Intolerable Cruelty

I am just a poor boy Though my story's seldom told

I have squandered my resistance

For a pocketful of mumbles Such are promises

All lies and jests

Just a come-on from those gals on Seventh Avenue

Whoo-hoo!

So lonesome that I took some comfort there

-Bonnie? Who is it?

Donovan?

-Bonnie? -Yes?

Donovan!

In here.

-Yes? Donovan, is everything all right? -Yeah, the production meeting was put off,

-so I thought... Who's here? -Here?

Hmm. Who owns that piece-of-shit van down there?

Oh!

It's just a guy going door to door selling pool cleaner.

So why'd he lock himself in the den?

Well, he... Oh, God.

-You remember my friend Ollie? -Ollie Olerud? Short, cretinous wanker.

-Ollie's in there? -Yes.

I see.

Well, I'm glad he finally got himself a job.

I'd always picked him as some sort of deadbeat, but happy to be proved wrong.

So he's selling pool cleaner now? Well, this is the neighborhood for that.

Just door to door, "Running low on chlorine?" That kind of thing.

It's quite a coincidence him dropping by, and you two knowing each other so well.

Donovan, please. Let's just all talk. I mean, I think...

How you doing, Donovan? How you doing, man?

Good day, Ollie. I'm great. You?

-Hey, can't complain, man. -Excellent.

Well, let's get right down to it, then, shall we?

We'll take a couple of vacuum hoses.

We probably need a new filter around about now. Maybe...

Wait a minute, darling. Do we actually have a swimming pool?

Okay. Okay, man. Now let's be reasonable about this, okay?

So you caught me porking... Having relations with your old lady.

God.

And now, we're all feeling just a little bit embarrassed by the whole thing, so...

What the hey, man? I mean, I know it's a drag and all, but these things...

Hey! Hey, hey. We didn't actually have sex.

I was depressed, 'cause I'm impotent, you know.

Unable to achieve an erection.

I have been for over a year now, man, and I needed someone to talk to.

I mean, think about it, man. A year without an erection?

Leave him alone!

You should have seen this coming, you Australian piece of shit!

Bitch. That's my Daytime Television Lifetime Achievement Award.

Cheesy bastard!

You whore!

Christ!

Okay!

All right, you want fun and games? All right.

I'll give you fun and games. Explain this away.

(SCREAMS) Ollie!

That's my Jag! That's my Jag!

That's my bloody Jag!

You bitch! Bitch! Bitch!

Bye-bye, baby!

Oh, what are you looking at?

Explain this away, darling.

Miles Massey's office. -Hey, it's me. Any messages?

-Yeah. Quite a few. Where are you? -Just whitening.

Jim says he wants a meeting today if possible.

-What else? -Chapman says his wife is now in Tahoe.

All right, tell Amstedler I'll return in 20 minutes.

Get Wrigley to look up Oliphant v. Oliphant, Commonwealth of Virginia,

for its relevance in the Chapman filing.

Oliphant v. Oliphant. Relevance in Chapman.

She said she took the kids to Tahoe?

-That's right. -Wait. Which side of Tahoe?

She said it was a cruise.

Yeah, well, if the cruise goes all the way around the lake,

she's left the state, and she's in breach.

Tell Wrigley to prepare a filing to attach. Mmm-hmm.

Everything. Primary residence, beach house, ski cabin, auto, stocks, bonds, dental floss.

Gonna lose you.

Uh-huh.

And tell Fred Armatrading that

we have pictures of his wife with the oral surgeon.

Oh, and get a fruit and pastry basket in the conference room for my 9:30.

Didn't have time for breakfast this morning.

-Where are you? -Coming at you.

-Your 9:00 is here. Bonnie Donaly. -Bonnie Donaly.

Mrs. Donaly.

Mmm-hmm.

Yes, your husband did show remarkable foresight in taking those pictures.

And, yes, absent a swimming pool,

the presence of a pool man would appear to be suspicious.

But, madam, who is the real victim here? Let me suggest to you the following.

Your husband, who on a prior occasion had slapped you, beat you.

-I think that word is not inappropriate. -No, I...

Let me finish, please. I'm not concerned with who slapped whom first.

Your husband, who had beaten you repeatedly...

No, he never...

Please. Repeatedly, was at the time, brandishing your firearm.

-It was his gun. -And we'll get it back for you.

Trying, in his rage, to shoot an acquaintance, a friend of long standing.

They never really cared for each other.

And if not for your cool-headed intervention,

his tantrum might have ended this schmo's life and ruined his own.

As for the sexual indiscretion which he imagined took place,

wasn't it, in fact, he who was sleeping with the pool man?

No? Am I going too far here? Were his sexual... No.

-I don't... -Sorry. I'm not omniscient.

The point is that he acted upon an assumption which he cannot prove,

and, I take it, you deny.

-Well... -Fine. I'll take the case.

It's imperative that I meet with Oliver Olerud before we proceed any further,

so that I can massage the kinks out of our testimony.

Do you really think we could put all this across?

The truth is so self-evident to me, Mrs. Donaly,

that I'm sure that I'll be able to make it equally as transparent to any jury,

should your husband decide to take it that far.

We'll need to caucus again to draw up a picture of your husband's net worth.

A map of enemy territory, so to speak. You said that he's a television producer?

He has a soap opera, The Sands of Time. It's a silly show.

Well, it'll be yours soon. Thank you very much.

-Oh, thank you, Mr. Massey. -Yes. Bye-bye.

Still you have to admire him for taking those pictures.

Now, Mrs. Gutman, you testified

that you were your husband's sexual slave for 36 years during your marriage.

Except for two years when he was in the Navy in Southeast Asia.

And before your marriage, what was your profession?

I was a hostess for Braniff Airlines.

And what is your husband's profession?

He manufactures staples and industrial brad tacks. He's very successful.

How would you describe your husband's sexual proclivities?

Well, at first, he was a very gentle and tender lover.

But then he became more and more fixated

on toys and machinery and devices of various kinds.

I can't help it. You don't decide to become bored. It just happens.

You're just looking for trouble. It's a midlife crisis.

Look, get yourself a new car.

I have a new car. I have two new cars. I have a tab at the Mercedes dealership.

Torn the house down twice. Rebuilt the cabin in Vail.

Got three of those yard people.

-Gardeners. -Gardeners. Got a man who waxes my jet.

These encounters were videotaped. Sometimes there would be a gismo.

A gismo? -He had a device he called The Intruder.

It was something he had the engineers at the factory design.

And then he had a prototype built out of the parts from our vacuum cleaner.

I see.

So the vacuum cleaner wasn't available to me for several months.

-Several months without the appliance? -Yes.

Problem is everyone is willing to compromise.

That's the problem with the institution of marriage. It's based on compromise.

Even through its dissolution. Mrs. Gutman here,

she's gonna score some points concerning her husband's sexual politics.

Naturally, we'll try to impeach.

And then the entire process will find an equilibrium point

based on the skill of the individual lawyers.

And then both parties will go home with their portion of the staple factory.

-That's life. Life is compromise. -That's not life. That's death.

Struggle and challenge and ultimate destruction of your opponent, that's life.

Let me ask you something. Attila the Hun. Ivan the Terrible. Henry the Eighth.

What do they have in common?

-Middle name? -No, they didn't just win.

-They destroyed. Mr. Massey? Mr. Massey?

Again I ask, have you any questions for the complainant?

I'm sorry, Your Honor. I was just consulting with an associate.

Now, Mrs. Gutman, do you know a man named David Gonzalez?

Well, he's the tennis pro at the club.

The tennis pro?

Then why are your letters addressed to him, "Dear, David and Goliath"?

Go, Rexie! Go, Rexie, baby!

Whoo-hoo!

(LAUGHS) Cabin seven.

Choo-choo.

Choo-choo.

Choo-choo.

Choo-choo.

Choo-choo.

Choo-choo.

I'm gonna nail your ass.

Oh, yeah. I'm gonna nail your ass.

Boy, I'm gonna nail your ass. Your ass. The old billionaire.

Come to papa. Come on.

I'm gonna get it. I got it.

I'm gonna nail your ass.

I'm gonna nail your ass. Yeah.

This is a silly misunderstanding. -I'm gonna nail your ass.

Get that thing off me now!

Yeah, I'm gonna nail your ass. I'm gonna nail your ass. I'm gonna nail your ass!

Yep. I nailed his ass.

I thought he'd outgrown trains.

They never grow up, lady. They just get tubby.

How charming. An aphorist.

Oh, yeah, I've always had ample proportions but believe you me, it's all muscle.

I'm as hard as a rock.

I'm not one of these cream-puff, sit-behind-a-desk private dicks.