Laing:
For all its inconveniences,
Laing was satisfied with life
in the high-rise.
Now that so many of the
residents were out of the way,
he felt able to relax.
More in charge of himself.
Ready to move forward
and explore life.
How and where, exactly...
Steele: I see the rot's set in.
...he had not yet decided.
Do you fancy a drink?
Cosgrove is here.
All boys together.
Laing: Sometimes he found it
difficult not to believe
they were living in a future
that had already taken place.
Oh, Christ!
Talbot: Oh, bad luck.
Or is it good luck?
I can never remember.
Woman: Ooh!
Woman: So sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Sorry.
Laing: I'll survive.
I don't doubt it.
You're an excellent specimen.
I thought you were empty.
Yeah, I... I just moved in.
I'm Charlotte Melville.
Hi. Sorry,
I must have fallen asleep.
God, I hope we haven't
frightened him off.
- So what if we have?
- I say.
- Yeah?
Why don't you come up later
and have a drink?
- I'm having a party.
- Thanks, I'll try.
Wilder: What time do you
want us tonight?
- Seven sharp.
- That reminds me.
I haven't given you
your birthday present yet.
You know you're not my type.
Besides, shouldn't you be off
to the television studios?
I'm not their type either.
Come on.
I can't.
I haven't drunk enough yet.
I don't wanna disappoint them.
What is Helen feeding you?
Nothing.
She's too depressed to cook.
I should have married
someone like you.
- Stoic and perfectly breasted.
- Mm.
You know, I'd dearly like to get
in between those thighs of yours
one of these days.
You really are too much
sometimes, Wilder.
Am I?
Laura: Has something happened
that could cause a build-up
of negative energy?
My sister died recently.
Really?
Yes, of course.
Sorry, it's just people normally
lie here and just... lie.
To get an extra ten minutes,
you know?
I don't have an extra
ten minutes.
"All large rubbish bags...
No large bags."
Nappies.
- I'm sorry?
- They block up the chute.
I don't have any children, so...
Caretaker: Good.
They urinate in the pool.
I'll remember that.
Fifty-eight. Male.
Schizophrenic.
Myocardial infarction.
Bit of an old tortoise,
wasn't he?
Respect shouldn't be set aside
with any perfectly natural
feelings of revulsion.
Now, in time you may specialize
in the clinical treatment
of mental illness,
research into its origins,
development or manifestations.
But let's start with
the nuts and bolts.
As you can see, the facial mask
simply slips off the skull.
Munrow?
Munrow?
You've taken a fall.
So...
Yes, I'm afraid I'm not
very good at this sort of thing.
- Slotting in, you mean?
- Yes.
I was rather expecting to find a
certain kind of anonymity here.
Don't worry, people don't
usually care what happens
two floors above or below them.
Good.
Charlotte's different. She's on
all sorts of committees.
Helen: She said your tenancy
application was very Byronic.
- Did she really?
- Mm.
Well, I'm determined to
get everything right.
Right.
Top-up?
- Yes, thank you.
- Come on.
- Helen: Which floor are you?
- Laing: 25.
One floor down.
- Tennis?
- No, squash actually.
That's 20, I think.
Helen: Why here and not
a bachelor pad in town?
An investment in the future,
I suppose.
I felt like I needed a
clean slate to put my mark on.
We're down in the bottom,
in all sorts of shadows.
Most families are.
Real ones, anyway.
You blocked the chute.
- I'm sorry?
- This is Steele. He's in teeth.
You don't know how things
work around here yet, do you?
No, but I'm a fast learner.
I'm an orthodontist,
not a homosexual.
Good for you.
Steele fixes the children.
I'm afraid they eat
too many sweets.
Helen's an armchair
environmentalist.
She cares, that's her thing.
- Have you heard of recycling?
- No, I...
Steele: What she hasn't grasped
is the detrimental effect
of all these rotten toothed
little imps.
The women around here
would help the planet more
by keeping their legs crossed.
This one's late.
Doesn't want to come out.
- Vicky: Mummy.
- Mm?
Toby's got a radio set.
You have to build it yourself.
Can I have one?
If you're good.
Is that your wife going into
the bathroom with Cosgrove?
Helen: Cosgrove reads the news.
Have you seen him on TV?
- Laing: No.
- Helen: He's very good.
Very convincing.
Excuse me.
Injustice.
My husband can't bear it.
He's been making a documentary
about it for years but...
...I think he's lost his focus.
Excuse me?
Mm.
Thank you very much.
Elevator voice:
Floor 25.
Oh, fuck.
Hi, Jean, it's me.
Listen, I'm not gonna
come in this morning.
Wait. What about Munrow?
Did he turn up for that scan?
Okay, good.
Well, leave it on my desk
if it turns up.
And no, no, I don't need
anything. It's all here.
- Hi.
- You didn't buzz.
Was I meant to?
Obviously.
Hi.
You haven't changed.
I'm sorry, I don't think I can.
Oh, well. Your loss.
Simmons:
Are you the new doctor?
Yeah. Yes, I am.
But not the kind
you probably need.
If someone's injured,
I can call the infirmary.
Mr. Royal wants to see you.
Now.
I'm sorry, who?
This is a very nice lift.
Private.
You won't be needing that.
Elevator voice:
Floor 40. Penthouse.
Terrace.
Royal: Ah, Doctor Laing.
I hear you play squash.
Yes, I do. You built all this?
Dreamt. Conceived.
I hardly rolled my sleeves up.
Course, the project's
far from finished.
There will be five towers
in all, encircling the lake.
Something like an open hand.
The lake is the palm and we
stand on the distal phalanx
of the index finger.
There.
I've put all my energies
into this tower.
I'm its midwife, so to speak.
Laing: Mm.
It looks like
the unconscious diagram
of some kind of psychic event.
That's good. Can I use that?
By all means.
Of course, I'm a modernist
by trade but you, a doctor,
will understand
one prescribes as required.
That folly out there
is for my wife.
Royal: Her chief distraction
is the careful cultivation
of an intense sort of nostalgia.
For what?
Why delve?
Royal: My car was crushed
by a reversing cement truck.
Laing: I'm afraid I'm not
a physiotherapist.
Royal: I know what you are,
Doctor Laing.
Constant exercise
is the only thing
that keeps the pain at bay.
So you could say not only
am I the building's first
road casualty, but I am the
architect of my own accident.
What do you think of that?
- Is that a horse?
- Probably.
My wife rides.
On the 40th floor?
Royal: This is Simmons,
one of my go-betweens.
Laing: Yes,
...we met.
Royal: Squash.
Friday, six a.m. Hmm?
- Laing: Why not.
- Royal: Hmm. Good.
Royal: Oh, Laing?
My wife's giving a "thing"
the day after tomorrow.
Full of the sort of people
you should know
if you're to get the measure
of the place.
Laing: Thank you.
Ann: Why is there never a damn
switch for what I need?
I hope you're here to fix this.
I'm sorry?
I, um...
I thought this was in a museum.
Well, you were wrong,
weren't you?
Fucking hell.
Here, let me try.
Sorry about that.
It's inoperable, I'm afraid.
Simmons:
Doctor, this way.
Excuse me.
Charlotte: Royal likes you.
It's unusual.
Do you know, he hasn't left his
penthouse since the accident.
Laing:
You seem to know everyone.
Charlotte: But everyone thinks
they know me.
That's the trick.
There's a rigid
social hierarchy here,
whether Royal likes it or not.
Can you write me a script
for sleeping pills?
No.
Then tell me how
your sister died.
How do you know that?
Walls have ears.
I suppose I look like her.
You don't have to
tell me anything.
I only really want
to talk about myself.
There's a brothel
somewhere in the building.
I can find out for you
if you'd like.
- Toby: Charlotte?
- Darling?
Charlotte?
Charlotte: Hi.
This is Toby, my son.
- Hi.
- Where's Laura?
Laura: Sorry.
Just warming the milk.
- Doesn't matter, I'm going out.
- I don't need a babysitter.
What you need is to go to sleep
or you'll be tired for school
in the morning.
I don't want to go to school.
Of course you don't
want to go to school,
but we all have to do things
we don't want to do.
It's what growing up
is all about.
Isn't that right, Robert?
- Yeah.
Yep.
Sweet dreams.
- Batteries.
- I haven't forgotten.
Come on, you.
Charlotte:
He's smart as a whip.
I call him the little professor.
He hates it.
Hmm.
Hmm.
You're going?
I...
I thought we were...
I thought we were doing this.
We've done it.
You know, you look much better
without your clothes on.
You're lucky.
Not many people do.
Fascist pig!
Announcer: Welcome to
the 15th floor market.
Today we have a special offer
on French bread
and French fromage.
Thank you for shopping
on floor 15.
Would you like an autograph?
Actually,
I was looking for the Riesling.
- What?
- Grammaire.
Should I know that woman?
That's Jane Sheridan.
The actress.
She doesn't need all that stuff,
she just likes spending money.
She's preparing for a new role.
She's going to play
a desperately sad actress
who lives alone
in an apartment block.
Keep the change.
There isn't any.
Munrow. Banking.
Pangbourne. Gynecology.
My son's pursuing medicine.
Amongst other things,
I should hope.
Jane: That's him.
He's quite reassuring
but rather cold hands.
Your husband appears intent on
colonizing the sky, Mrs. Royal.
And who can blame him when
you look at what's going on
down at... street level?
The German press
say he's a genius.
Ha! Germans.
We're award-winning.
You can't argue with that.
Munrow.
You feeling better?
Oh, you.
- Did you invite him?
- Of course not.
No, Royal did, actually.
I hope you don't mind.
Must be one of his funny
little social experiments.
What have you come as?
A dilettante?
Champagne, sir?
Yeah, thanks.
I wouldn't take it
personally, sir.
- No?
- No.
I've seen you at the gym,
haven't I?
Yeah.
You set a very good pace.
So do you.
Well, it takes a certain
determination to row against
the current.
Yes, it does.
Ah, Simmons, how are you?
Excuse me.
Won't be needing that.
Cheap bastard.
Wall?
So, how long were you stuck?
Not long,
in the scheme of things.
Teething problems.
Building is still settling.
Still, I hear all the floors
from the first to the twelfth
were out of power
for several hours.
Yeah. Probably more fun in that
lift than at Ann's party.
I must apologize for my wife.
She was brought up
in the insulation
of a large country house.
She feels a constant need
to re-establish herself
on the top rung.
We toy with each other.
Not sexually, of course.
By the way,
I hear you're fucking 374.
Her name is Charlotte Melville.
Yeah, Charlotte. That's right.
She has quite a tight cunt,
as I recall.
Royal: Believe me, I understand.
At your age, straightforward,
biological reason supervenes.
But some of the people
who live here,
haven't you've seen them?
The vanguard of the well-to-do.
They've fitted themselves so
tightly into their slots that...
...they no longer have room
to escape themselves.
Slots designed by you.
I know.
I'd conceived this building
to be a crucible for change.
I must have missed
some vital element.
Miriam: What are you
going to do about it?
There are women on my floor
with babies
and they can't even
boil a kettle
so they can sterilize
their baby's bottles.
Look... Look! If you lower
people overload the system,
- there will be cuts.
- Who are you calling "people"?
Look, I commend your bravery,
old son, but don't push it.
You know very well
that's not what we were sold.
I know for a fact
that you're in arrears
with your service payments,
Mr. Wilder.
You're hardly in a position
to take the moral high ground.
- Tell him.
- No.
Go on!
My daughter was interfered
with in the dark.
She's certain it was
someone from the top.
He was wearing expensive cologne
and stuffed a copy of the
Financial Times in her mouth.
We pay the same charges
as the top floors.
We want our fair share
of the power.
Now you pull your finger out or
I'll take it above your head!
I think you've made
your point, Wilder.
Hey, wait! Why don't you just
hold on a minute there.
Where the bloody hell
do you think you're going?
The service lift's out.
Gotta come up front.
White wine. Thank God.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Oi!
If you're thinking of taking
your grievances to the top,
I doubt you'll find
much sympathy.
You've met the architect?
Hovers over the place
like a fucking albatross.
No.
One should pity him really.
Oh.
One should, should one?
Very magnanimous of you,
I'm sure.
Listen, you couldn't give me a
lift to the television studios,
could you?
Laing: No, I'm sorry.
I can't seem to remember
where I left my car.
Wilder:
Funny, neither can I.
Why don't we have
to go to school?
I don't know,
I'll think of something.
You don't want mummy
to be lonely, do you?
That's not how you
spell "arse", darling.
...rioting, which broke out on
Tuesday after prisoners refused
to return to their cells
has escalated significantly
according to prison...
I'm sorry, it can't go on.
But it was you that pursued me.
It's over. Do you hear me?
Oh.
Oh, you're better!
Munrow's scan.
He's absolutely fine.
He's uncommonly arrogant.
He needs bringing down
a peg or two.
He's young.
Jean. Please.
How's the high-life?
Prone to fits of mania,
narcissism and power failure.
Sounds an interesting case.
Right up your street.
Possibly.
So, what's your final decision?
Everyone else has submitted.
It's only you who's
procrastinating, as usual.
Cheese and pickle.
Thank you, Jean.
Munrow?
- A word, please.
- Just a minute, Laing.
Munrow: Look,
so I'll see you tomorrow.
Munrow: Perfect.
Munrow: Funny us living in
the same building.
We're just below Royal.
Where are you?
You took a tumble the other day
and we sent you for a scan.
Yes, it was unnecessary fuss.
I hadn't eaten.
I'm afraid we might have
found something.
What do you mean "something"?
My father's not gonna like this.
Woo-hoo! Come on, darling!
Chop-chop! Half a league onward!
- Dad: What are you in again?
- Sound.
Just got back from Tanzania.
Recording the mating cry
of the baboon.
Awful bloody things.
They throw shit at you.
Talbot: That's it.
An object that is in motion
will not change its velocity
unless an external force
acts upon it.
I've no qualms about
the invasion of my privacy
by government agencies or
data processing organizations.
All I want is my fair share of
the electricity so I can turn
a damned light on and ensure
I've wiped my backside properly.
Teething problems, Wilder.
The building is still settling.
Yeah, that what Herr Royal
told you, was it?
Talbot: The fact is,
we're all bio-robots now.
I mean none of us can live
without the equipment
we surround ourselves with.
Cameras, cars, telephones.
Exactly.
- Thank you, Helen, very much.
- I wanna go home.
I suspect Laing here has
been charged with disseminating
propaganda amongst
the lower orders.
The dangling carrot of
friendship and approval.
Laing: Look, Toby,
try to fit in, all right?
You want people to
like you, don't you?
The children were turned away
from the pool this morning
- for being too noisy.
- Under whose authority?
Our lives are too messy,
Richard.
Helen: Successful people don't
want to be reminded
that things can go wrong.
Is that right, Laing?
Are we the ones
letting the building down?
I think any sensible person
would envy what you have here.
Well, I won't have
my children humiliated.
We'll start a
parents' action group.
- Here we go.
- Who wants to go swimming?
All right, come on.
Richard, I don't have costumes
for all these children.
I don't even know
if they can all swim.
I'm not a parent but I am
a psychiatrist. Will that do?
The more the merrier. Come on,
no time like the present.
Come on, kids!
Swimming pool, swimming pool...
- One thing's for sure.
- Yeah?
This building's nowhere near
as homogenous
as someone would like to think.
- You're right about that.
- Yeah. I'll see you later.
Bye.
Swimming pool, swimming pool...
Swimming pool, swimming pool...
Is it always like this here?
Yes.
Swimming pool, swimming pool...
Swimming pool...
Toby:
Why haven't you got a wife?
Why haven't you got a father?
Laing: I'm so sorry. I...
I didn't mean
to say that out loud.
Sorry, Toby. Come on,
let's help clear this up.
Laura said your
family's all dead.
- What?
- Did you kill them?
Um.
No. No, Toby, I didn't.
What does it feel like
to be the last one?
You know, Toby, um...
when I was your age I was always
covered in something.
Mud.
Jam. Failure.
My father would never
associate with anything dirty.
- Or real.
- My father's up there.
You mean he's in heaven?
Toby: Heaven's not real, stupid.
You should have gone with him.
I'm gonna take Toby home.
I think I've forgotten
how to sleep.
You know, everyone's in terrible
debt like us, I'm certain.
They're just better
at hiding it.
Perhaps I can help.
Fuck's sake.
Come on, Toby,
let's take the stairs.
Swimming pool, swimming pool...
Guys, it's closed.
- Daiquiri for the screen siren.
There's nothing there.
Are you blind
as well as stupid?
Look in my ear
and tell me what you see.
Our party.
Our rules!
- Mind if we join you?
- Yes, we do.
- Share and share alike, Janie.
Last one in's a big fat sissy!
I shouldn't really.
No, you shouldn't.
It's undercooked. Send it back.
If it isn't the social climber.
Simmons: She got you
babysitting now, has she?
Hold your horses.
That staircase is closed.
- Don't be absurd.
Well, we'll just have to make
our own entertainment.
Steele: Won't we?
Come on.
Crack a smile, why don't you.
Scared your mascara will run?
You'll never work
in television again,
I'll make damn sure of that.
Cosgrove:
No children allowed.
Why didn't you punch him?
Good question.
Charlotte: What's happening?
Have you seen Laura? She's
supposed to be babysitting.
No.
I'm going to the pool.
- Give me that fucking candle.
- Who the hell is that?
Out of my way.
Munrow, know of a decent party
we can crash?
Out of my way!
Laing: Pity.
An animal like this should be
strong enough to swim for hours.
It was like a child to her.
Pathetic really.
Wilder:
Where did you sneak off to?
Oh, well, the chlorine doesn't
agree with my eczema.
Well, don't do it again.
It reflects badly on
a man's character. Give me that.
Talbot: Whoa.
Kids' parties always
put me on fucking edge.
Now we're getting somewhere.
Eeny, meeny, miny...
mo.
Oops a daisy, you seem to
have fallen off your tuffet.
My hero.
Save me from myself.
Get your hands off her,
you cocky bastard.
I may be a bastard, madam,
but I'm a polite bastard.
- She's out of your league.
- What about you, Sonny Jim?
Lover boy. Twinkle toes.
Are you in my league,
by any chance?
Come on. Show the lady
what you're made of.
Oh, dear, dear.
That's not a good start, is it?
Shall we try again?
Try using your fists this time.
It's traditional.
Oh!
Should we do something?
Well, that's a
matter of opinion.
There's a school of thought
that says we shouldn't.
Could do more harm than good.
Huh? Sonny Jim.
Wilder, stop it.
Charlotte: What do you
think of Laing?
Well, he's hiding
in plain sight.
It's not a bad party, is it?
There is something about him.
Wilder: Come on.
Wilder: Ha, ha, ha!
Wilder: You can cross him off
your waiting list.
He won't be needing a
head doctor any time soon.
Laing: No, he won't.
No.
So who do you want me to blame?
Suicide.
Yeah.
God, I feel sorry
for his mother.
I'm sure his people are
taking care of everything.
What's in all of
these boxes anyway?
Sex and paranoia.
What did you say?
Nothing.
- Shall we get some air?
- Is that your sister?
Laing: Probably.
Did you get any sleep?
Laing: Not really. You?
No.
Talbot's right.
It's as if everyone
suddenly silently
decided to cross some line.
- Be worse tonight.
- It's not that bad, surely?
- Can't be.
- Are you sure you're a doctor?
Of course I am.
What else would I be?
Yuck!
Laing!
Listen, I've got an idea.
A solid one.
I need an introduction
to the architect.
I'm gonna make a documentary
about this place.
That young man Munrow, you know,
the one who died last night?
He'll make a good
starting point.
I mean,
doesn't it seem odd, Laing,
that a man can fall from
the 39th floor
and not one police car turn up?
Where's the investigation,
Laing?
I mean, where's the sirens?
Laing!
Christ!
Who was that?
Wilder.
What did he want?
Why didn't he come in?
I don't know, some scheme.
I'd steer clear of him
for a while.
Of Wilder?
Don't be absurd. He went a bit
overboard with Simmons,
but really he
wouldn't hurt a fly.
What about a dog?
Charlotte:
It's rude to spy, Toby.
Laing: Leave him be,
he's not doing any harm.
I wouldn't, if I were you.
Laing:
What have you got there?
- A kaleidoscope.
- Laing: Oh.
Laing: What can you see
through that thing?
The future.
And what do you want
to be in that future of yours?
An engine driver?
An astronaut?
- I wanna be better than you.
- Oh, for God's sake, Toby.
Laing:
He's quite right.
I should go and change.
Simmons is right.
Wilder is nothing but
an unconscionable
fucking reprobate.
He's symptomatic, isn't he?
You know, the whole place
obviously needs a firmer hand.
There's no food left.
Only the dog's.
And Mrs. Hillman is refusing
to clean unless I pay her
what I apparently owe her.
Like all poor people,
she's obsessed with money.
Yes.
You know, we can't have
a repeat of last night.
Pangbourne: We have got to show
the lower floors
that we can throw
a better party than them.
Healthy competition is the basis
of a modern thriving economy.
But you're right,
we must prevail.
Right, first things first.
We must commandeer
all necessary resources.
Simmons? List.
Booze.
Canaps.
Cocktail onions.
Pangbourne: Other suggestions?
Cake.
Are we talking about
a raiding party then?
Pangbourne: Not so harsh.
Although I think we
should be prepared
to meet moderate resistance.
Ah.
Royal. Just the man.
You still hold the key
to the building,
symbolically, at least.
We'd like you to lead
a delegation.
Where to? The United Nations?
The supermarket.
Richard?
- Is that you?
- It's all right.
Go back to sleep.
Helen:
What are you doing?
Wilder:
I'm starting a new project.
Another prison documentary?
- Richard?
- What?
You shouldn't leave me
alone like that.
I love you
but I don't trust you.
I don't think I ever have.
Isn't that sad?
You're not alone.
You've got the children.
Things would be better
if we could afford to move
to a higher floor.
It's the light
I envy them up there.
Wilder: Stop torturing yourself.
You're perfectly happy.
Try and be more like Charlotte.
Less giving, you mean?
- At least leave me some money.
- There's money on the table.
Excuse me.
Get out of my way!
Residuum.
Some of these people generate
the most unusual garbage.
Objects that could well be of
interest to the Vice Squad.
Look.
I don't know anything about it.
I don't know what caused it.
And I didn't do it.
We're on the same level.
That's all that counts now.
At least until all
of this blows over.
Steele:
Restrain that intruder!
There, look! What we need
is a good sturdy chain!
What are you doing?
I'm packing to leave.
What do you think?
Has anyone actually made a
formal complaint to the owners?
We are the owners.
Pass me that green thing.
Daddy likes to see me in it.
You're not going anywhere.
I forbid it.
Well...
That's the first time he's
touched me in... Six months?
Royal: Simmons!
Royal: Simmons!
What's wrong? Poor little chap.
Pangbourne: What about him?
I think he knows his place.
Jane: Good God,
what do they look like?
Cosgrove: You know,
I've never been in one of these.
What does one do exactly?
- Hunt and gather, of course.
- Gather what, exactly?
Announcer: Welcome to the
15th floor market.
Today we have a special
offer on French bread
and French fromage.
Thank you
for shopping on floor 15.
Wilder: Talbot! Where the hell
are you hiding, man?
Talbot: The model
here is less the noble savage
and more our un-innocent
post-Freudian selves.
Perhaps they resent never
having had the chance
to become perverse.
Outraged by all that
over-indulgent toilet training.
Customer:
Queue's back here, pal.
Good. Working.
Need to get to the top.
This money's yours if you can
point me in the direction
of the service lift.
Wilder: Oh, hello, girls.
Out on a spree, are we?
That's Wilder!
Yes, I recognize you
from the foyer.
Sort of an agitator type.
Bet you wish you'd gone to the
back of the bloody queue now.
Wilder: Bastard!
Obviously a far more dangerous
mix than anything our
Victorian forebears
had to cope with anyway.
Excuse me,
let me through, please.
Hold on.
What have you got?
- Let me see it.
- Don't touch that.
I wouldn't do that
if I were you.
Let me through, it's my paint.
Get off that, it's mine.
It's mine!
It's my paint!
You really smashed him up.
I think you burst his eyeball.
Misogynist!
Talbot?
He's expecting us.
I wonder where he is.
Don't think you can count on
the Geneva bloody Convention
to get you out of this one,
you longhaired poofter.
Help! Help!
Room for two more?
I haven't got any money.
Will this do?
Look after your brother.
Why? You made him.
Is it the bomb?
- When are you coming back?
- Soon.
Are you freaking out?
Kiss.
Kiss.
Laing: Helen.
Come in, come in.
Please.
It's so nice to see you.
Listen, you must
give me your opinion.
I think I've finally found
the right tone.
What do you think?
Woman:
And now the shipping forecast
issued by the Met Office
at 2-3-4-3
on Saturday the 18th.
There are warnings of gales
in all areas except Trafalgar.
The general synopsis
at 1-8-double 0,
low, 200 miles
south of Iceland...
Royal: Simmons!
Where's my wife?
I don't know.
Well who invited
all these people?
They invited themselves.
You can't hide up here forever.
You'll have to go down there
and save her.
He's right.
Pangbourne:
She could get herself killed.
Or worse.
Unless that's what you want.
You are fired.
I don't work for you.
I work for the building.
Woman:
Fisher, south-westerly,
bearing westerly,
six to gale eight,
perhaps severe gale nine later.
Rain then wintry showers,
moderate or poor becoming good.
German Bight and Humber.
Come on! Come, come, come!
Et tu, Digby?
Right.
Which one of you bastards
is going to fuck me up the ass?
Woman:
...rain at times,
moderate or poor becoming good.
Biscay, south-westerly,
six to gale eight.
Occasional rain,
moderate or poor.
I'm coming.
- What floor are you on?
- Uh, this one.
What are you doing?
Shh.
Richard Wilder.
It's a real pleasure,
Mr. Wilder.
I'd watch out, if I were you.
There's some very unhappy
bunnies bouncing about.
P.C. White: Hello?
White.
Mr. Royal.
Everything all right, sir?
Perfectly.
Bit of a mess in there,
isn't it?
Oh, you know, nothing that can't
be "swept under the rug".
Royal: Enough!
Kill you.
Go on, all of you!
Quite enough fun
at my wife's expense.
So if you will excuse us.
We have guests waiting upstairs.
Guests?
- Come on, come on.
- Silly old me.
Thank you, darling.
I don't know what I would have
done without you.
Shh.
Mrs. Hillman: Leave me alone!
Leave me alone!
Wilder: I won't be ignored.
Tell me about the architect.
Hillman: Senior side down!
I won't be ignored.
You work for the Royals,
you must have a way
into the penthouse.
If I give you the key,
will you get my money?
Money? Of course.
If you really wanna know
about Anthony Royal,
you'll have to talk
to that tart on 26
with that poor little
bastard of his.
Charlotte Melville?
That's her.
To sweethearts and wives.
May they never meet.
Mrs. Hillman: I suppose you're
a good boy really, aren't you?
Big enough to come and go
as you please.
Big enough to have your own key.
What are you doing?
I want to see you,
just once, properly.
Please don't.
I'm nearly perfectly
happy just as I am.
Probably for the first time.
Well, Charlotte's
right about one thing.
You are definitely the best
amenity in the building.
Bugger off, you little shit!
Or I'll pull your teeth out
through your ears
and use them for buttons!
Fuck!
What's this?
It's all right, Steele.
Are you sure?
It could be worth something.
I've heard people are bartering
wives for food on other floors.
I'm not that hungry.
Helen: Charlotte's right
about one thing.
You are definitely the
best amenity in the building.
My name is Richard Wilder.
My name is Richard Wilder!
My name is Richard Wilder!
My name is Richard Wilder!
Richard Wilder!
Wilder?
What are you doing here?
How did you get in?
I thought you'd be downstairs
manning the barricades.
I only came to get the
last of the supplies
but I see you found them.
Get off!
I know why I'm not your type.
Don't be so silly.
Oh, God, it's not just you.
It's everyone.
Fibber.
Let go!
I know about you.
I know about the architect.
I know about Toby.
You don't know anything.
Quite the little building
project, isn't he, our Toby?
The little professor.
Power will be restored tomorrow.
Day after at the latest.
I'll help you with your
stupid documentary then.
But now I'm going
back to the party.
Oh, I think you've had
enough excitement for one day.
Richard, stop it. Stop it!
No!
Please help me.
Please help!
Please!
Cosgrove:
What are you doing in there?
Cosgrove:
What are you doing?
What are you doing in there?
Cosgrove: What do you all do
while I'm at work?
Good morning.
Now he's raping people
he's not supposed to.
And to top it all, Mercer here
says he actually shat
in his attach case.
Seems Richard Wilder
is certainly a maverick.
A barrister, aren't you, Mercer?
Retired.
But it's still,
it's the principle.
And I suppose you believe that
there should be unspoken rules?
Even for this sort of thing?
Mercer: Quite.
Simmons has come up
with a workable solution.
We get Laing to
lobotomize Wilder.
Royal:
You can't be serious.
It's an interesting thought.
For the good of the building,
you mean?
If you like.
Shouldn't be too difficult.
We've already made
contact with Laing.
He insists on carrying out a
psychological evaluation first.
Humor him, then.
There's bound to be something
we can give Laing in exchange.
I'd imagine he
wants to be left alone.
Nevertheless, you're all
forgetting one small point.
This is my party.
You're all my guests.
I shall be the one who decides
if someone is lobotomized.
You should thank us!
You're the one he really wants!
What?
Simmons:
After all, you stole his wife.
I what?
Certainly looks like that
on paper.
Where is Wilder's wife now?
Mercer: Broom cupboard.
Pangbourne: Oh, perfect.
We've got a vacancy
for a cleaner, haven't we?
Yeah, right,
anyone going to work?
Cosgrove.
Most have taken leave.
Well, quite right.
The real work is here.
Once we've dispensed
with the likes of Wilder,
we play the lower people
off against each other.
In short, Balkanize
the central section.
Then begin colonization
of the entire building.
Then I propose that Royal,
here, draw up plans
to remodel the lower floors.
Oh.
Yes, a driving range.
Cricket nets.
Clubhouse.
Pangbourne: Ah!
What about the horse?
What about the horse?
We're gonna eat it.
Dinner parties don't
grow on trees, darling.
French do it all the time.
Motion's carried.
Meeting adjourned.
Wouldn't say no
to a Bloody Mary.
Mercer: I'll have the
kitchen look into it.
Pangbourne: Who is the kitchen?
The wives are rotating.
- Ah!
Still enjoying the party,
darling?
Fucking Christ.
Cosgrove really is
quite convincing.
Cosgrove: What are you doing?
I... how fucking dare you!
Laing!
Funny, I was just
thinking about you.
I was just about to leave.
Come in.
How are things?
Comme ci comme a.
Have you seen Helen?
No.
I'm no good without her.
She shouldn't leave me alone.
It's this place.
Won't let me find
my equilibrium.
I thought I was cut out
for it, but...
I'm not.
Living in a high-rise requires
a special type of behavior.
Acquiescent.
Restrained.
Perhaps even slightly mad.
The ones who are the real danger
are the self-contained
types like you.
Impervious to the psychological
pressures of high-rise life.
Professionally detached.
Thriving.
Like an advanced species
in the neutral atmosphere.
I'm sorry you think that.
No, you're not.
Perhaps you're right.
This might help.
Simmons:
You won't be needing that.
Come on, chop-chop!
Pangbourne: Ah, Laing.
Good of you to join us.
Simmons: He won't do it.
Oh.
You should probably
reconsider that.
It's not possible, I'm afraid.
I will not lobotomize
Richard Wilder.
He's possibly the sanest man
in the building.
Oh.
Well, it's flying school
for you, I'm afraid, chum.
- Simmons: Can I have his tie?
- If you must.
- That's Savile Row, innit?
- Yes.
Pangbourne!
What, Royal?
I'm in the middle of something.
You can't put him over the edge.
He owes me a game of squash.
Royal: Look, I insist you
stop this at once.
All right then, let him go.
I'm having that tie
one way or another.
Laing: Ever thought of
leaving the nest yourself?
I was the first to arrive,
I shall be the last to leave.
You recall us speaking about
my hopes for the building
to be a crucible for change?
Of course.
Well, all this has made
me realize something
quite fundamental.
It wasn't that I left
an element out,
it was that I put too many in.
And now the building's failure
has offered those people
the beginnings of a means
of escape to a new life.
Mm.
Who knows...
Perhaps it will become
a paradigm
for future developments.
And you, have you settled?
I believe so.
Impressions?
Well, the lights, fire,
like neurons in a great brain.
Laing: The lifts seem like
the chambers of a heart.
Laing: And when I move...
Pangbourne: That's it!
I move along its corridors
like a cell...
...in a network of arteries.
There we are.
There.
That wasn't so bad, now was it?
Pangbourne: Huh?
Bravo.
What... What is this?
What do you think?
Pudding?
Laing: Right,
while I've got your ear...
about Richard Wilder.
You don't need to
worry about Richard.
Or the others.
Bloody Mary, John?
- Wet the baby's head.
- Where are all the menfolk?
Cosgrove was taken, I'm afraid.
On his way back from work.
Christ.
Really?
Simmons has gone
to get him back.
Oh.
They may be some time.
Now tell me.
I can't remember.
Have I ever given you
my autograph?
Royal: Whose area?
There's another.
Wilder: Helen!
Helen!
Helen!
It's you.
- The architect.
- Yes.
You see you've made
a mistake there.
If you'd have confessed to your
sins on camera when our paths
crossed in the foyer, I'd have
probably edited this bit out.
I'm not accountable to you,
Mr. Wilder.
Too late now, anyway.
Camera broke.
Oh, just one thing
before you go.
Why exactly did
you take my wife?
I can assure you,
I have no interest
in your personal property.
Because I ask myself why
would a great man like you
feel the need to hide
behind women's skirts?
Behind children, even.
Your own, as well as others'.
How dare you judge me!
How dare...
- Helen!
That's right.
You sit there and think about
what you've done.
Laing: On the whole,
life in the high-rise was good.
There had been no obvious
point at which it had moved
into a clearly more
sinister dimension.
Helen was right.
It was a huge children's party
which had got out of hand.
Of course, Laing was sorry
the architect had died.
He felt he owed the man
a debt of gratitude
for his new family.
The first Laing had ever really
felt part of.
Now that several potential
patients had emerged
here in the building,
Laing might start
a private medical practice.
Steele: Do you fancy a drink?
Cosgrove's here.
Laing: And help others
surrender to a logic
more powerful than reason.
Steele: All boys together.
Laing's got someone waiting.
You know how it is.
Say no more.
Laing:
One thing was certain,
now that everything was getting
back to normal,
Laing would
throw his own party.
A modest project which,
nevertheless,
required careful
and cautious planning.
For now, he would sit back,
eat the rest of the dog
and wait for failure
to reach the second tower
of the high-rise development.
Ready to welcome its residents
into this new world...
with open arms.
I heard you out there.
Who were you talking to?
No-one.
Just the building.
Margaret Thatcher:
The free enterprise system
is a necessary
but not a sufficient condition.
There is only one economic
system in the world
and that is capitalism.
The difference lies in whether
the capital is in the hands of
the state or whether
the greater part of it
is in the hands of people
outside of state control.
Where there is
state capitalism,
there will never be
political freedom.