're busted.

- Let's go. - We're out of here.

You're okay, John?

Christina!

Mr... bye.

I looked at your schedule

and the only way that you can take art

is to have lunch during sixth period.

You're gonna be the only one in the cafeteria.

That's okay. Actually, I prefer to eat alone.

Good.

On him.

You've got stuff in your beard, dad, you know that?

So what?

You look like the village idiot.