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Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Hello, Ugly.
Here.
Celia?
I can't come tomorrow, so I've come today.
Bill?
- I fed him. - You what?
He looked hungry.
Can I look at your photographs?
No.
- I could describe them for you. - No.
Want me to walk you to the safe?
I know my way around, thank you.
You owe me $30.
The place is spotless.
It still smells in here, but that's the dog.
There's no food in the house.
I could get some groceries and cook you dinner for an extra 10.
- I'm eating out. - Where?
I'm not going to tell you.
You'll have to tell me...
if I'm going to make the reservation.
I'll make it myself.
Well, don't order fish.
You know you can't handle the bones.
See you next week, then, Martin.
What are you doing?
Martin, I've told you before...
you can't touch people whenever you want.
Fingers... they aren't the same as eyes.
It's rude.
Excuse me.
Why don't you scrape them yourself?
- Who's serving the blind guy? - You are.
- I've got three tables already. - Has he ordered yet?
I'll open this wine for you.
Excuse me.
- Hooray. - Sorry about the delay.
What's this? This isn't what I ordered.
That's the mixed pasta you ordered.
No. I ordered chicken and asparagus.
No. I'm sorry. You said mixed pasta.
I know what I ordered. What's your name?
- I beg your pardon? - What's your name?
- I want the manager.
I wanted chicken with asparagus.
Oh! Oh! Oh, no!
Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I'd like minestrone soup...
followed by fettucini with mushroom and cream sauce...
and a side salad.
Yeah. I'll see you in the morning.
Hey.
You may be blind, but you still have to pay for what you ate.
I ate nothing. My meal never arrived.
Hey.
Yes?
You killed Ugly.
I think you broke his neck.
It's not dead.
Oh, shit. Sorry, Ugly.
Where are you taking him?
I know someone who can help.
Need a lift?
- You like cats? - Not particularly.
I suppose you reckon you owe him or something.
He's a real freak, this cat.
Here. Hold him.
Where you going?
How much light is there in here?
Quite a bit.
There's a lot of people.
Tell me when I'm pointing at you.
You're pointing at the queen.
Down a bit. Down.
Uh, to your left.
- That's about it. - Is the cat in?
He is now.
Smile.
A blind photographer.
Now, that... that goes down as weird sight of the week.
Don't get me wrong about it.
I mean, it's good you do something creative, you know?
Handicapped people shouldn't sit around...
feeling sorry for themselves. They should have a hobby.
My mother gave me a camera when I was a boy.
- Were you blind then? - Yes.
Well, why did she give you a camera?
- Sort of cruel, isn't it? - I wanted a camera.
Why?
I thought it would help me to see.
Seventeen, right?
Hey, Martin.
- See you around. - So to speak.
Yeah.
Remember the blind man from the other night?
He's here to see you.
- G'day. - Andy.
Can't stay out here long. I'm really quite busy.
Thought you might like to see these.
Yeah.
- Ha! - Describe them to me.
- What, each one? - Each one.
Keep it simple... under ten words.
Um, look, I don't have a lot of time.
Then you better be quick.
Um, right.
Well, the first one is me and the cat.
They've all got the cat, I suspect.
Oh, yeah.
I'll make it a bit easier for you, Andy.
Try five different ways to describe how the cat looks.
Dead.
- Limp, sick. - Limp.
Andy holding limp cat in waiting room of vet.
Nine words. The photograph.
- Is that the right way up? - Yeah.
What are you doing?
I'm labeling it.
- Why? - Proof.
Of what?
That what's in the photograph is what was there.
That photograph could be anywhere of anything.
Except it isn't.
I was there, Andy.
I probably know more...
about what was in that vet's waiting room than you would.
I know that there were two fluorescent lights...
because they have a distinctive hum.
The fluorescent light directly above us was faulty...
because it flickered on and off intermittently.
I know that the floor was covered in old, worn linoleum...
'cause I could feel it through my shoes...
and I heard footsteps on it.
I can tell you that there was a woman wearing high heels...
and expensive perfume...
and I could also smell disinfectant and sick animals.
And on you...
a mixture of detergent and garlic.
But this is proof that what I sensed is what you saw...
through your eyes.
The truth.
Old bag holding hand of small, ugly child.
Yep.
Ponces who think they're cool playing cricket, wearing white.
Yep.
I like your style.
It's simple, direct, honest.
Andy, would you do this for me on a regular basis?
Do what?
Describe my photographs.
I could pay you.
No way.
Well, I understand. It's a lot to ask.
I mean, no money, OK?
Andy, you must never lie to me.
Why would I do that?
Today is Wednesday.
It is a sunny day outside.
The grass is covered in a layer of brown and yellow...
and even some dark red autumn leaves.
There's a breeze blowing some of the smaller leaves...
into tiny spirals.
- Is the man there? - Yes.
Over by the birdbath.
He's raking the leaves.
Can't you hear him?
No.
He stopped for the moment.
I didn't hear him before.
That's because you weren't listening.
- He's not there. - Listen, Martin.
You'll hear him soon enough.
He's raking the leaves now.
Listen for the rake.
He was never there.
- Why would I lie to you? - Because you can.
Hello, Martin.
- What's that smell? - I'm baking a cake.
What's that gonna cost me?
It's a special occasion.
I turned thirty today.
- Did you? - Yes.
And you know what they say.
Once you're over 30, you can't call yourself a girl anymore.
You have to admit to being a woman.
But you wouldn't know about that, Martin.
You wouldn't know about the difference...
between a girl and a woman, would you?
Happy birthday, Celia.
Thank you.
And why have you come here to my place...
to bake a cake and visit me on your birthday?
I want you to take a photograph of me.
I bought myself a birthday present.
I'm wearing it.
I thought maybe you could take a photo of me in my new blouse.
Have you ever touched satin, Martin?
It's soft.
Softer than skin.
Would you like to touch it?
You don't get a birthday present from me, Celia.
You enjoy humiliating me.
I won't be here forever.
I can leave whenever I like.
I can hurt you whenever I like.
Don't flatter yourself.
Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone.
Bill?
Where are you?
Bill?
Bill!
Here, Bill.
A photo of a leaf.
The light. What's the light like?
- Bright. - Bright?
Hot... you know, like it was taken on a hot day...
when the sun was directly above.
- Midday. Am I right? - Yes.
Another.
- A woman. - A woman?
Describe her to me.
She's plain-looking.
Brown hair. Blue eyes, I think.
She's OK-looking.
She's not a bag then, Andy?
No, not a bag.
Is she your sweetheart, Martin?
Hell, no. Sweetheart?
Celia has no heart.
Celia is my housekeeper. A vile woman. I hate her.
If you hate her so much, why do you keep her on?
She wants me.
And I know that if I continue to deny her what she wants...
she can never feel pity for me.
Instead, I can pity her. Next.
Have you ever had moving pictures described to you?
- What, the cinema? - Yeah.
No. I hate crowds.
That's all right. We'll stay in the car.
Chip won't get away from me at the dance next week.
He's sex-crazy.
She's taking off her clothes. Beautiful.
Perfect skin.
- Hi, Michelle. - Hi, Linda.
Nice tits, mate. Little ones with perky nipples.
Cute in her white knickers. She's gonna die for sure.
- Where's her friend Candy? - In the fridge, remember?
- Uh-oh. - What?
Shadow on the door. Really nasty-looking shadow.
You know, if you analyze your feelings...
you really do want the killer to get the girl.
- Shit! - What?
He's at the window again. She hasn't even seen him.
- Is she blind? - No, just stupid.
Let us in.
There's the shadow again.
Whoa. Big close-up of an eye... bloodshot, ugly.
The fat pig in the white coat...
is running after that blonde chick with a scalpel.
She hasn't seen him yet. She has now.
She's off down the corridor... that circular staircase.
She's falling over. She's...
Blood all over the door, mate.
Strangulation, mutilation.
What sort of food do you reckon would be good for blind people?
Look at this jerk, huh?
What the fuck do you think you're doing, mate?
You're a bloody perv, aren't you, mate?
Are you addressing me?
- Undressing you? - Undressing you?
What do you reckon this is, poofter heaven or something?
Perv on this, faggot.
Andy?
Andy!
- Andy! - Andy!
Hey!
Andy, what's happening?
Stay in the car, Martin. Lock the doors.
Car? Is that what you call this heap of shit?
- Ha ha ha. - Get off the car, please.
- I reckon you two are faggots. - Fuck off. He's a blind man.
Just leave him alone, all right?
Throw us your lippy, Jean.
Mate...
- Hey, excuse me. - "Excuse me, excuse me. "
You bastard.
Don't start this, all right?
Andy?
Go on. Go on. Beat him again!
Come on! Hit him!
Help! Help!
Passenger door, man! Passenger door!
Quick! Let me in the car! Come back!
Get the door!
Move over, move over. Get your feet off the pedals.
Oh, great. Just what I need... the bloody police.
Put your hands on the wheel.
- Hey, pull over! - Nod.
Get your feet away from the brake.
Oh, fuck. I'm bleeding.
- Are you hurt? - Whoa!
Shit!
Bloody beauty.
That's it. We're going down.
My eyes. I can't see!
I can't see!
I think he hit his head on the steering wheel.
I think it's dislodged his brain.
Thanks, nurse.
Now, Andy...
well, I've got, uh...
I've got bad news, actually.
Your friend Martin is...
Well, the doctors are still looking at him...
but it looks like he's been blinded.
Blinded?
Shit.
You'll be all right?
Yes.
Thank you.
Sir.
Brian.
You've been blind all your life.
I know.
What were you doing driving a car?
I forgot.
"I forgot. "
B - Brian.
They're blue. Your eyes.
Yes.
Why do you hide them?
Well, they're not real eyes, just defective tissue.
Look into my eyes, but they won't look back.
What color are your eyes?
Green.
Blue's better than green.
Would you like to come in...
for some tea?
Or some port?
Yeah, I would.
How do you know when to stop?
The sound.
Fucking amazing.
There you are.
Thanks.
Who's that in the photograph?
Which photograph?
The old one on the mantelpiece.
Oh. How'd you know it's old?
Looks old. It's black and white.
The lady in it has got old-fashioned clothes on.
- Is that your mum? - Yes.
Is the kid you?
I always supposed so.
You've never seen your own mum?
Do you want me to describe her to you?
All right.
She doesn't look like you.
Oh, really? People always said she did.
Nah. They were probably just saying that.
Looks like the two of you are in a park.
You're sitting down. She's got her arms around you.
You're sort of looking away.
She's got long white fingers like a statue, you know?
She looks young. Maybe twenty-eight, twenty-nine?
With long, dark hair that's falling around her shoulders.
She's very pale.
And you...
you're covered with freckles, and your hair is short.
She always cut it herself.
I never went to a barber.
I never went out with my mother at all.
She was embarrassed by me, you see?
She always wanted an ordinary child...
that she could do ordinary things with...
only she got me.
Thank you.
One day, I might show you a photograph.
It was the first one I ever took. I was ten.
It's not much of a photograph, really.
It's just a garden...
that was visible through one of the windows in our flat...
but it's the most important photograph I've ever taken.
Every morning and every afternoon...
my mother would describe this garden to me.
I saw the seasons come and go through her eyes.
I used to question her so thoroughly...
always trying to catch her in a lie.
I never did.
But by taking the photo, I knew that I could... one day.
Why would your mother lie to you?
To punish me...
for being blind.
Does it really matter if she lied to you about some garden?
Yes.
It was my world.
Is Martin in?
No.
You sure?
Yes.
Do you know when he's going to be back?
No.
You must be Celia.
Why must I be Celia?
I've seen your photograph.
You look different in the flesh.
Different?
You mean I photograph well and look bad in the flesh?
No. No, you come up well in both, photograph and flesh.
So do you. Perhaps the camera loves us.
Can't be Martin. Doesn't know the meaning of the word.
He's in the park, walking the fleabag.
Oh, my God.
Bill.
Bill!
There you are, eh? Where have you been?
Come on.
Thank you.
Where do I find that?
On the bottom there on the right.
Look who's all spruced up.
This is a friend of mine, Celia. His name's Andy.
And we're going out.
Andy, this is Celia.
She'll make you a cup of tea if you'd like one.
No, thanks.
I was going past the chemist, Martin...
so I picked up your photographs.
You give them to me now, and never do that again.
Such gratitude.
I'd like you to take a look...
at this latest set of photographs, Andy.
Every time I visit the park with Bill...
he mysteriously disappears for periods of up to five minutes.
It's very disturbing for me because...
I don't know where he's gone to.
But now I think I may have finally detected...
the reason for his disappearances.
Andy?
What do you see?
Nothing.
Oh, come on, Andy, you can do better than that.
Can you see Bill anywhere?
Yes, I see Bill.
What's he doing?
Who's he with? Is he with anyone?
Yes.
Yes, who? Who is it?
I mean, no. He's not with anyone.
He's... he's with another dog.
Celia, turn that machine off!
- There's another dog? - Yes.
What kind?
Young. Um, a puppy.
- Brown. - A dog.
Are you sure?
Of course I'm sure. It's a dog.
It's probably a bitch.
You know, a bitch on heat.
Andy, what do you think?
Yes, I... I think it is.
- So, was I right? - About what?
Celia.
She's one of a kind.
Yeah, it's like a rare disease.
Celia?
I have you in the palm of my hand.
Think where I could display this photograph.
On an item of clothing, perhaps.
Jumper? Coat?
You'll always have to check.
Or maybe a public notice board.
You'd never know.
And people would begin to talk to you strangely...
in a tone of voice that says...
"I've seen you with your trousers down. "
What do you want?
We're talking right now or long-term?
What do you want for the photo?
Money?
I want your company for one night.
Such vivid colors.
Your underpants are so red.
Why don't you tell me where we are?
It's a surprise.
You'll love it.
You'll wish you'd brought your camera with you.
Then you could've taken a photograph...
and shown it to your little friend...
the one who describes things to you.
You leave Andy out of this.
Dear Lord.
Celia?
I'd like to thank you.
That was an experience I shall never forget.
I'm glad, Martin.
Celia?
Yes?
May I...
have the photograph?
No. The night's not over yet.
I prepared a light supper.
Will this take long?
You can sit over here.
I'm a bit of a photographer myself, Martin.
Really? What do you photograph?
Things I love.
I don't think you realize how fond I am of you.
I'm getting a fair idea.
Your favorite.
Your favorite cold meats.
For so long, I've wanted you in my house...
and now you're here.
I would have preferred to begin the night...
without the photograph, but it was clear...
you wouldn't ask me out of your own volition.
But the photo doesn't matter anymore.
Tonight's been all I've hoped for and more.
Hopefully... more.
Is supper self-serve?
I never knew my father, and my mother died ten years ago.
So now there's only me.
And you.
You and I have a lot in common...
both motherless, both alone.
Do you ever get the feeling of being watched?
All my life.
And you never knew when it was me?
Celia, why don't we get to the point?
Have you ever wondered...
why I've stayed working for you all these years...
when you're so deliberately cruel to me?
I have asked myself that question.
And what was the answer?
- That you like it? - I don't like it. I hate it.
- Ask the question again. - What question?
- Why do I stay with you? - I don't know.
Yes, you do, Martin.
No more game playing. Games are over. Time for truth.
All right, Celia. I know why you stay.
Can I ask you something?
Yes.
I get the feeling you've never been with a woman.
Am I right?
I think we're getting a little personal here.
You're 32 years old, Martin. Isn't it time we did?
There's no need to be afraid.
Have you ever touched a woman?
Feel this.
Feel it thumping in there?
It's beating fast... faster than usual.
That's where the music got you, isn't it?
That's where you get me.
I'm greedy, Martin. I want you all to myself.
I used to have that, but things have changed.
I have to change them back.
Take this opportunity, Martin. It may never come again.
No. I can't.
- Trust me. - I can't.
Don't be scared.
- I'm not scared. - You want me.
I don't. I don't want anyone.
Just leave me alone!
Don't go. Don't leave me.
Your fly's undone!
Where am I?
Taxi!
Get in, Martin. I'll drive you home.
I do everything for you, Martin.
I wash your clothes.
I put your favorite ones where you can find them.
I cook for you.
I watch your budget.
I pay your bills on time, do your grocery shopping.
I'm like a wife to you, but you don't trust me.
I want your trust. I want your respect.
I'm the only one you can trust.
I'm the only one who'll look after you.
You're not the only one.
Andy?
You can't trust him. You'll find that out.
Are you going to fire me?
You don't have to think about it. Are you firing me?
I would have thought you might want to leave.
Do you want to resign, Celia?
No.
I was right. You do enjoy it.
What about you, Martin?
Do you enjoy it?
I'm going to die, Martin.
Do you know what that means?
When?
Soon.
Before, I'll be very sick...
and I won't be able to look after you.
I won't be able to describe your garden to you anymore...
and you'll have to go and live with grandma for a while.
You don't want to see me anymore.
No, that's not true. I want to stay here with you.
I don't want to leave you.
But you are.
You're just saying you're going to die to get away from me.
You're ashamed of me.
Please, Martin. I'm telling you the truth.
You're not telling the truth.
You never do. I'll never believe you.
It's hollow.
Martin?
Martin, you there?
Hello, Andy.
Hi.
This room only gets light in the mornings.
It seems a shame to waste it.
Martin doesn't notice, of course.
Where is Martin?
He's at the library for the blind.
Be gone for hours.
That's right. You can go look in his bedroom.
I won't tell him if you want to.
Don't you want to? Haven't you ever wondered...
what blind people's bedrooms are like?
- No. - Bet you have.
He's got dirty books in there.
No pictures, of course, but they're dirty.
All in braille.
Bullshit.
Yes.
Still, makes you wonder what someone like Martin does...
for entertainment, doesn't it?
He's got so many books.
Bet some of them are dirty.
He's read many more books than me, and I can see.
Well, that's what he does for entertainment, then, isn't it?
He hates me.
I didn't think he was capable of not hating anything...
except for his dog, his photographs.
I think he loves you.
And you lied to him about the photograph.
You lied for me.
Is that what you think?
I just didn't want him to get hurt.
You lied for me.
In case.
In case of what?
Let's pretend we're blind.
Martin?
What are you doing here?
I was just in the area.
Saw you sitting over here.
Thought I might come and say hello.
I must have photographed everything...
in this park by now... every tree and every bench.
What's left?
There's a leaf at your feet.
How large?
You'll have to photograph it.
Then I'll describe it to you later.
What?
I just took a photo of a leaf...
because you told me there was one there, and I believed you.
I trust you, Andy.
- Well, maybe you shouldn't. - Why not?
There is a leaf, isn't there?
Yeah.
I'm not good at responsibility, Martin.
Never have been.
All my bosses have always said I've got an untrustworthy face.
My parents think I'm useless...
always changing jobs, moving around.
I'm a black sheep, Martin.
If you could see me, you might agree.
Celia, what have you done with Bill's leash?
It's here. I've attached it for you.
There are changes to be made.
You will no longer hide things from me.
Do you understand?
Yes, Martin.
Truth is best.
Come, Bill.
Oh, I love labradors.
And I'm not just saying that, Bill.
They're great friends to man, eh, Martin?
Yes.
So, just the annual parvo shot, then?
- Yes. - All right.
Here we go, Bill.
There you are. Didn't even flinch.
What's this you got stuck under your collar, eh?
- What? - It's a photograph.
Oh. It's not me on the toilet, is it?
No. No, it's of Bill.
Very photogenic, too, if I may say so.
- Bill in the park? - Yes.
Bill with brown dog in the park.
No.
Bill with a woman and your friend.
My friend?
The one you brought with you when you came with the cat.
Andy?
Who's there?
Only me, Martin.
Why are you still here?
You should've finished your chores two hours ago.
Who else is here?
Who do you think is here?
It's me.
I know I should have told you this before.
Celia and I are in love.
In love?
Yes.
Get out, both of you.
How many times do I have to tell you? Get out!
Take a seat. I'll make us a cup of tea.
He won't forgive you.
Not now.
Nancy Pamela Webber.
Could you lead me to the headstone, please?
Do you ever get cases of an empty coffin being buried?
Why would anyone want to do that?
I don't know. A hoax?
Pretty expensive sort of hoax, if you ask me.
I had to buy some polish for the table, Martin...
so you owe me an extra $5.00.
Celia.
I'm sorry I tormented you for so long.
You're sorry?
I knew how you felt about me...
and it was wrong of me to exploit your feelings.
You're fired.
May I have my key, please?
The key to my house.
You're being ridiculous.
Not anymore.
I don't want you to worry about me, Celia.
I've arranged for another cleaning woman...
through the agency.
A cleaning woman.
I've written you a reference.
"Celia was in my employment for 31/2 years.
"She proved herself to be an efficient housekeeper...
"and a lively and provocative conversationalist.
I heartily recommend her services. "
You didn't mention my breasts.
"Celia has exceptional breasts. "
Would you like me to add that?
Do I get a kiss good-bye?
No.
You don't have to kiss me. I'll kiss you.
- Bill won't miss me? - I should think he would.
I'm glad.
Whenever you call him and he doesn't come...
you'll think of me.
Good-bye, Celia.
G'day.
Andy.
How you doing?
Would you like to come in?
No, thanks. I can't stay long.
I'm working two shifts.
Need the extra money.
I'm gonna start up a mail-order business.
I met this bloke who made fifteen grand in six months...
just by selling things through the mail.
You should have taken care, Andy.
I'm a blind man. I'm not like other people.
You can't know how important truth is to me.
I do know.
Shit, Martin, everybody lies.
But not all the time, and that's the point.
I lied to you about Celia...
but nothing else.
How can I believe you?
You can't.
You tell the truth, Martin.
Your whole life's the truth.
Have some pity on the rest of us.
Andy?
If you could spare me a few minutes.
I know you're busy, but I have a photograph...
I'd like you to describe.
It's the last one.
It's a man in a garden.
It's a sunny day.
The man's dressed in overalls, and he's holding a rake.
Beside him is a wheelbarrow. It's full of leaves.
Must be autumn.
There's a birdbath. No birds in it, though.
It's a small garden.
Very neat.
The man with the rake must look after it.
Can't quite make out his face, but he looks... he looks old.
Old and...
kind.
Kind?
I don't know.
Maybe it's just the photo.
It's a nice photo, Martin.
Keep it.
You're sure you don't need it?
All right.
Andy?
I thought I might drop into the restaurant tomorrow.
Will you be there?
Yeah, I'll be there.
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