The Ray Bradbury Theater (1985–1992): Season 2, Episode 8 - On the Orient, North - full transcript
A nurse accompanies a "dying" ghost on a train ride across Europe to Great Britain in search of a place of refuge where people still believe in the supernatural.
[theme music]
RAY BRADBURY: People ask,
where do you get your ideas?
Well, right here.
All this is my
Martian landscape.
Somewhere in this room
is an African veldt.
Just beyond, perhaps,
is a small, Illinois
town where I grew up.
And I'm surrounded on every
side by my magicians toy shop.
I'll never starve here.
I just look around, find
what I need, and begin.
I'm Ray Bradbury, and this is--
Well, then, right
now, what shall it be?
Out of all this, what do
I choose to make a story?
I never know where the
next one will take me.
And the trip-- exactly
one half exhilaration,
exactly one half terror.
[train whistle]
[solo saxophone music]
[mysterious music]
MINERVA HALLIDAY: I am on the
Orient Express heading north
from Venice to Paris to Calais.
Is it all my years
as a trained nurse
that causes me to
wonder at this most
strange, most peculiar thing.
This strange, most peculiar
and yet, most familiar thing
is a terribly old, terribly
sick man I describe
as a ghastly passenger.
[boisterous conversation]
MINERVA HALLIDAY: He
is a traveler obviously
dying of some dread disease.
Eh, pardon, but where
is that poor man going?
To Calais and London,
madam, if God is willing.
WOMAN PASSENGER: He jumped off
the balcony and started to fly.
[laughing]
- I don't believe it.
- Neither do I.
[laughter]
MAN PASSENGER:
Give me the bottle.
Let's cut her off.
I've got a better one.
WOMAN PASSENGER: Don't start.
[laughter]
Oh, dear.
I believe.
[train whistle]
Are any of you a doctor?
Are you a doctor?
Are you a doctor?
It's the old man, right?
The man just now
in the dining car.
It's him.
I'm a nurse.
Come help, please.
All right, just a minute.
Dear God, he's dead.
If I need you, I'll call.
Goodnight, madam.
Listen very carefully, yes?
I know who you are and
what you are sick from.
You suffer from a
disease of people.
Mm.
The people on this
train are your affliction.
They are killing you.
Yes, yes.
You're from
another country, yes?
Somewhere where the
nights are long.
And when the wind
blows, people listen.
But now, things have changed.
People do not listen anymore.
How-- how you--
how do you know this?
I'm a special nurse
with a special memory.
Yes, I saw.
I met someone like
you when I was six.
Ss- so met?
Mm, in Ireland at
my uncle's house,
far out in the country
rains and mists,
and where fox
walked on the roofs,
and the wind wandered the halls.
Late one night, a shadow
walked in my room.
The shadow sat on my bed.
It was so cold.
He made me cold.
And the shadow that sat on
my bed and whispered to me
was much like you.
Eh.
And who?
And what am I?
Eh?
You are not sick.
You are not dying.
You're already a ghost.
[train whistle]
Yes.
Yes, yes.
[train whistle]
[knocking on door]
MINERVA HALLIDAY: Come in.
Are you the--
may I?
The last rites?
Yes.
Oh, I--
I had my last rites years ago.
It's not necessary.
Thank you.
[door closing]
You must let me help you.
How can you help me?
You are going to Calais
and on to Dover, no?
And then to a castle
north of England where
I can safely hide forever.
Oh, that's almost impossible.
No, no, I didn't mean--
listen, uh, impossible
without me--
me.
I will go with you
to make sure you're
safely across the Channel.
But why?
You do not know me.
I saw you in the rains.
When as a girl, I
searched the moors
for all the Baskerville hound.
You see, I do know you.
You're not English.
Where are you from?
Um, my mother was French
and my father English.
And I believe.
You, now, who exactly are you?
Oh, I lived near
Vienna for 200 years.
And I've hid from
atheists and nonbelievers
in libraries and
dust-filled stacks,
where I made breakfast of spirit
myths and graveyard tales.
I have survived phantom horses,
braying hounds, dreadful cats,
crumbs shaken from [inaudible]
But one by one, all around me,
my friends of the unseen world
vanished.
My phantom compatriots were
thrown out of great homes
and dark castles.
Then they were rented out--
rented out to bed and
breakfast tourists
whose only belief was a
drunken tongue and full belly.
So with the, um, the population
and the unbelievers doubling
by the day, all of my
spectral friends fled north.
I-- I am the last.
And your name?
A thousand fogs
visited my family vault.
A thousand rains
washed my tombstone.
My name's been erased
by time and the weather.
My name has vanished.
The flowers are dust.
Why-- why are you helping me?
Why?
I never in my life had a lark.
Lark?
I'm something
of a ghost myself.
Oh, Lord, what a challenge.
I will run with you to
face people, help you
through the Paris crowds,
the stations, to the sea,
to England.
It will indeed be a--
Lark.
Yes.
Lark.
Oh.
Now, rest.
Sleep.
You must be strong when
we arrive in Paris.
Paris, ah.
I do feel that--
Paris--
[train clanking]
Oh, Paris-- the crowds and
the disbelief will destroy me,
you know.
Mm.
Come on, we have time.
I know a nice place to help you.
Where are we?
Pere Lachaise Cemetery.
All the famous people are here.
Ah.
Much thanks, kind lady.
So quiet here.
So serene, yeah?
Michel [inaudible].
Oh, an atheist.
Oh, no, no, no.
Oh, Jean-Michel [inaudible].
A friend of John-Paul Sartre.
An existentialist--
all [inaudible]..
Ah, but this one.
Ah, this.
A writer of mysteries.
He loved nights and fogs.
Ah.
Chopin.
Ah.
[MUSIC - CHOPIN, "ETUDE
OP.10, NO.3 IN E MAJOR"]
Hey, listen.
Do you hear the music?
No.
What music?
[MUSIC - CHOPIN, "ETUDE
OP.10, NO.3 IN E MAJOR"]
Oh, let's hide!
[kazoo playing]
It's these people that make me
afraid I'll never reach Dover,
you know.
You will.
And here are my
weapons against them.
Hm.
Ah, Ed-- Edgar Allan Poe, hm.
"The Hound of the Baskervilles."
Hm.
Here.
Huh, "Hamlet."
Alas, poor Yorick!
I knew him, Horatio, a
fellow of infinite jest,
of most excellent fancy.
He hath borne me on his
back a thousand times.
Here hung those lips that I
have kissed I know not how oft.
Ah!
There's no place
to hide on board.
There is.
Trust me.
Come.
CHILDREN: Woo!
(SINGING) Skip,
skip, skip to my Lou,
skip, skip, skip to my
Lou, skip, skip, skip to--
Children!
CHILDREN: --my Lou.
Children!
CHILDREN: Skip to
my Lou, my darlin'.
Calm down.
A ghost story--
would you like that?
CHILDREN: Oh, yes!
You do believe in ghosts?
CHILDREN: Oh, yes!
Mm-hm.
Please, for the children.
CHILDREN: Oh.
Ah.
Ah.
I shall tell you a terrible,
a frightful, a rain-filled,
fogbound, thunder and lightening
story about a real ghost,
the last ghost.
This is my story.
Now, children, you will
really believe this.
Come on, children.
Time to go.
[fog horn]
Do you need help?
No, I feel like the
best I've in years.
See?
I do see.
LOUDSPEAKER ANNOUNCER:
Passengers for the 16:45
Noble Service to
London/Victoria should
board from platform three.
Ah, safe and saved, yeah?
[singing]
Madam.
Madam!
Are you all right?
Get the doctor.
Too late?
It's a heart attack.
A heart attack?
An ambulance
will be here soon.
LOUDSPEAKER ANNOUNCER:
Passengers for the 16:45
Noble Service to
London/Victoria should
board from platform three.
Ah, kind lady, for a
moment, just for a moment,
I thought I would
not have a chance
to thank you for your dear
attentions or to say farewell.
No need for thanks
and not far away.
Shhh.
I'm going with you.
I have nowhere else to go now.
The ambulance is here.
Good.
Move along.
Move along.
[train whistle]
Tell me, who was she?
I never knew really.
Welcome, my dear, kind lady.
Larks?
Larks.
[train chugging]
[music playing]
RAY BRADBURY: People ask,
where do you get your ideas?
Well, right here.
All this is my
Martian landscape.
Somewhere in this room
is an African veldt.
Just beyond, perhaps,
is a small, Illinois
town where I grew up.
And I'm surrounded on every
side by my magicians toy shop.
I'll never starve here.
I just look around, find
what I need, and begin.
I'm Ray Bradbury, and this is--
Well, then, right
now, what shall it be?
Out of all this, what do
I choose to make a story?
I never know where the
next one will take me.
And the trip-- exactly
one half exhilaration,
exactly one half terror.
[train whistle]
[solo saxophone music]
[mysterious music]
MINERVA HALLIDAY: I am on the
Orient Express heading north
from Venice to Paris to Calais.
Is it all my years
as a trained nurse
that causes me to
wonder at this most
strange, most peculiar thing.
This strange, most peculiar
and yet, most familiar thing
is a terribly old, terribly
sick man I describe
as a ghastly passenger.
[boisterous conversation]
MINERVA HALLIDAY: He
is a traveler obviously
dying of some dread disease.
Eh, pardon, but where
is that poor man going?
To Calais and London,
madam, if God is willing.
WOMAN PASSENGER: He jumped off
the balcony and started to fly.
[laughing]
- I don't believe it.
- Neither do I.
[laughter]
MAN PASSENGER:
Give me the bottle.
Let's cut her off.
I've got a better one.
WOMAN PASSENGER: Don't start.
[laughter]
Oh, dear.
I believe.
[train whistle]
Are any of you a doctor?
Are you a doctor?
Are you a doctor?
It's the old man, right?
The man just now
in the dining car.
It's him.
I'm a nurse.
Come help, please.
All right, just a minute.
Dear God, he's dead.
If I need you, I'll call.
Goodnight, madam.
Listen very carefully, yes?
I know who you are and
what you are sick from.
You suffer from a
disease of people.
Mm.
The people on this
train are your affliction.
They are killing you.
Yes, yes.
You're from
another country, yes?
Somewhere where the
nights are long.
And when the wind
blows, people listen.
But now, things have changed.
People do not listen anymore.
How-- how you--
how do you know this?
I'm a special nurse
with a special memory.
Yes, I saw.
I met someone like
you when I was six.
Ss- so met?
Mm, in Ireland at
my uncle's house,
far out in the country
rains and mists,
and where fox
walked on the roofs,
and the wind wandered the halls.
Late one night, a shadow
walked in my room.
The shadow sat on my bed.
It was so cold.
He made me cold.
And the shadow that sat on
my bed and whispered to me
was much like you.
Eh.
And who?
And what am I?
Eh?
You are not sick.
You are not dying.
You're already a ghost.
[train whistle]
Yes.
Yes, yes.
[train whistle]
[knocking on door]
MINERVA HALLIDAY: Come in.
Are you the--
may I?
The last rites?
Yes.
Oh, I--
I had my last rites years ago.
It's not necessary.
Thank you.
[door closing]
You must let me help you.
How can you help me?
You are going to Calais
and on to Dover, no?
And then to a castle
north of England where
I can safely hide forever.
Oh, that's almost impossible.
No, no, I didn't mean--
listen, uh, impossible
without me--
me.
I will go with you
to make sure you're
safely across the Channel.
But why?
You do not know me.
I saw you in the rains.
When as a girl, I
searched the moors
for all the Baskerville hound.
You see, I do know you.
You're not English.
Where are you from?
Um, my mother was French
and my father English.
And I believe.
You, now, who exactly are you?
Oh, I lived near
Vienna for 200 years.
And I've hid from
atheists and nonbelievers
in libraries and
dust-filled stacks,
where I made breakfast of spirit
myths and graveyard tales.
I have survived phantom horses,
braying hounds, dreadful cats,
crumbs shaken from [inaudible]
But one by one, all around me,
my friends of the unseen world
vanished.
My phantom compatriots were
thrown out of great homes
and dark castles.
Then they were rented out--
rented out to bed and
breakfast tourists
whose only belief was a
drunken tongue and full belly.
So with the, um, the population
and the unbelievers doubling
by the day, all of my
spectral friends fled north.
I-- I am the last.
And your name?
A thousand fogs
visited my family vault.
A thousand rains
washed my tombstone.
My name's been erased
by time and the weather.
My name has vanished.
The flowers are dust.
Why-- why are you helping me?
Why?
I never in my life had a lark.
Lark?
I'm something
of a ghost myself.
Oh, Lord, what a challenge.
I will run with you to
face people, help you
through the Paris crowds,
the stations, to the sea,
to England.
It will indeed be a--
Lark.
Yes.
Lark.
Oh.
Now, rest.
Sleep.
You must be strong when
we arrive in Paris.
Paris, ah.
I do feel that--
Paris--
[train clanking]
Oh, Paris-- the crowds and
the disbelief will destroy me,
you know.
Mm.
Come on, we have time.
I know a nice place to help you.
Where are we?
Pere Lachaise Cemetery.
All the famous people are here.
Ah.
Much thanks, kind lady.
So quiet here.
So serene, yeah?
Michel [inaudible].
Oh, an atheist.
Oh, no, no, no.
Oh, Jean-Michel [inaudible].
A friend of John-Paul Sartre.
An existentialist--
all [inaudible]..
Ah, but this one.
Ah, this.
A writer of mysteries.
He loved nights and fogs.
Ah.
Chopin.
Ah.
[MUSIC - CHOPIN, "ETUDE
OP.10, NO.3 IN E MAJOR"]
Hey, listen.
Do you hear the music?
No.
What music?
[MUSIC - CHOPIN, "ETUDE
OP.10, NO.3 IN E MAJOR"]
Oh, let's hide!
[kazoo playing]
It's these people that make me
afraid I'll never reach Dover,
you know.
You will.
And here are my
weapons against them.
Hm.
Ah, Ed-- Edgar Allan Poe, hm.
"The Hound of the Baskervilles."
Hm.
Here.
Huh, "Hamlet."
Alas, poor Yorick!
I knew him, Horatio, a
fellow of infinite jest,
of most excellent fancy.
He hath borne me on his
back a thousand times.
Here hung those lips that I
have kissed I know not how oft.
Ah!
There's no place
to hide on board.
There is.
Trust me.
Come.
CHILDREN: Woo!
(SINGING) Skip,
skip, skip to my Lou,
skip, skip, skip to my
Lou, skip, skip, skip to--
Children!
CHILDREN: --my Lou.
Children!
CHILDREN: Skip to
my Lou, my darlin'.
Calm down.
A ghost story--
would you like that?
CHILDREN: Oh, yes!
You do believe in ghosts?
CHILDREN: Oh, yes!
Mm-hm.
Please, for the children.
CHILDREN: Oh.
Ah.
Ah.
I shall tell you a terrible,
a frightful, a rain-filled,
fogbound, thunder and lightening
story about a real ghost,
the last ghost.
This is my story.
Now, children, you will
really believe this.
Come on, children.
Time to go.
[fog horn]
Do you need help?
No, I feel like the
best I've in years.
See?
I do see.
LOUDSPEAKER ANNOUNCER:
Passengers for the 16:45
Noble Service to
London/Victoria should
board from platform three.
Ah, safe and saved, yeah?
[singing]
Madam.
Madam!
Are you all right?
Get the doctor.
Too late?
It's a heart attack.
A heart attack?
An ambulance
will be here soon.
LOUDSPEAKER ANNOUNCER:
Passengers for the 16:45
Noble Service to
London/Victoria should
board from platform three.
Ah, kind lady, for a
moment, just for a moment,
I thought I would
not have a chance
to thank you for your dear
attentions or to say farewell.
No need for thanks
and not far away.
Shhh.
I'm going with you.
I have nowhere else to go now.
The ambulance is here.
Good.
Move along.
Move along.
[train whistle]
Tell me, who was she?
I never knew really.
Welcome, my dear, kind lady.
Larks?
Larks.
[train chugging]
[music playing]