Good morning.
No. No, no, no.
Good morning.
Mm-hmm.
That one.
Good morning.
Morning.
Um, how are you?
I'm good. Why are you acting weird?
I'm not acting weird.
I simply want to make sure that you're fine.
- Totally fine. - After, you know...
- I do know. - I want you to understand
- that... - Fantasies and...
Yeah, yeah. I got it the first time.
Oh, okay.
You mind if I open the door now?
Please do.
I'm gonna be up there,
at my greeting spot.
Okay.
Everything okay between you two?
Of course.
Just seemed a little awkward.
- Oh, look, our guest is here. - Oh.
- There you go. - Ooh!
- You okay? - Yeah, I'm good.
Just a little queasy.
Happens every time I fly.
- Hmm. - Okay. That way?
- Right there. - Okay.
- Thanks. - You're welcome.
Hi, Miss Marshall.
I'm your host, Elena Roarke,
and this is my associate Ruby.
Welcome to Fantasy Island.
I think I'm gonna throw up.
- Oh. - Oh.
- Small sips. - Thanks.
Sorry, it's just like planes, trains, automobiles,
they all make me feel kind of green.
I'm more of a horses, bicycles,
foot kind of person, you know?
Well, how about you take a seat right on he...
Oh, oh, wow.
Oh, okay.
We actually have rocks on the island.
You didn't need to bring your own.
- Golly. - I'm sorry. It's books.
Edith Wharton, Jane Austen.
R.S. Coldwater is my favorite.
I'm obsessed;
I'm the girl who's had her nose in a book
ever since elementary school.
I even managed to make reading my job.
I'm a copy editor.
So tell me, Miss Marshall,
what can the island do for you?
I need to get a life.
And I need to get my nose out of books.
And I've tried before, but,
the world is...
It's so much.
And, books are where I feel safe.
You don't feel safe in the real world?
I feel out of step.
Like I don't really belong.
And I'm worried my whole life
is one big, "No, thank you."
And I want it to be a yes.
I...
So I guess that's my fantasy,
to have the courage to say yes,
to real life, whatever that is,
not just life in books.
Real life can be intimidating.
And getting lost in a good book,
I mean, shoot, there's nothing better,
especially if it's romance.
- You ever read R.S. Coldwater? - Mm-mm.
Okay...
Okay.
These are the Agnes novels.
That's book one of three. Start there.
I got introduced to these my freshman year of college.
And Agnes is the first woman I ever fell in love with.
- Really? - Yeah.
What was it about her?
She's independent and strong and so smart.
She wears breeches and men's shirts.
Just does whatever she wants.
Sounds like my kind of woman.
You'll need this.
Here you go.
Follow me, please.
Say yes, Miss Marshall.
Okay.
Your fantasy begins now.
Mm.
You look lost.
Can I help you?
Are you Agnes?
You must be a fan of my husband's work.
I'm Rachel Coldwater.
*CREDITS*
You're Rachel Coldwater?
I'm...
What? Wow!
Whoever you are, you're very American.
Sorry, I'm...
- Am I supposed to curtsy or... - Please.
Women keep their heads held high around here.
Oh.
May I?
Good heavens.
Reggie.
What is it, darling?
I was just getting to the punch line.
This is your cousin Isabel.
She's come all the way from New York.
Your cousin?
Yes, I mean that's right, I am...
I am your cousin from New York.
Yes.
Why, you were three years old last time I saw you.
Oh, this calls for a fresh round of drinks.
Let me just get Winnie.
You know, I swear I spend half of my time
trying to find the maid.
Just hold on.
How long can you stay for, cousin?
I have no idea.
Do you also write, Mrs. Coldwater?
Oh, yes.
All the time.
Invitations to tea, list for the market,
thank you notes for invitations to tea.
Come.
Let me introduce you to our friends.
Brian Cole. Hmm.
Right on time.
Finding the spot wasn't exactly a challenge.
Elena Roarke, your host.
So tell me, Mr. Cole, what can the island do for you?
Ah.
My fantasy,
is to experience the ultimate physical, and mental challenge,
and overcome it, hopefully.
Hopefully?
I'm an extreme survivalist.
The uncertainty is part of the fun.
My wife never saw it that way.
Ex-wife...
I just got divorced.
She thought I had an unhealthy obsession.
I saw it as a normal human drive to excel.
Why Fantasy Island?
There's tougher terrain out there.
It's all been conquered.
Most of it by me.
I want to be tested in ways I never have been before.
I like your confidence, Mr. Cole.
Give me your worst.
- I can take it. - Please hand over your gear.
- You want my boots? - Unnecessary.
There's a machete a little ways up the trail.
You'll have no other tools.
I'll see you on the other side.
All right.
Hey, whatever happens out there,
no help, no rescue.
No problem.
Reginald, Rachel, thank you so much for having me.
This has been amazing.
Wait...
You're both R. Coldwater.
Yes, well, we like to match whenever possible.
That's why she wears trousers, you know.
Just like Agnes.
Those novels changed my life.
All right.
Good night, wife.
Sleep well, dear cousin.
I'll see you in the morning.
Good night.
How?
What?
How did the Agnes novels change your life?
Oh, well,
they just showed me who I really was,
and that love was
so much more than I could ever possibly imagine.
Reginald will be very pleased to hear that.
Oh.
But...
Words on the page can't compare to beating hearts
and warm breath,
and the blood coursing through one's veins.
This is your room, cousin.
I'm sorry. I...
I don't normally do that kind of thing.
You never kissed a woman before?
I'm usually the...
The kissee, not the kisser.
I'm just trying new things.
Well, you surprise me, Isabel.
And that doesn't happen very often.
Have a restful sleep.
181, 182, 183.
Ooh.
Almost a record.
Who's out there?
Hello?
Two manuscripts?
Written in different hands?
What are you doing here, cousin?
I knew it! I knew it was you.
This is so cool!
You're R.S. Coldwater!
You don't know what you're talking about, cousin.
Uh, the ink on your fingertips,
the duplicate manuscripts.
Reginald obviously copies your work,
and then takes all the credit.
I always knew that the Agnes novels
could not have been written by a man,
and I was right, wasn't I?
Rachel, you can trust me.
No one can learn about this.
But it's wrong for Reggie to take credit.
He's not taking anything.
I gave it to him.
Ours is a marriage of convenience.
I asked him to marry me.
I asked him to become R.S. Coldwater.
It was the only way that I could gain access
to London's best publisher.
Walsh and Sons.
You know them?
Just their Wikipedia page.
Then you know that they don't publish any female authors.
No reputable publisher does.
If Edmund Walsh finds out about this,
Agnes will be pulled from the shelves,
and we could lose our contract.
If you love my work like you say you do,
then you must keep this quiet.
As you wish.
Thank you.
Whoever you are, I just saved your life.
Drinking from that pond,
you can get dysentery.
Stand up.
Oh, my God.
What?
You're...
Me.
So what are you writing?
Since you asked,
it's a love scene.
Oh, tell me.
Well...
Agnes is engaged to George.
But, she's just met the very dashing Mr. Hall.
In this scene,
Agnes and Mr. Hall are
walking through a field,
- and... - They get caught in the rain.
Yes. How did you know that?
Have you had your cheeky little nose in my notebook?
You have, haven't you?
Well...
Did you like it?
I had to read it with one hand.
Oh.
And,
what were you doing with the other hand?
Was it...
Something like...
This?
It was more like...
This...
Actually.
Well, that's good to know.
Oh.
I should probably put these in water.
Oh, my God. Hi!
Wait, you're here? I'm not ready to leave yet.
I'm just checking in. It's okay.
And I must say, this time suits you.
You're practically glowing.
Well, I do feel at home here.
And I've been quite the adventuress.
Do you know that Rachel is R.S. Coldwater?
I hope she inspires you,
to drive your own story
instead of living inside another.
Well, she definitely is inspiring.
I'm really living.
But it is kind of frightening.
Is it possible that you need to say yes to the fear?
You need to put those in water before they wilt.
Yes.
- Bye. - Bye.
You know, you could have found a better way
to introduce yourself.
You stole my machete.
Well, technically, it's as much mine,
as it is yours, since I'm you.
You sure I'm you?
Quite sure.
Could be worse.
Gee, thanks.
All right, listen, little me...
I'm average sized for my age.
Do you want to survive this to make it back home?
Duh.
Are you always this unfriendly?
I don't like you.
Never have.
What? Why not?
No, I'm pretty awesome.
Okay, I've got my reasons.
If we're gonna get out of here,
you need to do everything exactly as I tell you,
including letting me concentrate.
That clear?
Look, I might be you, but I'm not a moron.
Okay, okay, truce.
Look, if we're gonna do this,
can we try to get along?
I mean, we are family, after all,
with, like, everything in common.
Would you please stop talking?
I'm growing on you.
Oh, come on, admit it.
And get rid of that absurd windbreaker, would you?
It's the exact opposite of camouflage.
You know, I won that doing the running man,
in 'Northville Has Talent '91'.
So.
Or don't you remember?
No, I don't.
Ooh. Aces high.
You now owe me 20.
- Nicely done, cousin. - Mm-hmm.
Can't you think of something else to do, Reggie?
She's going to go broke.
I've gone hunting.
And I've napped twice.
What else is there to do? Hmm?
Ah!
There you are, Mr. Coldwater.
Mrs. Coldwater.
Mr. Walsh.
What a delightful surprise, it's all right, Winnie.
This is my brilliant publisher.
Mr. Walsh, I'm sorry that I'm dressed so casually.
I've just been out riding.
Ah, and...
- Who's this? - Yes.
Let me introduce my cousin Isabel from America.
Ah, Isabel, Edmund Walsh.
The foremost publisher
of Victorian literature, I'm well aware.
Oh, aren't you charming?
- To what do we owe the visit? - Business in Paris.
But I thought I'd stop by,
and hand deliver your contract.
We have some things to discuss.
Ah, well, we're much obliged.
And, can you stay for dinner?
Oh, yes. I'd planned on it.
And I think I'll spend the night too.
When do we eat?
All right, and I don't mean lizards, or roaches.
I mean something we can put on a bun.
There's a great pizza place just over the next ridge.
Ha, ha.
You know, one thing I gotta know.
Did we...
Ever go on a date with Hope Emory?
Yeah.
That should have been the first thing you told me.
Hey, way to go.
We even get married.
Yes!
Oh, my God! My...
My head just exploded.
Well, we've definitely gotta survive now.
Don't get too excited.
We're divorced.
You married our dream woman...
- And you blew it? - Well, I didn't blow it.
All right? Relationships are complicated.
You think I don't know that?
We're the child of divorce.
Did you really expect
a goddess like Hope Emory to just,
hang around while you...
You spent months off in Borneo living off cockroaches?
All the things we wanted to do,
the future we dreamed of.
What happened to me to become you?
- Get away from... - Whoa.
Whoa!
Dude!
- Dude, are you okay? - No.
Not okay.
Hold on.
I'm on my way.
Oh, take your time.
Not going anywhere.
Ouch.
That can't feel good.
Roarke.
Where'd you come from?
Well, given the circumstances,
I hope that you'll change your mind
about wanting to be rescued.
Why would I do that?
The possibility of death comes to mind.
Now you're starting to sound like my ex-wife.
So she's also concerned about your death wish.
Why are you here, Brian?
Because...
Being trapped, under this boulder,
with no idea whether I'm gonna manage to crawl out of here,
is the purest state of being there is.
Mm-hmm.
What, you don't believe me?
I'm almost there.
Hang on, buddy.
Maybe you'll discover that some burdens
can turn out to be gifts.
I'm here.
Thank you. I can serve Mr. Walsh.
Miss Marshall,
will you be visiting London?
I would be glad to show you around our fair city.
Unless, of course,
you have a beau, who would be offended.
Well, there is someone.
Tell me, Mr. Walsh,
- do you know Charles Dickens? - Ugh.
Relentlessly ambitious fellow
who doesn't sell as many books
as Mr. Coldwater's Agnes novels.
- No. - However...
I am afraid the sales could plummet.
There are some nasty rumors going around.
I find it best to ignore idle gossip.
Don't you?
Some claim that,
you are not the true author,
of the Agnes books, Mr. Coldwater.
A jealous rival, no doubt.
And there is speculation,
that Mrs. Coldwater is the true writer.
I can hardly write a proper recipe.
- Far less a novel. - Oh, hush.
You're very good with your stitching, dear.
It's pure slander, sir.
Would you excuse me for just one moment?
Tell me, Reggie,
what happens in the third Agnes book?
Well...
I've not quite finished it.
Oh, yes,
but you must have some sense of
your characters and their fate.
For example,
does Agnes intend to marry Gerald in book three?
Well, Walsh, you don't want me to ruin the surprise.
Does she marry Gerald or not?
I believe you mean George, not Gerald.
And no, Mr. Coldwater has decided
that Agnes does not marry George
because she doesn't want to be anyone's property.
- Right? - That's right.
Thank you, Isabel.
And how would you know that, Miss Marshall?
Well, it's all right here in distinctly male hand.
Reggie has hired me to be his proofreader.
You're far too generous with your commas.
I'll do better.
Intellect as well as beauty, Miss Marshall.
You're a revelation.
Forgive me for taking us down this unpleasant path.
- Had to be done. - Mm.
Winnie, I believe it's time for some more wine.
You can do this.
Come on!
Yes!
- I did it. - Yeah.
- Oh. - What?
It's-it's not like I can see bone, but...
Holy crap.
Holy crap. Holy crap.
I can see bone.
Sounds like a compound fracture,
which means,
I've got about six hours before sepsis sets in.
Then it's fever, gangrene,
- and death. - No, no, no.
I can't, I can't do this.
- I cannot deal... - Hey!
I'm depending on you to survive this.
Big breath in.
Slow breath out.
Brian, I'm you,
and I'm telling you,
you're gonna get me out of here.
I'm gonna get you out of here.
No man left behind.
Why is the lady of the house doing manual labor?
You know by now that I am no lady.
I was just a criminal, destroying the evidence.
Then I'm complicit.
There's some ash here.
Thank you for your help tonight,
- with Walsh. - It was fun.
And you have to keep writing.
My books are where I can truly be myself.
I feel free when I write.
Then we're a good pair
'cause I feel very free when I read.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could both just...
Feel free all the time?
When we met, you asked me if I was Agnes.
The truth is,
when I write, I am.
Liars!
You'll never publish another word.
I'll see to it.
You're through.
Mr. Walsh. You misheard...
Enough, Miss Coldwater.
I made it abundantly clear that Walsh and Sons
is only interested
in works of prestige.
So if a book is written by a woman, it's foolish,
but if it's written by a man, it's genius?
I am rescinding your contract,
effective immediately.
- Please don't do this, I beg you. - Wait, wait!
You like brunettes, don't you, Mr. Walsh?
I beg your pardon?
Martha Carrier, she's a brunette, right?
- I have no idea who that is. - She's your mistress.
You keep her in the slums of St. Giles,
in an apartment that's barely big enough
for her and the children that you share together.
It would just be a real shame if your wife found out,
and your readers.
You little bitch.
How could you possibly know that?
Oh, 'cause I can see the future.
And this is what's gonna happen, you...
Are going to continue to publish
the genius works of R.S. Coldwater,
to much wealth and acclaim,
and you're gonna do right by your mistress, and
dramatically improve her living situation
by giving her a new apartment
and a salary of two pounds a month.
Does that sound good?
Five is more appropriate.
Five pounds a month.
I will leave the signed contract upstairs.
If you'll excuse me,
I have to pack my things.
It's lovely to see you, Mr. Walsh.
Come again soon.
Ow, ow, ow.
No, I'm gonna figure something out.
Until today, I thought I had a handle on you.
Now I'm realizing, not so much.
Because I never thought
you were someone who could face a situation like this,
without giving into the fear.
Yeah, me neither, to be honest.
Maybe this is, uh, weird,
but...
I'm proud of you.
And by the way,
you're right.
It was all my fault,
the divorce.
Of course Hope left.
She couldn't make a life,
with someone obsessed with
proving himself in all the wrong ways.
Maybe she should have tried harder
to understand why you do that.
- You know what we need? - Hmm?
A rock,
with a sharp edge to use, as a chisel.
Yeah, yeah.
I get you're feeling nostalgic, but,
no running man,
while I'm gone.
Oh, my Victorian swoon. Oh!
Did I get it?
- It's dazzling. - Oh, my gosh.
I just started the second Agnes novel.
Oh, Elena, these books,
I mean, really, you should read them.
I don't have time to read, sadly.
Well, I gotta admit, I am so jealous of Isabel.
I would love to be gallivanting
around the countryside with women in trousers.
You can galivant here, you know,
with whomever you want to galivant.
I know. Someday.
Thanks to women like Rachel Coldwater.
Yes.
Well...
I am off to Agnes.
Expect to see a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my door.
Not a problem.
Okay...
Hmm.
Ahh!
When do they invent the hair tie?
I've made a knot of my hair.
Can I help you?
You see, it's...
- Oh. - There you go.
Now, tell me.
How, did you know all of those things about Walsh?
If I told you, you would not believe me.
Well, you were magnificent.
You are magnificent.
I was terrified.
I couldn't let him silence you.
Your breathing is lively.
Is it? These corsets are very tight.
- I'll loosen it for you. - Yes.
Sorry.
I have to get some slack.
Is that better?
Yes.
? Like a chain of light ?
? Guiding me through the darkest night ?
Do you ever think you were born in the wrong time?
- Not when I'm with you. - Hmm.
Our hopes for the future,
I wish I could be alive to experience it.
What about you?
Sometimes.
But not today.
I have to go.
I need to get back to my room,
before Winnie comes home from chapel.
What am I gonna do with you?
Whatever you want.
- Saying yes, are you? - Oh, my God.
How do you do that?
I hope you remember this feeling later,
when you go back home.
How can I ever forget this feeling?
Look...
Rachel doesn't belong here.
I think she needs to come back with me.
She deserves to live in a place
where she doesn't have to hide.
So you want to bring Rachel Coldwater back with you,
to the present?
Uh, yeah.
And you're asking this because
it's in Rachel's best interest,
not because you're in love with her
and you don't want to say goodbye?
Okay, hear me out.
You...
This place...
Rachel...
You're just,
all giving me the courage to really live.
And I just want to keep doing that.
With her.
And I think that she wants the same thing too.
So what do you say?
One sec.
Oh, I'm, I'm sorry.
I'm just getting to the end of this chapter.
Oh!
Okay. What's going on?
I have a job for you.
Ooh.
No...
Not good.
Ugh. It tastes of sulfur.
Sorry.
I'll go find another stream.
You know, I-I just don't get it.
What are we even doing out here?
Why would you put yourself in situations like this
over and over?
I would never do this.
So why do you?
You want to know?
I'll tell you.
You're in ninth grade, right?
Yeah.
- Two months in. - Right.
So not long from now,
a week after Thanksgiving,
you'll be walking home,
minding your own business.
- Randy Boyle... - What, the dickweed,
who's made my life a misery since elementary school?
Yeah, he and his buddies pull you off the street,
put you in the trunk of his car.
Seriously?
And that's the fun part.
They drive you out to the Adirondack preserve,
in the middle of nowhere,
take your coat,
sneakers, socks.
In December?
They think it's hilarious.
You just wander around aimlessly for a while.
But by morning, you're hypothermic.
But I find my way out?
No, you get lucky.
A hiker spots you...
Eventually.
But what's worse,
when I was dying out there in those woods,
is the humiliation you feel
when everyone looks at you and just whispers.
Oh, man.
This is gonna be so bad.
I swore to myself I'd never be that weak again.
That's why you hate me.
Because I'm weak.
No...
See, that's the point.
You're not weak.
I am.
I thought I got over it.
You know, put it behind me, but I never did the work.
I just buried it.
Kept trying to prove to myself that I wasn't you.
And that throws Hope away.
Damn.
I never admitted that to anyone.
And you know what?
There's nothing wrong with you.
You were just a kid,
doing the best you could, surviving.
I'm sorry I was so hard on you.
Oh.
No, no, it's,
It's okay, dude.
- I'm sorry. - We're gonna be fine.
We're gonna be fine. I promise.
We're gonna be fine.
I'm having to return
to London in a couple of weeks.
- Mm-hmm. - I would love you to come with me.
- Hmm. - What, is something wrong?
Do you have to return to America?
It's complicated, but...
No, I can't stay.
When I first met you,
I thought that my life was complete.
But now...
Now I can see that I wasn't living.
I feel the same way.
Wait, why don't you,
come with me?
Isabel Marshall,
- there you are. - Ruby.
What a surprise!
Uh, Ruby is...
Oh, I'm a friend of Isabel's. Hi.
I'm delivering a speech,
at an abolitionist conference
in Vienna in a couple of days.
So I hope you don't mind me barging in.
Of course not.
You must stay for dinner.
I will tell Reggie that we've got one more guest.
Excuse me.
Roarke said no, didn't she?
Not exactly.
You know, I am so grateful for you,
for introducing me to the Agnes novels.
So many generations paved the way
so that you and I can be
whoever we want to be.
You know, because they were brave,
we can be too.
You mean women like Rachel?
And if she's not here,
to pave the way...
Then there won't be a road.
Well, less of one, that's for sure.
So Rachel has to stay
because her voice needs to be heard here and now.
I'm so sorry.
Do you want to say goodbye first?
No.
I don't think that I can.
Let's just go.
Welcome back, Miss Marshall.
You survived, Mr. Cole.
Ahead of schedule, no less.
I feel like I just relived a lifetime.
I hope you felt it was a gift, not a burden.
Oh, it was a huge gift. Thank you.
I'm gonna go home,
- and see if I can win her back. - Ah. Fingers crossed.
Oh! Okay.
That is for reintroducing me
to someone I'd never given a chance.
Now we are friends,
and living together.
And that's all because of you.
Moments like this, Mr. Cole,
are the reason I do what I do.
Plane leaves in 15.
Yeah.
Guess we won't have a storybook ending this time.
Isabel learned to say yes.
That's what she was here to do. Hmm?
I know, it just...
Doesn't feel right, though, does it?
You know, I finished the last Agnes novel.
- How does it end? - Hmm.
With a surprise twist.
After suddenly disappearing from her life,
Agnes's lover returns...
To be with her forever.
Agnes knew their time together was drawing to a close.
There was a chill in the morning air now,
and the peonies had dropped their last blossoms.
They said goodbye.
Miss Marshall...
It's time, for the next chapter of your story.
I was just...
Remembering...
A woman like Agnes,
perhaps she was not deserving of long-lasting love.
You know, every guest should leave Fantasy Island reborn,
ready to live their best true life.
And I know,
that you found your best life.
Yeah.
And it's not New York.
Wait, what are you saying?
Well, you can,
walk with me to the plane,
and you'll never see Rachel again,
or...
You can walk through that door,
and you'll become a part of history
- forever. - I can go back?
If you say yes.
- Take your time. I know it's a big... - Yes!
Roarke, yes!
Well, then...
Whenever you're ready.
Go.
- Like... - Go.
Agnes accepted her fate.
She resigned herself to solitude.
Yes.
And then, from a distance,
she heard her name.
Rachel!
? Light ?
? In the skies all above so ?
? High ?
Once again, the flowers bloomed.
Only this time, it would be an endless summer.
I knew you were a romantic.
Okay, sometimes.
Uh-huh.
Yes, yes. Yes.
synced & corrected by PopcornAWH www.addic7ed.com