Fantasy Island (1977–1984): Season 3, Episode 17 - PlayGirl/Smith's Valhalla - full transcript

(BELL TOLLING)

The plane! The plane!

Smiles, everyone. Smiles.

(PLAYING POLYNESIAN MUSIC)

TATTOO: Boss, I recognize her.

She's the centerfold Chick of
the Year of Rooster magazine.

I see you know the publication.

Sure. I buy the magazine all
the time. Uh, to read the articles.

If you had read at least the
captions under some of the pictures,

you would know that the
young lady is Miss Erica Clark,

and that she's just retired from
her career as a centerfold model.



Which is what makes
her fantasy so intriguing.

Boss, she don't need a
fantasy. She is a fantasy.

To men, yes, she
was precisely that.

A sex object to be pursued
and possessed for her beauty.

Regardless of who or what
she was as a human being.

That is why she now wants
to reverse the procedure.

Reverse the procedure?

Yes. Miss Clark's fantasy is to be able
to treat men as sex objects for a change.

Boss, every man would line
up for her, for that fantasy.

No. Even on Fantasy Island,

sexual attraction is a mysterious
and unpredictable commodity.

Fulfilling her fantasy may be far
more difficult than it sounds, my friend.

That's Mr. Jason Smith,
a rancher from Oregon.

TATTOO: What's his fantasy?



Mr. Smith has always
romanticized being a war hero.

He wishes to lead a valiant group
of men on a daring commando raid.

Boss, we are not going to
start a war for him, are we?

No, Tattoo, I think we
can manage without that.

But, um, his fantasy does
pose certain tactical problems.

I know what you
mean. Like getting killed.

There is always that
danger, of course.

But there is also the
risk of disillusionment.

You mean his fantasy
won't turn out like he wishes?

There is that distinct
possibility, my friend, yes.

And now, my dear guests, I am Mr. Roarke,
your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island.

Ah, Miss Clark.

Oh, Mr. Roarke, have a seat.

Thank you.

Well, I must admit you've
aroused my curiosity.

Why did you ask me to meet you here
before the beginning of your fantasy?

Because I'd like for you to understand
why I asked for my fantasy, Mr. Roarke,

and why I need it so badly.

Oh?

Please watch.

(MAN WHISTLING)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

Hey!

Hey, babe, you remember me.

No.

Sure you do. Big Earl Sanderson.

I introduced myself at the, uh,
Rooster mag's big business bash.

I'm still a little angry at you for not
going to Acapulco with me, though.

I don't work for Rooster magazine
anymore, Mr. Sanderson. Goodbye.

(LAUGHING) Oh,
you've gotta be kidding.

I'm not gonna let
you out of my sight.

I'm gonna have a little private party
for the guys in my tire distributorship,

and I want you to stop by and uh, hit
a few poses, you know what I mean?

Obviously, you weren't
paying attention, Mr. Sanderson.

Miss Clark is no longer
in that line of work.

Big Earl pays big
bucks, sweetheart.

Think it over.

Well, if that gentleman is typical of the
admirers you attracted as a centerfold,

your modeling career must
have been quite an ordeal, huh?

Mr. Roarke, working for Rooster
Magazine paid for my college education,

and most of what
you call my admirers

are just plain ordinary guys
that like to look at pretty girls.

Actually, it's kind
of flattering, but...

But gentlemen like
Mr. Sanderson are another matter.

They assume you
are a stereotype.

Beautiful but dumb,
cheap and available.

An impression they perhaps
got from your centerfolds, huh?

Yes. Yes.

And I've made a
promise to myself

that I'm never going to do
this kind of work again, ever.

But I'm beginning to feel a little
bit ashamed of myself, Mr. Roarke.

Am I being wrong or
mean to want this fantasy?

I try not to make moralistic
judgments of my clients' desires.

But I imagine your fantasy
is harbored by many ladies.

Only you can determine
if it's right or wrong.

Then we can get
started right away?

Of course.

Since you are going to become what
some would call a female chauvinist,

you will need some of the weapons
employed by successful male chauvinists.

Money and an
expensive automobile.

ERICA: Oh, fabulous.

I have also made a reservation
for you at a very special club

on the other side of the island.

If you hurry, you can still
make the matinee performance.

Good luck and, uh, I hope your
fantasy doesn't prove unsatisfactory.

Oh, don't worry, Mr. Roarke, I
expect to love every minute of this.

Every little minute.

ROARKE: Oh, I'm sorry to
have kept you waiting, Mr. Smith.

Oh, no problem, Mr. Roarke.

Please have a seat, won't you? May
we offer you something to drink? Tattoo...

Look, I... Thank you, but I'm...

I'm very anxious to
get this thing moving.

Mr. Roarke, Fantasy
Island is my last hope

of becoming the kind of
soldier I always wanted to be.

And yet you served in the
United States Marine Corps?

Oh, yeah. One full hitch.

Did you make it to
the shores of Tripoli?

Make that Korea, Tattoo, but just
after they signed the peace treaty.

I, uh... I never saw combat.

I see. Please, do sit
down, won't you, Mr. Smith?

I understand you are
a married man, huh?

Yeah.

Does your wife approve
of this little adventure?

Well, she doesn't like it, but
she knows that I have to do it.

Look, I'm...

I'm like an actor

who prepared for an
opening night that never came.

I've gotta taste what
it's like to be under fire.

I have to find out whether I can
cut it. Can you understand that?

Once, just once,

I want to feel what it's like to
be responsible for a mission,

responsible for its success.

Or its failure.

(PHONE RINGING)

Excuse me.

Yes?

Are there any hostages aboard?

Yes.

Yes, yes, of course.
Keep me informed.

I have just permitted
a hijacked aircraft

to land at a remote landing strip
on the other side of the island.

Well, Mr. Smith,
you wanted a fantasy

involving combat against a
dangerous and determined enemy

for very high stakes.

I hope saving eight innocent
lives fits that purpose,

because your
fantasy has just begun.

Come on! Move it! Come on!

(HOSTAGES CHATTERING)

TERRORIST: Kick it in!

Come on, lady, move! Let's go!

Come on! Move it!

(BOOGIE WONDERLAND PLAYING)

(WOMEN CHEERING)

Shake it, shake it, shake it.

(WHOOPING)

Hello. Welcome to
the Jack Rabbit Club.

I'm Jackie Flynn, the owner.
Have you a reservation?

Oh, I think Mr. Roarke
made one for me.

Oh, yes. Erica Clark.

Well, have I got
a table for you.

Right this way, my dear.

Best spot in the house.

That's it, baby! Whoo!
Show those muscles! Yeah!

All right!

Hi. I'm Marlene McQueen.
This your first time at the club?

Uh-huh. I'm Erica Clark. How
did you know this was new to me?

'Cause I've seen you sitting there
trying to look ladylike, you know.

Only you don't have
to worry about that here,

because here, we're number one.

Us. The women. You know?

Hey, baby, show me something!

(GIGGLING)

It's kind of a
reversal of roles.

Mmm-hmm.

You know it. Back home, I'm a
bartender in one of these hardhat bars.

And let me tell you
something, under every

hard hat is a hard head
full of crude remarks.

And turning the tables
like this is heaven.

(WHOOPS) Higher, baby!
You won't break nothing!

(WHISTLES)

How am I doing?

That was great!

Thank you.

ROARKE: This
is the basic layout.

As you can see, extreme
caution must be used.

There is no safe
approach to the area.

Uh, this man that you sent for,
Bouvier? What's his background?

Mr. Emile Bouvier has enviable
credentials for your purpose.

Indeed, he is the kind of man a
great many men would like to be.

Adventurer, French
Foreign Legion,

commando, spy,
agent provocateur.

All his adult life, a
soldier of fortune.

In other words, a mercenary.

Yes. And a very successful one,

who, since World War II, has
fought under many flags and banners.

Boss, if you need a volunteer
for your raid, count on me.

Thank you, Tattoo, but...

Uh, if it's not too
great an imposition,

you might make certain that our
lady guests are having a good time.

Oh, I'll do my best, boss.
Um, good luck, gentlemen.

Mr. Bouvier, this
is Mr. Jason Smith,

the man who will be in
charge of the operation.

Mr. Smith will fill
you in on the details.

Mr. Smith, uh, in order
to fulfill your mission,

you'll need a small but
expert team of trained men.

SMITH: Tanner.

Captain Buck Tanner, one of the
biggest heroes we had in Korea.

Demolition expert.

He now runs a salvage operation
on the other side of the island.

Who's this one?

ROARKE: Mr. Harry
Forbes, Army Intelligence,

CIA, specialist in
surveillance techniques.

I know him. A dirty little
man for dirty little jobs.

They call him Weasel.

Do we need him?

He and Tanner are all we got.

Right, Roarke?

I made arrangements
for you to meet Mr. Forbes

and Mr. Tanner
at the salvage yard.

Mr. Bouvier will supply you with
whatever equipment you may need.

Let's get to it.

C'est la guerre.

(DISCO MUSIC PLAYING)

(WOMEN CHEERING)

MARLENE: Yeah, baby!

(WHOOPS)

Okay, honey, come on!
Teach me how to boogie!

(WOMEN CHEERING)

Adorable!

Hello, ladies! Are you
having a good time?

ALL: Yeah!

Well, there's more of
the same, only better.

You know, here,
the lady is king!

ALL: Yeah.

So come on, ladies,
order up some more drinks

because we're gonna start
the next show! Here we go!

(EXCLAIMS)

(POLICE SIREN BLARING)

(WOMEN CHEERING)

Oh, my gosh! Oh!

MARLENE: You're adorable!

That's it, honey!

Oh!

Give it to me! Whoo! All right!

(EXCLAIMS)

What would you ladies like?

Oh! You, baby.
I'll treat you right.

Thank you, but that's for the
dancers. I just serve drinks here.

What'll you have?

Oh, come on, honey
bunch, don't play hard to get.

Look, we want you to
have a good time here,

but take it easy, all right?

I'll get it for you. Thank you.

The show is just starting, so
enjoy yourself, and, uh, don't touch.

Don't you think you
ought to take it easy?

Look, sweetie, don't give me that.
I think you're cute. And I want you.

Well, sweetie,
it's not for sale.

I think your friend
needs some fresh air.

Yeah, a straight
jacket would be better.

Oh, may I have another
screwdriver, please?

Okay. I'll be right back.

Hey! It is not okay with me.

Come on, Marlene,
don't start a scene.

I can do anything I want!

I didn't come in
here to get a turnoff.

Marlene, sit down!

What happened?

All right, everybody, now
calm down! Relax! Take it easy!

Drinks on the house!

Now, the area's wide open.

As you can see, there's
not too much cover.

We'll probably be outnumbered.

The only way any of us
are gonna get in there close

is to create a
diversionary tactic.

Captain Tanner, that's
where you come in.

Everything depends on your
blowing this fuel storage dump

to cover the action.

(STAMMERING) Yeah,
okay, okay. I just want to know

how many terrorists
are there gonna be?

Well, that's what
Forbes is gonna tell us.

As soon as we get
close enough to the site,

he and I will go in
to take a close look,

get a head count, find out
exactly what we're up against.

Mr. Forbes, you with us?

Oh, yeah. Sure.

All right, getting
back to the raid

why not take a couple of armored cars and
go in there and blast them out of there?

Mr. Bouvier, the idea is to save
the hostages, not to kill them.

As soon as you set off this
explosion, the two of you

get to the building as fast as you
can, in order to back up Bouvier and me.

I don't like it.

Any other ideas?

Then get your stuff together.

Your hero captain has
a big problem, Smith.

What makes you say that?

It's just a hunch, my
friend. Just a hunch.

(DISCO MUSIC PLAYING)

No, no, no, I won't press
charges. It's bad for business.

Look, just see that she
gets back to her hotel

and, for goodness sakes,
make sure she sobers up.

Geez, I just wanted to have
a good time. Boy, oh, boy!

And now for you two.

You, my dear, just
pay your bill and leave.

And you, Walter, you can go along
with your girlfriend, because you're fired.

Girlfriend? She's not my
girlfriend. I don't even know her.

I'm not his girlfriend.
I didn't do anything.

Oh, come on, knock it off!

Look, only a girlfriend would
mix it up with a bombed out broad

who was lousing up her sweetie,
So save me the excuses, will you?

Now look, Walter, you knew
my rules when you took this job.

No getting chummy
with the customers, okay?

I wasn't getting chummy! I was
getting grabbed by the other one!

Oh, and your girlfriend
here didn't like it.

Couldn't you handle it
without starting a brawl?

Look, Jackie, that other
woman was way out of line.

Oh...

I do my job! My job isn't to
get grabbed by a drunk broad!

Jackie, will you listen to me?

(DOOR CLOSING)

I heard about your
altercation, Miss Clark.

I am sorry your fantasy
has caused you distress.

My fantasy is not the problem.
It's that hardnosed Jackie Flynn.

She thinks I'm some sort of a stage door
Johnny, messing around with her waiters.

Have you ever heard
of anything so ludicrous?

Oh, yes. But customarily a stage
door Johnny is a Johnny, not a Jane.

And the waiter is a lady, who may
not precisely be a lady all the time,

but she's certainly
not a gentleman.

Do you find this confusing?

No. Yes! And irritating! I cost Walter
his job, and I didn't mean to do it.

Oh, and I feel terrible
about it. He's a nice guy.

Oh, Mr. Roarke, what can I do?

I really don't know.

However,

your fantasy was for a
role-reversal situation.

And if this situation
were reversed,

a gentleman who
had gotten a lady fired

would certainly try to
find her and apologize.

Certainly you don't expect
me to chase him all over town!

He's a total stranger!

You don't want me to
apologize for something

that wasn't my fault in
the first place, do you?

In a sense, your fantasy was to
compete in the battle of the sexes

as a member of the enemy camp.

How far you wish to carry
this, only you can determine.

And I'm sure you will.

You can't drown your ghosts
with that stuff, my brave captain.

All you'll accomplish in the
end is blowing us all to hell.

Knock it off!

You hear me? I
said knock it off!

Both of you! Both
of you, knock it off!

Both of you better damn well save
your energies for what's coming tomorrow!

Whatever you got going
between you, you can settle it later.

You understand that?

Ain't this fun?

(SIGHS)

One, two guards out front.

Three, four, all with
automatic weapons.

Six. There's six of them,
including the two guards outside.

Oh, hey, one of them's a woman.

(LAUGHS) She's cute.

Linda! Well, you
know one of them?

Linda. That's my
wife inside there!

Miss Clark, this is Master
Walter Wilde's apartment.

He's been in there
since he's been fired.

Thanks, Tattoo. I couldn't
have found it without you.

Thank you.

Daddy, it looks like another one of
your admirers followed you home.

I didn't realize anyone
might have done this before.

Sure. Pushy ladies
aren't unique around here.

Dinah, I think
that's enough, okay?

I don't think every visitor wants a
chapter out of the Wilde family soap opera.

Why don't you go see how
the spaghetti's doing, okay?

Okay, Pop.

Look, uh, I don't
want to seem rude,

but, this is my home, and...

Well, I like spending time
alone with my daughter,

and getting fired always kind of wipes
me out. So I know you'll excuse me.

Please, I'm really sorry
about what happened.

I mean, getting you
fired and everything.

Why don't you forget it? It
really wasn't your fault anyway.

Thanks for coming by, okay?

Look, I don't want to
seem pushy or anything,

but I'm sure you must
have to watch your budget,

I mean, with your daughter
growing up and everything,

and I just happen to
be temporarily loaded...

With money, not booze,

and, uh, I'd love to buy you
both the best steak dinner in town.

I'm not very good at this.

(LAUGHS) No, you're not.

But, you know, I think I
caught a glimmer of sincerity

under all those
modifying phrases,

and well, I can respond to that.

Only a glimmer?

All right, maybe two glimmers.

If Daddy didn't throw you out by now, he's
probably gonna ask you to stay for dinner.

And you were
listening, weren't you?

No. But if we are going out
to dinner, I'd like a big steak.

But I'd buy the wine, and it's got to
be burgundy and it's gotta be cheap.

Deal.

I'll pick you up at 8:00, okay?

Sure. Okay. Bye.

Bye-bye.

Daddy, do you like her?

Beginning to.

MALE TERRORIST: Should
have heard something by now.

FEMALE TERRORIST: They're
not gonna make the trade.

So what do you suggest?

Get the hostages back in the plane. Land
somewhere else and start new negotiations.

Things are too quiet here. They could
have a whole army around this place by now.

Big deal. They just try one move and
they got a room full of dead hostages.

If they haven't released
our comrades by 6:00 a.m.,

we give them
their first sacrifice.

Just like I promised.

This one. A beautiful
example of a decadent society.

It's only right that
she should die first.

Mr. Roarke, I want to call off my
fantasy. Cancel the whole damn thing.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Smith,
but I can't oblige you.

Oh, yes, you can. My wife's
a prisoner of those loonies.

That wasn't part of the deal.

But what you must
understand, Mr. Smith,

is that the hijacking
is very real, indeed.

I can't change the fact that your wife
happened to be a passenger on that flight.

You mean that's not
part of the fantasy?

In no way.

Oh, this whole thing stinks.

I don't like any of it,
including those three misfits,

those nuts you got
me hooked up with.

Nuts? Yeah.

Those guys are supposed
to be commandos?

Two of them tried
to kill each other,

the other one, a peeping Tom.

These are the hotshot raiders
that are supposed to back me up

and go in against
those terrorists?

Perhaps they will surprise you.

Well, I don't want any surprises,
not with Linda's life on the line.

Look, Roarke, doing this ego
trip for fun, that's one thing,

but with my wife inside
there, that's something else.

Such unexpected obstacles are
often the real test of a hero, Mr. Smith.

(SOFT MUSIC PLAYING)

That's the best meal
I've had in months.

I'm gonna remember it
during all the spaghetti to come.

Do you foresee a lot of
spaghetti in your future?

Tons. Dad and I had
things under control,

but now that he's out of work,
we're really gonna have to cut back.

Tuition costs an arm and a leg.

Tuition?

For my last semester
in medical school.

It's due tomorrow
at registration.

I was gonna get a salary advance from
Jackie at the club, but that's out now.

You mean you were working at
the club to pay for your education?

Working my way through college.
It sounds like a gag, doesn't it?

But it's true.

The pay was great,
the hours were short,

so I could spend enough
time with Dinah and the books.

But it's no big deal. It's been
on and off again for 10 years.

I'll just drop out again
and I'll get another job,

build up enough cash,
and then I'll go back.

But it seems so unfair. I mean, there was
absolutely no reason for you to be fired.

I feel like it's all my fault.

Look, it's nobody's fault.
That's just the way things are.

I think Dinah's had it. All
that steak pooped her out.

Look, I want to thank
you, and I mean it.

Come on, darling.

Walter, I wish there
was something I could do.

Well, just don't worry, okay?
And, uh, finish your coffee.

Dinah and I are pretty tough
cookies. It's an easy walk home.

Wait.

Thanks.

Mr. Roarke, unless
Walter gets his job back,

he's going to have to
drop out of medical school.

Can't you talk to
Jackie Flynn for him?

Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Clark, but I
have no influence with the lady.

And since fraternizing
with the customers

is strictly against
Jack Rabbit Club rules,

any chance there might have
been for his reinstatement is over.

But you can't just stand back
and let that happen to him.

Miss Clark, may I remind
you that your fantasy was

to assume the role
of a, shall we say,

dominant female in a situation
where males were passive.

Well, you have done that, and
what has happened as a result

is solely your responsibility.
I'm sorry, I wish I could help you.

Will you excuse me?

Tattoo, can't you
think of anything?

Well, uh, maybe, but
I'm not too wild about it.

There is a man who has been
asking to talk to you about a soft job.

He said that Big
Earl pays big bucks.

But I swore I'd never get
into that costume again.

Well, I'm sure your friend
Walter will understand that.

Well, maybe just once more.

If I could just
handle Big Earl right,

I could help Walter without
getting myself into big trouble.

Maybe.

1745, Tanner.

We need that explosion.
Don't lose your nerve, Captain.

Let's move.

BOUVIER: Two minutes to go.

We have less than two minutes.

Come on. Come on!

I can't move.

Wait a minute, I
heard something.

You alert them
inside. I'll check it out.

It's time. Where the
hell is that explosion?

Win some, lose some.

Mr. Roarke.

Why'd you send for me?

I thought perhaps you
should see this, Mr. Wilde.

I swore I'd never do this again.

If you don't want
to go through with it,

I can always tell him
that the deal is off.

But I'm not doing it for myself this
time, Tattoo. That's the difference.

Erica, baby! And right on
time, too. Let me look at you.

Mmm!

You won't be
needing this, honey.

No, you won't be
needing that at all!

You know what I
mean, sweetheart?

(LAUGHING)

Here she is, guys.

What's she doing?

She is doing something she
detests in order to help a friend.

You, Mr. Wilde.

I don't understand.

I'll be happy to explain.

(WHISPERING) Come
on, let's get out of here.

Weasel and Tanner,
where the hell are they?

They're not gonna make
it, Smith. We're on our own.

(SIGHS) I'll give them a
couple of more minutes.

And then what?

Then, my friend,
we'll go in alone.

SMITH: I'll duck
behind the jeep.

One minute. Cover me.

(TICKING)

(COCKING)

Now! Now!

(TICKING)

(HOSTAGES SCREAMING)

MAN: Get down! Everybody,
get down over here! Get down!

Don't move! Drop your weapons!

(GUN FIRING)

LINDA: Jason!

No!

WOMAN: Get up!

Hold it!

(SCREAMING)

Put your hands over your head!

All right, we give up!

Look out, Smith!

Watch them.

Please! Please let me go!

Smith, out there!

(LINDA WHIMPERING)

Get down!

MALE TERRORIST: Stay away, man.

You're empty. I
counted your shots.

(GRUNTS)

Drop it.

You'd better take up a
different line of work, pal.

(BIG EARL WHOOPING)

All right! Hit it! Hit it!

All right!

(WHOOPING)

EARL: All right! Hit it! Hit it!

All right!

Now, uh, take it all off, honey.

This is all you get. A few pictures in
the costume, and that was our deal.

Uh, look, fellows, uh, save some of
your film for something really worthwhile.

Now you took my money, doll, and
Big Earl always gets his money's worth.

Big Earl's liable to get a fat lip
if he doesn't back off and fast.

No, Walter, it's all right.

Look, I'll handle it.

Look, I appreciate
what you're trying to do.

This is not the way I want
to finish medical school.

Oh, medical school, huh?

Well, that's just perfect, 'cause
I'm gonna put you in the hospital.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Look, sex symbol, you and
me ought to stick together, huh?

I mean, that is if you
don't mind being treated

just like an ordinary
woman by an ordinary man.

I thought you'd never ask.

Just take it easy.

Emile, you saved my life.

Good show, Jason.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(SPEAKING FRENCH)
C'est la guerre.

(GROANING)

Who was he, Jason?

A hero.

A real one.

Thank you very, very
much, Mr. Roarke.

You're welcome, Miss Clark.

Thank you. Bye.

Goodbye, Mr. Wilde. Bye, Tattoo.

Bye. Bye.

Thanks for making my
fantasy come true, Mr. Roarke.

It's great to have a
whole family again.

I was getting sick of
eating Daddy's spaghetti.

A very satisfactory
conclusion, my friend.

Miss Clark and Mr. Wilde
have demonstrated

that no one can make
a sex object of another

without becoming less
of a person in the process.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

What do you think of
my husband, Mr. Roarke?

Oh, a good man to have
around in an emergency.

I'll say.

I'll admit, I've always made fun of
that macho hero business, you know?

But boy, are they useful
when you need them.

When those terrorists took
over, I was scared to death.

How did you arrange the rescue?

How did you get it
all together so fast?

And how did you know I
was on that particular plane?

Uh, well, it wasn't easy.

Honey, why don't
you go on ahead?

I want to talk to Mr. Roarke.

Thank you. Thank you.

What about Emile?

Mr. Bouvier was a warrior
out of time and place,

dying slowly from
an incurable disease.

To die in battle for a worthy
cause, that was his fantasy.

Yeah.

Well, like he said...

(SPEAKING FRENCH)
"C'est la guerre."

Mr. Roarke.

Smith.