Uhh!
Uh! Uh!
Uh! Ah!
Uh! Uh!
Ah!
Your attention, please.
Flight 632 now arriving at gate 2.
[Mozart's serenade 13-i playing]
Aah! Ooh!
Ooh!
Uhh!
Ow!
Aah!
Ahh.
Uhh!
Uh! Aah!
Ah!
Uhh!
Aah!
Uhh!
Mmm!
Uhh! Aah!
Aah!
Uhh!
Aah!
Oh! Oh!
Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!
Ah!
Uhh!
Ohh!
Aah!
Uhh!
Uhh! Uhh!
Uh! Uh! Uh!
Huh!
Aah!
Ha ha!
Uhh.
Uhh!
Aah!
Uhh!
Aah!
Uhh!
Uhh. Uhh!
Ow! Aah!
Uhh.
Aah!
Uhh!
Rrarrr!
Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!
Aah! Uh!
Uhh!
Aah!
Ha.
Aww.
Careful, mum. It's bloody hot.
You were saying?
My...
Husband is...
Lost. Missing.
Here in Crouch End?
Oh, Mr. Freeman.
Mrs. Freeman.
Shall I call a Porter to help you with those bags?
No, thank you. Ok.
I do have a message for you, sir.
The caller did insist that I give it to you as soon as you returned.
Here.
Oh, why, thank you. Thank you.
Have a wonderful day. You, too.
Good-bye.
Oh.
Hello.
Pardon us.
What floor?
9. But I'll do it.
Not a problem.
No! Don't push...
It.
My wife grew up on a dairy farm in Wisconsin.
Elevators are still a mystery to her.
I'm superstitious about pushing the elevator button twice.
They say that it's bad luck.
Never hurts to be careful, does it, dearie?
I cannot believe I did that.
It was so embarrassing.
No. No, it's fine.
I hear that the British love Americans coming over here
and scaring their old people into an early grave.
You did this.
All lawyers are romantic cripples, you know.
They're beautiful.
Mmm.
So are you.
Thank you.
My mother told me to marry Anita Fenburg.
Oh.
But I couldn't get my head around
spending the rest of my life trapped with someone
whose last name translates into "swamp city."
Well, look at you now,
Mr. Free-man.
You got caught.
No.
I surrendered.
You know, we keep doing this,
we're never gonna get to the Victoria and Albert museum.
I'm devastated.
Please don't. It'll just be business.
Oh, you're right. It's the office.
Oh, I should get it.
Mm-mmm.
Hello. Hey.
Your ambition can wait.
Now, what you should take is me.
You big thief.
Weren't you supposed to give this to me?
I forgot all about that.
"Dear Lonnie, now that you're finally here in London,
"you must come to the house for dinner tomorrow at 6:30 if that's convenient.
Regards, John Squales."
Who's John Squales?
He's our solicitor, lawyer, here in London.
We worked together on the Betton steel merger.
He said that I was uncommonly bright.
He actually used the word "uncommonly"?
I may have added that last bit,
but he did say that I was smart.
Rumor has it that he's the next head of the executive committee.
You Ok about having dinner with him tomorrow?
It'd be tonight. He sent that yesterday.
Oh, crap.
Oh. "Battery low."
I just charged you, you sucker.
What are you gonna tell him?
We're coming.
It's our honeymoon.
Can't we be alone?
Please, there's not a chance he's still expecting us.
Man, on phone: Hello?
Hey, John. Lonnie Freeman.
Lonnie! Good to hear you.
You're not gonna believe this. I just got your note.
I don't suppose...
listen. About dinner tonight.
You saved us a spot.
Let me plan out for you...
great. Sure. Fire away.
Right. Right. A cab to Crouch End.
No, no, no. It sounds really simple.
I'll see you at 6:30.
John: Bye, Lonnie.
Talk to you, too.
You're gonna love him.
Crouch End?
That's an ugly name.
You owe me.
Big time.
Yeah.
Thanks. You're welcome.
I need the ladies room.
They call it the "loo" here. Oh!
It's over there.
Ok.
You know what I was thinking?
At the rate we're spending money,
I'm gonna have to work until I'm 90?
No. No. I was thinking
that if you thought we had time,
maybe we could go back to the hotel and renew our wedding vows.
Which vows?
The ones that go "I do you, you do me till death do us part."
Oh, those vows. Uh-huh.
I love those vows.
Yo!
Excuse me.
Hey, what can I do for you, man?
My wife and I are trying to figure out how long it'll take us to get somewhere.
Where is it you wanna go?
Grand hotel.
This time a day, with traffic, 30 minutes.
Ok. And how long will it take us
to get from the hotel to Crouch End?
I'm sure I can't help.
It's a place for strangers not to go.
No. I got a friend that lives on the outskirts.
Hear what I say, man. Don't go to Crouch End.
What happened?
I don't know.
I mentioned Crouch End and he got all weird on me.
What did he say?
Something about strangers don't go there.
Between the Jamaican accent and the reggae,
I missed something.
Oh.
What do you wanna do?
Besides that.
We still got time. It's only a little before 5:00.
I'll get a cab. You relax.
We waited over 30 minutes for a cab. Isn't that a little odd?
A pinch unusual, sir.
Unusual? I say it's close to unheard of, my friend.
Yes, sir. Where to then?
Crouch End, please.
Crouch End, you say.
Right.
Heigh-ho for Crouch End.
Cut it out.
That feels too good.
I think that's the point.
Stop it. What about the driver?
I tip him well, he sees nothing.
Lonnie, anybody can see in.
Ok. All right.
But remember if I happen to keel over in the middle of dinner...
don't say that. Take it back.
What?
You don't joke about something like dying.
Take it back.
Fine. I take it back.
Good.
Pardon me, sir. Do you have an address?
Yeah.
Somewhere.
Lonnie, did you see that?
What?
It said "sixty lost in underground horror."
Isn't that what they call the subway here?
Yeah. That or the tube. Was it a crash?
I don't know.
Sir, was there a subway crash here recently?
Collision, mum? None that I know of.
Weird.
I don't know where I put it. Did I give it to you?
What?
The napkin I wrote the address on.
No.
What's bothering you?
That headline.
"Sixty lost in underground horror."
It's like sailors drowned at sea.
Ooh! Gooseflesh. My grandma always said
that someone was walking over what's going to be your grave.
Honey, grandma's a whacko.
Don't be mean.
She may be a little eccentric,
but she's sweet.
Think about it.
The woman will only plant her vegetable garden
at midnight when the moon is full.
Sweet or not, she is not from our dimension.
She is a little weird, isn't she?
Pardon me, sir. Did you say "dimension"?
Where you're going... Crouch End...
it's a place where there's a thin spot
is what they say.
What the hell's a "thin spot"?
A thin spot between what we see as our world
and the other.
Uh-huh.
"Other"?
What the gentleman said.
Dimensions.
The only thin thing around here
is his grip on reality.
Perfect.
Besides a low battery, I have no signal.
All right. When we get to Crouch End,
I'll call again and get Squales' address, tell him you lost it.
I lost it?
Yeah. A good lawyer never accepts blame.
Then, baby, you're gonna be a great one.
Finally.
What is it?
Nothing.
Nothing, I guess.
Guv.
You're here. Crouch End.
Sir.
It's Archibald, mum, but everyone calls me Archie.
Archie, is Crouch End a nice place to live?
Well, they've tried, mum. They've tried to make it nice.
Had its own tube station once.
The H and I railway,
they built Bridges and roads and storage areas.
But then they...
Well, let's just say they moved on.
When was that?
Well, they stopped using it in the late 1930s.
Oh. Why?
Well, they claim it was the second war,
but that's not the real reason.
No, no, it wasn't.
It was when they were making some repairs to the station platform
and...well, the story I heard
was they found a mass grave.
Well, London is laid out like no other city.
More like it hatched and meandered a street pattern than it planned one.
It's because the streets were paved over barriers.
Barriers between what is rational and what is not.
Crouch End was built on top of a Towen.
A town?
No, mum. A Towen.
Towen. It's a Druid word.
Means a place of ritual sacrifice.
Said that Crouch End rests
on top of the Druid Towen of Slaughter.
So is that what they found
when they were building the subway station?
A Druid burial ground?
No, no, mum. The bodies they found were fresh,
not centuries old.
You're making this up.
As the lord is my witness,
I'm telling you what I know to be true.
It happened right here in Slaughter Towen.
You're just being silly.
Mum.
You asked me if Crouch End's a nice place to live.
To you it looks nice and normal.
But it's not what it seems.
Now, what I told you before is true.
This world is like being inside a huge leather ball.
And outside the ball are other dimensions.
And there are scuffs, nicks in the leather
that make the thin spots.
And every once in a while, the leather rips
right through the thin part.
It's then the other dimension pours in
and breathes and lusts...
Right here in Crouch End.
You and your husband shouldn't be here.
Yeah, pot roast sounds fine.
I like pot roast.
I don't see any reason we shouldn't be there by 6:30.
Yeah, I mean, I've got...
Ecch.
Ugh. Ecch.
Ok. Got Squales' address.
Where's the cab?
I don't know.
Aw, man. It's 10 after 6:00 already.
What did he do, just up and leave?
Did you pay him?
No. There was still 12.50 on the meter.
Hey, kids!
Hel-lo.
Hey, I'm talking to you two.
You American, sir?
Yeah.
There was a cab over here. Did you see where it went?
Bugger off, Joe!
Sir! Sir! Sir!
I guess some of the kids in Crouch End
aren't too crazy about Americans.
Rude little brats.
Did you see that little boy's hand, though.
Poor thing.
Hon, looks like we hike.
I'm not sure I want to.
What if those kids went to get their big brothers?
Well, there isn't much else we can do.
The street's not exactly overflowing with taxis, is it?
That was so odd that he just left.
He seemed nice. A little creepy, but nice.
The cabbie was weird is what he was.
Oh.
Dimensions.
Thin spots. Honestly.
Did I say it was a left on Petrie or a right?
Geez, Lonnie, I don't remember.
Why don't you just call Squales and have him meet us?
No. Him thinking I can't follow simple directions
will not help my career.
What is it with guys and directions that they can never ask?
What's that about?
First of all,
I'd ask for directions if I was lost.
But I'm not.
I'm just trying to figure things out.
Secondly, I grew up in a city.
I'm hard-wired for direction.
What?
Anyone born and raised in a city
has a built-in sort of guidance system
which always leads them to promised land.
Oh.
But, baby, you grew up in Madison, Wisconsin,
not Manhattan.
And that is hardly a city.
A city is a city, Doris,
and we're not lost.
Um, baby,
would you just go into that police station
and ask them directions to brass butt Lane?
Please. For me.
Ok.
And it's brass end, not brass butt.
Ok. Wait here.
Hello.
Hello?
Anybody here?
Don't do that. You scared me.
Doris, relax.
There's no one here, Ok?
You're making me jumpy.
Did you get directions?
Yeah. I messed up on Hillfield.
It was a right, not a left, on Petrie.
No, we made a right on Petrie.
No, I don't think so.
Yeah, Lonnie, we made...
honey. Let's not be late for dinner.
Nice area. I love this style of architecture.
Yeah.
Reminds me of Alaska.
Can't you just see the sled dogs frolicking in the snow,
little ice balls clinging to their fur?
What?
Oh, you're back. I missed you.
Lonnie, this isn't funny.
All that stuff from the cabbie, does it really bother you?
Yeah, it does.
Everything around here is creepy.
Creepy. Yeah.
I see.
Doris, there's something that you should know.
In all fairness,
it's something that I should have told you before we were married.
I'm not just a lawyer.
I have another job.
It's a really important one.
It's actually more like another life altogether.
In the vast world of darkness,
I am better known as...
Lonnie, the creep slayer.
You are such a jerk.
Perhaps, but it was you who summoned me.
Mm-hmm.
Now, where are these creeps who menace you?
I am walking next to the biggest one.
Ah. Obviously the creeps' leader.
Formidable, evil,
but undeniably handsome and uncommonly bright.
You are uncommonly something.
Yes. Uh-huh.
I think he lives somewhere near here.
Did you hear that? Mm-hmm.
No. Lonnie, don't.
What do you mean don't? Someone could be hurt.
Let's just see if they need help.
That's strange.
What is that?
Must have been a crash or something.
No. Lonnie, please don't.
If someone's hurt, I should take a look.
Remember what I read and what I saw?
About "sixty lost in underground horror"?
Maybe we were being warned about this.
That was about a subway. No, it wasn't.
Archie said... Archie?
Who the hell is Archie? The cab driver.
What if that is a thin spot?
He said that they have them in Crouch End.
An underground place where things rupture
and cross over.
"Rupture and cross over"?
Oh, honey. He just got your imagination going.
No, he didn't.
I'll just be a minute.
Lonnie, please.
Please come back.
Ah, there's another trail.
This thing goes off around the side of the house.
Damn.
Whatever this stuff is, it's sticky.
There's another hole.
Be careful.
Yeah.
There's something down there.
Help!
Lonnie!
Oh, Lonnie, hold on!
Doris!
Lonnie!
Doris, help!
Lonnie.
Lonnie!
Doris, run.
Run.
Run!
Come on.
Stop, stop, stop, stop. I can't keep up.
You have to stick with me, Doris.
I am.
Where are we?
Crouch Lane and Norris road.
Wherever the hell that is.
Idiots can't even spell "town."
No. That's a Druid word.
I don't recognize anything.
Lost my jacket, too. That's a hell of a note.
No, you took it off.
Lonnie, it was covered in goo. You didn't lose it.
I didn't take it off. I lost it. That's all.
Lonnie, what happened?
What was on the other side of the hedge?
Nothing. I don't wanna talk about it.
Lonnie, talk to me.
I don't remember. It's all a blank.
We were there. We heard a sound.
And I was running. That's all I remember.
Why would I throw my jacket away?
I liked that one.
After all, it did match my pants.
Ok, we have to get out of here.
No. No, we're going to John Squales' for dinner. I promised.
Baby, we don't even know where he lives.
Why don't we just go back to the hotel and we can call him from there.
Break a promise? I don't think so.
Fine. Then call him. Tell him to come and get us.
I don't remember his number. It was 5...
it'll be in your cell phone.
Now, there's a good idea.
Oh! I never did get this thing charged.
Got it.
He's got to be there. He's saving a place for us.
John, thank god. It's Lonnie.
Yes.
That's just it, John.
I'm having a bit of trouble finding you.
John?
Why would he put me on hold?
Is the phone dead?
Dead?
It's dead. The phone's dead.
It can't be.
Where are you going?
John's place. For dinner.
Forget John. This is wrong.
Everything about this is wrong.
I just wanna get in a cab and go now.
How can we do that, Doris?
How can we go back to the hotel
when we are lost?
Or maybe...
Maybe it's more like we're trapped.
Crouch End was east...
To the hotel.
So if we go west...
We'll go back to the hotel.
That means that we have to go back...
That means we have to go back the way we came.
No, it'll be all right.
Baby, we're gonna be all right.
Come on.
Are you all right?
I'm a little tired is all.
Me, too. We need to keep walking.
What do we tell them back at the hotel about what happened?
Don't say anything.
Well, honey, look at us. They're going to ask.
You can't say anything about what happened.
It'd only make it worse.
Ok.
Promise me you won't tell what happened.
I promise.
I won't go this way.
Lonnie, it's the shortest way back to the hotel.
No.
Lonnie.
I won't go this way!
We'll try this street.
We'll see if this takes us back.
Come on. Let's try this way.
I was thinking...
and that's all I'm doing is thinking.
If the cab driver was right
about these rips in the thin spots
which allows things to happen,
then they'd have to go away, too.
They couldn't be permanent,
or weird things would be happening all the time, right?
So maybe...
They've come and gone.
Maybe everything's normal now.
Where are all the people, Doris?
The clock tower.
I saw that.
In the cab on the way in.
Lonnie?
Aah!
We have to go. You promised.
Lonnie, let me go. Lonnie, let me go!
Stop it. What are you doing?
We have to stay together like we promised. It's the only way.
Why did you slap me?
God, I'm so sorry, Doris.
I don't know what's happening to me.
I'm scared, Lonnie.
Me, too.
Did you hear that? The cars?
We must be near traffic.
Let's go.
Lonnie, did you see that?
Did you see the cab right up ahead?
Lonnie.
Lonnie, come back!
Lonnie, please, come back!
Lonnie!
Lonnie, come back!
I know the way out of here!
Please, I wanna go!
No, Doris.
It's this way.
I've seen the other side.
You're wrong. It's the other way.
You promised not to leave me.
You promised me.
You said you loved me.
Doris.
Give us a cigarette, love.
Lonnie!
Lonnie, answer me!
Voice: Cthulu kryon.
Yogsoggoth.
R'yeleh.
Nrtesn Nyarlahotep.
Lonnie!
It's the American woman.
She's lost.
Lost her husband.
Lost her way.
Found the darker way.
The road that leads into the funnel.
Lost her hope.
Found the whistler from the stars.
Eater of dimensions.
The blind Piper.
Where's my husband?
He's gone beneath.
Gone to the goat with a thousand young.
What have you done with him?
He couldn't well not go, could he?
The Mark was on him.
You'll go, too.
Dor-is!
You made it, baby.
You kept your promise.
Now we'll stay together...
Forever.
Aah!
What in the name...
can you help me? I need the police.
What happened then, lovey?
You look like you've been put through a wringer, you do.
Car accident?
The street opened up.
They took my husband.
It's happened again.
The station's down there.
There's globes hanging in the front.
We don't want you near us,
not if you've been to Slaughter Towen.
Careful, mum. It's bloody hot.
You were saying?
My husband is...
Lost.
He's missing.
Here in Crouch End?
Yes.
Happened today?
Why do you keep asking me the same questions?
I've already told you what happened.
Terribly sorry, mum.
He's really not so bad. Are you, Lonnie?
What did you say?
Oh, I was just talking to the cat, mum.
Say it again.
I was just saying that he's really not so bad.
Who?
Lonnie.
We named the cat Lonnie. We found him as a stray.
Just this morning it was.
Well, I can see I...
Oh.
Hold still. Hold still.
You are... oh! Ah, ah. Oh!
Bang, bang, Mr. Umney.
You better skedaddle.
I got a big, bad gun, and it's smokin'.
Aw, don't shoot. I'll do anything.
Oh, just you wait, Mr. Umney.
Ooh. Oh. Slippery.
Ah. I like 'em slippery. Ha ha ha ha.
You're nothin' but a high-class gigolo.
Low-class, baby.
Ah ha! Heh heh!
Ha.
Aah! Heh heh heh.
Oh, gosh, you're fun.
You think so?
Mrs. Sternwood. Uh, have a drink?
Clyde, you stinker.
Mr. Sternwood was the stinker, remember?
And I got you out of it clean and square.
Oh, Clyde, I thought we had something special.
We gave it a go.
Right. Well, no more daydreaming.
I know you don't love me.
You've made it more than obvious.
So I am going to end my life.
What is that?
Drain cleaner.
Drain cleaner?
Somehow, I don't think so.
You know, Mrs. Sternwood, I don't believe I've ever
really seen you the way I'm seeing you now.
What do you see?
You're lovely,
cunning.
You are, Mrs. Sternwood, the last eternal mystery,
scorching, beautiful,
built for love,
not the kind of woman who would ever
clean her own drains.
Aah! Oh, my god!
Sugar crystals.
Just as I suspected.
Oh, my god.
Ohh!
Clyde Umney, private investigator.
I'm a fool.
And you're awfully sweet.
Trouble at blondie's. I've gotta go.
But... but, Mr. Umney, I... wait, wait, wait.
Get some coffee for her sugar, will you, doll?
Worries, Mr. Umney?
Not my style.
What have you got here, Vernon?
W-why that's Jesus walkin' on the sea of Galilee
and my wife dressed up like sweetheart of the rodeo.
Nice fringes.
Vernon, you've invented something here.
We are standing in the world's first
moving-up-and-down picture gallery.
Why, it's art for the modern age...
efficient, cost-effective...
look out! He's got a gun!
Oh, my gosh.
He's got a gun!
You're a tough old bird, aren't ya?
No worries, Mr. Umney.
He's right in there.
All right. Make way.
Hurry! Please!
Umney: He's all yours, boys.
All right, don't you move a muscle, now.
Latest edition! Only 3 cents!
Hitler on the move! Germany takes Austria!
Rainstorm to hit L.A.! Only 3 cents!
Get the latest edition! Only 3 cents!
Hitler on the move!
Rainstorm to hit L.A.! Only 3 cents!
Sure appreciate that dime, Mr. Umney.
You're the only one that doesn't try and stiff me.
Oh, why would anyone want to stiff you, Peoria?
You're such a polite and well-behaved young man.
Howza kid?
News is bad, Mr. Umney.
I went to see the doctor.
Ah? What's the buzz?
He says there's no way I'll ever be able to see again.
That's a real tough break, but don't lose heart.
You just keep those grades up, Peoria.
Sure thing.
Rainstorm predicted! Latest edition!
Germany takes Austria!
Daddy!
Thought you oughta know, Clyde,
Dunninger's been gettin rough with your girl.
That's it. I'm leaving.
Where do you think you're going? Don't.
I told her to stay away from that hophead.
I have to turn you in.
What's your problem, Ardis?
You got popcorn for brains?
I saw what you did, Dunninger.
I couldn't help it.
I was on that street corner waiting for the bus
when you pulled up and shot 3 innocent people.
Ah, don't go soft.
They were double-dealing dope addicts.
I can't just forget it.
You can if you're smart.
If you turn yourself in to the police,
they'll go easy on you.
That's right. They'll fry me nice and slow.
When my little sister was lost,
drowning in sin,
I just waited, thinking god will protect her,
that she'd come to her senses,
and it'd be all right.
You know what, Mr. Dunninger?
God is out to lunch.
Go to the police, and they'll be scraping
your little sister's face off the pavement and
shoveling it in one of blondie's homemade mincemeat pies.
Let her go, Dunninger.
Bow-wow. The talented Mr. Umney.
Clyde, look out!
Stay here.
Behind the bar!
Oh, my!
Clyde?
You Ok, doll?
I am now.
Come home with me.
I can't. Mother's waiting.
Run away to Mexico with me, just you, me, and the road.
It's not like that, Clyde.
You know it never is.
It's different for us. We're one and the same.
We belong together,
and someday I'll prove that to you.
Come on there, folks.
Stan! Yeah, Clyde?
Do me a favor, will ya?
See that Miss Mcgill gets home.
You betcha.
Stay out of the rain, kid.
Outside.
Arf arf arf.
Shut up, buster. Get a job.
I can't hear you. Turn... turn down the music.
Whoo!
Ha ha ha ha!
Swell.
Go on. One more time. Whoo hoo hoo!
Wait. Come here. Come back.
There. Ooh! Ha ha ha!
George.
That's my job.
Wait, wait. Now.
Go!
Ohh! Ha ha ha!
Whaah. One more.
Ok. One more.
Whoo! Ha ha ha!
I got you.
Whoo! Whaah!
Whoa.
[Clock ticking quickly]
What happened to the rain?
Boys, this is one perfect day.
Somebody should slap a little "R" inside a circle
somewhere right smack in the middle of this day,
a registered Los Angeles morning,
a Louis B. Mayer production.
Hmm.
What do you say, George and Gloria?!
Something okey-pokey?!
Heh heh heh.
Feeling an eensy-weensy hangover?
Look! Buster, a cat!
Hey, what's the beef?
Why don't you yap when I need you to,
you ignorant mutt?
Hmm.
Aw, sure. You betcha.
No, thank you, sir.
Forget the rain! Sunny days ahead!
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You look like somebody just gave you 6 tickets to the first game
of the world series. What's the buzz?
My mama hit the lottery down in Tijuana.
25,000 bucks! We're rich, brother!
You don't believe me?
Come on. Peoria, you're old enough to know
that sometimes people get what they want to happen
mixed up with what actually does happen.
You mean daydreams?
This ain't no daydream, Mr. Umney. This is real.
My mama dumped the money all over her bed,
and I just rolled and rolled
in that sweet-smelling cash.
Ever get a funny feeling, Peoria?
Like your clothes don't fit?
Ain't you pickin' up on this news flash?
I don't have to sell papers
on this lousy corner no more.
Look, maybe we should go up to blondie's,
have a cup of Joe, and talk this thing over.
Can't. It's closed.
Blondie's? The hell you say.
I was just there last night.
You ain't heard the best.
My uncle Fred knows a doctor
who's gonna do an operation,
and I'll be able to see again.
No. No, no, no. Somethin's off-kilter.
You're supposed to be here on this corner.
You're supposed to be blind.
I thought you'd be happy for my good fortune,
but you ain't.
I am.
I mean, I wanna be.
But you ain't! Hah!
Ohh!
Aah! What the hell's the matter with you?
Blondie's is gone! I told ya!
Peoria, son, I think we got off on the wrong foot this morning.
Screw you, Mr. Umney, you ugly prick.
Say.
Oh! Hey!
Impossible.
Not blondie's.
Vern. Mr. Umney.
What happened to Jesus walkin' on the sea of Galilee?
Where's the sweetheart of the rodeo?
What is this?
Remember, the party is on Friday.
Wait a damn minute.
What party? What's going on?
Retirement.
To hell you say.
Mr. Landry's coming.
Mr. Sam Landry, owner of this building.
If you don't wanna come, fine.
You've been acting crazy as a loon
for the past 6 months anyhow.
What's gotten into you?
You know what.
It's the big "C."
Terminal cancer? Since yesterday?
I'm retiring to Arizona.
Gonna live with my sister for as long as I have.
Let's face it,
I don't expect to wear out my welcome.
You're supposed to be here, right here sittin' on your stool
with Jesus and your wife over your head,
not... not this.
For how long, Mr. Umney?
Since you know everything,
you could probably tell me.
How long do I have
to keep driving this damn car?
Well...
Forever.
Forever, Vernon.
You can't retire.
No?
The way it looks to me,
I really ain't got a choice.
This isn't right.
You know it isn't right, Vern.
What's not right, Mr. Umney?
Heh heh heh heh.
Heh heh heh heh ha ha ha!
Heh heh. Bye, Mr. Umney.
Get me the file on the Mavis weld case,
will you, doll?
Dear Clyde, I have had all the groping
and sneering I'm going to take from you.
Life is too short to be pawed
by a washed-up divorce detective with bad breath.
You did have your good points, Clyde,
but they are getting drowned out by the bad ones.
Do yourself a favor and grow up.
Yours truly, Arlene Cain.
P.S. I'm going back to my mother's in Idaho.
Do not try to get in touch with me.
She liked it.
She said she liked it.
Bad day, Clyde?
Um...
Joint's closed for renovation.
Get outta here, whoever you are.
I'm takin' a sick day.
I can do that, because I'm the boss.
Look at me, Clyde.
Samuel D. Landry at your service.
Sam Landry?
You're the...
You're the one that owns the building.
It's all my fault.
I'm sorry, Clyde, I really am, but, uh...
Meeting you has been, well...
Not what I expected.
For one thing,
I like you a lot more than I thought I would.
But I've got business here,
and there's no going back.
Yeah...you're...
you're not like any businessman I've ever seen.
You call that a briefcase?
It's a computer, a typewriter with a brain.
Ah. Ha ha. Ok.
I'm gettin' it now.
You carry a brain around in your briefcase.
You wear shoes that look like
Boris Karloff's Frankenstein get-up,
what are you, some sort of a horror-movie guy?
No. Clyde, I'm a literary guy.
What's the writing on your shoes?
Reebok.
Reebok? Sounds like a dish
on a Chinese carryout menu.
Oh, you like that, huh?
I know all your ideas, Clyde.
After all, I'm you.
Yeah. I noticed the resemblance.
Not familiar with the Cologne, though.
It's called Aramis.
It won't be invented for another 40 years or so,
just like my sneakers.
The devil you say.
Uh, the devil might come into it.
Where are you from?
I come from the future, Clyde, just like a...
A pulp-magazine story.
Yeah, you come from Sunnyland sanitarium,
more like it.
But not like a science-fiction story,
not exactly.
What was your father's name, Clyde?
What has that got to do
with the price of cucumbers on Monday?
You don't know, do you? What about your mother's?
Here's a couple of easy ones across the plate.
Where'd you go to school?
What was the name of the first girl
you ever went all the way with?
Ok, stop playin' games.
Where'd you grow up?
Carmel? Dusty bottom, New Mexico?
Cut the crap.
Do you know? Do you?
Yeah. It was, um...
"San Diego! Born and raised."
San Diego. That feels right.
It feels right because I wrote it.
What's a Sony? Some sort of a side dish
you get with a Reebok dinner?
Heh. It's a Japanese electronics company.
Oh, now you're kiddin' me, mister.
The japs can't even make a wind-up toy.
Not now.
Tell me, Clyde, when is now?
Do you know the date?
1938.
W-wait a minute.
Uh, 1939.
Don't feel badly.
You don't know, because I don't know.
I've always kept the timeline vague in my novels.
Going more for a feeling.
Call it Chandler American time.
Works for my readers.
Ok, tell me what's going on here.
You're beginning to know, aren't you?
Maybe I don't know my dad's name or my mom's name
or the first girl I went to bed with because...
You don't know. Is that it?
You're getting warm.
You don't just own this building.
You own everything.
Hot, hot, hot.
Hot as a hot potato.
You see the picture on the wall to the left of the door?
Don't do it.
"On the wall to the left of the door
"our revered leader hangs but always slightly askew.
That's my way of keeping him in perspective."
You're a writer.
You made me up.
When? Or is that even the right question?
You first appeared in a mystery
called requiem for a lady in 19...
77.
You've grown a lot more complex and interesting since then.
You were pretty one-dimensional at the beginning.
Yeah? What a pisser for me.
Your latest was called how like a fallen angel.
I started that in 1995.
Took me 5 years to finish.
My life's been interesting, Clyde.
Writers don't do their best work during interesting times.
Yeah? Well, you screwed up big-time with this one.
Peoria's ma winning the Mexican lottery?
That's pure guff.
They pay off in pesos south of the border.
I was aware of that.
Peoria was lying.
I knew it, and I wanted you to know it.
Why? To prepare you for my coming.
That's what it's all been about.
The neighbor's dog not barking.
Blondie's all boarded up and closed.
Those were clues, my friend.
Clues, huh?
To prepare you for my coming.
I didn't want to scare you any more than I had to.
Yeah? Well, you're scaring me plenty, mister.
If you created me
and you can turn George Washington
into Franklin Delano Roosevelt,
then you can do anything.
Buster. Here, boy.
George? Gloria?
It's me, Clyde, from next door.
Here's to you, George and Gloria.
No more parties.
No more trips to palm desert.
No more Basie and Ellington
blowin' through the open window in spring.
No more of that Welsh Corgi bark
that goes through your head like slivers of glass.
You did this.
You made George kill his wife, you stinkin' bastard!
You're a clever boy, Clyde,
but readers love nasty murders,
because secretly they wanna be the killer.
Shoot the annoying neighbor.
Strangle that whining girlfriend.
Make-believe is a great healer.
Yeah? Well, it didn't heal the Demmicks.
They were good people.
You think you're god, but you're just a 2-bit bully.
Why, I've beaten wiseguys tougher than you
in your own books.
"His revelations hit me like some kind
"of debilitating drug.
"All the strength went out of my muscles.
"My legs felt like a couple of strands of Al dente spaghetti.
"All I could do was flop back in my chair
and look at him."
That's not very good, but rapid composition
has never been one of my strong points.
You son of a bitch.
Yeah.
I suppose I am.
You know your client, Mavis Weld?
She was a character in a novel called
the little sister by Raymond Chandler.
Ring a bell? No.
No. Of course not.
In your world, Chandler never even existed.
But he's the man
for every mystery scribe since then.
Clyde Umney was the name
of the lawyer in playback.
I did it as an...
Um, a tribute, an homage.
Homage?
Sounds like a fancy word for stealing, if you ask me.
So what'd you come here for? What's the heist?
I came for you, Clyde.
For me?
Sorry. I'm afraid you're gonna have to think
of your life in a new way from now on, Clyde,
as a, um...
Well, as a pair of shoes.
You're stepping out, and I'm stepping in.
Oh. How fascinating.
And, uh, what happens to Clyde Umney?
I want you to see something.
This is my personal diary.
Don't...even...think
about it.
This is stuff I didn't make up.
This is my life,
the interesting part.
Why did you come for me?
There.
Umney: It's... it's about a cemetery.
Linda and I went to see our son's grave every week.
I'm sorry for you, Landry.
I can't come here anymore.
Why? Are you behind on writing the book?
How can you say that?
Because the book is all you do.
Yes, I write
in order to stay relatively sane.
But coming here is like
ripping out stitches over and over.
I'm not gonna leave Danny.
Nobody's leaving him.
He's just so cold in the ground,
and he's all alone.
How long do we go on blaming ourselves?
Just give me a minute, will you, hon?
Mom! Dad! Look at me!
They're gonna win.
Don't you dare.
Go! Oh, yeah!
And he's under the net.
You owe me!
Danny. Danny!
Aah!
[Faint] Danny's at the bottom of the pool!
Danny's at the bottom of the pool!
Somebody help! Sam! Sam!
Sam!
Danny's at the bottom of the pool!
Somebody help!
Danny!
Danny, no!
Get him out!
Help Danny!
Get him out!
Where are you?
Uh, page 187.
No. Not what freakin' page you're on.
Where are you? How are you?
'Cause you're not here with me.
I'm working.
You're escaping off in your own private universe.
Oh, god.
You know what? That's great for you, Sam.
Why don't you just live in your fictional world,
because that way, you never have to face the fact
that we've lost our son.
I'm aware of the facts.
God.
You know what? Maybe I'm as nutty as you,
but sometimes... sometimes I wish Clyde Umney were here.
He's definitely younger.
He's your better half, I tell you.
He'd be a hell of a lot more sensitive.
I mean, remember when he saved Ardis Mcgill from going crazy
when she lost her little sister to a life of prostitution
and... and how he consoled Mrs. Norris
in how like a fallen angel? He gave her hope.
He brought her back to life.
He screwed her brains out.
You just sit there staring at that screen.
Linda didn't know it,
but she gave me the idea to come here.
She's given me a lot of good ideas.
Not only do you steal from that guy Ray Chandler,
you steal from your own wife.
I've heard of low, but that's bargain basement.
Are you getting this news flash?
Writers are the most shameless,
self-centered bastards in the world.
We lie, we seduce, we'll steal your soul...
anything to look good on the page.
Aw, you won't get any tea and sympathy from me.
I'm a bestselling author,
and I don't have the words to console my own wife.
You're my alter ego.
You can do what I can't do.
Go to Linda. Help her.
You are nuts!
Like the way you saved Mrs. Sternwood
from swallowing drain cleaner.
If that'd been me,
I would've had a panic attack,
but you were great.
I'll stay right here in my own shoes, thanks.
As you say in your world, I am the man.
What the hell does that mean? We're all men.
Here. Take a powder. I got work to do.
Don't get snotty.
I made you.
Oops. Did we make daddy mad?
Is that how you talked to your little boy?
Damn you.
Ah, what are you gonna do, turn me into a barking dog?
"Dunninger's boys knew they couldn't touch me
"without bringing down the heat,
"so they took it out on my girl.
Well, not her, exactly, but her little sister."
Don't do this, Landry.
"And when Ardis found the poor kid,
"she looked like she'd been attacked
"by a circus of crazed monkeys
with samurai swords."
Stop it, you stinkin' pervert!
"And they carved her face into monkey meat."
They killed her, Clyde, my poor little sister.
I know.
Why did she have to suffer so?
Ardis, get the hell out of here.
I told you it would never be good.
This world of ours
is a heartless maze of greed and hate,
and there's no way out.
You're wrong.
The world is bright because you're in it.
Why do bullies always win?
"She was already over the edge.
"And there was nothing I could do
to stop her."
They don't always win. You know why?
Because there's love.
"She had taken things into her own hands."
I hear you, my darling.
Ardis, listen.
N... aah!
I wish you all the love in the world.
You didn't have to do that.
It's a new chapter, pal.
You think you're pretty slick,
Mr. God almighty,
but you're a bush-league version of god.
I'm not your puppet. You can't control me.
"My will ebbing,
I pushed on."
You're dust... "This was it."
And your stories are dust.
"Final adversary..."
It's the characters that live on.
"The last gun battle..."
Nobody'll remember your clever little tricks.
"That was coming at me like a bullet to the gut."
But they'll remember Clyde Umney.
"The big sleep."
Aw, that's right.
Make everything stop so you can do anything you want.
Clyde Umney would never do that.
He'd call it the coward's way out.
Let me live.
This is my life.
Too late.
It's my name on the windows.
I have always wanted to be a private eye,
ever since I was a little kid,
to live in a world I could understand...
Where sweet little boys don't drown,
husbands and wives don't stop loving each other.
That place is here...
my place, my time,
Los Angeles, 1938...
and that private eye is me.
Is this the end of Clyde Umney?
I don't exactly know what's coming.
Close your eyes.
I'll try to make this quick.
I hope it doesn't hurt, old buddy.
But you could care less if it does, you arrogant prick.
"And so...I left town."
"And as to where I finished up,
"well, mister,
I think that's my business. Don't you?"
"The end."
[Gasps]
Sam...
I'm Clyde Umney.
Gosh, Sam, what did you do? You grow a mustache
while I'm mopping the floor?
I'm Clyde Umney, Mrs. Landry, from 1938.
This is a little early for Halloween, honey.
Can I come in? The pool is cold.
What do you expect?
Nobody's used it in months.
I guess nobody would.
Not since your son drowned.
Danny. He was 6 years old.
Sam told me all about it,
and I'm sorry.
It was a tragic accident, ma'am,
and you don't need to be shoulderin' the blame.
When did you talk to Sam?
When he came into my office
and stole my damn life.
So...
This is the house imagination built.
Sam was big on imagination.
Yeah, I can imagine him...
In cement shoes at the bottom of a lake.
Sam talked about this.
He called it the big rewrite.
He was gonna write you out of your world
and write himself back in. I just thought it was
another one of his daydreams.
But...
Wait. You're...
You're as real as can be.
We swapped lives.
That's what must've happened.
What did it feel like?
There was a... a lot of bright, green light, and then...
I guess I came in through the machine,
like a keyhole between 2 worlds.
But it feels all right.
Huh.
That thing is...
Black-magic voodoo.
On a good day.
Does this mean that Sam is gone?
He's probably got his heels up
on my damn desk right now,
fleecing my clients and chasing my girl.
Only, she's dead.
He probably brought her back to life,
the selfish bastard.
Do you want a drink?
You oughta know.
Oh. Hold the phone.
Hmm. Ahh.
You're a lot more fun in person.
In the novels, you're very grim.
Murder is grim, Mrs. Landry.
What the hell are we supposed to do now?
Well...
You're a hard-boiled detective,
and I'm a dame. We could always find
some lonely, gullible type
and shoot him for the insurance.
Irony.
You didn't have that in your world.
You mean talkin' uppity in order to sound smart?
Yeah...
We had it.
Sam Landry, private investigator.
Sam Landry here.
Ring.
Landry here.
Doll, I told ya, don't call me at work.
This is gonna be all right.
Ahem.
Ah. That's swell of you, Mrs. Landry.
Well, I want you to feel at home.
Say, uh...
Ahh.
You know how to work that machine?
Not if you keep calling me Mrs. Landry.
Couldn't be any harder than flyin' an airplane.
Like you did in wings of deceit.
You know, that was not Sam's best.
He had some success,
and then he got fat and lazy.
Are you gettin' this news flash, Mrs. Landry?
Your husband cared for you.
He didn't want you to suffer anymore
because of the kid kickin' off.
That's why I'm here.
That's why everything's loused up,
and somehow I gotta get back.
But you can't because that's not the way Sam wrote it.
Well, screw him.
Sam was right, though.
Being with you is having a very positive effect.
Yeah? Yeah.
Well, I call it hell.
Frozen dinners you cook in a box.
Sneakers that look like Frankenstein shoes.
Music that sounds like crows
being steamed alive in a pressure cooker.
There's a lot to recommend in this world.
The Sushi.
Caller I.D.
300-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets
available by catalog.
Wait a minute.
Bite me, Clyde. I'm just a tramp.
I know who are. You're Cora Papadakis.
The hellcat from "Requiem for a Lady".
You know, Sam stole that name
from a man called James M. Cain.
He was a greedy little thief.
You're no good. Oh, god.
You're a bum.
Oh, just relax, will you?
We're a married couple.
If you and my husband are the same person,
then technically, we must be married.
Ardis Mcgill was always
supposed to be my one true love.
But wait.
We don't have to play by his rules, Clyde.
We can write our own story.
Oh, let's just drive to Mexico, baby,
just you, me, and the road.
Let's make a baby.
I know it's gonna look...
Just...
Like you.
When did you open shop, detective Landry?
A few chapters ago.
Uhh.
I see.
So...
What up? Heh heh.
Heh.
Um...
You suspect your wife of fooling around?
Hi, Mr. Landry.
Candy?
No, thanks.
I'm here to clean your pool.
Oh. So that's what they're callin' it these days.
Ah heh. Yeah, right.
So, you look good.
How's the writing going?
Peachy.
I'm home, honey!
Bang bang!
No! Whaah! Ho ho! No! No.
Yeah, you better run.
I got a big, bad gun, and you're gonna get it.
Don't shoot. Don't shoot. I'll do anything.
Danny's at the bottom of the pool!
Danny's at the bottom of...
Sam! Sam! Go!
Sam! Go!
Mom! I'll do anything.
Get out! You...
Whoa!
Unh!
Whoa! Leave my boy alone!
You...lousy, two-faced...
All right, calm down. Calm down.
Washed-up divorce detective
with bad breath. Calm down.
Calm down, Mrs. Landry.
I just want Sam and Danny.
Get a hold of yourself, Mrs. Landry.
I thought we could start over.
I thought we could have a baby
and it would look just like...
Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.
No.
I bought clothes.
I was gonna surprise you with a second honeymoon.
Or first, or whichever, but...
You're with her.
It's never gonna change, Mrs. Landry.
This is who I am. This is how it's written.
No. No.
Because Sam changed the ending.
Sam thought he was god, but he forgot one thing.
Character is destiny.
Clyde Umney's never gonna change.
If it makes you feel any better,
I don't wanna be here either
in this groaning world of yours
with its freight of disease and senseless violence.
Go...
Just go.
Just go back to wherever it is you came from.
In a snap, Mrs. Landry.
Only, god didn't leave the directions.
I know she is.
How do you know?
I saw them together.
You saw them together.
So that's how you...
Put it together.
Yes.
In the tool shed.
Mm-hmm.
What, may I ask...
[Whispering] Of course you may ask.
Ask him.
What were they doing in the tool shed?
Is it necessary to go into such personal details?
That's why they say, "private,"
in private eye, Mr. Woolrich.
That's...pretty good.
Need a nurse in here.
Right there.
His pupils are fixed and dilated.
Ok. Let's move him.
Yes, doctor.
1, 2, 3.
[Flatline tone]
We're losing him.
No.
Detective Landry.
No.
What on earth?
No.
What have I done?
What didn't I do?
"Ardis Mcgill was a really great gal.
"I mean, really great.
In the sense that you'd never met anyone like her before."
Take me back...
Through the looking glass.
Now.
Wow.
Honey, that's really bad.
Ok, Ok, it isn't perfect.
Ho. It sucks.
But who says you can't learn?
God.
I guess it's a one-way thing.
You can't just type the words.
You gotta be a real writer.
Which is what?
A writer wakes up with his mouth full of pity.
Hemingway said that.
How did I know?
I didn't. It was Sam.
Sam's the real writer.
I'm just me.
Forget it, baby.
No.
I'm gonna get better at this.
Did you read that, Sam?
I'm comin' after you.
I found my way in.
I can see you, but I don't think you'll be able to see me,
not until I wrap my hands around your neck. Heh heh.
Until next time, pal.