Spellbound (Hitchcock 1945)
Miss Carmichael please,|Dr. Petersen is ready for you.
Sorry I have to go, had a perfect|hand, would've beaten all of you.
-Harry will take you Miss Carmichael.|-Thank you.
Watch her carefully,|don't take your eyes off her.
-How are you today, Harry?|-Fine.
-You look a little bilious.|-lt's the light.
-I worry about you, dear.|-I'll be all right.
Must we dash into|Dr. Petersen's office?
Can't we go sit somewhere|in private...
-and talk, just you and I?|-I'd love it, if I had time.
You ruined a very interesting|card game, Dr. Petersen.
-You may go now, Harry.|-I'll be outside.
-I hope you feel better today, Mary.|-Well, I don't.
-You will.|-This whole thing is ridiculous.
-What whole thing, Mary?|-Psychoanalysis, it's so boring...
Lying there on the couch,|like some dreary nitwit, telling all.
You can't expect to get anywhere...
listening to me babble about my|idiotic childhood. Really?
My patients always regard me|as a nuisance during our first talks.
I see, it's my subconscious|putting up a fight...
-lt doesn't want me cured.|-Exactly...
it wants to continue|enjoying your disease.
Our job is to|make you understand why.
When you know why|you do something...
and when you first|started doing it...
-Then you can start curing yourself.|-You mean I've been telling you lies.
The usual proportion.
You're right.|I've been lying like mad...
I hate men, I loathe them.
If one so much as touches me|I want to sink my teeth...
into his hand|and bite it off.
In fact I did that once.|Would you care to hear about it?
-Tell me anything you remember.|-We were dancing...
He kept asking me to marry him,|panting in my ear...
I suddenly pretended|I was going to kiss him...
and sank my teeth into his moustache.|Bit it clear off.
You're laughing at me. That smug|face of yours doesn't take me in...
You just want me to tell you all this|so you can feel superior to me.
You and your drooling science.|I detest you.
I never want to see|that nasty face of yours again.
I can't bear you. You and your|nickelsworth of nothing.
-Come on, Miss Carmichael.|-Silly fool...
letting a creature like that|worry me. Miss Frozen Puss.
Dr. Floreau. I want to talk|to you alone...
I can't stand that woman.
-I'll see you later, Mary.|-Come on Miss Carmichael.
Mercheson must be out of his mind|to assign Carmichael to you.
You may report your findings|to the new head when he arrives.
You can't treat a veteran like her|without some inside information.
I have done much research|on emotional and love difficulties.
Research, my eye.
I've watched your work for 6 months,|it's brilliant, but lifeless.
There's no intuition in it.
You approach all your problems|with an icepack on your head.
-Are you making love to me?|-I will in a moment.
I'm just clearing|the ground first.
I'm trying to convince you that|your lack of emotional experience...
is bad for you as a doctor...
and fatal for you as a woman.
I've heard that argument from|a number of amorous psychiatrists...
-wanting to make me a better doctor.|-I've got a much better argument...
-I'm terribly fond of you.|-Why?
-lt's like embracing a textbook.|-Why do you do it then?
Because your not a textbook. You're|a sweet, pulsing woman underneath.
I sense it every time|I come near to you.
You sense only your own desires|and pulsations.
-Mine in no way resemble them.|-Stop it. I'm mad about you.
-I'm afraid I'm boring you.|-No.
Your attitudes|are very interesting.
I feel exactly like Miss Carmichael.|I'd like to throw a book at you...
But I won't.
-May I borrow this?|-Certainly.
Forgive me for my criticism.|I think I better stick to books.
-And another thing...|-Pardon me for marching in...
but I'm spreading the tidings.|My successor will be due any moment.
Well, Dr. Mercheson, it's been|a pleasure working under you.
Thank you very much.|Coming, Dr. Petersen?
I'm in no mad hurry|to welcome Dr. Edwardes.
It's hard to imagine|this place without you.
-I sort of go with the fixtures.|-More than that, you are Green Manors.
-lt seems unfair.|-You're very young in the profession.
You haven't learned the basic secret,|the old must make way for the new...
particularly when he's suspected|of a touch of senility.
That's ridiculous, the directors|should realise you're much better.
You've been like a new man|since your vacation.
The board's as fair and all-knowing|as a hospital board can be.
I agree, I'm as able and brilliant|as ever, but having crumbled once...
-I might crumble again.|-You were overworked.
A charming diagnosis|for a broken down horse.
I shall always remember|your cheerfulness today as...
-a lesson in how to accept reality.|-Don't be taken in by my happy air...
it's the least difficult way of|saying goodbye to 20 years.
Yes, I know...|Come in.
Your mail, Dr. Petersen.|And Mr. Garmes.
Come in, Mr. Garmes.
You're not leaving today?|I'll see you again?
I'll hover around for a while...
Like a mother hen, at least until|Dr. Edwardes is firmly on the list.
-How do you feel today, Mr. Garmes?|-Somewhat better, Doctor...
the thing seems a little|less troublesome.
May I do that for you, Doctor?
No, thank you, no. I can|do this myself very well.
Please sit down, I'll be|with you in a moment.
-That's the mighty Anthony Edwardes.|-He's younger than I expected.
He's only brought one suitcase.|Perhaps he doesn't mean to stay long.
Leave those daydreams|to Dr. Mercheson.
Gentlemen, our new chief.|Dr. Anthony Edwardes.
-Dr. Floreau.|-How do you do?
-I'm Dr. Graff.|-How do you do?
-Dr. Hamish.|-How do you do?
There's still some staff members|missing, Dr. Edwardes.
These are your quarters.
They're very festive|for an institution.
Dr. Edwardes, Dr. Mercheson.
How do you do? I've heard|a great deal about you, sir.
And I naturally, about you.
-You're younger than I thought.|-My age hasn't caught up with me yet.
Mine has. I'm pleased to hand over|the reins to steadier hands.
I'm leaving you my library, which|contains, amongst other items...
"your latest volume, ""The labyrinth|of the guilt complex""..."
an excellent work. I hope|Green Manors will inspire others.
I'm very grateful.
I don't know the formal words|for an abdication, Dr. Edwardes...
May I say merely that these quarters|which I've occupied for 20 years...
are now yours.|Will you excuse me?
I spent a half hour with Dr. Edwardes.|I must say I was most impressed.
I intend to learn|a great deal from Dr. Edwardes...
I think we all can from a man|of such obvious talent.
-You're familiar with his work?|-I've read all his books...
a very keen, unorthodox mind.
It'd be dreadful if Dr. Mercheson's|successor was unworthy of him.
He's joining us.
I think you know everyone here,|Dr. Edwardes.
No, not yet.
-This is Dr. Petersen.|-How do you do?
Dr. Hamish has been showing|me the grounds.
A remarkable institution|must be beautiful in the summer.
I pointed out to Dr. Edwardes|our various open air diversions.
Dr. Mercheson always argued we didn't|do enough in that direction, I agree.
Let me warn you that Dr. Petersen|is a frustrated gymnast.
Dr. Floreau considers anything beyond|sitting and standing gymnastics.
-I imagine you're very fond of sport.|-Yes, I am...
I miss them, particularly|winter sports.
-Did you show Dr. Edwardes the grove?|-Yes, yes indeed.
That's where we hope to have|our new swimming pool.
-I'm a great believer in a pool.|-There's a perfect spot for one.
Not an oblong one, but an|irregular pool, something...
something like this,|you know?
The bath houses should be here...
I take it that the supply of linen|at this institution is inexhaustable.
That reminds me of my professor|in psychiatry, Dr. Brulov...
He could never stand|a sauce bottle on the table...
or even a salt shaker,|they took his apetite away.
I remember once|at a banquet in his honour...
he refused to sit at the speaker's|table because he was surrounded by...
Last night, a dimple appeared in your|cheek, that was never there before.
And I detected the outcroppings of a|mother instinct toward Dr. Edwardes.
I detest that sort of|high school talk.
Your reactions have upset|one of my pet theories about you...
that you are immune|to psychoanalysts...
and would end up in the arms|of some bold nut with spiked hair.
If I were looking for that type,|I would've long ago adored you.
I... excuse me.|It's from Dr. Edwardes.
Love notes already,|the frank school of science.
I didn't want to come to this|institution, but my brother insisted.
I can see no sense in it myself.
You see I'm not suffering from a|hallucination, my guilt is very real.
I know, Dr. Edwardes,|that I killed my father...
And I'm willing to pay|the penalty.
Thank you for coming so soon.
I've been listening to Mr. Garmes|and I thought you might help me out.
Mr. Garmes, you shouldn't have|disturbed Dr. Edwardes.
It's all right. I'm very interested|in his case.
I knew you would be, he fits your|chapters on the guilt complex.
Would you mind telling me|what you're talking about?
You're here to see if we can cure|your guilt complex by psychoanalysis.
I have no guilt complex.|I know what I know...
-I killed my father...|-No you didn't...
that's a misconception|that's taken hold of you.
I'm sorry Doctor,|you were talking to him.
No, go on.
People often feel guilty over|something they never did...
it usually goes back to childhood.
A child often wishes something|terrible would happen to someone...
and if something does happen,|the child believes he has caused it.
He grows up with a guilt complex over|a sin that was a child's bad dream.
What I'm thinking isn't|true then?
No, and by analysing yourself,|you'll see that.
Would you care to go back|to your room, Mr. Garmes?
We better put him on drugs|for a few days, he looks agitated.
His conviction is curious.
But you've encountered such cases|very often...
you described them perfectly|in your book.
Yes, so I did.
-Would you mind doing me a favour?|-Not at all, Doctor.
I've a headache. I'd like to take|the afternoon off, with you.
I understand you're not on duty|till after dinner.
-I intended typing up...|-I need some fresh air...
and you look like|it might do you good.
I was going to lunch with Dr. Hamish.|He has a new patient, a cleptomaniac.
Cleptomaniacs for lunch, they'll|steal the food out of your mouth.
Yes, Dr. Edwardes.
What? Yes, Anthony Edwardes.
Who? Sorry,|I don't get your name.
Please, Miss Cramer, I'm very|busy and I don't know you.
Some girl, claiming to be...
I hate practical jokes, don't you?
"People calling up|and chirping, ""Guess who I am?"""
Sounds like an ex-patient.|They're always full of coy tricks.
Very likely.|Come on, let's go.
We'll look at some sane trees, normal|grass and clouds without complexes.
I think the greatest harm done to|the human race was done by poets.
Poets are dull, most of them,|but not especially fiendish.
They keep filling peoples's heads|with delusions about love...
writing as if it were a symphony|orchestra, or a flight of angels.
-Which it isn't?|-Of course not...
People fall in love because they|respond to certain hair colouring...
or mannerisms that|remind them of their parents.
-Or sometimes for no reason at all.|-But the point is that...
people read about love as one|thing and experience it as another.
Or they expect kisses to be|like lyrical poems...
embraces to be like|Shakesperian drama.
Then when they find out differently,|they get sick and need analysis?
Yes, very often.
Professor, you're suffering|from mogo on the gogo.
I beg your pardon?
-You can't get through there.|-Of course I can...
I've been through here|many times.
-Hurt?|-Not at all.
-Here.|-I'm all right.
-I usually come here alone.|-That doesn't sound like fun.
I haven't done it for fun.|Isn't this beautiful?
Lunch. What'll you have?|Ham or liverwurst?
Has anybody seen|our new chief today?
He has been tied up.
He frisked off with Dr. Petersen|at noon.
It's odd, spending his first day|running after her...
like a drooling college boy.
It'll do her good to be|drooled over...
poor girl's withering away|with science.
I was telling her recently something|vital was missing from her life.
Don't get up, I came|because I heard Mr. Garmes...
-became agitated again.|-Yes, I gave him a sedative.
I'm sorry I wasn't here.
Nonsense, you look as if|you had an instructive time.
-lnstructive?|-Gentlemen, notice her stocking...
the lady's been climbing trees.
Or lolling in a briar patch.
No, it's trees,|there are leaves in her hair.
Allow me, Dr. Petersen.
You're surpassing yourself|as a charmer.
-Don't run away, have some coffee.|-Dr. Petersen's already eaten...
as one can tell from the mustard|on her finger...
I'd say hotdogs|on the state highway.
Would you really? Your diagnosis|is as usual, wrong...
Not hotdogs, liverwurst.
I'm sorry I have to leave|this nursery, I must see Mr. Garmes.
Looks as if we have Casanova himself|at the head of Green Manors...
Did you notice her blush|everytime we mentioned his name?
It's very late.
I was going to read your book|again. I'd like to discuss it...
I've never discussed|an author's work with him...
At school we had several literary|professors, but that was different.
-I sound rather nervous, don't I?|-Not at all.
I thought I wanted to discuss your|book, I'm amazed at the subterfuge...
I don't want to discuss it.
It's remarkable to discover|one isn't what one thought.
I've always been aware|of what was in my mind...
And you're not now?
It's quite ridiculous.
I was stupid to come in here|like a distracted child.
You're very lovely.
Don't talk that way, you'll|think I came in to hear that.
I know why you came in.
Because something|has happened to us.
But it doesn't happen like that,|in a day.
It happens in a moment sometimes.|I felt it this afternoon.
Like lightening striking.
It strikes rarely.
I don't understand|how it happened.
-What is it?|-lt's not you...
-it's something about your robe.|-My robe? I don't understand.
Forgive me, something struck me...
I've been having a bad time|with my nerves lately, your robe...
-the dark lines...|-You're ill.
I'll be all right.
Hello. Yes, Dr. Edwardes.
Yes, yes. What?
Where is he?|I'll be there right away.
Garmes has tried to murder|Floreau, then cut his own throat.
-ls it bad?|-I think so, he's in surgery.
I'll be right along.
He's lost a lot of blood,|but he'll pull through.
-What's the pulse?|-140.
It's going down.
-Why are the lights out?|-What do you mean?
It's dark, that's why he did it,|because the lights are out.
Put them on! And the doors,|unlock them...
-You can't keep people in cells.|-Dr. Edwardes.
Fools babbling about guilt complexes,|what do you know about them?
He did it. He told me,|he killed his father...
Put the lights on, quick.
It's dark, it's dark.
-He's going to collapse.|-Come here.
-lt looks like his heart.|-Not heart, shock of some sort...
brought about by exhaustion.
Take him to his room,|I'll take care of him.
I suppose I made quite|an exhibition of myself.
Who brought me here, you?
Rather a mess,|going to pieces in surgery.
Who are you?
I remember now,|Edwardes is dead...
I killed him, took his place.|I'm someone else, I don't know who.
I killed him, Edwardes.
I've no memory, it's like looking in|a mirror and just seeing the mirror.
And yet the image is there,|I know it's there.
I exist, I'm there.
How can a man lose his memory|and name, and still talk like this?
As if he were quite sane.
-Are you afraid of me?|-No.
You're ill, loss of memory|is not a difficult problem.
Yes, I know. Amnesia...
a trick of the mind|for remaining sane.
You remain sane by forgetting|something too horrible to remember.
You put the horrible thing|behind a closed door.
-We have to open that door.|-I know what's behind it...
that's a delusion you've acquired|out of illness...
Will you answer me truthfully|and trust me?
I trust you but I can't|think, I don't know who I am.
I don't know, I don't know.
Who telephoned you yesterday?
-Telephoned me?|-Yes, in the office.
Yes, I remember.
What did she say?
She said she was|my office assistant...
She was worried about me,|hadn't heard...
So she was Dr. Edwardes|assistant and hadn't heard from him.
What else did she say?
That she didn't recognise my voice,|that I wasn't Dr. Edwardes.
-So you hung up in anger?|-I was confused...
-my head ached.|-Was that your first doubt?
-First doubt?|-The first time you became confused?
Did anything else|happen before that?
Yes, when I was in the hotel,|packing to come here...
I found a cigarette case in my coat.
It frightened me,|I didn't know why. Here.
The initials J.B., see them?|When I saw them in the hotel room...
they made my head ache.
They're probably your initials.
You must sleep, when you wake up|you'll be able to tell me more.
-lf you trust me.|-I trust you.
It's late, you better get some sleep.|I'll be all right.
I'm sure there will be no police|enquiry for a few days...
We'll talk and straighten|things up before anything happens.
I'll come in the morning and|report you too ill for service.
I have been in Dr. Edwardes|office for 5 years...
and the man who spoke to me|is not Dr. Edwardes.
He let me have my vacation|when he left on his...
I was very worried when I didn't|hear from him last week.
Then I thought he might've just come|here without reopening his office...
-That's why I telephoned.|-Show them the picture.
-That's a different man.|-He was taking a chance.
Somebody might've known|what Edwardes looked like.
-You never saw the real Edwardes?|-No, I never met him.
But I felt something was wrong|from the moment our man appeared.
He didn't impress me|as a scientist...
and last night when he collapsed,|I became actually alarmed.
What do you think made him|break down last night?
It's obvious now, Garmes.
Our impostor, I'm almost certain,|is an amnesia case.
Garmes brought him back to reality|for an instant...
Being unable to face the truth,|he collapsed.
-Do you think he killed Edwardes?|-There's no question of it...
He killed Edwardes and took his place|in order to conceal his crime...
by pretending the victim|was still alive.
This sort of act is typical|of the short sighted cunning...
that goes with paranoid behaviour.
We're wasting time,|his room is upstairs.
This is Dr. Petersen.
-These gentlemen are from the police.|-The police?
-What has happened?|-Nothing to be alarmed about.
Our Dr. Edwardes|is a paranoid impostor.
And is very likely guilty of having|murdered Edwardes...
He is not in his room?
-You left him in his room?|-Yes.
Did he say anything? About himself,|about why he broke down?
No, he wasn't himself, he was|unable to speak coherently.
You don't seem surprised to hear that|he's a fake and maybe a murderer.
I'm used to surprises|in my work.
You suspected something?
No. I thought his collapse|due to mental strain.
That's a funny diagnosis for a fellow|who's just come from vacation.
I made no diagnosis, I was shocked|he collapsed. I didn't think.
We're all pretty shocked, Sheriff,|the fellow took us all in...
all except Dr. Mercheson.
And he didn't say anything to|give you an idea where he went?
He may be hanging around, we'll have|to go over the grounds first.
I'm sorry this has happened|to you, Constance...
I felt like warning you about him|but I wasn't certain.
Don't worry, it's not your fault.|They're bound to find him.
I'll keep you informed|of the police activities.
The fellow expected to get away|with it, like any criminal.
Nonsense, obviously an amnesia case,|he didn't know who he was...
or what he was doing.|What do you say, Constance?
I don't know.
If you were anyone but Constance|Petersen, the human glaciar...
-and custodian of truth, I'd say...|-You'd say what?
My dear, forgive me my thoughts,|you are telling the truth...
I was going to say that you were|holding something back.
I'm a sentimental ass...
A woman like you couldn't get|involved emotionally with any man...
-sane or insane.|-I suggest you change the subject.
I will be interested to ask him|certain questions...
when they bring him|back here.
-You'll never ask him any questions.|-Why not?
For the simple reason the police|will never find him alive...
An amnesia case, with the police|after it, is an obvious suicide.
He'll put an end to his pain|and nightmares...
by blowing his brains out,|or dropping himself out of a window.
You're offending Dr. Petersen|with your callousness.
I'm sorry, Constance, that some still|have the manners of medical students.
I'm not offended. I think|Dr. Floreau's ideas are accurate.
But I'm rather tired.|Goodnight.
The police have announced|that our neighbourhood...
is free of the dangerous madman|who escaped from Green Manors...
The search for the impostor|has shifted to Manhattan...
This is WQZK, Rutland,|George Bell.
We now resume|our scheduled program.
Sure feels good to take|the weight off your feet.
I'm from Pittsburgh.|There's a town for you.
You really can meet people|in Pittsburgh...
friendly, a fellow could live and die|in this town and never meet nobody.
How about you and me having a drink|together, now we're aquainted?
No, thank you.
You don't have to be|so snooty about it.
I'll have you know, I know better|people than you in Pittsburgh.
I'm sure you're a great social|success, given half a chance.
Now you're talking.
Do you mind not sitting|in my lap in public?
That's enough of that.
-Beat it.|-I'm a guest in this hotel.
-Who do you think you are?|-I'm the house detective. Get going.
This town's getting|worse and worse.
It's all right,|you don't have to go.
I'm sorry you were being annoyed.|I've been watching you...
and I figured something|like this might happen.
The chief duty of a house detective|is to spot trouble in advance.
-You're not registered here, are you?|-No.
I didn't think so, the way you were|wandering around.
Looking for somebody?|Don't be afraid of me...
I've got you spotted as a lady|in trouble, from out of town.
Schoolteacher, or librarian,|which is it?
-Schoolteacher.|-I thought so...
they always look like they lost|something. Maybe I can help you.
-I don't think so, thank you.|-Looking for some man, I suppose...
must be a relative.
And from the worried look,|I'd say a close one.
A husband, for instance.
-I'm really amazed.|-I hit it?
-But how could you tell?|-I'm a kind of psychologist.
You've got to be in my line.
Now, would you mind filling in|a few of the blank spaces for me?
-No, it's just that we quarrelled.|-And then you got sorry...
and you came running after him?|That's the usual psychology.
-But now you're afraid to face him?|-No, no...
It's that I don't know|what room he's in...
He told a friend he was coming here,|but under a different name...
so I couldn't find him.|But I must find him and apologise.
When did he arrive here?
-Yesterday morning.|-Give me a description of him.
He's very tall and attractive...
dark hair, rather rugged face...
-brown eyes, and one suitcase.|-I'll go check on him.
-Did you find him?|-I think we got a line.
About 25 guys answering your|description came yesterday...
These are their registration cards.|You might recognise the handwriting.
That's very clever of you.
-This is his handwriting.|-John Brown?
Not much imagination|for an alias. Room 3033.
Thank you, I was going to stay|all day watching for him.
I knew you would, glad to be|of service. I'm married too...
and I know how it feels to have|a wife chase after you to apologise.
Take care of you and cure you and|remain with you till that happens.
But you can't help|hide a criminal.
You can't jeopardise your standing as|a doctor, you're just starting out...
-I won't let you be stupid about it.|-I couldn't bear it away from you.
I went through yesterday holding my|breath as if I were being hunted...
I couldn't eat, work,|do anything but think of you.
So I had to come.
I'll get a room on this floor,|I'm here as your doctor only...
It has nothing|to do with love.
Nothing at all,|nothing at all.
Try remembering, let your mind|go back to your childhood.
Was it happy?|Whom did you know?
I'm haunted,|but I can't see by what.
-lt's no use.|-You lived somewhere...
you had a mother, you were loved,|had friends.
Yes, and probably a wife.
Can you remember her?
I didn't say I had one.|I said I probably had.
No, darling. Thank heaven|I can't remember a wife.
-I'd like to ask a medical question.|-Constance...
would you mind not prodding me,|it mixes me up...
I can't remember anything.|Except that I love you.
How would you diagnose a pain,|in the right upper quadrant...
a pain that is persistant?
Gall bladder, a heart case,|or pneumonia...
depending|on the patient's history.
It's obvious you're a doctor.
Yes, the eminent Dr. X.
If we can unlock one tiny memory,|it'll give us the key to the others.
The only thing that comes to mind|that I keep thinking...
-is the logic of the situation.|-What logic?
That I was with Edwardes.
Police believe the impostor who|escaped from Green Manors...
to be the patient that visited|the real Dr. Edwardes...
in the Cumberland mountains|the day that he disappeared.
No trace has been found, since|he left the Cumberland resort...
"in the company of his|supposed patient""."
Do you remember that? Why do you|believe you were with him?
Because wherever we went,|I came back with his identity...
I wouldn't have come back as Edwardes|if I hadn't known he was dead.
How would I know that, if I hadn't|been with him when he died?
-Were you?|-I don't remember...
but logically|I know that I must've been.
And logically, I also know why|the body hasn't been found...
because it was hidden|by me.
Don't you see that you're|imagining all this?
You call yourself names, insist|without proof that you're a murderer.
You know what that is, don't you?|A guilt complex that speaks for you.
A guilt fantasy that goes way back|to your childhood.
I think you're quite mad.|You're much crazier than I...
to do all this for a creature|without a name.
To run off with a pair of initials.
The police have not given your name|or case history to the papers...
That must mean that your name was|not in Dr. Edwardes' files...
You were in an accident.
Where was it?
What happened to your hand?|It was burned.
You had an operation|in the last 6 months.
A skin graft, 3rd degree burns.|Your hand was burned. Where?
-lt hurts.|-Try remembering.
-My hand hurts.|-Your hand is remembering...
open your mind|and the pain will leave.
-Where did it happen?|-I can't it hurts.
-What happened?|-My hand's burning.
Try to remember.
-My dear are you all right?|-I'm all right. What happened?
You re-lived an accident|you'd been in...
But the memory only touched|the part of your mind that feels...
It's beginning, it really is.|You'll feel better soon.
-Who could that be?|-I know.
I sent down for|the latest editions of the papers.
You ordered the afternoon papers?|They just came, I brought them up.
Just a minute.
-Here you are.|-Thanks.
He recognised me in the paper.|We've got to go, we can't pack.
Listen, when you left the mountains|you must've passed through New York.
Wherever you went, you must've been|in the railroad station...
you must've heard Edwardes|ask for tickets to somewhere.
-I don't remember.|-You will...
when you come to the ticket window,|try to re-live the other time...
try to repeat what was said.|Ask for the same tickets.
Philedelphia, 6.39.|Thank you.
You went someplace with Edwardes,|ask for tickets to that place.
8.46, thank you.
What is it?
What do you want, sir?
Please step aside.
-I want 2 tickets.|-Where to?
He means Rome, Georgia.
-Anything wrong?|-My husband's ill, we're going home.
Here you are, 2 tickets|to Rome, Georgia.
He'll be all right in a minute.|These dizzy spells go away.
He looks pretty sick,|I'll call a doctor.
No, he'll be all right.|Do you feel better now, darling?
Pull yourself together.|You're all right.
-When does the train leave?|-Birmingham special...
in 10 minutes, track 17.
-I got confused.|-Thank you.
I'll take you to the train|in case anything happens.
He's recovered now. You're very nice|to offer help, but I can get along.
Act as if we're taking this train.|We'll walk down and turn back.
-What's the matter with this train?|-The policeman heard us buy tickets.
-Did he act suspicious?|-No...
but if he goes to the police station,|he may find descriptions of us...
remember us, and telephone Rome,|Georgia to have us picked up.
We can't go back to the hotel.|They'll have a million police there.
We're not going back,|we're going to Rochester...
Come on, we'll go to|Grand Central Station.
By the way, what are we|going to Rochester for?
-We're going to visit Dr. Brulov.|-The one who doesn't like ketchup.
He was my analyst,|he psychoanalysed me.
-Really? What was wrong with you?|-All analysts have to be analysed...
by other analysts before|they start practicing.
That's to make sure|they're not too crazy.
Apparently the mind is never too ill|to make jokes about psychoanalysis.
-I'm sorry. I'm a pig.|-I keep forgetting you're a patient.
So do I. When I hold you|like this I feel well.
Will you love me as much|when I'm normal?
-I'll be insane about you.|-I am normal.
At least there's nothing wrong with|me that a long kiss wouldn't cure.
I've never treated a guilt complex|like that before.
-We don't want to attract attention.|-Everybody's doing it.
-You both going?|-Yes, yes.
Don't read the paper.|Let's pick up where we left off.
Try to recall the first moment|you thought you were Edwardes.
-Darling, I've a confession to make.|-I'm listening.
As a doctor, you irritate me.
I'm here, swooning with love.|You ask me a question...
and I don't like you anymore.|Do you have to sit there smiling...
like some know-it-all|schoolteacher?
I can't help it, that's|what happens in analysis...
As the doctor begins to uncover|the truth...
the patient develops a fine hearty|hatred of the doctor.
You're going to hate me a great|deal before we're through.
-And you're going to like that?|-As a scientist, yes.
And if I biff you one, you'll|consider it a sort of diploma?
-Yes, but don't biff too hard.|-No...
I think we should go on|with our investigation.
-We have some new facts now.|-What facts?
You're a doctor, you were in an|accident, your hand was burned...
-and you were in Rome.|-I was never in Rome in my life.
You were either there,|or going there.
You remembered something no doubt|connected with burning your hand.
Rome, think of Rome.|Maybe Rome, ltaly.
When did you go to Rome?|What did you do in Rome?
I remember something.
-Fighter planes spotted us.|-You were flying?
Transport. Medical core.|Over Rome, heading north.
-What happened?|-They hit us.
Caught fire, uniform burned,|bailed out.
I don't know. It blacks out.
-You left the army?|-Yes.
I probably deserted, I hated it.
I hated killing, I can remember|that much.
Your guilt complex was obviously|inflamed by being a soldier.
Stop it, babbling like some|phoney King Solomon...
half-witted devil talk|that doesn't make sense...
if there's anything I hate|it's a smug woman.
Darling, we're just beginning.|Don't biff too hard yet.
I worked as Dr. Brulov's assistant|for a year after my internship...
He got me the post at Green Manors.|You'll like Alex.
I doubt that. One psychoanalyst|in my hair is enough.
-What are you going to tell him?|-That we're on our honeymoon.
Doctor, you think of the most|wonderful prescriptions.
-Good evening, is Dr. Brulov in?|-No, he went out after dinner.
He ought to be back soon.
Would you tell him his|supper is on the table...
I'm sorry, I can't wait any longer.
And there are 2 men|waiting for him in there.
-How do you do?|-How do you do?
-How's your mother been lately?|-Still complaining about rheumatism.
She figures I ought to get|transferred down to Florida.
"I said, ""Do expect me to sacrifice|all chance of promotion..."
"just because you got rheumatism?"""
Did you take the subject|up with the head?
Yeah, he said a transfer|could be arranged, but...
I'd have to start over as a|sergeant. I think that's unfair...
after all the work I did|on that narcotics case.
-What did he say to that?|-A lot of things...
he made some crack about|me being a mama's boy...
Pardon me, that may be for me|I gave headquarters this number.
Hello.|Yes, Lieutenant Cooley.
Any new developments?
When did you find that out?
No, right,|I'll be down later. Goodbye.
Deiter, what is this kind|of persecution?
I told the police yesterday,|I know nothing about Edwardes.
But yesterday you had some kind|of theory...
I explained to the policeman|that if Edwardes...
took on vacation|a paranoid patient...
he was a bigger fool than|I ever knew he was.
It is the same as playing|with a loaded gun.
Do you think this patient|might've killed him?
I'm not thinking anything,|I'm not a bloodhound.
Was Dr. Edwardes|a great friend?
What are you talking about?|The man was impossible.
You had a quarrel with him,|when you were in New York?
Not New York, in Boston|at the Psychiatry Convention...
What kind of analyst wants to cure|psychosis by taking people skating?
Or to a bowling alley?
I understand you threatened|to punch his nose.
All I did was get up and walk out,|and kick over a few chairs...
which nobody was sitting in.|So don't ask me any more questions...
-You have now the facts.|-Thank you very much.
I'm sorry to have bothered you.
If anything turns up,|we'll let you know.
Good bye ma'am.|Good night, sir.
What do you suppose they're|snooping around for?
Next they'll give me|the third degree.
Alex, I was going to write,|but it happened so quickly...
-I got married.|-Who is married?
-Alex, my husband, John Brown.|-I'm glad to meet you officially.
You are married? There is nothing|so nice as a new marriage...
no psychosis yet, no aggression,|no guilt complexes...
I congratulate you, and wish|you have babies and not ogres...
How about we have a glass of beer,|like in the old days?
The truth is, we have no hotel room.|All the hotels were so crowded.
What do you want with a hotel? That's|for millionaires, not lovebirds.
You'll stay right here. Look how I'm|living by myself with a can opener.
My housekeeper has gone to work,|my secretary is a wreck...
and I've got a cleaning woman|who can't cook and hates me...
Cook me my coffee in the morning|and the house is yours.
-That's wonderful of you.|-There's nothing wonderful about me.
It's nice to see my old assistant.|The youngest but the best I ever had.
But who knows now? As my old friend|Sanabaum used to say...
Women make the best psychoanalysts,|until they fall in love...
"after that, they make|the best patients."""
Good night and happy dreams...
-Which we will analyse at breakfast.|-Goodnight and thanks for everything.
Any husband of Constance|is a husband of mine.
-He was so pert with the police.|-Wasn't he?
He carried it off like an expert.
I felt stupid for a few|minutes, but it turned out well.
Providing the professor|isn't wiser than he seems.
Alex, no. Things are different here|since my time.
Alex didn't think anything,|he's sweet.
Maybe, but he didn't even|ask us where our bags were.
He's always like that, in a|complete dream state socially.
You know, this room does|look changed, but it isn't...
It's I who am changed.|It's called transfer of affects.
The fact that everything seems|so wonderful in this room.
-That's what it's called, is it?|-Did the police disturb you?
No, one ignores such trifles|on a honeymoon.
I take it this is your|first honeymoon.
Yes, I mean,|it would be if it were.
For what it's worth, I can't remember|ever having kissed any other woman.
I have nothing to remember|of that nature either.
You're very sweet.
-Of course, I'm no child.|-Far from it.
I'm well aware that we're all|bundles of inhibitions.
-Please don't do that.|-Why?
It isn't ethical,|I'm here as your doctor.
Well, you can stop worrying doctor,|I'm going to sleep on the couch.
No, that's also unethical.
This honeymoon is complicated enough,|without you dragging ethics into it...
I suppose the floor is out.
The patient always sleeps in the bed,|the doctor occupies the couch...
-fully dressed.|-I see you know the rules.
-You remember something.|-No.
-This room reminds you of something.|-No.
You're resisting a memory,|what is in your mind?
-I don't know.|-Yes you do, you're resisting it.
Don't start that again. Don't stand|there with that wise look...
-I'm sick of your double talk.|-You're looking at the bed.
What frightens you?|White, lines...
When I made fork marks|on a tablecloth it agitated you...
and that night you kissed me, you|pushed me away because of my robe...
it was white, with dark lines.|Try to think...
Why does white frighten you?|Why do lines frighten you?
-Think of white.|-lt frightens me, I can't look.
Don't run away, stand still.|Look, remember.
Oh darling,|you mustn't be frightened...
You mustn't,|we're making progress.
We have the word white|on our side.
Is that you, Mr. Brown?
I thought it was you.
I was unable to sleep,|so I came down to work.
When you're old, you don't|need to sleep so much.
I'm having a glass of milk and|some crackers, join me please...
I'll get another glass.|I'm glad to have company.
Nobody likes to have crackers|and milk by himself.
When I was a young man,|I was always saying...
If I could only get alone, instead|of wasting time with people...
"I would be happy."""
Now I am saying|just the opposite.
This is the secret of old age,|everything becomes just the opposite.
Do you know who makes the most|trouble in the world? Old people.
They are always worrying what|will be in the world tomorrow...
after they are gone.
That's why we have wars.
Because old people have nothing else|they can get excited about.
Well, we'll drink to you...
to when we're young, and know|nothing except living.
Alex, Alex|are you all right?
Good morning. Yes I am all right.|Thank you.
-I fell asleep in the chair.|-Yes.
-What time is it?|-Seven o'clock.
I was dreaming. This morning|I get some real coffee.
My husband must've gone out|very early, you didn't...
He didn't go out.|He's over there on the couch.
He's all right,|he's sleeping fine.
My dear child, do you think|old Alex Brulov...
one of the biggest brains|in psychiatry...
is unable to make 2 and 2|come out 4?
I should've known.
The moment I see you with a husband,|whose pupils are enlarged...
who has a tremor of the left hand,|who is on honeymoon with no bags...
and whose name is John Brown.|I know practically what is going on.
-What happened?|-Only what I expected.
There is no use taking chances|with a possibly dangerous case.
I sit here waiting,|if you scream, I'm ready...
So, he comes downstairs and he's|dangerous, I can see by his face.
So I keep talking, while I put some|bromide into a glass of milk...
enough to knock out 3 horses.
When he falls down, I run up to see|you, you're sleeping like a baby...
and I come back|here to watch out.
The struggle against his condition|agitates him at times...
but there's no danger in him.
This is what I found|in his hand last night.
He didn't know he had that.|You mustn't think that.
He didn't try to hurt you,|he couldn't.
-My child he is not responsible.|-That's not correct.
I'm just a little more experienced|with his type than you.
I grant you know more|than me, but...
Do not complete this sentence with|the usual female contradictions.
You grant I know more than you,|but you know more than me?
-What are you going to do?|-Something more for you than me...
-I'm calling the police.|-No, please...
You are giving me orders?|My pupil?
You don't know this man,|you know only science...
you know his mind,|but not his heart.
We are speaking of a schizophrenic,|and not a valentine.
We're speaking of a man.
Look at you, Dr. Petersen,|the promising psychoanalyst...
is now all of a sudden a schoolgirl|in love with an actor, nothing else.
-Alex, let me tell you about him.|-What is there for you to say?
We both know that the mind|of a woman in love...
is operating on the lowest level|of the intellect.
Doctor told me not to smoke in the|morning, but I'm too excited.
You're right. I'm not an analyst,|I'm not even a doctor here...
I'm not talking to you as one.
Believe not what I say,|but what I feel.
The mind isn't everything, the heart|can see deeper sometimes.
A police investigation|might ruin his chance of recovery...
I can save him.
But if he killed Dr. Edwardes,|how can you help?
He didn't, he didn't.
But if it turns out he did,|which I'm certain it will...
It won't. You told me what Freud said.|A man can't do anything in amnesia...
that his real character|wouldn't have done.
And how do you know|what his real character is?
-I know, I know.|-She knows...
This is the way science|goes backward...
Who told you what he is?|Freud? Or a crystal ball?
I couldn't feel this way toward|a man who was bad...
or who had committed murder.
I couldn't feel this pain|for someone who was evil.
You are 20 times|crazier than him.
She couldn't love him|if he was no good.
This is baby talk, nothing else.|What do you want I should do?
Give me time to treat and cure him,|before the police find him...
and shock him into|an incurable condition.
-This could take a year.|-No, no.
Half a year? We should sit|and hide for half a year?
Waiting to find out if he'll cut|your throat, my throat...
and set fire to the house.|My dear girl...
even to a woman in love,|it must seem a little unreasonable.
Just a few more days,|before you turn him over...
a few more days, and then|if I can't do anything...
if we both can't, then you|can call the police.
You're not hiding a criminal.|There's no evidence...
except his own guilt fantasies.|He's just a possible witness...
to what happened to Edwardes.
In his condition, he could|tell the police nothing.
You're doing nothing|against the law, we're helping...
by investigating him as doctors...
Doctors who want the truth|even more than they do.
-All right.|-You'll wait?
Go make me coffee. I'll pretend|I'm acting sensible for a few days.
Thank you, thank you very much.
I'll make you coffee,|with an egg in it.
-Who are you?|-I'm Dr. Brulov.
Brulov? That's right.
-Who's been feeding me bromide?|-I gave you, to sleep.
Oh, yes, Rochester.
-What's your name?|-I don't know.
-Constance told you.|-Nobody told me...
if I don't know an amnesia case|when I see one, what do I know?
You don't remember|your father or mother?
-Wife, or sweetheart?|-No.
Don't fight me, I'm going|to help you if I can.
I'm going to be your father image.|You must look on me as your father.
Trust me, lean on me. It's a|short cut, but we haven't much time.
All right, go ahead, I'm leaning.
Maybe you've got something|to tell me...
a single thought, a few words|in the corner of your head?
Go on, talk to me, whatever comes|in your head, just say.
-There's nothing.|-Maybe you dreamt something?
-Yes.|-What did you dream?
I don't believe in dreams,|that Freud stuff's a lot of hooey.
You're a fine one to talk.
You've got amnesia,|and a guilt complex...
you don't know if|you're coming or going...
but Freud is hooey,|this you know.
-You don't like me, Papa.|-You want I should help you, or not?
I'll explain to you about dreams|so you don't think it is hooey.
The secret of who you are and|what has made you run away...
all these secrets are|buried in your brain...
but you don't want|to look at them.
The human being often doesn't want|to know the truth about himself...
because he thinks|it'll make him sick.
So he makes himself sicker,|trying to forget. You follow this?
-How do you feel?|-Coffee.
The patient is going to tell us|what he dreamt.
Fine, I'll take notes,|I'll get my glasses.
Now, here's where dreams|come in.
They tell you what|you're trying to hide.
But they tell it to you all mixed up|like pieces of a puzzle.
The problem of the analyst is|to examine this puzzle...
and put the pieces|in the right places...
and find out what the devil|you're trying to say to yourself.
Let's see. I kept thinking while|dreaming that it all meant something.
There was some other meaning in it|that I ought to find out.
We'll find out.
I can't make out just what|sort of a place it was...
it seemed to be|a gambling house.
But there weren't any walls, just|curtains with eyes painted on them...
a man was walking around with a pair|of scissors, cutting them in half...
and then a girl came with hardly a|thing on and started kissing everyone.
She came to my table first.
Did you recognise|this kissing bug?
I'm afraid she looked a little|like Constance.
This is plain, ordinary,|wishful dreaming. Go on.
I was sitting there, playing cards,|with a man who had a beard...
I was dealing to him,|I turned up the 7 of clubs.
"He said, ""That makes 21, I win"".|But when he turned up his cards..."
they were blank. Then the proprietor|came and accused him of cheating...
"He yelled, ""This is my place..."
"if I catch you cheating,|I'll fix you."""
I'm sorry about|that kissing bug.
I'm glad you didn't dream of me|as an egg beater as one patient did.
-Why what would that mean?|-Never mind.
Does it make any sense to you,|what I dream?
Not yet. You're trying to tell|yourself something...
what it is,|we'll figure out later.
-There's a lot more to it.|-Go on, try to recall the details...
the more cockeyed, the better|for the scientific side of it.
Leaning over the sloping roof of a|high building was a man with a beard.
I yelled at him to watch out. Then|he fell, slowly, his feet in the air.
Then I saw the proprietor again,|the man in the mask...
he was hiding behind a tall chimney|and he had a small wheel in his hand.
I saw him drop|the wheel on the roof.
Suddenly I was running, then I heard|something beating over my head...
it was a great pair of wings...
they chased and almost caught me,|and I came to the bottom of the hill.
I must've escaped,|I don't remember.
That's all there was,|I woke up and saw Dr. Brulov.
-Have some coffee.|-Thanks.
-Something's happening.|-What is it?
-Snow.|-The light frightened him...
No, it was the snow.
That's the white he's afraid of,|snow and those tracks.
-What tracks?|-The sled tracks in the snow.
His first sympton was shock at the|sight of fork lines on a white cloth.
And my robe|had dark lines on it.
And last night the white coverlet,|and those tracks in the snow.
-We'll pull the blinds down.|-Dr. Edwardes was fond of sports...
he mentioned tennis and skiing|as valuable...
in the treatment|of mental disorders.
ski tracks in the snow.
That's what those dark lines|symbolise for him...
his horror of them means...
they're immediately connected|with the cause of his amnesia.
Yes, imagine you're on skis.
Where did Edwardes go skiing?|We must find out.
Can you tell us where? Try.
He has told us, in his dream.|Let me see your notes.
What can we do for him?
You're not his mama|you're an analyst...
leave him alone he'll come out|of this by himself.
The sloping roof, that means|mountainside.
They were skiing. The father image,|the bearded man is Edwardes...
That's simple, he plunged over|the precipice while skiing.
And then a shadow chases him|up and down a hill.
That could mean he was escaping|from a valley.
Ski resorts are called valleys,|like Sun Valley.
He was being pursued by a|winged figure, a witch or...
No, the figure was you. If you grew|wings, you'd be an angel.
The dream is trying to tell him|the name of the resort.
Angel, Angel Valley...
Do you remember Angel Valley?
We can call a travel agency and check|all the resort names.
It wasn't Angel Valley,|I remember it.
-lt was a place called Gabriel Valley.|-What else do you remember?
Who was the masked figure|in your dream?
It was an accident, a skiing|accident, remember?
-Dr. Edwardes went over...|-lt was no accident.
I can't stand this anymore.|I've had enough.
We've got to call the police.
No, we have to go to Gabriel Valley,|you have to go with me.
-This is for Cooley when he comes in.|-I'll tell him.
At 4.45? Thank you, goodbye.
There's a train leaving in an hour,|we can connect for Gabriel Valley.
I know what I have to do,|I can't go on endangering you...
I know about last night.
-Nothing happened.|-But it will, I've got to end it.
I love you, but I'm not worth loving.|You can help me afterward.
There's no help afterward...
If you give yourself up in your|condition, there is no afterward.
-I can cure you.|-But you can't undo a murder.
-There is none to undo.|-I killed him.
-Oh, stop.|-And now you, last night I...
-Don't try to stop me, I have to go.|-Guilt...
you've lived with it a long time,|haven't you?
-What?|-Ever since your childhood...
you've tried to run away|from something.
You always felt guilt for everything.|What was it in your youth?
It must be terrible if you'd|rather think you murdered him...
-than remember what happened.|-Enough.
You said you loved me. Look at me,|why am I fighting for you?
-Because I love you, I need you.|-But I'm nothing.
-Come with me to Gabriel Valley.|-What good will that do?
When you see the hill where|it happened, you'll remember.
We'll go skiing like you did|with Edwardes...
-I was there, I killed him.|-You'll see what really happened.
-You mean because it'll happen again.|-Yes.
And what if I killed him?
Isn't it true that if|the episode is repeated...
I'm likely to do the same thing|I did before?
-How do you know I won't kill again?|-Because I know you didn't kill him.
You believe in me enough|to take such a chance?
Of course. We're going back|to that ski run.
We'll find out what in your childhood|has haunted you all your life.
We'll also find out what happened|to Dr. Edwardes.
Ever seen her before?
I've always loved feminine clothes|but never dared to wear them...
but I'm going to after this, I'll|wear exactly what pleases me...
even very funny hats...
the kind that make you|look a little drunk.
Put them on.
It was something in my childhood.|Something in my childhood!
I remember now.|I killed my brother.
I didn't kill my brother,|it was an accident.
That's what has haunted you all your|life, the memory you were afraid of.
It's like looking into|an old picture book...
seeing familiar pictures|one at a time.
I went to Colombia Medical School,|had a girl with a giggle...
who luckily married my roommate,|Kim. And by the way...
-My name's John Balentine.|-I'm very pleased to meet you.
My army record's all right.|I was invalided out.
I ran into Dr. Edwardes when I was|in the Cumberland Mountains...
trying to recover from some nerve|shock I got when the plane crashed.
He was on vacation,|but I asked him to help me...
and he invited me to go skiing.|We went through New York...
and I seem to remember going|to lunch, I'm still a little vague...
We arrived here, and the accident|happened at that spot.
Where you saved me.
Let's not have any confusion|about who saved whom...
He went over there, it's still|a little foggy, but...
I do know he was about 50 feet|ahead of me, I saw him plunge...
that was the thing that set you off,|the start of your guilt complex...
that made you think you'd killed him.|So you had to run away from that too.
You took on the role of Edwardes, to|prove to yourself he wasn't dead...
and so therefore|you hadn't killed him.
Professor, I never realised in my|amnesic state, how lovely you are.
Now that you got your head back,|you musn't lose it again.
It's too late,|I'm beyond cure.
-How's it feel to be a great analyst?|-Not so bad.
-And a great detective?|-Wonderful.
And madly adored?
You'll look wonderful...
in white, with a little orange|blossom in your hair.
That sounds vaguely as if it has|something to do with marriage.
A brilliant analysis, Doctor.
You know Lt. Cooley|and Sg. Gillespie from Rochester?
-Yes, we know them quite well.|-How did you find us?
-No thanks to your friend Dr. Brulov.|-We made enquiries at the station...
-You left a trail a mile wide.|-You arrived in the nick of time.
I believe that's|the usual expression.
We found the body of Dr. Edwardes...
It's almost exactly where you told|the local police it would be.
-You remembered the spot very well.|-Thank goodness it's all cleared up.
Not quite, Dr. Petersen. I'm afraid|a bullet was found in the body.
-lt was in his back.|-The case is one of murder.
We have to detain you, sir.|It's my duty to inform you...
that anything you say may|be used against you.
No, you mustn't say you killed him.|Try to remember what happened...
before Edwardes went over.
But when he said he killed him,|he wasn't himself...
he was in a state of great|mental distress.
You can't put him away,|you can't...
It'll destroy his mind,|don't you understand?
Goodbye my dear.
We won't give up.|I'm going to fight and get you free.
My dear girl, you can't keep bumping|your head against reality...
and saying it is not there.
The evidence was definite.
We can't remove it by wishing|or crying.
He trusted me. I led him into a trap.|I convicted him...
Is that real enough for you?
There is no one to blame...
The case was a little deeper than|you figured, this often happens.
You must realise one thing:|it is over, for both of you.
It's not over.
-You will have other cases.|-lt's not over, it never will be.
Don't ask me to stop,|I can't.
Thanks for straightening things out|with Dr. Mercheson and everyone.
It is very sad, to love|and lose somebody...
but in a while you will forget...
and take up the threads of your life|where you left off, not long ago...
and you will work hard, there's lots|of happiness in working hard...
Maybe the most.
I will write to you.
Alex, you're very good.
I'm sorry to hurry you Dr. Brulov,|but your car is waiting...
-You've just time.|-Thank you...
I'm always late,|always forgetting.
-A brilliant man.|-I should've gone to the station.
You're too tired. I know that feeling|of exhaustion well.
One must humour it,|or it explodes.
I'll try to help you,|in every way.
-You will take care of yourself?|-Yes.
And try to forget things|better forgotten.
You've got a great career|ahead of you Constance.
Thank you. At least one good thing|came out of this...
you're back at Green Manors.
Who knows what would've happened|under Dr. Edwardes.
I knew Edwardes only slightly,|I never really liked him...
but he was a good man,|in a way, I suppose.
Well, goodnight Constance, I hope|you feel rested in the morning.
I knew Edwardes only slightly...
I never liked him.
I knew Edwardes only slightly...
knew Edwardes slightly...
knew Edwardes...|knew Edwardes slightly...
I want to talk to you,|Dr. Mercheson.
It's rather late,|and you need rest, Constance.
I must talk to you.
Nocturnal conferences|are bad for the nerves.
-ls it something about work?|-Yes.
-Can't it wait till morning?|-lt can't wait.
Do sit down.
Now, what's your problem?
It's a dream one of my patients|reported...
-May I ask who the patient is?|-The patient is John Balentine.
I fancied that.
You're still working|on the possibility of his innocence?
Charming loyalty, one of your most|attractive characteristics.
What did he dream?
That he was in a gambling house, full|of people playing with blank cards...
Blank cards? Obviously he was trying|to deny it was a gambling house.
One person went around cutting|the drapes in half...
another was a scantily dressed girl|who was kissing everybody...
With a little imagination one could|imagine them inmates of Green Manors.
That's what I had in mind.
Interesting notion to play around|with, do go on.
There were eyes painted on|the curtains around the walls.
Oh, the guards at Green Manors.
The patient was playing cards,|no longer blank...
a game of 21 with a bearded man,|who was evidently Dr. Edwardes...
Yes, one usually dreams of one's|analyst with a beard.
"He dealt Edwardes the 7 of clubs, and|Edwardes said, ""That makes it 21 ."""
I'd say the patient was trying|to mention a locale...
-the 7 of clubs might mean a club.|-Yes, with the word 21 in it.
There is such a place in New York,|it's called the 21 Club.
I've heard of it.
The patient dreamt...
the proprietor came in and began|accusing Dr. Edwardes of cheating...
"He ordered Edwardes out and said,|""I won't allow you to play here..."
"this is my place,|I'm going to fix you."""
The locale has a double identity:|the 21 club, and Green Manors...
But the proprietor seems to belong|more to the latter.
In fact, I would say that this angry|proprietor who threatened Edwardes...
It seemed that way to me.
I presume you only arrived|at this solution tonight?
And have confided your|psychoanalytical findings to nobody?
Was there any more of the dream?
Yes. The patient dreamt he and|Edwardes were on a sloping roof...
he saw Edwardes plunge|over the edge to his death.
He also saw the angry proprietor|hiding behind a chimney laughing...
holding a small wheel,|he dropped the wheel.
The symbolism of the wheel|escapes me.
It was a revolver.
The proprietor who threatened|Edwardes life in the 21 Club...
dropped a revolver in the snow,|after shooting him in the back.
The weapon is still there|at the foot of a tree...
with the murderer's|fingerprints on it.
I can't agree with this part|of your interpretation...
for the good reason that|the weapon is now in my hand.
I imagined something|like this might happen...
when I made the slip|about knowing Edwardes.
That started your agile|young mind going.
You were having a breakdown...
In a state of panic you heard that|Edwardes was to take your place.
So you sought him out|in the restaurant...
where he was lunching|with John Balentine.
You accused him of stealing your job.|You threatened to kill him.
He calmed you down and told|you he was going skiing.
You followed him there,|and shot him from behind a tree.
That's enough.|Your story is ridiculous.
You'll make a fool of yourself...
a love smitten analyst,|playing dream detective.
There'll be no dreams|for the police.
They'll find out from the waiters|in the 21 Club that you were there...
You'll be identified as the man who|had a row with Dr. Edwardes...
There'll be people who saw you|on the train to Gabriel Valley.
There'll be no dreams necessary|for this case.
you're an excellent analyst,|but a rather stupid woman.
What did you think I'd do when you|told me this, congratulate you?
You forget, in your devotion|to your patient...
that the punishment for 2 murders|is the same as for one.
You're not going to commit a|second murder, Dr. Mercheson.
I hadn't planned to, but you're here.|You're not leaving.
A man with your intelligence,|does not commit a stupid murder.
You're thinking you're not mentally|responsible for that other crime...
there were extenuating circumstances|in the state of your health...
They'll not execute you|for the death of Dr. Edwardes.
You can still live, read,|write, research...
even if you are put away.
You're thinking that now,|Dr. Mercheson.
If you shoot now,|it is deliberate murder...
You'll be tried as a sane murderer...
convicted as a sane man, and killed|in the electric chair for your crime.
I'm going to telephone the police,|Dr. Mercheson...
And remember what I say...
Any husband of Constance,|is a husband of mine.
-Goodbye, good luck.|-Goodbye.
SNL Best Of Eddie Murphy 1998
S Diary 2004
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