the other nuns had one.
Bye.
I've gotten the court's permission
to hypnotize her.
-And my permission?
-I'd like yours too.
We'll see about that.
-You'll deny it?
-I haven't decided.
-Her health is at stake.
-Spiritual health.
-I don't give a damn.
-I know you don't.
Sentence her and be done with it?
-She's a simple woman.
-An unhappy woman.
She'd be happy with us if
she were left alone.
Why did you call the police?
Why didn't you just burn the baby?
-I am a moral person.
-Bullshit
-Bullshit yourself
-The Church doesn't--
What the hell does the Church
got to do with you?
-Nothing.
-What have we done to you?
I can smell an ex-Catholic miles away.
What did we do? Burn heretics?
That was when the Church was a
ruling body. So what did we do to you?
You wanted to neck
and you couldn't because it was a sin?
-So instead of questioning--
-It wasn't sex.
It was a lot of things,
but it wasn't sex.
My friend was run over
in the 1 st grade.
The nun said she died
for missing morning prayer.
-Stupid woman, that's all.
-That's all? That's enough.
-She was beautiful.
-What has that to do with it?
I wasn't. I wasn't.
The pretty one died. Why not me?
I never said my morning prayers.
And I was ugly. I had freckles.
Sister Mary Cleatis
called me "Polka Dot" Livingston.
-So you left because you had freckles?
-No, because l--
Yeah.
Yeah, I left the Church
because I had freckles.
As a child I could hear
my guardian angel.
She sang to me
until I was 6 years old.
That's when I stopped listening.
But I remember the voice.
A few years ago,
I was a nun certain of nothing.
Not even of heaven.
Not even of God.
And then one evening, I saw Agnes
standing by her window, singing.
And all my doubts about myself and God
were gone, in that one moment.
I recognized the voice.
Please don't take it away from me
again, Dr. Livingston.
Those years after 6 were very bleak.
My sister died in a convent.
And it's her voice I hear.
Does my smoking bother you?
No, it reminds me.
Would you like one?
I'd love one.
I'm out of practice.
-All right?
-Fine, thanks.
-Suppose the saints would've smoked?
-Undoubtedly.
Not the ascetics, of course, but...
...well, Saint Thomas More.
Long, thin and filtered.
Saint Ignatius would stub out
cigars on the soles of his bare feet.
-And the apostles?
-Hand-rolled.
Even Christ would partake socially.
-Saint Peter?
-Pipe.
Mary Magdalene?
"You've come a long way, baby"
Saint Joan would chew tobacco
All right.
What do you think
today's saints smoke?
There are no saints today.
Good people, yes.
But extraordinarily good people?
-Those, we are sorely lacking.
-Do you think they ever existed?
Yes, I do.
You wanna become one?
To become? One is born a saint.
Well, you can try, can't you?
To be good?
Yes, but goodness has very little
to do with it.
Not all the saints were good.
In fact, some of them were crazy.
But they were still attached to God.
Left in his hands at birth.
No more.
We're born, we live, we die.
No room for miracles.
Oh, my dear, how I miss the miracles.
You think Agnes is still
attached to God?
Listen to her singing.
I'd like to begin.
-Begin what?
-The hypnotism. You still disapprove?
-Would it stop you if I did?
-No.
May I be present?
Of course.
Then let's begin.
You're listening
to a chorus of angels.
Their music surrounds you like a...
...warm and comfortable
pool of water.
And while you're sleeping,
you're going to be able to recall...
...all the things
that we want you to remember.
And when I count to three
and clap my hands...
...you'll no longer be hypnotized.
-Can you hear me?
-Yes.
-Who am l?
-Dr. Livingston.
-And why am I here?
-To help me.
Good. Would you like to
tell me why you're here?
-Because I'm in trouble.
-What kind of trouble?
-What kind of trouble, Agnes?
-I'm frightened.
-Of what?
-Of telling you.
But it's easy.
It's just a breath with sound. Say it.
What