I am archiving this mainly for myself, for I truly love this film. I saw this at AMC Loews Boston Common in January '03 and was all sorts of emotions afterwards. I am posting this scene simply because it's one of the best monologues and montages out there. Watch it.
25th Hour (2002)
Written by
David Benoiff (novel and script)
Directed by
Spike Lee
Performed by
Edward Norton (Monty Brogan)
Philip Seymour Hoffman (Jacob Elinsky)
Barry Pepper (Frank Slaughtery)
Rosario Dawson (Naturelle Riviera)
Anna Paquin (Mary D'Annunzio)
Brian Cox (James Brogan)
TRT: 135 mins
Below are the last 5 minutes of the film when Monty's father is driving Monty to jail. James narrates a dream of a possibility of a future that doesn't happen.
JAMES
Give me the word, and I'll take a left turn.
MONTY
Left turn to where?
JAMES
Take the George Washington Bridge and go west. Get you stitched up somewhere and keep going. Find a nice little town. On the way, stop in Chicago for a Cubs game. You always told me you wanted to see Wrigley Field.
MONTY
Dad...
JAMES
I'm saying that if you want it... If that's what you want. I'll do it.
MONTY
No, they'd take your bar.
JAMES
My bar. Jesus. My bar. They can take my bar to hell and back. You think my bar is more important to me than you, my only child? Give me the word, and we'll go.
MONTY
They'll find me. They'll find me sooner or later.
JAMES
You know how they find people? They find them when they come home. People run away, but they usually come back. That's why they get caught. So you go... and you never come back. You never come home.
We'll drive. We'll keep driving. Head out to the middle of nowhere. Take that road as far as it takes us.
You've never been west of Philly, have you? This is a beautiful country, Monty. It's beautiful out there. Looks like a different world -- mountains, hills, cows, farms, and white churches.
I drove out west with your mother one time before you was born. Brooklyn to the Pacific's in three days. Just enough money for gas, sandwiches, and coffee, but we made it. Every man, woman, and child alive should see the desert one time before they die. Nothing at all for miles around, nothing but sand and rocks and cactus and blue sky. Not a soul in sight. No sirens, no car alarms, nobody honking at you, no madman cursing or pissing on the streets. You find the silence out there. You find the peace. You can find God.
So, we drive west. Keep driving till we find a nice little town. These towns out in the desert - you know why they got there? People wanted to get away from somewhere else. The desert's for starting over. Find a bar, and I'll buy us drinks. I haven't had a drink in two years, but I'll have one with you. One last whiskey with my boy. Take our time with it - taste the barley, let it linger.
And then I'll go. I'll tell you, "Don't ever write me. Don't ever come visit."
I'll tell you, "I believe in God's Kingdom, and I believe I'll be with you again and your mother, but not in this lifetime."
You get a job somewhere... a job that pays cash, a boss who doesn't ask questions. And you make a new life and you never come back.
Monty, people like you. It's a gift. You make friends wherever you go.
You're gonna work hard. You're gonna keep your head down and your mouth shut. You're gonna make yourself a new home out there. You're a New Yorker. That will never change. You got New York in your bones. Spend the rest of your life west, but you're still a New Yorker. You'll miss your friends, you'll miss your dog, but you're strong. You got your mother's backbone in you. You're strong like she was.
You find the right people, and you get yourself papers. You forget your old life. You can't come back. You can't call. You can't write. You never look back. You make a new life for yourself, and you live it. You hear me?
You live your life the way it should have been. And maybe... This is dangerous, but maybe after a couple of years, you send word to Naturelle. You get yourself a new family, and you raise them right, you hear me?
Give them a good life, Monty. Give them what they need.
You have a son. Maybe you name him James. It's a good, strong name.
And maybe one day, years from now, long after I'm dead and gone, reunited with your dead mother, you gather your whole family together and tell them the truth, who you are and where you come from. You tell them the whole story. And then you ask them if they know how lucky they are to be there. It all came so close to never happening.
This life came so close to never happening.
FADE OUT TO PRESENT TIME
James and Monty have passed the George Washington Bridge. Monty has fallen asleep. James looks on and continues to drive.
THE END