The Possessed (1965) - full transcript

Is that you?

- Yes, it's me.

Where are you?

I'm waiting for you.

It's no use.

What do we have to

say to each other?

Let me at least see you

once before you go.

What good would that be?

I don't know.

I've thought a lot, Bernard.

We can't leave it like this.

Please come over.

No.

- But, why not?

It's better this way, believe me.

I don't want to come back to you again,

like some sick person.

Why do you keep saying that?

Yes, that's right,

like a sick person.

Perhaps I do love you,

I would like to, but I just can't.

I already told you, I don't feel anything,

not for you, not for me, not for anyone.

I feel empty inside,

finished.

Please, Claudia, forgive me.

Listen to me, Bernard.

I love you, you know?

I won't forget you.

I had left only emptiness behind me.

I was sick, desperate.

Passing by the lake,

I began to feel better.

I told myself

everything was normal,

I was going on vacation.

In reality, I was running

straight towards disaster.

- Mr. Bernard! How are you?

Did you have a good trip?

We were expecting you tomorrow,

but you're in luck, it's the off-season.

The hotel is almost

entirely yours.

the nicest room in the hotel,

The hotel is almost

entirely yours.

the nicest room in the hotel,

the centre room

facing the plaza.

I'd prefer the room from last year,

if possible.

What a shame.

But if you prefer…

That was Room 29,

if I'm not wrong.

I don't recall. It was at the end

of the hall, facing the patio.

You must be tired.

I see they're remodelling

the façade.

That's a shame, the hotel

will lose its character.

Unfortunately, we've

painted the walls, nothing else.

This hotel is old,

it needs a good restoration.

But if I were to follow your advice,

my dear Mr. Bernard,

I assure you I would be ruined.

You are a client…

How shall I put it? Somewhat special.

The rest want modern things,

everything plastic,

Sooner or later,

I'll have to redo everything.

Well, here you are.

If you have to work to do,

you'll be more comfortable here.

The slaughterhouse is run

by my son Mario now.

He was married two weeks ago,

he's still on his honeymoon.

- Congratulations.

- They'll be back any day now.

What can I say?

I had to set him up with

a butcher shop to be rid of him.

Plus, we needed another

woman around the house.

My daughter Irma has

her hands full running the hotel.

And there's no one

to do the paperwork.

If I were younger,

I would've remarried myself.

But at my age,

women are a closed chapter.

At fifty, you're just now

entering into maturity.

Perhaps it's the air around here.

Well, if you say so…

Ah. If you need the maid,

the bell is just there.

I had told myself the trip

was out of loneliness.

But seeing those photos

I knew I'd been fooling myself.

Hadn't I really come,

just because of her?

She was a maid at the hotel,

her name was Tilde.

Did you need something?

Mineral water, please.

Anything else?

I'd like to know…

…No, bring a large bottle,

I'm thirsty.

Seeing that coat was a relief.

Tilde still worked here,

in the hotel.

Welcome back, Mr. Bernard.

Were you looking for something?

Yes, I'm looking for the stairs.

I can't find them,

all these hallways look the same,

this is a real labyrinth.

The layout is a bit strange

but you'll soon find your way around.

If you like I'll show you the way.

- And how are you doing?

- Quite well.

Thank the Lord

there's no shortage of work

and no chance of boredom.

At least, not for me.

Will you be with us long?

Twenty or thirty days.

To finish some work and relax.

You'll see, once out of the city,

you'll be back in form in no time.

Look, there's the staircase.

See you later.

Far from the city

and all my secret doubts,

I felt alive again.

The hope of seeing her,

and the peacefulness of this place

gave me a playful, relaxed feeling

which I thought I

had lost forever.

What can I say,

Mr. Bernard.

My job is deadly dull

a small-town

newspaperman

always editing stories

of no interest.

Once in a while,

some tragedy occurs…

the lake is treacherous, you know.

And what happens?

Maybe some suicide, perhaps

but then there's nothing to do

but keep quiet

when faced with the mystery

of human nature.

Did you know this town has a very

interesting history that few know?

The lake hides the ruins of a town.

Yes, I know, doctor -

I used to see it from my boat as a boy.

I didn't know.

I thought you had arrived

here only a short while ago.

I came here many summers ago

from the age of ten

until I was seventeen.

I visited with my mother,

my aunt and my cousins.

I don't recall the lake ever

appearing in your books.

No, I've never written

anything autobiographical.

It's difficult to look inside

oneself honestly.

How is it that you're

here out of season?

That's exactly why I'm here.

My memories here are

the subject of my new book.

Though one never writes

the book one wants.

What do you want?

Francesco,

don't you recognise me?

- What a surprise, how are you?

- Well.

- When did you get here?

- Just today.

- Staying at the lake hotel?

- And you're here to work.

Congratulations on

the Paris award.

You must be pleased.

It was a great success.

And what do you think of my book?

Have you read it?

Of course I've read it.

It's very interesting.

But frankly,

I wasn't totally convinced.

It seemed to me

you were afraid of

not finding an answer for everything.

You're right there.

But the critics said just the opposite.

I'd love to discuss it with you.

Not much I could tell you.

You know? I've always had

a strange mistrust of lakes.

But this one has always fascinated me.

You recognize him?

It's Mario,

the son of the hotel owner.

His wife is very pretty.

A foreigner.

A lonely and very rich woman.

I waited all day to see Tilde.

I was sure she was

going to appear.

But why had that woman

I followed been wearing her coat?

There's all kinds,

Mr. Bernard.

They'll say anything.

If you need anything,

anything at all…

Perhaps a special dish,

a certain wine…

That pretty girl that was here last year,

doesn't she work here anymore?

Tilde is dead.

She committed suicide with poison.

One morning last December.

But, why?

We never knew.

She was like a daughter to us.

Dad, we have clients.

I thought you'd like

to have a coffee.

Would you like anything else?

I didn't want to leave,

but the news tortured me.

My peace was gone.

Tilde no longer existed,

she had killed herself.

I couldn't believe it.

But why?

For what reason?

Who had Tilde been?

The memory of that Sunday

last winter obsessed me all night.

Damn you.

Swine.

I'll see you all in jail.

Damn you all.

Up so early?

Why didn't you tell me

that Tilde had died?

You didn't ask me about her.

Anyway, I thought you knew.

It was in all the papers.

Why did you hide it from me?

Mr. Bernard,

You wouldn't understand.

You don't know the rumours that flew

around about that girl's death.

I prefer to focus

on my display cases

and my photographs.

What rumours?

Well for one thing,

the way she died.

She committed suicide with poison.

Not just poison.

What do you mean?

Everyone knows about it.

They found poison in

her mouth and stomach.

But her death was caused

by a knife cut

that slit her throat.

That is, a somewhat strange suicide,

don't you think?

It was horrible.

Any why didn't Mr. Enrico

say anything to me?

What did he tell you then

about her death?

Yesterday afternoon

I asked him about Tilde, I wanted to give

her some photos from last year.

I didn't know anything.

But why would she kill herself?

No one knows the truth

that lies hidden

behind that death.

Except Tilde.

And perhaps someone else.

Come with me.

Don't tell anyone what

I am about to show you.

And anyway it's no proof

that would stand up in court.

Come closer.

Look.

This is a photo that

Tilde took with some friends.

She brought it to be developed

a few days before her death.

She's the one in the middle?

Yes, that's her.

Notice anything?

Yes, of course.

The outline of her stomach isn't normal.

Even if she were leaning back.

You're right.

She seems pregnant.

Several months pregnant.

Anyone could see that.

Perhaps it only appears that way.

Tilde wouldn't have killed

herself over such a thing.

Actually, I never said

she killed herself.

Are you saying that someone

may have killed her?

I'm not the only one in town

who thinks that way.

Though no one dares say a word.

Mr. Enrico is very powerful,

and very dangerous.

So, you think it was him.

I didn't say that.

But the knife was his.

It all fits nicely

if you believe Mr. Enrico

was her lover.

Something I suspected

even while she was alive.

All told, quite an ugly tale.

But the police…

…there would've been

an investigation.

Naturally, they investigated.

But it was found that

there was nothing mysterious.

A banal suicide, it was said.

A woman's crisis.

The autopsy even found

that Tilde

was still a virgin.

Money talks, my dear Mr. Bernard.

Tilde was no virgin.

You say that because

you just saw the photo?

Well then, how can

you be so sure?

I know.

One Sunday last year,

I followed her to the hotel

and saw her making love to someone

through the blinds.

Who was the man?

I couldn't see his face for sure.

But it couldn't have

been Mr. Enrico.

In fact, I'm sure it was not him.

What was he like?

I only saw his hands, his back.

He seemed strong, young,

he wouldn't have been

more than thirty, thirty-five years old.

Perhaps it was just her boyfriend.

Perhaps that's why they killed her.

She had no relatives?

Just the father.

An alcoholic who

raised her in misery.

He lives in the mountains now,

like a vagabond.

When he comes to town

it's to get drunk

or make a scene

in front of the hotel.

Like last night.

Find him, take me to him.

I want to discover

everything about Tilde.

You've come back for her?

Just for her.

Is there a problem?

The gentleman says this isn't fresh.

I don't like how it smells,

take it away.

That can't be, it was caught in the lake

just this morning.

Let me order you something else,

would you like steak?

No thanks,

I'm not hungry.

I'm sorry, very sorry indeed.

His ambiguous figure,

his sensuality, disgusted me.

Tilde couldn't have been his lover.

I couldn't believe it.

My apologies for before.

These things are important to the hotel

and to me personally.

Not all service providers are honest.

It's nothing.

I should apologise.

I don't feel well,

I'm not hungry.

Must be the change of air

or the altitude,

it's quite notable here.

Happens sometimes.

Do you need anything in your room?

Tilde had a boyfriend?

I don't know.

Why do you ask?

She was very pretty.

Very pretty.

Those words,

the emotion with which

he said them,

seemed to bear out the hunchback.

But I couldn't accept that possibility.

I was afraid.

So who was Tilde then?

What was she really like?

Her memory haunted me.

You're sleeping.

But I…

I can't sleep.

Our pride, all our hopes, dashed.

I can't take it anymore.

I'm frightening even myself.

My father didn't kill Tilde,

it wasn't him.

There's something…

Something very powerful

hanging over me

and all my family.

Something that

drags us toward disaster,

all of us.

You have seen it.

We have no more guests.

Everyone avoids us in this damn town

that we built up from nothing.

You already know why.

Our family name

has been dishonoured.

It was me.

I found her.

Help us please.

Our name, disgraced…

Our name, you understand?

I wanted to see

where she was buried,

as if that would help

explain her death.

I felt empty, lost.

But when I saw the photo

A suspicion came over me,

dark and violent.

I saw her and at first

didn't recognise her.

But then I did.

It was her, Adriana,

Mario's wife.

- Mr. Bernard, you have mail.

So tell me,

Are you happy with your stay so far?

How's the work going?

Come tomorrow morning.

I've found something.

And a writer like you should enjoy

some fishing at the lake. Francesco.

What did you say?

If you work is going well.

Yes, very well.

I'm so glad to hear it.

She's doing better.

Adriana, my son's wife,

she's not well.

The typical newly-wed crisis.

What can you expect, she's foreign,

and has to get accustomed.

Your key.

Can I send anything up to your room?

You mind telling me

what we're waiting for?

You'll see soon enough,

and you'll thank me.

There, look.

You asked me to come

out here just for this?

You can't tell me

that's normal.

Let's go back, these mysteries are

a product of your sick imagination.

Are you sure of that?

You think I talk like this

cause I'm some poor fool?

Don't kid yourself, we are all

hunchbacks of one sort or another.

And Tilde's death,

is that just one of my fantasies?

Maybe she committed suicide for reasons

of her own that we'll never know.

More likely you're afraid

to see her as she really was.

I've had enough entertainment

from your theories.

To the point of almost

losing touch with reality.

But you know what, just leave me alone.

Got that? Let's go back.

You're more of a coward

than I took you for.

You blame me for your own impotence

and hard-heartedness.

But relax, this situation is

more and more pointless.

Absurd and unnecessary.

Come tomorrow morning.

I've found something.

And a writer like you should enjoy

some fishing at the lake. Francesco.

I made up that note

about the fishing

so they wouldn't be suspicious

about us meeting like this.

It's best to be cautious.

Bad for us if they knew

where I was taking you.

This investigation is losing its point

for me.

Maybe you threw me off the track

with that photo of Tilde.

You can't blame me for

a truth this complicated.

I'm only here

at your insistence.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that.

I'm just saying I didn't

make up Tilde's death.

Or Mario's wife's midnight walks,

or that she never comes out

during the day.

Have you seen her too?

Not personally,

but the whole town

talks about it.

Incredible that Mario stands

something like that.

It just invites gossip.

Proof that his marriage is a failure.

He's a strange one.

I've never been able to get close to him.

Not last year either.

He's a violent man.

The townspeople are afraid of him.

Come on, we're almost there.

Here we are.

Tilde's father lives there.

Not a happy place.

I warn you he won't

be happy to see us.

Watch out.

You recognize him?

It's Mario.

He's drunk.

Saverio, It's me, Francesco.

This gentlemen would like to

ask you about your daughter.

He was a friend of hers.

You understand?

And what can I tell you?

I don't know anything.

Tilde was a good person,

now she's gone.

Who was it? Do you know?

Why won't you speak?

They've come to see you.

Did they threaten you?

Do the hotel people visit a lot?

Don't be afraid.

Tell this gentleman what you know.

Who are you?

What do you want from me?

I don't know anything.

You see?

It's useless.

He's afraid.

We won't get anything more out of him.

Maybe they've bought him off, too.

Let's get out of here.

Here's some water.

I'll do it.

- Something hot.

- That smells good.

There you go.

Eat slowly.

Eat, Adriana.

Go on, eat something.

Just look at Mario,

he finishes his plate, see?

- The papers have arrived.

She's still a bit pale,

but doing much better.

It's the first time she's been

able to come down and eat.

It really hasn't been

a very fortunate marriage.

She's not very healthy.

She should've told my son

before they were married.

Don't you think?

Well, and how are you?

Have you gotten used to the climate,

do you feel better?

I still feel rather strange,

I must have a bit of a fever.

Probably got a cold this

morning in the mountains.

In this weather,

you have to be careful.

Shall I send a thermometer

up to your room?

That night I waited for her

a long time.

She would come,

as she always did

and we would finally speak.

What was she trying

to tell me with that note?

What secret confidence

did she want from me?

The cold and my fever

made the wait unbearable.

As always

everything seemed normal

on the surface.

But why had Adriana run away?

Why didn't she want

to speak to me?

I felt sick.

Just a strong case of the flu.

You'll be fine

in a few days.

Here's your prescription.

The important thing

is to take it easy.

I'll speak with Irma

about the menu.

How many days

was I sick in bed?

I lost all track of time.

Irma's sad presence was my only link

to the world outside my room.

How do you feel?

Who is it? You could have

knocked. What do you want?

Our apologies,

but it is necessary.

Can you get up?

The truth is…

I don't know how I can

be of help, I'm not well.

Yes, however, this is something

very serious unfortunately.

And your presence

could be decisive.

Won't you tell me

what this is all about?

I'm sorry,

regulations forbid it.

I will wait for you in the hall.

Take your time getting dressed.

Do you recognise her?

It's Mario's wife.

We pulled her out of

the lake this morning.

Please follow me.

We need your statement.

Our apologies, Mr. Bernard.

I know you're not feeling well,

but this is only a formality,

although a somewhat unpleasant one.

Please, have a seat.

The fact is,

witnesses claim to have

seen the poor lady

walking at night

along the lake shore.

And two of them

claim that you can

confirm this too.

It was a young couple

that often meet

in an out-of-the-way place

late in the afternoon.

Tell me, Mr. Bernard,

do you recall ever

having seen her?

Yes, I remember.

Will you tell me how,

and under what circumstances?

A few days ago.

Two or three times,

I don't recall.

I am not used to

going to bed early.

I saw her walking alone

along the lake, that's all.

Her presence there,

at that strange hour

always surprised me.

Did you speak to her?

Did you notice anything

else… strange

about her behaviour?

Truth is, her behaviour always

seemed a bit strange to me.

How would you say?

Absent.

Because she seemed to be

simply out walking,

never waiting for anyone.

But I'm just guessing.

Did you ever think

she could be a sleepwalker?

No, I never thought that.

I've never seen a case like that.

But would you exclude the possibility?

I wouldn't exclude it,

though it seems to me

a somewhat

unwarranted supposition.

But perhaps

it could've been.

I hope I won't have

to bother you again.

There is something.

What do you mean?

Do you feel sick?

Would you like us to

escort you to the hotel?

No, no, thank you,

it's nothing.

I just need to

take some fresh air.

If you need me

you know where to find me.

Why hadn't I mentioned the note?

I didn't feel a thing anymore.

It all seemed futile.

I just wanted out

of this absurd story.

But this tragedy

was as much a mystery

as Tilde's had been.

And I had the strong feeling

that something dark and terrible

was still sweeping over

that family.

Something that wasn't

yet finished.

That white coat, impeccable,

seemed to bear witness

to something sinister.

Why, on the night of her death

hadn't Adriana worn it as usual?

Why?

Your fault.

It's your fault.

Why had he left

Adriana's funeral?

Why had he, in desperation

gone to Tilde's room?

What dark truth

linked the two deaths?

An idea plagued me.

Perhaps Tilde hadn't been

as I had imagined her.

But you…

You're pregnant?

It was either you or your son,

and now one of you

will have to marry me, decide who.

Because I'm staying here.

And as the lady of the house.

As you promised.

I could ruin you both

and you know it.

Go ahead and call me

a whore if you like.

Connect me with the

photo studio, please, quickly.

- Yes, who is it?

- It's me, Bernard.

- I heard you've been ill.

- I'm better, thank you.

I have something

important to tell you.

Where are you calling from?

From the hotel.

I have to talk to you now.

I'm sorry, but today

is impossible for me.

I have a lot of work, I don't

think I can get away, I'm sorry.

I've discovered new things,

some new clues.

Do you have real proof?

Unfortunately, no.

But I must see you right away.

Listen, Mr. Bernard.

I don't want to be mixed up

in this any longer.

I don't want to know

about such an ugly affair.

I have to live in this town.

You write about these things,

they make you money.

And I've made enough

mistakes already.

I don't want to know any more.

I have to go now.

I'm late already.

But have they threatened you?

Can I help you?

I knocked on your door

to see if you needed anything.

I was speaking with

the photographer.

I gave him some negatives,

I have to pick them up.

It's windy and quite cold out.

You shouldn't go out,

if you like I'll handle it.

Thanks, but I feel better.

I have to speak with you.

Please, don't go out.

How are you feeling?

Better, Irma.

Good, I'm very glad.

You should eat something.

Turn on the stove,

I'll be there in a moment.

Don't trouble yourself,

I have to go out.

Our apologies if…

If we haven't attended you well.

Unfortunately

this new tragedy

has caused our other guests to leave.

I've had to dismiss the staff.

Now

I have to see to my father.

He doesn't seem himself.

All this gossip will

be the death of him.

They've said so many things

about my family.

People always kick you

when you're down, Irma.

It's as if fate itself

has been tormenting us.

I have to take my father

far away from here

and close the hotel

for several months.

I wanted to ask you

if you feel better.

That is, I wanted to ask you

if you could check out now.

Fine.

Prepare my bill.

And take that raincoat,

it's cold outside.

I need to speak with you

urgently before you go.

I'll wait for you at eleven

in the slaughterhouse. Mario.

What could have compelled

Mario to write that?

Why did he want to talk to me?

A thousand doubts plagued me.

Thank you, Mr. Bernard.

I knew you'd come.

Close the door, please.

No one should know

that we're here.

You didn't want to listen to me

this afternoon,

when I asked you to stay.

I would have told you everything.

And perhaps you

could have helped me.

Like my father, I can't stand

this secret any longer.

You see,

I didn't want Tilde to die.

My father ordered me to marry her

because she was pregnant.

But I said no.

I couldn't have gone on

sharing her with him

once she was my wife.

But Tilde was blackmailing us.

It was her, she was

the one who wanted it.

I didn't want my wife's death either.

One night

in a moment of grief,

I felt the need to confide in her.

I wanted to talk,

confess it all…

I tried with you as well.

But I didn't want her death.

It was her.

What's wrong?

What's happened?

No one will betray me again.

It's me.

our family name to be dirtied.

Let me go.

I have to die.

- Calm down!

- The white coat!

That afternoon, with her coat on,

You were following me.

Not her.

She wanted to talk,

but she won't now.

My brother

had to kill her.

Let me go.

I loved them.

Now's it's all over.

Our name has been spared.

It's all over,

all over.

your statement.

All this is

just a formality,

since there won't be a trial.

Won't you find her?

Not alive.

And perhaps,

not dead, either.

In the spot

where Irma fell,

the lake is very deep

and the bottom is covered

with thick vegetation.

We've only found her coat.

But the divers are still looking.

So maybe…

With no trial,

we'll arrive at

a purely hypothetical conclusion.

Thanks also to your intuition.

Of no use,

unfortunately.

Your testimony serves

at least to satisfy

the journalists' curiosity

and the public's.

But don't let me keep you any longer,

I know you're anxious to go.

It was all so

incomprehensible.

That cold winter morning,

as I left the hotel,

and all those places

filled with memories

everything around me seemed

strange, inaccessible,

farther away.

Even more than I.