American Horror Story (2011–…): Season 10, Episode 1 - Cape Fear - full transcript

A struggling writer, his pregnant wife, and their daughter move to an isolated beach town for the winter. Once they're settled in, the town's true residents begin to make themselves known.


So beautiful.

How many times
are you gonna say that?

Well, it just keeps hitting me.

- Yeah?
- You say it again,

something else
is gonna start hitting you.


I think it's a little creepy.

Okay, well, you know,
creepy can be beautiful.

Spoken like a true writer.


What do you keep counting,



They're all over the road.

I saw a raccoon and a possum

and one that I think was a cat.

It's weird how it's more sad
when a cat gets run over

than a raccoon does.


Oh, no.


Stay here a second.

- I wanna see.
- Uh-uh, honey.

Is it dead?


Well, don't touch it.

You don't want to get lyme.



Okay, I'll take it.

- You excited?
- Mm-hmm.

Ah, you must be the gardeners.

- Hi.
- We are, hi.

Welcome to provincetown

- or p-town, as we call it.
- Mm.

You know,
the pilgrims landed here

before they landed in Plymouth.

- Mm.
- Huh?

- I'm Martha.
- Hi.

I manage the house
for the browns.

Come on in.

It looks haunted.

Every house in provincetown
is haunted, sweetheart.

It's the ghosts
of all the old whalers

drowned at sea.

It's so quiet.

Summer population is 60,000.

This time of year,

it bleeds down
to a little less than three.

I actually prefer it like this.

I rent my place out a bunch
in the summer...

Head out to the berkshires...

Especially during bear week.

Septic systems in town
back up a lot during bear week.

So you're a screenwriter?

- Yeah.
- Anything I would have seen?

Um, I've written
on a few TV shows.

- Uh-huh?
- Uh,

- network procedurals, mostly.
- Ah.

He's, uh,

writing a pilot
while we're out here, though.

Oh, I hope you're not
planning on, uh,

changing too much
about the place.

Browns gave me free rein

to change whatever I want, so...

- Well...
- Well, within the budget.

- Right.
- It's her first big job.

Yeah, it's sort of a...
A second career for me.

I was a schoolteacher
for a long time, but...

The browns, they saw
my Instagram account...

- It's very good.
- And offered us

three months free at the house
in exchange for redecorating.


A little fiddle player.

We got a nice little orchestra
at the middle school.

She's homeschooled.

all you really need to know...

- Mm-hmm.
- Is to keep

a lot of booze stocked.


Uh, make sure the windows
are closed up tight...

In case a nor'easter rolls in.

Uh, don't go swimming
near the seals.

Not that you would...
The water's near freezing.

Oh, and don't try and imitate
a Boston accent.


All right.

- Thank you, Martha.
- Thank you.

Thank you.


- Bye-bye.
- Bye.

I'm gonna go find my room.

Are they all gonna be

so weird?

- Oh, god, I hope so.
- No.

I need all the inspiration
I can get.

I think I'll unload later

and I'll go hit the market
for supplies right now.

Mm, you mean the "mahket."

- Right, the "mahket."
- It's the "mahket."

Shh, she's listening.

Can't believe we're doing this.

I never thought
I'd get you out of the city.

I know.

I'm really proud of us.

This is the perfect place
for you

to work without distraction

and for me to get
some real experience.

I think it's gonna be fun.

Me too.

Like a babymoon.

- Mm.
- Okay.


Get the fuck out of here,

Out of this town!

They're gonna munch
on your balls!

All right, Karen.

That's enough crazy for one day.

Go outside and scream at a tree
or the bay or something.

- Jesus, Karen!
- Get out, okay?

You're not allowed
to die in here.

Go fuck yourself, motherfucker.

Get out of this town!

Get out!

Tell him, Mikey.

We call her tuberculosis Karen.

I don't think
she actually has tb,

just smokes, uh,
three packs a day.

She's a nutter,
but she's harmless.

Well, I'm from New York City.

It takes a lot nuttier
than that to faze me.

I'm Mikey.

- This is my place.
- Hi.

Harry gardener.

I know.

Mr. Hollywood.

My sister
is the browns' house manager.

- Oh.
- Just let me know

if you need me to order you
anything special,

uh, organic, uh, fruit or Kale

or, uh, oat milk.



you know I love your playing.

But can you help me out here?

I-I-I only have three months
to finish this project.

I thought music was supposed
to help open the creative mind.

I'm sure
you're right about that.

But see, the thing is,

when you play,

all I can think about
is how much I love you

and how proud I am of you.

And it demotivates me
from working,

because what more
do I have to prove

when I have you as my daughter?

And it's super annoying.

That too.

I need to be better.

I need to be perfect.

I want to play first chair
in the New York philharmonic

by the time I'm 18.

Oof, 18.

Ticktock, baby.

Ticktock, ticktock,


I thought everyone
loved the script.

Why would they buy it

if you had
to do so much to fix it?

All right, almandine.

Let's go out and explore

and let daddy
get some writing done.

Come on, baby.

Thank you.

We need to get daddy
noise-canceling headphones.

That's a good idea.

I wonder if the pilgrims
are buried here.

I wonder what killed them.

Maybe something cool and ancient

like dysentery or plague.

Or deer ticks.

There's lyme disease
all over this area.

Your friend rashida's mom,

she spends the summer
in the Hamptons.

She got it.

Now she can barely
make it to noon

before collapsing in exhaustion.

If you just...

Keep covered up,
you should be okay.

Do you like it here?

It's very beautiful.

You know me.
I love the energy of the city,

where there's always something

surprising you
around every corner,

whether it's a crazy man...

Yelling about god,

a drum circle,

or an old friend,

a neat window display.

It's good to get a break,

even from things you love.

Come on.

Come on.

Come on.
Come on.


Harry! Harry!


- What's happening?
- A man,

he's chasing us!
He's chasing us!

What's happening?



The sunroom, the sunroom,
the sunroom!

Harry, the door!

85% of the crime on the cape

is opioid-related.

Not much to do out here
in the winter

but complain and get high.

Most of it's harmless.

Break-ins, shoplifting.

Heard they had
a drive-by stabbing on a bike

a couple of summers ago,

but that was
a real freaky outlier.

Well, this didn't feel harmless.

He chased me and my daughter

like some kind of wild predator.

I'm really sorry he scared you.

My guess is, that was all
he was trying to do.

You know, I have read
that lyme disease

can cause some very strange
neurological symptoms.

I worked Oakland pd
for 15 years.

Quit last spring.
Took this job.

You know why?

It's boring.

Most of the problem children
are day laborers.

And the guys
who work the fishing boats

in the summer?

They spend too much
of their summer paychecks

and get stuck out here
all winter,

get hooked on pills.

They're weird

but usually too stoned
to cause any real problems.

I'll send some deputies
to sweep the dunes,

push the junkies
up cape a little.

What about the family
that was killed

over in truro last winter?

Five people in their own beds?

I googled "crime in Cape Cod"

and that was the first thing
that came up.

You didn't Google it
before we got here?

All I heard was how safe it is.

It is.

Between you and I,
we're pretty sure

the father was involved
with organized crime

down in Rhode Island.

So you haven't caught
whoever was responsible?


I know this
was really upsetting.

- Yeah.
- But you have my word,

you're safe here.

Do you want to go home?


No, this is...

It's too big
of an opportunity for me.

For both of us.


What happened?

She said the guy
who chased us was outside.

There's no one there.

- I saw him.
- There were three of them.

Sure it wasn't a nightmare,

I don't think so.

Okay, sweetheart.

You come sleep
with mommy tonight, okay?

Come on, bring Teddy.

Should I call the police chief?

Because she was
so helpful last time?

In the army, they shoot you

for falling asleep
on guard duty.

You want coffee?

Oh, yes, please.

And I think I'll go for a run.

Oh, my god.

Oh, my god. Jesus.

First dead guy you ever seen?

Yeah, I guess so.

What could have made
those wounds on those men?

My first guess

is a great white.

I thought great whites

migrated to warmer waters
in the winter.

Well, I'll know more
after the autopsy.

You okay?

Yeah, hey...

Let's go out tonight.

There's only one restaurant
open in town,

and I don't know
if it's any good, but...


I want to just...

Celebrate life.

Our life.

That sounds lovely.

It's a date.


Has she babysat before?

Did you call her references?

Alma, you met her.

She's the nice lady
who manages the house.

I don't think she normally
moonlights as a babysitter,

but she's...
She's doing us a favor.

Are you worried about
being here without us?


It's gonna be fine, okay?

We're right down the street.

Literally two minutes away.


Why don't you go
get the ingredients out

for your Mac and cheese?



- Ugh.
- You okay?

- I threw up.
- Mm.

- Is it the baby?
- Mm-mm.

No, I don't think so.

It's a little late
for morning sickness.


It's probably
just all the stress.

- Come on.
- It's okay.

- Heave ho!
- Ooh!

Okay, light as a feather.

- Okay, let's lay you down.
- Come on.

Come on, come on,
come on, come on.

- No, boo.
- Mm-hmm.

I'm afraid so.



I don't want to ruin our night.

You go.


- Have a drink.
- No.

Yes, you need some...

Stimulation for your writing.

I'm not leaving you here.

We're fine.

I'm fine.

Say, will you...

Will you bring me back a...

A steak

or a burger?

I'm craving red meat

all of a sudden.

What if those weirdos come back?


you'll be gone for an hour.


- You sure?
- Yes.


Okay, okay, okay, okay.

Okay, I'll be fast.


Buy me a drink?

- Uh, no, thank you.
- I'm...

I'm married.

To a... a woman.


So are all my regulars.

You strike me as a... angry top.

I'm clean.

But, uh, you do have to glove up

unless you're down
for some frottage.


It's French
for rubbing our dicks together.

- Okay.
- Excuse me, um,

I have a reservation for two
under gardener.

But my wife isn't feeling well,
so it's just gonna be me.

Or I can join you.

- Beat it, Mickey.
- All right.

- Right this way, sir.
- Thank you.


Call me.

Hi, honey.

How you feeling?

A bit better.

Alma passed out.
You having fun?

Not really without you.

Feels good to get out, though.
You were right.

Still want that burger?


No, I think I'm...
I'm about to pass out too.

Love you.

Sorry, I didn't order that.

They did.


I'm Harry gardener.

Uh, what did I do
to deserve this?

You have that look about you.

One that says I need a drink?

One that says you

need a positive review.

We're fellow travelers.

Warriors of words.
Soldiers of syntax.

Pugilists of prose.


Y-You could tell I was a writer

just by looking at me?

No, but...

Who the hell else moves
out here for three months?

I'm Austin summers,

better-than-average playwright.

Oh, stop being an asshole

and feigning humility.

You're as modest
as narcissus himself.

Austin has three Tonys
and a peabody.

My name is Sarah Cunningham.

But I write under the pseudonym

belle noir.

No shit. You're belle noir?

Don't tell me
you like romance novels.

Not usually,
but your stuff is way better

than the typical
dime store crap.

It is deep and moving.

That recent adaptation of, uh,

"my sister is an only child"
with Sandra bullock?

Oh, my god.

That was incredibly

Drink with us.

Oh, no, I...

I don't think I'm worthy.

I'm just a...
I'm a crap screenwriter

with a bunch of studio rewrites

and a bunch of busted pilots.


You're one of us. Sit.

All right.

I've been coming out here

to write for the winter
for a few years now.

Belle's spent, what,

a couple more than that?

This place, it just, uh...

Inspires us.

I think you guys would prefer
being here in the summer.

God, no.

With all those tourists
and sunshine?

The kind of vitamin d I like
doesn't come from the sun.

I arrive in November

with nothing
but a case of good Brandy

and some clothes and fur coats.

And by the time
may rolls around,

I've got a masterpiece
"New York times" best seller.

And I show up
with a stack of porno mags

and a casio keyboard,

and by the great spring thaw...


Guaranteed sloppy bj
from "the New York times."

I hate to leave.

It's so fun and creative here.

Don't you just love

an aperol spritz
in the wintertime?

It's breaking all the rules.

And I'm here for that.

Man, I could really use
some of the inspiration

you guys seem to have on tap.

I... I, uh...

I'm having some writer's block,

if I'm being totally honest.

Well, that won't last long.

Trust me.


I just want the gristle
and fat, bitch!

Scraps you're gonna throw
to the maggots anyway.

Do I need to be a maggot
to get your leftovers?

Good lord.

It's like a modern-day
"les mis" over there.

I told you not to come
in here anymore, Karen.

Uh, leave her alone.

The poor woman has consumption,
inspector javert.

Have pity.

I told you
to get out of this place!

You stay away from those two.

Stay away from all these
bloodsucking motherfuckers.

- Out.
- I'm warning you!

- Come on.
- I'm warning you!

Get off of me.

Mm, how terribly flawed
and human.


If that doesn't inspire
the muse to visit you,

I don't know what will.

You want me to stay the night?

It's only 40 bucks extra.


You're the one
that should pay me.

I've seen that shack
you boys live in.

I have heat

and the scent of rigaud candles.

then it's $50 for the fuck,

'cause I gotta get going.

I'll give you $200 for a taste.


You almost killed me last time.

You took it too far, belle.

It's the crystal meth you took.

It... it got me overexcited.

Come on, just...

I'll give you $300.


I suck you,
or you don't get shit!

How's that for a deal?


Just... just do it quick.

I can't.

I can't do it. Please.


I'm begging.

You have three hours.

I'll need you to come down

to give an official statement

Do we have to get a lawyer?

No, the man broke into
your house and attacked you.

Massachusetts isn't Texas,
but even here,

you're allowed to defend
yourself in your home.

No one's gonna miss some tweaker

who was looking to steal
a stereo to get high.

He didn't just want to steal.

He tried to...

What? He tried to what?

He tried to bite my throat out.

It felt like
that's what he came for.

Come by my office anytime
after 2:00 tomorrow.

I doubt you'll have
any more trouble tonight.

How's Alma?

She's upstairs.

Told her to stay there
no matter what.

She doesn't know what happened.

Good. Let's keep it that way.

Thank you.

For protecting us.

I'm gonna do more of it

We're leaving.

There are plenty of places

in Maine or nantucket

or the Hamptons
where I can write in peace

and there aren't

lunatic mimes with razor teeth
trying to kill us.


I don't know, you just...

You just forgot that
I was supposed to do a job

while we're here too.

No, I didn't forget.
I... I...

I assumed you wanted to leave.

I do.

No, I do. We should.

Come in, you sad, pathetic soul.

Oh, it's...

It's warm in here.

Where did you get it?


I'm going to hell for this.

Most people would sell
their soul for greatness.

I know I did.

But it takes a pretty miserable
piece of human garbage

to sell it just to get
up close to greatness.

I don't do this
to be close to you.

- Of course not.
- That would be too poetic.

You do it for this.

I do it

because you promised
to protect me from the others.

Whatever helps you
sleep at night, sweetheart.

Now hand over the bag.

Now scram!

I don't want to go
back to New York.

Honey, it's just till we can
find a rental some place else.

There's lots of places
like this.

Look up photos of nantucket.

It's beautiful.

I guess this house
is haunted now.

- Hello?
- Harry.

It's Austin summers.

I, uh...

Listen, I want you
to come over to my place

right away, would you?

I'm just up Miller hill.


wow, Austin, thank you.

I'd love to, but, um,

now's not a good time.

We're... we're leaving, actually.

Well, don't do that.

I need to see you.

I have something for you
that is gonna cure

your writer's block.

I'll be right over.

Sure you don't want one?

No, thanks.

I don't like to get drunk
during the day.

Well, the key
is to be drunk so often,

you can't tell the difference
between being drunk and sober.

You're just drunk or...

More drunk.

I need to drive. We're... we're
headed out this afternoon.

What do you wear when you write?

See, I prefer pajamas.

I bought these
at charvet in Paris.

They cost a fortune.

But I read somewhere
that people enjoy things more

if you pay a lot for them,

So that's your secret
to curing writer's block?

Expensive pajamas?

Of course not.

I was just making conversation
to put myself at ease.

But if you wanna just
stick it in

without taking the time
to lube me up,


That's fine.

What are these?

They don't have a name.

Funny how we found a pill
to help artists and writers

but none of us have ever
given it a name.

What is it, speed?

Microdose of LSD?

I tried writing
on psilocybin once,

but it was all shit.

I used to be like you.

I thought small.
I wrote small.

Little plays about little things

and made little money
and attracted little attention.

I had a friend, though.

He writes for television.

You'd know the name.

Disgustingly prolific.
Silly rich.

Couldn't write a thank-you note
without someone

handing him
a trophy of some kind.

And I thought to myself,
"how is he doing it?"

And all I knew is that
he spent his winters here

and when he returned
to the city,

he had a stack of new material
as long as my Johnson.

He invited me out here
one winter,

and when I arrived,
he handed me one of those...

And within an hour,

I was banging away
at the keyboard

like amadeus at his harpsichord.

You're fucking with me.

If I was fucking with you,

I would have told you
to take them rectally.

But I'm telling you,
those pills are it.

How do you think belle
writes two books a year?

- Who made them?
- What's in them?

- Who cares?
- They work.

What about side effects?


Like, uh, suddenly having

to deal with millions
of adoring fans

and finding ways to spend
all that new money.

There's a catch.

There's always a catch.

You could have been
a fucking English teacher

or an adman

or help run your daddy's
sporting goods store.

My father was a lawyer.

Yes, but you chose
to be a writer.

Because you don't really
live in this world.

You observe it.

You interpret it.
You feed off of it.

And then you sit
and you put words together

so that the poor suckers
who do live in the world

can see what they look like,

who they are, why they hurt.

And you chose it
because you want love

and attention

and barrels of money.

It's fucking insane.

But those are the only things

that can fill that hole

in your soul.


in your soul.

Hole in your soul.

Hole in your soul!

Hole in your soul.

I don't like choices
you can't come back from.

Are you a real writer?

I like to think so.

I don't think you are.

'Cause if you were...

You wouldn't care
what the price was

for getting uncorked.

You'd rather die

than keep all of those
wonderful words

bottled up inside of you.

Take the pill, Harry.

Or at least try it.


You won't be sorry!

Hi, Ursula.

Hey, Harry.

How's p-town?
Are you having any "chowdah"

while you're "pahking"?

You know, to be honest,
it's been kind of weird here.

We're about to leave, actually.

- Wait, what? Why?
- Where you gonna go?

Back to the city till I can

find some place else
for me to go write.

Okay, uh, Harry?

No fucking way.

You need to stay there

and finish your pilot,
like, yesterday.

I know, I'm just...

I'm really not feeling it yet.

Okay, Harry, I'm gonna
speak straight to you.

Fuck you really hard
right up the ass.

Not feeling it?

Rappers are allowed
to not feel it.

Uh, girlfriends
commenting on clothes

their friends are trying on
are allowed to not feel it.

You are a professional writer,

and you feel it
when the work bell rings,

every time.

What's the difference
if the pilot's done now

or six months from now?

Okay, Harry, I'm gonna
speak even straighter to you.

Do you understand
that the job you used to have

does not exist anymore?

I mean, co-ep on some
network procedural?

Those shows are dinosaurs.

If you want to continue being
a professional writer,

you've gotta create
your own thing.

Now. Today.

Look buddy,
you know I love you, okay?

But if you screw this up,

it's gonna take you
years to recover

if you ever even do.

Goodbye. Go write.