Seizure (1974) - full transcript
Jonathan Frid portrays a horror novelist who has a recurring nightmare about three figures out of his book who terrorize him and his family and friends during a weekend of fun. Then the dream becomes reality and it never ends...
(tense music)
- Daddy? Wake up!
- AH!!
- Mommy told me
to come wake you up.
The guests are coming today.
- Excuse me, darling.
How are you feeling?
- I had the dream again.
- Again?
But your heart...
- The same one.
The same way.
♪
(honking)
- Ahh, the first of the victims
has arrived.
- Drinking already, Gerald?
- It makes the day go faster,
sister darling.
An enormous advantage
when one has guests like yours
for the weekend.
- Mark!
- Hello, Nicky!
How are you?
- We'll hangout all the time!
- Why haven't I seen you lately?
- I don't get into town
very often.
It's been about a year,
hasn't it?
- How's Edmund?
- I think a little more nervous
than the usual.
He's been working awfully hard,
but this weekend
with such good friends here,
I'm sure it should help him
to relax.
- Hello, Edmund.
I hope you don't mind me
screwing up the scenery.
- Of course not, Mark.
You're the scenery.
- Yes.
- Thanks a lot, pal.
- And if you don't behave,
we're gonna put you in the attic
under lock and key, won't we,
Edmund?
- That sounds like fun.
Incidentally, who is the
entertainment this weekend?
- Oh, well--
- Besides me, now.
- Yes, of course, darling.
Serge and Eunice are coming,
and Charlie Hughes, one of
Edmund's old business contacts,
and his wife is--
- Jesus!
- Don't eat that crap.
You're getting fat.
- Why don't you shut up?
I've got a ten.
- Your cigar, Charlie.
- Shut up. Smoke it.
- You're all set, mister.
Nine dollars and 23 cents.
- Less 25 cents for your machine
which doesn't work.
That makes 8,98--
- Give me 35 cents, Charlie.
- I can't take a credit card.
- Why?
- They're having a counterfeit
investigation.
- Listen, idiot,
this is a VIP card.
- Look, Jack--
- Wait a minute. Charles Hughes,
not Jack. Did I say my name
was Jack?
- Jack, I don't particularly
like being called an idiot.
- Wait a minute, wait a minute.
My name is not Jack.
It's Charles Hughes.
- I don't care if your name
is Rockefeller.
- No, not Rockefeller.
Hughes. Charles Hughes.
Do you know what that means?
You see that sign up there?
I own 2% of that sign. That sign
licenses you to sell gasoline.
On Monday morning, that sign
no longer licenses you
to sell gasoline,
because I own 2% of that sign,
which means I own 2% of you.
I don't want my 2% of you,
so I'm getting rid of it now.
Do you understand what I mean?
I hope you do, because there's
a great big gasoline station
down the road selling great big
gas to great big people.
Maybe you can get a job there
fixing flats. Understand?
- Nine dollars
and 23 cents cash.
- Here's 10, big shot.
Keep the change,
because you're gonna need it.
Remember the name? Hughes.
- Charles Hughes. Mr. Hughes?
Screw you.
- Mother-- Can we go?
- Let's get out of here. Get in
the car, let's get out of here.
- You're just
like a little brat!
- God, shut up, will you?
Get in the car.
- Charlie!
(tires screeching)
- You stupid son of a bitch!
(yelling at the same time)
(peaceful music)
(birds chirping)
- How's the new book coming,
Edmund?
- It's a children's story.
- Oh. A fairy tale?
- Not quite.
It's a horror story.
- Oh.
- I adore fantasy.
- Hope to read it.
- Well, it's, uh...
I don't have an ending yet.
- Endings are simple.
Your characters should
either all perish
or live happily ever after.
- You're quite right.
We'll lunch in half an hour
by the lake. I'll see you then.
- Hey, here it comes!
Here it comes!
- Drown, you bitch.
- Local news today: the Joliet
Psychiatric Institute reports
the escape of three inmates,
one of whom, Jezebel Joyce,
achieved notoriety several years
ago as the first female
professor of philosophy
at Harvard University.
In 1969, she was convicted
of the widely publicized
knife murder of one of
her students. Description
of the other two escapees
is not yet available.
The three should be considered
extremely dangerous, but
police officials expect
a recapture shortly.
Weather tonight: thunder,
possible showers--
(barking)
- Aziz!
Aziz!
- Hey, chief.
Come here. Hungry?
- No.
- Hey, tell me, what do you do
around here for action?
- Sometimes we sail,
dance, go to the movies.
- Oh yeah? Who's "we"?
- Oh, my friends from school.
- Yeah?
Hey, you got nice arms.
Look at those muscles, wow!
- Leave the poor thing alone,
Charlie.
She's not your type.
- What do you mean, she's not
my type? Are you kidding?
I can grow a beard,
I can smoke pot, I can do
the joogoo-booloo-booloo!
- Save it for the bedroom.
- What's everybody
so uptight about?
What do you do around here
besides draw pictures?
- Why don't you take a nice,
long walk in the woods?
(dramatic music)
- Oh, thank you, Betsy.
No, put them in the pantry.
- Sure. Should I make up
any of the other rooms?
- No, the guests
are all here now.
- Oh, I'll be able to stay
a little later tonight.
Mom's taken the car into Joliet.
- Oh, fine.
Get the rest of the plates,
Betsy.
- Sure.
(chopping)
- Daddy! Aziz's run after
something in the woods.
(dramatic music)
- He'll be back.
- No, he won't!
Please go find him!
Please.
Please!
- Alright.
No, you stay here.
Play with Uncle Charlie.
- Yeah, sure, kid. Come on,
let's play catch.
Ready?
(He laughs.)
(birds chirping)
- Aziz?
Aziz!
(loud beating)
(drumming)
(dramatic music)
(screaming)
(knocking)
(knocking)
- Who is it?
Who is it?
Jason!
(birds chirping)
(drumming)
(insects buzzing)
(dramatic music)
- Libya! What do you
mean, what--
It's a country in North Af--
Is this the overseas operator?
Libya! It's a country
in North Africa!
That's south of the North Pole!
That's right.
Intellectual cripples.
- Go back to your room, Mark.
Charlie's coming. I'd hate
to see your pink little bottoms
hiding in the closet.
- How does it feel
when Charlie touches you?
- He doesn't. We do it by phone.
- Is it that little
crinkling sound of paper,
like dollar bills?
- When you say it,
it sounds nice.
- Or do you just stare
at the ceiling?
- And my ceiling says
"Until death do us part",
just in case I forget.
- Ha!
You think you're pretty
tough, don't you?
- Why don't you go downstairs,
Mark, and talk to Charlie
about stocks and bonds?
You know how he values
your masculine opinion.
- I might just go downstairs
and talk to Charlie about you.
- Me?
- You.
- Alright.
As long as I don't have to wait
long with Betsy the maid.
- Tonight?
- I'll come to your room
when Charlie's asleep.
- OK.
As a matter of fact,
I've got something special
in store for you tonight.
- So do I.
- Ciao.
Hi there.
- Hello.
- Yeah.
Yeah, OK.
- Well, Charlie,
did you make a deal?
- No, as a matter of fact,
the deal fell through.
- Who was it
who said it?
Jesus?
"Money is the root of all evil".
Isn't that the truth?
- You know, Frost, the one thing
I never liked about you
is the fact that you always
looked down at me like I was
some kind of an insect.
Why? Because I made millions.
But you love money
as much as I do.
The trouble is you don't know
how to make it.
All you know how to make
is other men's wives
and silly teenagers.
And you know, I got my doubts
about that.
You're a failure, Frost.
Small time.
Very small time.
- Don't be a bad loser, Charlie.
- No, I just wanted to get that
off my chest.
- Good. Prevents cancer.
(chuckling)
- Just think, right now
I could be in California.
Spanish mansion,
sauna, swimming pool,
six or seven Mexican servants
running around, nine-ten
little bimbos...
- Yes, it was so good
of you to come.
- I like these people!
I mean, a little old fashioned,
but, uh, OK.
You're OK too, Kahn.
I like your head.
- Thank you. I like
yours too, Charlie.
- What I like about you is,
even though you got a title,
you're not a snob, you know
what I mean? I like that.
I like that deal on the island
too. What was the name of it?
- San Leon, yes.
A lovely island,
filled with beaches,
blue marble mines,
and little brown berry...
- Yeah?
Tell you what. You know
what I'd like? I'd like
to put in 50 grand in that.
Just fund money,
you know what I mean?
- Well, yes... yes, I--
- And don't think I don't
mean it. I don't screw around
with accounts and lawyers
and all that type of stuff.
I work on instinct.
- I'm sure.
- We're a dying breed, Kahn.
- Mrs. Blackstone?
- Yes?
- I guess Mom's stuck in Joliet
tonight. I can get a ride
out on the road.
- You want the money, right?
- I...
- Kahn, there's nothing
to be ashamed of! We all got
our little weaknesses.
I mean, mine's women.
- Charlie, what the hell
are you doing?
- Don't worry, baby, there's
more where this came from.
We haven't killed
the goose yet.
- Charlie! Couldn't we
do this in another room?
- Are you serious?
I can't really take this,
my friend.
- Last chance, Kahn.
- Thank you.
(chuckling)
(dramatic music)
- Ha! Well, bravo, Charles, you
did it again. Let's all toast
to the dollar bill.
(glass breaking)
- Damn. Sorry, darling.
Excuse me.
I'll join you all later.
Serge, I'd like you to join me
in a few minutes in the study.
It's important.
- I don't know about you people;
I'll have a little brandy.
How about you, sweetheart?
- No, no, thank you, I...
think I'll retire early tonight.
- Come on, it's bedtime
for you, young man.
What's the matter?
- I want Aziz back.
(sighing)
- You know my wife. She takes
a long time to get to sleep.
Every Saturday night now, she...
she has a little talk with her
dear departed, long lamented
late husband Arris.
- Serge, please. Excuse me.
- Well, me too.
Nicole, I'll meet you
out on the patio at 9.
- Oh, yes. Yes, Mark.
- Don't... let...
the bedbugs bite.
(crickets chirping)
(tense music)
(distant howling)
(howling)
(screaming)
(tense music)
- No...
Please. I'll do anything.
I won't say. Please.
Please don't hurt me.
(heavy breathing)
- Are you scared?
- Scared of what?
- I don't know.
You look scared.
- I'm scared of something in me.
- What does that mean?
- It means...
I love you.
I love you as much as Mommy.
- You do?
- Oh yes.
I love you.
Sleep.
(door closing)
(wind gushing)
(light knocks)
(wind whistling)
(tense music)
(tense music)
- Hey, it's getting
cold in here.
- Oh, uh, Gerald, start a fire
in the living room.
- Yeah, go do something for a
change. Go ahead. Wait a minute.
- What?
- I spoke to Eddie this
afternoon. What's the matter?
- Uh, coffee--
- Yeah, yeah, yeah, wait a
minute. I'll bring the coffee
in the living room.
Can I do anything?
- You know.
Jase?
Jase? What are you
doing down there?
What's the matter?
- I'm scared.
- Scared? Scared of what,
darling?
- I'm scared of Daddy.
- Something terrible
is happening to me.
- What, Edmund?
- Oh, if I could only tell you.
It's as if... it's as if
I'm dreaming everything.
You, me,
us, this whole weekend...
I've seen it before.
- You say you've dreamt
what's happening now?
- Yes.
I don't know.
(sighing)
I see this house...
A group of friends come
to this house for the weekend,
and then three strangers appear.
I don't know who they are
or where they come from.
But they're frightening.
I sensed it all beginning
to happen again this morning
when Jason came in to wake me
before you arrived,
but it wasn't until I went
to look for Aziz in the woods
that I was sure.
I find the dog hanging
from a tree in the woods,
dead.
- My God.
- And then a young girl
is killed, a teenager.
- That should relieve you, no?
There are no teenagers here.
The poor dog may be coincidence.
- It would've been,
Serge, it would've been,
until Nicole went to the window
at dinner and...
- And what?
- And when she opened it,
a face appeared.
- A face? Is that why
you broke your glass?
- The face of something...
I invented.
- What do you mean?
- The drawings, the sketches.
The face.
I drew him myself
before I ever saw him.
Look.
(dramatic music)
- Arris... I know you're upset
because I haven't talked
to you for so long,
but these last few weeks,
I've been so depressed
after what the doctor said.
Arris, I can't have
any more sugar.
Ha, ha, ha! You always teased me
about that, didn't you?
But I can learn to live without
sweets. I'm a big girl now.
Arris... the doctor also said
I was getting old.
Oh, he didn't say it that way,
but that's what he meant.
I know, I can tell.
Old age doesn't
bother me too much
as long as you're there.
You'll always be there,
Arris, won't you?
- Yes, Eunice.
Don't look at me.
- Arris?
- You're in my hands now.
Though they cannot touch you,
my hands feel you.
They know you.
Someone is in the room
with you now, Eunice.
He is behind you.
When you look at him, I don't
want you to be afraid,
because he is a friend who will
bring us together again.
He bears an ointment,
a magic ointment
that will bring you
eternal youth.
- Oh, Arris...
Arris, I don't think I ever...
I should've told you
about Serge.
He's a lovely gentleman.
I married him. I--
- Eunice,
look into the mirror. Look into
it now, or else you'll lose me.
Do you see me?
Yes. Yes, you do.
(soft music)
It was the night we met.
It was warm.
It was spring.
Remember?
(dancing music)
Now turn around, Eunice.
Take the gift. My gift.
And come back with me.
- Forgive me.
Make him forgive me
for marrying someone else.
I want so to be with him again.
I so want to be with him.
- He forgives you, Eunice.
And he sends his secrets.
Secrets that will
moisten your skin.
Remove the wrinkle of age.
Revive the luster in your look.
And recreate the fragrance
of your limbs.
All for him.
You'll be young again, Eunice.
Young.
Now lie down.
Wait for him.
He comes.
- Mikki? It's about time,
I was falling asleep.
- Shh...
- Alright, you wanna play games?
- Don't touch.
- OK.
That's a nice perfume.
What is it?
- I'll tell you
when it's time,
my love.
- So mysterious tonight.
- Come here, Mark.
(chuckling)
- You know, this is...
It's getting dull.
(laughing)
(footsteps)
Who's that?
- Just the wind picking
at the chimney, Charles.
(light knocks)
- Do you hear that?
(footsteps)
- Pigeon?
- With feet like that?
- Maybe it's an eagle.
It's your move, Char--
- Shh!
(footsteps)
(footsteps)
Wait a minute. Don't tell me
you didn't hear that.
Man, this is spooky.
What am I doing here?
I should be in California.
(dramatic music)
Christ!
There was someone
at that window.
- Maybe it's one of your
dead business partners
come back to haunt--
- Why don't you shut up?
- Have you seen Edmund?
- Ha, ha, ha!
- Is this some kind of a joke?
- Enjoy it while--
- Who are you?
(dramatic music)
(groaning)
(gasping)
- You should go back
to school, creep.
- Impossible.
I've already been--
(banging on door)
- Nicole!
- Do something!
- AH!!
(banging on door)
Look, you can't come...
You can't go breaking
into people's houses like that.
Who are you? What do you want?
Alright,
that's the way you want it?
Come on, kid, let's take him!
Come on!
- He kinda looks like
he knows what he's doing.
(screaming)
Jesus!
- Edmund!
(screaming)
- Get back!
(screaming)
(gunshots)
(moaning in pain)
- Stop!
- Stupid... bastard.
(screaming)
- Shoot. Go ahead, shoot.
(screaming)
- Don't ask us who we are
or where we come from.
We are without beginning
or end.
And our purpose,
our only purpose,
is death.
You will do as you're told,
though nothing will make sense.
Some of you will seek
an answer in what follows,
and some of you
will find it.
But for the others,
there will be darkness,
damnation
and a meaningless death.
Mark,
Eunice and Gerald...
...are already on their way
to that darkness.
Now, one after the other,
the rest of you will die,
and at dawn tomorrow,
only one of you will be left.
Just one.
- You're... you're not
gonna get away with this!
- Silence!
I say silence!
That's it.
I am old and I am ugly,
but remember, my race was born
inside your belly.
We have no children,
but as we breed inside of you,
we know you.
We know your secrets.
We read your mind.
Don't try to escape
and don't try to trick me,
or otherwise,
I will make your death
more painful.
Now, we will play a little game.
The game is fun for the young,
but painful for the old.
It will match each of you
against the other
in a race around the house,
supervised
by my poor mute friend Jackal.
Five times you will
make the circle
until the weakest of you
cross the finishing line last.
He or she will be executed.
- Oh God.
- God will not help you now.
Only your lungs
and your legs will.
I am of a race older than God,
and I have no place in him
and I have no pity for you.
Only contempt.
Prepare!
- Come, my friends.
It would be a pleasure
to watch the trains go by
were we not tied to the tracks,
but we have no choice.
With all our civilization,
we must still learn to accept
that nature holds
no special account
of our disasters.
In any way,
you have little to fear.
I'm the oldest and
the weakest among you.
- Alright, don't argue,
they're crazy.
- Run.
I'll be behind you.
We can't lose.
- On your marks!
Run!
- Nicole!
- I've sinned, God.
I wanted the wrong things.
I never wanted a child,
God, never.
It was always myself
I thought of first.
I'm old, I'm ugly and...
vain, selfish.
Ashamed.
I don't want anything from you,
nothing but to be alone
with my Arris forever.
Please understand that, God,
please understand.
- Do you think he cares
about your prayers?
Do you think he forgives you
because you kneel there,
begging and whining
and forever confessing
your sordid little sin?
Do you think he does not
see through you?
- I know.
I know it's true.
- You ugly women...
he hates you!
- Punish me. Please,
punish me.
- (Arris' voice): You punish
yourself, Eunice.
Lift your head.
(screaming)
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust, all is vanished.
(dancing music)
(sobbing)
(gasping)
- Oh!
- Mik... Mikki!
- Get in.
- But... but...
- Get in!
We made it! God, we made it!
- But Jason is still in there!
- He's safe. We'll get
some help. Damn!
- But what about the others?
- Why save their ass?
Forget them.
No, stay here!
- I won't.
- You will!
- No, I won't!
- Goddamn it, you will!
The window! Close the window!
(screaming)
Come! Let's get out of here!
We gotta get back in the race!
(screaming)
Hurry! We're behind!
- Oh, Mikki, it hurts!
- I can't hold you,
you're too heavy!
Why should I do anything for
you? You didn't wait for me
when you were ahead!
- I was gonna wait!
You don't think I'd leave you!
- I know!
- I gave you everything!
You're gonna die with me!
I gave you a house,
I gave you clothes!
- You make me sick!
They're gonna win!
Take back your selfish hands!
I hate you!
- No! Mikki!
Mikki!
(panting)
- My God...
No...
(gasping)
- Ah!!
(creaking)
- Let me go! Let me go!
Ah!
You're smart.
I'll give you a million dollars.
A million! I got it!
Oh yes, I got it.
I'll make it out to you.
One million.
What's your name?
That's alright, you can
fill it in yourself.
Hey, I got it! Yes, get him!
Look!
(indistinct)
American Express, Buyers Club...
I got it!
Kill the rest of them.
Let me go, OK?
Please?
(laughing)
What'd you do that for??
Hey!
What are your names?
You're quiet,
but you're smart,
I can tell. You're bright.
Me and you will be a team.
Let's fly.
Brazil, Mexico...
(screams)
You're not
listening to me!
You can't talk.
Shock treatments!
No money can buy this.
I know a plastic surgeon
in Beverly Hills who can fix
that up. A million dollars!
You'll look great!
I'll get you women!
Hundreds of big black ones!
Or white ones! I'll leave that
to your liking.
I'll get anything you want!
Anything! Just break
that midget's leg!
Break his leg!
- Enough.
Kill him.
(dramatic music)
(laughing)
- Ah! No!
Nooooo!!
Nooo! No! No!
(cracking)
(snapping)
- Ah!
(moaning)
(laughing)
- So, my little Spider...
Idiot!
(running footsteps)
Get her.
(honking)
- Help me! Help me, please!
(screaming)
- How can you read
at a time like this?
- Why not?
The answer to our fears
lies not in physical force
but in knowing
who these people are.
- Maniacs, psychotics, killers,
that's what they are!
Without rhyme or reason!
Does that answer your question?
(sighing)
It's up to Mikki now, not us.
- Maybe.
Maybe not.
Maniacs, as you call them,
have a reputation for
telling the truth.
Like children.
Like old men
who babble too much.
You know, there was once
a legendary prince,
quite popular in French history.
He lived 900 years ago
and was called Louis the Cruel.
He was a dwarf.
- So what does that mean?
- He would imprison his enemies
in little cages
in his dungeons, cages so small
the poor souls couldn't even
stand upright.
They were shut off from the
light, going slowly blind,
their bodies taking on the
crippled form of Louis himself.
- Get to the point, will you?
- This prince
had become so famous
for his malice
that before long,
the fearing multitude
had invented a rather
idiosyncratic name for him.
- What, for God's sake?
- L'Araignée.
The Spider.
- You're going far on a limb,
aren't you?
- One could say that.
And one would be hard put
to trace the lineage
of the one they call
"The Jackal".
He seems to be a stereotype
of our nightmares,
the only frightening thing being
that these stereotypes do exist.
As a matter of fact, Jackal
could be a variation
on the Russian word...
(word in Russian)
...which means executioner.
- I've never heard of a black
Russian executioner.
- The Middle Ages, you see,
bred a sort of pageantry.
In Russia, at one epoch,
the torturers were imported
from the Arab slave marts
of Madagascar
and the West African coast,
because black skin,
to their naïve minds,
was thought to be horrifying.
They were the last resort
to make the guilty confess
and the condemned repent.
And curiously,
many of them were mute,
having had their tongues
removed, no doubt
to prevent them from telling
what they saw.
- You're... ah, shit!
You're out of your mind.
They're maniacs.
Maybe they've staged all this
to look like that,
but they're maniacs
just the same.
Maybe they've escaped
from that damned institution
down in Joliet, but it's not
supernatural! It can't be!
Anyway,
how can you explain that...
that cold-blooded creature,
that Queen of Evil?
- The most interesting
of them all.
I think she is the dark mother
goddess of the Hindu faith,
Kali, the giver
and the destroyer of life.
In metaphor, her body's
lithe and beautiful,
her breasts big with milk,
but around her neck, she wears
a wreath of severed heads,
and in her hands, she holds
the bodies of little children
she's about to devour.
In her name, thousands
of years ago,
children were sacrificed
by throwing them
into the flames.
To us, of the Western world,
brought up in the image
of the Virgin Mary,
it is difficult to believe
in a mother contaminated
by this dark principle.
But in truth,
she is the majestic embodiment
of our desires and thoughts.
The alluring, eternal
female of our soul:
the mother, and equally so,
the dark lady of the world.
- My God, Serge! You too.
This evening has made you mad.
My only friend.
You have deserted me too.
- Edmund,
you are the Faust
who brought her into being,
not I. This is your evening.
The proof is
that you have seen
these beings before
in your recurring nightmare
and in your drawings.
It is you who have created
these creatures.
- You fancy yourself
superior to me,
but I'll deal with you later.
You.
Come here.
- Go with him, Edmund.
Do not fear his harm.
- Silence!
(tense music)
- Jackal.
This is your
last chance, Mikki.
Kill him,
and you go free.
(drumming)
- Mikki!
(grunting in pain)
Ow!
(Mikki screams.)
- Ah!
(screaming)
(moaning in pain)
- Kill her.
(gasping)
(death rattle)
- Dead.
At last.
(creaking)
- Please,
what have you done with my wife?
- How would I know?
- You know everything.
- Almost everything.
Do you really want
to see her?
- Yes. And my child.
- Your child?
- Jason.
- Where is Jason,
Edmund?
(dramatic music)
- No, never.
I want my wife.
- Very well, Edmund.
Go to her.
Very few men, or women,
have ever refused me in
the course of the centuries.
I will give you two hours,
by clock time,
to be completely alone with her.
But then you'll be mine.
Forever.
(thunder rumbling)
(thunder rumbling)
(rainfall)
(thunder rumbling)
(thunder rumbling)
- I gave him a sleeping pill.
- We've got two hours,
and then they'll come looking
for us. They'll find him.
I have to hide him
in the summer trunk.
(thunder roaring)
- Now, remember what Mommy said.
You mustn't go to
the funny little man
or the great big man
or the bad lady.
Even if they call you, Jason.
You mustn't go to them.
Do you promise?
- I promise.
- That's a good boy.
(creaking)
(thunder rumbling)
No, Edmund.
It doesn't work anymore.
Ever since the first day
we were married,
there was always
this mystery about you.
At least I thought it was
a mystery, but it wasn't.
It was your retreat,
that saved your...
intellectual fantasies.
And this house,
where you hid me away with
your books and your dreams.
Whatever it is that's
happening, Edmund,
I have a feeling
that it was born in that dream
you've told me about
and that you, and only you,
have control of it.
And now you've invited
your friends here
to destroy me, them,
Jason,
and finally yourself.
You see, I'm not afraid
to die, Edmund.
It's Jason, I'm afraid for him.
And I'm afraid for you,
because maybe you haven't
learned what a woman does
when she knows her life is over.
You wouldn't let anything
happen to Jason.
- No, darling. Never.
(tense music)
(Jason screaming)
- You're a coward, Edmund.
I realized that tonight,
in the car.
There's no point in lying
to myself any longer.
There are worse things.
I could've married a machine,
a drunk, a man
who loved other women.
At least
you were gentle.
(thunder rumbling)
Time's running out,
isn't it, Edmund?
Come here.
(moaning)
(dramatic music)
(door opening)
(drumming)
- Serge...
- No, no, don't say
anything, please.
No pity. There's
no need to be afraid.
I'm a bit tired
of myself anyway.
And I'm tired
of these needs.
I'm an old Russian
Orthodox, Edmund,
born with an inherent
fear of God.
Old fashioned
as that may seem,
it comforts me.
I have come to believe
that God is both good
and evil. Sometimes
he speaks to us with terror,
like Yahve or Mithras.
Or Kali.
I think death, true death,
is a companion,
not an enemy to life.
- Come on, old man.
You babble too much.
- Serge!
You really believe in God?
- I believe in myself,
Edmund. Therefore,
I have faith in him.
(soft music)
Make it painless and quick,
will you, my friend?
I have a pressing
engagement to keep.
- He was the best of you all.
Him and your wife,
Edmund.
And now, as night
draws to a close,
you are left.
You and the child.
But there can only be
one survivor.
And so, Edmund,
it is either you
or the child now.
- There's no child!
I'm the only one!
- Oh, come, come, Edmund.
You've already told me
about Jason.
Remember?
Yes, you do.
So now, tell us very quietly
where he is.
And soon, you will see
the daylight
beyond the trees.
And the birds will sing.
And there'll be no more fear
for you, Edmund,
none at all.
You're a worm, Edmund.
A lump of mud.
You want so much to live,
and you don't know how.
- What would you do with him?
(dramatic music)
- (Nicole): Edmund,
you wouldn't let anything
happen to Jason, would you?
- Why can't you find him
yourself?
Or is it that you can't
hurt the innocent
unless I...
- Unless what, Edmund?
- (Edmund): Nicole is dead.
I have no promises
to keep with the dead.
- (Serge): I believe
in myself, Edmund,
and therefore I have
faith in him.
- (Edmund): What does God care?
Serge was an old man
about to die.
He has an illusion to pave
his way to ashes and dust.
I could start again.
After all, it was all a dream,
my life; always books, ideas,
illusions. Even
the people around me--
Nicole, my friends, Jason.
My love for them was
only an author's love
for his own creation.
But it can create others,
more and more.
An artist is without end.
He can never die.
He's not allowed to die.
He's upstairs in the attic.
- Thank you, Edmund.
(dramatic music)
You lied, Edmund.
- No! Nicole... the child...
(whooshing)
She's here.
- Nicole is dead.
Strangle him.
(tense music)
- No, no.
(humming)
She's come back.
Ah!
- If you catch him
before I find the child,
he's yours.
If not,
the child is mine.
Now go.
(screaming)
(screaming)
(dramatic music)
(whimpering)
(screaming)
(screaming)
Shut up. Shut up!
- Leave my child alone.
- You!
- Mommy?
- My husband,
yes.
My child,
never.
Put him down.
Go to your room, Jason.
Lock the door.
- I don't want you to go away.
- I have to, Jason.
You're growing up now.
You'll soon be on your own.
Listen to your mother
for the last time
and go to your room.
- Then Edmund is mine.
- Kill him.
(tense music)
(grunting)
(screaming)
- Nicole!
I had the dream again.
Clearer than ever.
So clear.
(moaning)
(birds chirping)
It's over.
And all was a dream.
Alright...
It's gone.
(dramatic music)
Nicole!
Nicole!
- Yes, my darling?
(screaming)
(dramatic music)
- No...
(birds chirping)
(door creaking)
- Come on, Aziz!
- Jason!
Hi.
- Hi.
- Hey, go wake
your daddy up.
Tell him the guests
will be here soon. OK?
- OK.
- Off you go.
- Aziz!
Daddy?
- (news): The Edgar Allen Poe
of modern American fiction,
writer-illustrator Edmund
Blackstone, died today
at his Joliet County home
of a heart attack.
He was 47 years old and leaves
behind his widow, Nicole,
and his ten-year-old
child, Jason.
- Daddy? Wake up!
- AH!!
- Mommy told me
to come wake you up.
The guests are coming today.
- Excuse me, darling.
How are you feeling?
- I had the dream again.
- Again?
But your heart...
- The same one.
The same way.
♪
(honking)
- Ahh, the first of the victims
has arrived.
- Drinking already, Gerald?
- It makes the day go faster,
sister darling.
An enormous advantage
when one has guests like yours
for the weekend.
- Mark!
- Hello, Nicky!
How are you?
- We'll hangout all the time!
- Why haven't I seen you lately?
- I don't get into town
very often.
It's been about a year,
hasn't it?
- How's Edmund?
- I think a little more nervous
than the usual.
He's been working awfully hard,
but this weekend
with such good friends here,
I'm sure it should help him
to relax.
- Hello, Edmund.
I hope you don't mind me
screwing up the scenery.
- Of course not, Mark.
You're the scenery.
- Yes.
- Thanks a lot, pal.
- And if you don't behave,
we're gonna put you in the attic
under lock and key, won't we,
Edmund?
- That sounds like fun.
Incidentally, who is the
entertainment this weekend?
- Oh, well--
- Besides me, now.
- Yes, of course, darling.
Serge and Eunice are coming,
and Charlie Hughes, one of
Edmund's old business contacts,
and his wife is--
- Jesus!
- Don't eat that crap.
You're getting fat.
- Why don't you shut up?
I've got a ten.
- Your cigar, Charlie.
- Shut up. Smoke it.
- You're all set, mister.
Nine dollars and 23 cents.
- Less 25 cents for your machine
which doesn't work.
That makes 8,98--
- Give me 35 cents, Charlie.
- I can't take a credit card.
- Why?
- They're having a counterfeit
investigation.
- Listen, idiot,
this is a VIP card.
- Look, Jack--
- Wait a minute. Charles Hughes,
not Jack. Did I say my name
was Jack?
- Jack, I don't particularly
like being called an idiot.
- Wait a minute, wait a minute.
My name is not Jack.
It's Charles Hughes.
- I don't care if your name
is Rockefeller.
- No, not Rockefeller.
Hughes. Charles Hughes.
Do you know what that means?
You see that sign up there?
I own 2% of that sign. That sign
licenses you to sell gasoline.
On Monday morning, that sign
no longer licenses you
to sell gasoline,
because I own 2% of that sign,
which means I own 2% of you.
I don't want my 2% of you,
so I'm getting rid of it now.
Do you understand what I mean?
I hope you do, because there's
a great big gasoline station
down the road selling great big
gas to great big people.
Maybe you can get a job there
fixing flats. Understand?
- Nine dollars
and 23 cents cash.
- Here's 10, big shot.
Keep the change,
because you're gonna need it.
Remember the name? Hughes.
- Charles Hughes. Mr. Hughes?
Screw you.
- Mother-- Can we go?
- Let's get out of here. Get in
the car, let's get out of here.
- You're just
like a little brat!
- God, shut up, will you?
Get in the car.
- Charlie!
(tires screeching)
- You stupid son of a bitch!
(yelling at the same time)
(peaceful music)
(birds chirping)
- How's the new book coming,
Edmund?
- It's a children's story.
- Oh. A fairy tale?
- Not quite.
It's a horror story.
- Oh.
- I adore fantasy.
- Hope to read it.
- Well, it's, uh...
I don't have an ending yet.
- Endings are simple.
Your characters should
either all perish
or live happily ever after.
- You're quite right.
We'll lunch in half an hour
by the lake. I'll see you then.
- Hey, here it comes!
Here it comes!
- Drown, you bitch.
- Local news today: the Joliet
Psychiatric Institute reports
the escape of three inmates,
one of whom, Jezebel Joyce,
achieved notoriety several years
ago as the first female
professor of philosophy
at Harvard University.
In 1969, she was convicted
of the widely publicized
knife murder of one of
her students. Description
of the other two escapees
is not yet available.
The three should be considered
extremely dangerous, but
police officials expect
a recapture shortly.
Weather tonight: thunder,
possible showers--
(barking)
- Aziz!
Aziz!
- Hey, chief.
Come here. Hungry?
- No.
- Hey, tell me, what do you do
around here for action?
- Sometimes we sail,
dance, go to the movies.
- Oh yeah? Who's "we"?
- Oh, my friends from school.
- Yeah?
Hey, you got nice arms.
Look at those muscles, wow!
- Leave the poor thing alone,
Charlie.
She's not your type.
- What do you mean, she's not
my type? Are you kidding?
I can grow a beard,
I can smoke pot, I can do
the joogoo-booloo-booloo!
- Save it for the bedroom.
- What's everybody
so uptight about?
What do you do around here
besides draw pictures?
- Why don't you take a nice,
long walk in the woods?
(dramatic music)
- Oh, thank you, Betsy.
No, put them in the pantry.
- Sure. Should I make up
any of the other rooms?
- No, the guests
are all here now.
- Oh, I'll be able to stay
a little later tonight.
Mom's taken the car into Joliet.
- Oh, fine.
Get the rest of the plates,
Betsy.
- Sure.
(chopping)
- Daddy! Aziz's run after
something in the woods.
(dramatic music)
- He'll be back.
- No, he won't!
Please go find him!
Please.
Please!
- Alright.
No, you stay here.
Play with Uncle Charlie.
- Yeah, sure, kid. Come on,
let's play catch.
Ready?
(He laughs.)
(birds chirping)
- Aziz?
Aziz!
(loud beating)
(drumming)
(dramatic music)
(screaming)
(knocking)
(knocking)
- Who is it?
Who is it?
Jason!
(birds chirping)
(drumming)
(insects buzzing)
(dramatic music)
- Libya! What do you
mean, what--
It's a country in North Af--
Is this the overseas operator?
Libya! It's a country
in North Africa!
That's south of the North Pole!
That's right.
Intellectual cripples.
- Go back to your room, Mark.
Charlie's coming. I'd hate
to see your pink little bottoms
hiding in the closet.
- How does it feel
when Charlie touches you?
- He doesn't. We do it by phone.
- Is it that little
crinkling sound of paper,
like dollar bills?
- When you say it,
it sounds nice.
- Or do you just stare
at the ceiling?
- And my ceiling says
"Until death do us part",
just in case I forget.
- Ha!
You think you're pretty
tough, don't you?
- Why don't you go downstairs,
Mark, and talk to Charlie
about stocks and bonds?
You know how he values
your masculine opinion.
- I might just go downstairs
and talk to Charlie about you.
- Me?
- You.
- Alright.
As long as I don't have to wait
long with Betsy the maid.
- Tonight?
- I'll come to your room
when Charlie's asleep.
- OK.
As a matter of fact,
I've got something special
in store for you tonight.
- So do I.
- Ciao.
Hi there.
- Hello.
- Yeah.
Yeah, OK.
- Well, Charlie,
did you make a deal?
- No, as a matter of fact,
the deal fell through.
- Who was it
who said it?
Jesus?
"Money is the root of all evil".
Isn't that the truth?
- You know, Frost, the one thing
I never liked about you
is the fact that you always
looked down at me like I was
some kind of an insect.
Why? Because I made millions.
But you love money
as much as I do.
The trouble is you don't know
how to make it.
All you know how to make
is other men's wives
and silly teenagers.
And you know, I got my doubts
about that.
You're a failure, Frost.
Small time.
Very small time.
- Don't be a bad loser, Charlie.
- No, I just wanted to get that
off my chest.
- Good. Prevents cancer.
(chuckling)
- Just think, right now
I could be in California.
Spanish mansion,
sauna, swimming pool,
six or seven Mexican servants
running around, nine-ten
little bimbos...
- Yes, it was so good
of you to come.
- I like these people!
I mean, a little old fashioned,
but, uh, OK.
You're OK too, Kahn.
I like your head.
- Thank you. I like
yours too, Charlie.
- What I like about you is,
even though you got a title,
you're not a snob, you know
what I mean? I like that.
I like that deal on the island
too. What was the name of it?
- San Leon, yes.
A lovely island,
filled with beaches,
blue marble mines,
and little brown berry...
- Yeah?
Tell you what. You know
what I'd like? I'd like
to put in 50 grand in that.
Just fund money,
you know what I mean?
- Well, yes... yes, I--
- And don't think I don't
mean it. I don't screw around
with accounts and lawyers
and all that type of stuff.
I work on instinct.
- I'm sure.
- We're a dying breed, Kahn.
- Mrs. Blackstone?
- Yes?
- I guess Mom's stuck in Joliet
tonight. I can get a ride
out on the road.
- You want the money, right?
- I...
- Kahn, there's nothing
to be ashamed of! We all got
our little weaknesses.
I mean, mine's women.
- Charlie, what the hell
are you doing?
- Don't worry, baby, there's
more where this came from.
We haven't killed
the goose yet.
- Charlie! Couldn't we
do this in another room?
- Are you serious?
I can't really take this,
my friend.
- Last chance, Kahn.
- Thank you.
(chuckling)
(dramatic music)
- Ha! Well, bravo, Charles, you
did it again. Let's all toast
to the dollar bill.
(glass breaking)
- Damn. Sorry, darling.
Excuse me.
I'll join you all later.
Serge, I'd like you to join me
in a few minutes in the study.
It's important.
- I don't know about you people;
I'll have a little brandy.
How about you, sweetheart?
- No, no, thank you, I...
think I'll retire early tonight.
- Come on, it's bedtime
for you, young man.
What's the matter?
- I want Aziz back.
(sighing)
- You know my wife. She takes
a long time to get to sleep.
Every Saturday night now, she...
she has a little talk with her
dear departed, long lamented
late husband Arris.
- Serge, please. Excuse me.
- Well, me too.
Nicole, I'll meet you
out on the patio at 9.
- Oh, yes. Yes, Mark.
- Don't... let...
the bedbugs bite.
(crickets chirping)
(tense music)
(distant howling)
(howling)
(screaming)
(tense music)
- No...
Please. I'll do anything.
I won't say. Please.
Please don't hurt me.
(heavy breathing)
- Are you scared?
- Scared of what?
- I don't know.
You look scared.
- I'm scared of something in me.
- What does that mean?
- It means...
I love you.
I love you as much as Mommy.
- You do?
- Oh yes.
I love you.
Sleep.
(door closing)
(wind gushing)
(light knocks)
(wind whistling)
(tense music)
(tense music)
- Hey, it's getting
cold in here.
- Oh, uh, Gerald, start a fire
in the living room.
- Yeah, go do something for a
change. Go ahead. Wait a minute.
- What?
- I spoke to Eddie this
afternoon. What's the matter?
- Uh, coffee--
- Yeah, yeah, yeah, wait a
minute. I'll bring the coffee
in the living room.
Can I do anything?
- You know.
Jase?
Jase? What are you
doing down there?
What's the matter?
- I'm scared.
- Scared? Scared of what,
darling?
- I'm scared of Daddy.
- Something terrible
is happening to me.
- What, Edmund?
- Oh, if I could only tell you.
It's as if... it's as if
I'm dreaming everything.
You, me,
us, this whole weekend...
I've seen it before.
- You say you've dreamt
what's happening now?
- Yes.
I don't know.
(sighing)
I see this house...
A group of friends come
to this house for the weekend,
and then three strangers appear.
I don't know who they are
or where they come from.
But they're frightening.
I sensed it all beginning
to happen again this morning
when Jason came in to wake me
before you arrived,
but it wasn't until I went
to look for Aziz in the woods
that I was sure.
I find the dog hanging
from a tree in the woods,
dead.
- My God.
- And then a young girl
is killed, a teenager.
- That should relieve you, no?
There are no teenagers here.
The poor dog may be coincidence.
- It would've been,
Serge, it would've been,
until Nicole went to the window
at dinner and...
- And what?
- And when she opened it,
a face appeared.
- A face? Is that why
you broke your glass?
- The face of something...
I invented.
- What do you mean?
- The drawings, the sketches.
The face.
I drew him myself
before I ever saw him.
Look.
(dramatic music)
- Arris... I know you're upset
because I haven't talked
to you for so long,
but these last few weeks,
I've been so depressed
after what the doctor said.
Arris, I can't have
any more sugar.
Ha, ha, ha! You always teased me
about that, didn't you?
But I can learn to live without
sweets. I'm a big girl now.
Arris... the doctor also said
I was getting old.
Oh, he didn't say it that way,
but that's what he meant.
I know, I can tell.
Old age doesn't
bother me too much
as long as you're there.
You'll always be there,
Arris, won't you?
- Yes, Eunice.
Don't look at me.
- Arris?
- You're in my hands now.
Though they cannot touch you,
my hands feel you.
They know you.
Someone is in the room
with you now, Eunice.
He is behind you.
When you look at him, I don't
want you to be afraid,
because he is a friend who will
bring us together again.
He bears an ointment,
a magic ointment
that will bring you
eternal youth.
- Oh, Arris...
Arris, I don't think I ever...
I should've told you
about Serge.
He's a lovely gentleman.
I married him. I--
- Eunice,
look into the mirror. Look into
it now, or else you'll lose me.
Do you see me?
Yes. Yes, you do.
(soft music)
It was the night we met.
It was warm.
It was spring.
Remember?
(dancing music)
Now turn around, Eunice.
Take the gift. My gift.
And come back with me.
- Forgive me.
Make him forgive me
for marrying someone else.
I want so to be with him again.
I so want to be with him.
- He forgives you, Eunice.
And he sends his secrets.
Secrets that will
moisten your skin.
Remove the wrinkle of age.
Revive the luster in your look.
And recreate the fragrance
of your limbs.
All for him.
You'll be young again, Eunice.
Young.
Now lie down.
Wait for him.
He comes.
- Mikki? It's about time,
I was falling asleep.
- Shh...
- Alright, you wanna play games?
- Don't touch.
- OK.
That's a nice perfume.
What is it?
- I'll tell you
when it's time,
my love.
- So mysterious tonight.
- Come here, Mark.
(chuckling)
- You know, this is...
It's getting dull.
(laughing)
(footsteps)
Who's that?
- Just the wind picking
at the chimney, Charles.
(light knocks)
- Do you hear that?
(footsteps)
- Pigeon?
- With feet like that?
- Maybe it's an eagle.
It's your move, Char--
- Shh!
(footsteps)
(footsteps)
Wait a minute. Don't tell me
you didn't hear that.
Man, this is spooky.
What am I doing here?
I should be in California.
(dramatic music)
Christ!
There was someone
at that window.
- Maybe it's one of your
dead business partners
come back to haunt--
- Why don't you shut up?
- Have you seen Edmund?
- Ha, ha, ha!
- Is this some kind of a joke?
- Enjoy it while--
- Who are you?
(dramatic music)
(groaning)
(gasping)
- You should go back
to school, creep.
- Impossible.
I've already been--
(banging on door)
- Nicole!
- Do something!
- AH!!
(banging on door)
Look, you can't come...
You can't go breaking
into people's houses like that.
Who are you? What do you want?
Alright,
that's the way you want it?
Come on, kid, let's take him!
Come on!
- He kinda looks like
he knows what he's doing.
(screaming)
Jesus!
- Edmund!
(screaming)
- Get back!
(screaming)
(gunshots)
(moaning in pain)
- Stop!
- Stupid... bastard.
(screaming)
- Shoot. Go ahead, shoot.
(screaming)
- Don't ask us who we are
or where we come from.
We are without beginning
or end.
And our purpose,
our only purpose,
is death.
You will do as you're told,
though nothing will make sense.
Some of you will seek
an answer in what follows,
and some of you
will find it.
But for the others,
there will be darkness,
damnation
and a meaningless death.
Mark,
Eunice and Gerald...
...are already on their way
to that darkness.
Now, one after the other,
the rest of you will die,
and at dawn tomorrow,
only one of you will be left.
Just one.
- You're... you're not
gonna get away with this!
- Silence!
I say silence!
That's it.
I am old and I am ugly,
but remember, my race was born
inside your belly.
We have no children,
but as we breed inside of you,
we know you.
We know your secrets.
We read your mind.
Don't try to escape
and don't try to trick me,
or otherwise,
I will make your death
more painful.
Now, we will play a little game.
The game is fun for the young,
but painful for the old.
It will match each of you
against the other
in a race around the house,
supervised
by my poor mute friend Jackal.
Five times you will
make the circle
until the weakest of you
cross the finishing line last.
He or she will be executed.
- Oh God.
- God will not help you now.
Only your lungs
and your legs will.
I am of a race older than God,
and I have no place in him
and I have no pity for you.
Only contempt.
Prepare!
- Come, my friends.
It would be a pleasure
to watch the trains go by
were we not tied to the tracks,
but we have no choice.
With all our civilization,
we must still learn to accept
that nature holds
no special account
of our disasters.
In any way,
you have little to fear.
I'm the oldest and
the weakest among you.
- Alright, don't argue,
they're crazy.
- Run.
I'll be behind you.
We can't lose.
- On your marks!
Run!
- Nicole!
- I've sinned, God.
I wanted the wrong things.
I never wanted a child,
God, never.
It was always myself
I thought of first.
I'm old, I'm ugly and...
vain, selfish.
Ashamed.
I don't want anything from you,
nothing but to be alone
with my Arris forever.
Please understand that, God,
please understand.
- Do you think he cares
about your prayers?
Do you think he forgives you
because you kneel there,
begging and whining
and forever confessing
your sordid little sin?
Do you think he does not
see through you?
- I know.
I know it's true.
- You ugly women...
he hates you!
- Punish me. Please,
punish me.
- (Arris' voice): You punish
yourself, Eunice.
Lift your head.
(screaming)
Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust, all is vanished.
(dancing music)
(sobbing)
(gasping)
- Oh!
- Mik... Mikki!
- Get in.
- But... but...
- Get in!
We made it! God, we made it!
- But Jason is still in there!
- He's safe. We'll get
some help. Damn!
- But what about the others?
- Why save their ass?
Forget them.
No, stay here!
- I won't.
- You will!
- No, I won't!
- Goddamn it, you will!
The window! Close the window!
(screaming)
Come! Let's get out of here!
We gotta get back in the race!
(screaming)
Hurry! We're behind!
- Oh, Mikki, it hurts!
- I can't hold you,
you're too heavy!
Why should I do anything for
you? You didn't wait for me
when you were ahead!
- I was gonna wait!
You don't think I'd leave you!
- I know!
- I gave you everything!
You're gonna die with me!
I gave you a house,
I gave you clothes!
- You make me sick!
They're gonna win!
Take back your selfish hands!
I hate you!
- No! Mikki!
Mikki!
(panting)
- My God...
No...
(gasping)
- Ah!!
(creaking)
- Let me go! Let me go!
Ah!
You're smart.
I'll give you a million dollars.
A million! I got it!
Oh yes, I got it.
I'll make it out to you.
One million.
What's your name?
That's alright, you can
fill it in yourself.
Hey, I got it! Yes, get him!
Look!
(indistinct)
American Express, Buyers Club...
I got it!
Kill the rest of them.
Let me go, OK?
Please?
(laughing)
What'd you do that for??
Hey!
What are your names?
You're quiet,
but you're smart,
I can tell. You're bright.
Me and you will be a team.
Let's fly.
Brazil, Mexico...
(screams)
You're not
listening to me!
You can't talk.
Shock treatments!
No money can buy this.
I know a plastic surgeon
in Beverly Hills who can fix
that up. A million dollars!
You'll look great!
I'll get you women!
Hundreds of big black ones!
Or white ones! I'll leave that
to your liking.
I'll get anything you want!
Anything! Just break
that midget's leg!
Break his leg!
- Enough.
Kill him.
(dramatic music)
(laughing)
- Ah! No!
Nooooo!!
Nooo! No! No!
(cracking)
(snapping)
- Ah!
(moaning)
(laughing)
- So, my little Spider...
Idiot!
(running footsteps)
Get her.
(honking)
- Help me! Help me, please!
(screaming)
- How can you read
at a time like this?
- Why not?
The answer to our fears
lies not in physical force
but in knowing
who these people are.
- Maniacs, psychotics, killers,
that's what they are!
Without rhyme or reason!
Does that answer your question?
(sighing)
It's up to Mikki now, not us.
- Maybe.
Maybe not.
Maniacs, as you call them,
have a reputation for
telling the truth.
Like children.
Like old men
who babble too much.
You know, there was once
a legendary prince,
quite popular in French history.
He lived 900 years ago
and was called Louis the Cruel.
He was a dwarf.
- So what does that mean?
- He would imprison his enemies
in little cages
in his dungeons, cages so small
the poor souls couldn't even
stand upright.
They were shut off from the
light, going slowly blind,
their bodies taking on the
crippled form of Louis himself.
- Get to the point, will you?
- This prince
had become so famous
for his malice
that before long,
the fearing multitude
had invented a rather
idiosyncratic name for him.
- What, for God's sake?
- L'Araignée.
The Spider.
- You're going far on a limb,
aren't you?
- One could say that.
And one would be hard put
to trace the lineage
of the one they call
"The Jackal".
He seems to be a stereotype
of our nightmares,
the only frightening thing being
that these stereotypes do exist.
As a matter of fact, Jackal
could be a variation
on the Russian word...
(word in Russian)
...which means executioner.
- I've never heard of a black
Russian executioner.
- The Middle Ages, you see,
bred a sort of pageantry.
In Russia, at one epoch,
the torturers were imported
from the Arab slave marts
of Madagascar
and the West African coast,
because black skin,
to their naïve minds,
was thought to be horrifying.
They were the last resort
to make the guilty confess
and the condemned repent.
And curiously,
many of them were mute,
having had their tongues
removed, no doubt
to prevent them from telling
what they saw.
- You're... ah, shit!
You're out of your mind.
They're maniacs.
Maybe they've staged all this
to look like that,
but they're maniacs
just the same.
Maybe they've escaped
from that damned institution
down in Joliet, but it's not
supernatural! It can't be!
Anyway,
how can you explain that...
that cold-blooded creature,
that Queen of Evil?
- The most interesting
of them all.
I think she is the dark mother
goddess of the Hindu faith,
Kali, the giver
and the destroyer of life.
In metaphor, her body's
lithe and beautiful,
her breasts big with milk,
but around her neck, she wears
a wreath of severed heads,
and in her hands, she holds
the bodies of little children
she's about to devour.
In her name, thousands
of years ago,
children were sacrificed
by throwing them
into the flames.
To us, of the Western world,
brought up in the image
of the Virgin Mary,
it is difficult to believe
in a mother contaminated
by this dark principle.
But in truth,
she is the majestic embodiment
of our desires and thoughts.
The alluring, eternal
female of our soul:
the mother, and equally so,
the dark lady of the world.
- My God, Serge! You too.
This evening has made you mad.
My only friend.
You have deserted me too.
- Edmund,
you are the Faust
who brought her into being,
not I. This is your evening.
The proof is
that you have seen
these beings before
in your recurring nightmare
and in your drawings.
It is you who have created
these creatures.
- You fancy yourself
superior to me,
but I'll deal with you later.
You.
Come here.
- Go with him, Edmund.
Do not fear his harm.
- Silence!
(tense music)
- Jackal.
This is your
last chance, Mikki.
Kill him,
and you go free.
(drumming)
- Mikki!
(grunting in pain)
Ow!
(Mikki screams.)
- Ah!
(screaming)
(moaning in pain)
- Kill her.
(gasping)
(death rattle)
- Dead.
At last.
(creaking)
- Please,
what have you done with my wife?
- How would I know?
- You know everything.
- Almost everything.
Do you really want
to see her?
- Yes. And my child.
- Your child?
- Jason.
- Where is Jason,
Edmund?
(dramatic music)
- No, never.
I want my wife.
- Very well, Edmund.
Go to her.
Very few men, or women,
have ever refused me in
the course of the centuries.
I will give you two hours,
by clock time,
to be completely alone with her.
But then you'll be mine.
Forever.
(thunder rumbling)
(thunder rumbling)
(rainfall)
(thunder rumbling)
(thunder rumbling)
- I gave him a sleeping pill.
- We've got two hours,
and then they'll come looking
for us. They'll find him.
I have to hide him
in the summer trunk.
(thunder roaring)
- Now, remember what Mommy said.
You mustn't go to
the funny little man
or the great big man
or the bad lady.
Even if they call you, Jason.
You mustn't go to them.
Do you promise?
- I promise.
- That's a good boy.
(creaking)
(thunder rumbling)
No, Edmund.
It doesn't work anymore.
Ever since the first day
we were married,
there was always
this mystery about you.
At least I thought it was
a mystery, but it wasn't.
It was your retreat,
that saved your...
intellectual fantasies.
And this house,
where you hid me away with
your books and your dreams.
Whatever it is that's
happening, Edmund,
I have a feeling
that it was born in that dream
you've told me about
and that you, and only you,
have control of it.
And now you've invited
your friends here
to destroy me, them,
Jason,
and finally yourself.
You see, I'm not afraid
to die, Edmund.
It's Jason, I'm afraid for him.
And I'm afraid for you,
because maybe you haven't
learned what a woman does
when she knows her life is over.
You wouldn't let anything
happen to Jason.
- No, darling. Never.
(tense music)
(Jason screaming)
- You're a coward, Edmund.
I realized that tonight,
in the car.
There's no point in lying
to myself any longer.
There are worse things.
I could've married a machine,
a drunk, a man
who loved other women.
At least
you were gentle.
(thunder rumbling)
Time's running out,
isn't it, Edmund?
Come here.
(moaning)
(dramatic music)
(door opening)
(drumming)
- Serge...
- No, no, don't say
anything, please.
No pity. There's
no need to be afraid.
I'm a bit tired
of myself anyway.
And I'm tired
of these needs.
I'm an old Russian
Orthodox, Edmund,
born with an inherent
fear of God.
Old fashioned
as that may seem,
it comforts me.
I have come to believe
that God is both good
and evil. Sometimes
he speaks to us with terror,
like Yahve or Mithras.
Or Kali.
I think death, true death,
is a companion,
not an enemy to life.
- Come on, old man.
You babble too much.
- Serge!
You really believe in God?
- I believe in myself,
Edmund. Therefore,
I have faith in him.
(soft music)
Make it painless and quick,
will you, my friend?
I have a pressing
engagement to keep.
- He was the best of you all.
Him and your wife,
Edmund.
And now, as night
draws to a close,
you are left.
You and the child.
But there can only be
one survivor.
And so, Edmund,
it is either you
or the child now.
- There's no child!
I'm the only one!
- Oh, come, come, Edmund.
You've already told me
about Jason.
Remember?
Yes, you do.
So now, tell us very quietly
where he is.
And soon, you will see
the daylight
beyond the trees.
And the birds will sing.
And there'll be no more fear
for you, Edmund,
none at all.
You're a worm, Edmund.
A lump of mud.
You want so much to live,
and you don't know how.
- What would you do with him?
(dramatic music)
- (Nicole): Edmund,
you wouldn't let anything
happen to Jason, would you?
- Why can't you find him
yourself?
Or is it that you can't
hurt the innocent
unless I...
- Unless what, Edmund?
- (Edmund): Nicole is dead.
I have no promises
to keep with the dead.
- (Serge): I believe
in myself, Edmund,
and therefore I have
faith in him.
- (Edmund): What does God care?
Serge was an old man
about to die.
He has an illusion to pave
his way to ashes and dust.
I could start again.
After all, it was all a dream,
my life; always books, ideas,
illusions. Even
the people around me--
Nicole, my friends, Jason.
My love for them was
only an author's love
for his own creation.
But it can create others,
more and more.
An artist is without end.
He can never die.
He's not allowed to die.
He's upstairs in the attic.
- Thank you, Edmund.
(dramatic music)
You lied, Edmund.
- No! Nicole... the child...
(whooshing)
She's here.
- Nicole is dead.
Strangle him.
(tense music)
- No, no.
(humming)
She's come back.
Ah!
- If you catch him
before I find the child,
he's yours.
If not,
the child is mine.
Now go.
(screaming)
(screaming)
(dramatic music)
(whimpering)
(screaming)
(screaming)
Shut up. Shut up!
- Leave my child alone.
- You!
- Mommy?
- My husband,
yes.
My child,
never.
Put him down.
Go to your room, Jason.
Lock the door.
- I don't want you to go away.
- I have to, Jason.
You're growing up now.
You'll soon be on your own.
Listen to your mother
for the last time
and go to your room.
- Then Edmund is mine.
- Kill him.
(tense music)
(grunting)
(screaming)
- Nicole!
I had the dream again.
Clearer than ever.
So clear.
(moaning)
(birds chirping)
It's over.
And all was a dream.
Alright...
It's gone.
(dramatic music)
Nicole!
Nicole!
- Yes, my darling?
(screaming)
(dramatic music)
- No...
(birds chirping)
(door creaking)
- Come on, Aziz!
- Jason!
Hi.
- Hi.
- Hey, go wake
your daddy up.
Tell him the guests
will be here soon. OK?
- OK.
- Off you go.
- Aziz!
Daddy?
- (news): The Edgar Allen Poe
of modern American fiction,
writer-illustrator Edmund
Blackstone, died today
at his Joliet County home
of a heart attack.
He was 47 years old and leaves
behind his widow, Nicole,
and his ten-year-old
child, Jason.