All language subtitles for Beauty.and.the.Beast.1987.S02E14.When.the.Bluebird.Sings.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-squalor_iris3 (1)_track3_[eng]

Vincent:
This is where the wealthy
and the powerful rule.

It is her world,

a world apart from mine.

Her name... is Catherine.

From the moment I saw her,
she captured my heart

with her beauty,

her warmth and her courage.

I knew then, as I know now,

she would change my life...

Forever.

Catherine:
He comes from a secret place,
far below the city streets,

hiding his face from strangers,

safe from hate and harm.

He brought me there
to save my life.

And now, wherever I go,
he is with me in spirit.

For we have a bond stronger
than friendship or love.

And although
we cannot be together,

we will never, ever be apart.

(Bell jingling)

Cathy, how long
is this going to take?

We're running late
already.

I just want to browse
for a few minutes.

I love old books.

Here, this one's old.

The collected sermons
of cotton mather?

Not exactly what I had in mind.

Man: Perhaps I could
be of some help?

Uh, yeah, she's looking
for a book.

Oh.

Something very
special-- um...

First edition maybe?
Poetry.

English poetry's
at the end of aisle three.

You can feel
free to browse

as long
as you want.

We've only got,
like, 32 minutes

man:
Young man, there is

a video store on the next block.

I understand they have vampire
cheerleaders in stock.

Hey, I read.

I'm a lawyer.

We shan't hold that against you.

(Both chuckle)

I'll be back
in 20 minutes.

You're on your own
for lunch, Radcliffe.

We shall miss you, young man!

(Cathy laughs)

This way, please.

(Door bell jingling)

♪ ♪

Try this one.

Tennyson.

A first edition.

Oh, this is perfect.
Thank...

I see you found
your book.

Yes.

Well, that's
Mr. Tennyson's
book, actually,

but it was
waiting for you.

All books wait.

They sit patiently
on their shelves

collecting the most refined dust

until their cover is opened
and the pages are turned

by the proper person.

Okay, Radcliffe,
lunch is over.

We got ten minutes
to get back to court.

Oh, joy!

The tit-Willow is back.

(Laughs)

That's funny.

(People conversing)

Six continuances!
I can't believe this.

At this rate, I'll be drawing
social security

before we get to trial
on this thing.

Hold the elevator!

Wait.

See ya up there.

(Catherine sighs)

(Indistinct crowd chatter)

(Clicks tongue, sighs)

(Sighs)

Excuse me.

You.

I know I've got it here
somewhere.

Ah, yes, I think this is--
no, that's not it.

You know, I really
must get mouse

to build me some
bookshelves.

(Subway cars chugging
and clanging)

No. On second thought,
I better ask Cullen.

Vincent, what is it?

Nothing. I...

(Soft laugh)

For a moment,
I felt a coldness.

Boy, this sort of thing
is never very easy.

What sort of thing?

Are you often approached
by strangers?

This is New York City.

I'm approached
by all sorts of...

Lunatics, yeah. Well, i-I'm not

a lunatic,
but, uh,

I'm the next
best thing.

"Kristopher gentian."

Artist?

Honest.

Well, good for
you, Mr. Gentian.

What do you want?

Just you.
Call me Kristopher.

I beg your pardon?

You can call me Kristopher.

I caught
that part.

Oh, okay.

Uh, I thought maybe
you could, uh, model for me.

Model for you?

Too eccentric?

Is this some kind of come-on?

Oh, no. No, no, really,
it's not like that.

Um, you can bring your boyfriend
or something,

you know, to-to-to watch,
to make sure I don't, um,

try anything, you know?

That might be interesting.

Yeah. I want
to make you immortal.

(Elevator bell dings)
Modest, aren't you?

Thank you.
I don't think so.

Uh, wait, uh...

My card.

I only have the one.

(Indistinct,
overlapping chatter)

Catherine:
Would I kid you, Jen?

Right down in the lobby.

Then he took back his card?

Yes. He said he only had one.

(Laughs)
He sounds like an artist,
all right.

Do you remember Craig?

Oh, god, yes.

The one with the ponytail?

Yeah, and the unheated loft.

Anyway, I posed for him
for three weeks

in February in a sheet,

and when I finally looked
at the painting,

I wasn't even in it.

No!

(Laughs)
Well, he told me that he liked

to look at naked women
while he was working.

That it-it helped his creative
juices or something.

But do not let me influence you.

They all can't be like Craig,
and you never know.

This guy might turn out to be
another Picasso or something.

So you think
I should pose for him?

Well, you may wind up
on the wall of the metropolitan,

and I'll buy postcards of you
and send them to my friends.

Oh, yeah, maybe
you could publish calendars.

Sure, or framed prints,

or wrapping paper,
or coffee mugs.

(Catherine laughing)

There is no telling
where this might end.

Well, this had
better end right now.

The tit-Willow needs me.

Jenny:
What?
(Catherine laughing)

I'll tell you
next week at dinner.

(Laughs)
Okay. Bye.

What was that all about?

An artist followed me
back from the bookstore.

Jen thinks maybe I
should pose for him.

Pose for him?

Cathy, you got to watch out
for these artsy types.

I mean, they get you alone,
they give you a little wine,

and the next thing
you know, well...

I mean, they've all
got a line, these guys.

They-they like
to take advantage.

How is that, Joe?

Well, you know, they try
to talk you into, uh,

or out of...

Well, it's not
like fashion modeling.

Sometimes you have to pose

without any, um...

Well, kind of nude.

Oh, is that all?

You don't have to worry, Joe.

I posed for a life study class
in college.

Are you blushing, Joe?

Hey, look, this is, uh,
none of my business, okay?

I need

the ketter testimony
broken down by tomorrow morning.

Are you sure
this guy's on the up-and-up?

There's a scam on every corner
in this city, Radcliffe.

He give you a name?

Mm-hmm.
Kristopher gentian.

Gentian?

Relax, Joe.

I'm sure he's harmless.

Yeah, famous last words.

I need that stuff
tomorrow morning.

Okay.

I'll take it home,
do it tonight.

In college-- that'd be
Radcliffe, right?

You had me going there
for a second, Chandler.

That's a girl's school.

Didn't Radcliffe
go coed?

Mm-hmm, in 1971.

But you better not tell Joe.

(Laughs)

It's been so long.

I was afraid...

That I might not come?

I was away.

There's a place...

Miles beneath the city--

a nameless river

that runs through the darkness.

Sometimes I go there.

I wanted you
to have this.

Tennyson.

First edition.

I always loved
idylls of the king.

I even knew some
parts of it by heart.

Some nights
I dreamt of Camelot...

And Lancelot.

Lancelot was fatally flawed,

destined never
to find the grail.

Still,

he was the greatest knight
of all.

Vincent:
"But in her web,
she still delights

"to weave the mirror's
magic sights.

"For often through
the silent nights,

"a funeral, with
plumes and lights,

and music,
went to Camelot..."

Man:
"When the moon was
overhead, came two

young lovers lately wed."

Go! Go before
they see you!

"...'half sick of shadows'
said the lady of shalott."

Kristopher?!

You didn't have
to send him away.

What in the hell do you
think you're doing here?

God, he reads beautifully.

I want you to stop following me.

Do you understand?!

Do you think he'd sit for me?

(Sighs heavily)

Who are you talking about?

What century did he
walk out of, Cathy?

What storybook?

This is outrageous.

"And over our heads
floats the blue bird,

"singing of beautiful and
impossible things,

"of things that are beautiful...

"Of things that are lovely
and never happen

of things that are not,
and should be."

It's Oscar wilde.

Where are we going?

Home.

Okay.

Does that mean you
want to pose for me?

Father:
Did he see you?

I don't know.

Perhaps a glimpse, but...

A glimpse?

And if he thinks
about what he saw?

If he wonders about it?

Vincent, you
realize the risk?

I've lived with that
risk all my life.

Do you think I could
ever forget it?

I think sometimes you...
You grow careless,

especially of late.

You and Catherine lose
yourselves in the moment.

And the night
and the stars.

And in each other.

No, that is not how it was.

I heard all of the stirrings
of the city,

the distant sound of traffic,

the wind rustling
in the foliage,

someone skipping stones
across the lagoon.

So how could this man possibly
creep up on you unawares?

I don't know.

Well, there must be
a rational explanation.
Fine.

Tell me what it is.

You're still mad, aren't you?

You might even
say furious.

I know, I know, I shouldn't
have followed you,

I shouldn't have
spied on you,

but if I hadn't would you
be here with me now?

Would I have seen him?

I don't know who you
think you saw...
Yes, you do. Yes, you do.

When are you going
to tell me about him?

You are being very trying,
Kristopher.

I can't help it.
I'm an artist.
An artist, I know.

Since when is
invasion of privacy

part of the creative process?

I had to follow
my heart.
Well, next time

you may just follow it
past the louvre and
into city jail.

Did you hear that?

She said "next time"!
Next time!

That means
she's forgiven me!

She's forgiven me!
(Woman screams)

Don't worry, we're
having him committed, soon!

She's smiling.

Yes...

Yes, yes, that
is definitely a smile.

I thought you were shy.

I am large,
I contain multitudes.

Do you like Espresso?

Kristopher.

Cappuccino?

Cafe au lait?

Cannoli?
A zabaglione

that'll break
your heart.

Kristopher...

Just an hour,
that's all I want.

Well, maybe two.

I won't speak about Vincent

and I'll never
bother you again.

Please, please, please, please,
please, please, please...?

(Chuckles)

It's great, isn't it?

I love this place.

It always makes me feel
like Lorenzo de medici

might walk in at any moment
to discuss a commission.

With you?
Who else?

But he will have to wait

until I have finished having
coffee with simonetta vespucci.

She was sandro botticelli's
great inspiration.

You can see her face
in all his paintings.

You used to cut
the crusts off those.

It's all right.

I'm allowed to eat crusts.

So, did simonetta and botticelli

meet for coffee
on a regular basis?

Oh, yeah, he was
very fond of her,

even though she was destined
to be with another.

She loved guiliano

de medici.

But botticelli took them
both to heart.

Hey.

Oh, it's all right.

See?

There's simonetta and guiliano.

They both became inspirations.

And did they live
happily ever after?

Guiliano was killed
during the pazzi rebellion.

And simonetta was
taken by a fever.

Nothing is forever, Cathy.

That's a strange thing
for an artist to say.

They live forever...

Here.

Can I have my book back?

Yeah, sure.

Oh, hey, are you using that
sketch pad?

I just bought it.

Great. Thanks.

You know, they do sell those.

Only to people with money.

Where do you exhibit,
Kristopher?

You haven't sold
much of your work?

My stuff is a little... strange.

Still...

Look up there.

Yours?

I ran up quite a tab.

The owner took it as payment.

He was, like, a million years
old, Cathy,

you would have loved him.

He's dead now.

I'm sorry.

Still...

That's a sale, isn't it?

Kind of.

Do you like it?

No, no, no, no, no,
no, no, don't tell me.

If you hate it, I'll be crushed.

It's... very powerful.

You're talented, Kristopher.

You like it?

Yes.

I knew you would!

So you'll pose for me, right?

(Chuckles)

You never give up.

Does a moth give up

when he's seen
the most beautiful flame

he's ever beheld?

Well, that is a good way
to get your wings singed.

Hazards of
my profession, Cathy.

My wings are forever singed.

Okay, just sit there,
sip your Espresso,

and let me sketch you.

What can it hurt?

(Sighs)

All right.

Great. Great.

You won't be sorry,
Cathy, I promise.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

You wouldn't happen
to have a pencil, would you?

(Laughs)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Catherine:
Where are you?

Catherine?

Where are you?

♪ ♪

He's dead.

(Echoes):
Dead.

♪ ♪

(Indistinct voices)

You finished with
the ketter breakdown yet?

Oh, I'm about halfway through.

Can you give me two more hours?

I thought you were going to
finish it at home last night.

Yeah, I was, but
something came up.

Well, this something doesn't
have anything to do with

the so-called artist,
does it?

Now, look, cath,
I don't know how to say this,

but I'd stay clear
of this guy, if I were you.

He's running some kind
of a scam on you.

Joe, what are you talking about?

Kristopher's an artist.

Yeah, a con artist,
you mean.

He told you his name was
Kristopher gentian, right?

Yes.
Well, he can't be.

What do you mean?

Well, I had Escobar run a little
check on him, and it's...

You what?
I know, I know,

it's none of my business.

Okay, fine, shoot me.

I was worried about you.

And you ought to be glad
I made it my business.

Kristopher gentian has been dead
for almost two years.

I want that in two hours.

Radcliffe, this is nuts.

Why don't
you just let me buy you lunch

and we'll forget
about this, huh?

Hello? Is anyone here?

Cathy, what's it
going to take

to convince you?
The guy's dead.

Well, then a dead man did
a sketch of me last night.

Hey, you said it,
I didn't.

Look, we went to
a coffee house.

I had Espresso.
He had zabaglione.

Dead men can't even
spell zabaglione.

And five'll getcha
ten he stuck you with
the check, am I right?

I told you the guy
is nothing but a scammer.

Oh, can I...? Oh, it's you.

Did you enjoy Mr. Tennyson?

Yes, very much.

There was a man in the shop
when I was here yesterday.

Of course there was.

Well, I need to
talk to him.

That should be easy.

He's standing
right behind you.

No, no, not Joe.

I understand.

Joe:
She's looking for

some guy she met back in
the poetry section.

Well, it's definitely
not you, then.

Claims he's
an artist.

We get a lot of
artists here.

Sometimes one of them
even purchases a book.

This man is
about this tall,

uh, kind of rumpled,
wears a mets cap.

His name is
Kristopher gentian.

I can't recall any such person.

Perhaps you saw him
somewhere else.

No, it was here.

You must have seen him.

I'm afraid not.

Now, if there's nothing else...

Can we go now?

I don't know
what's going on.

If your memory
should happen
to return,

would you give me a call?

(Door opens, bell jangles)

(Rustling)

(Faint scraping)

Who's there?

(Snarls)

(Gasps)

Mouse.

I thought for a moment...

I thought I saw an intruder
in the shadows.

Down here?

In your chamber?

It makes no sense.

Finished new aqueduct.

Little problem.

So I see.

Need your help.

To stop a flood?

No. Fixed it.

Swimming lessons.

Tomorrow.

We'll go to the mirror pool.

I'm going to see Narcissa.

Tell father I'll be
back by evening.

Intruders.

Don't scare mouse.

(Gasps)

Well, let's just say I've never
seen a ghost

with a cappuccino
moustache.

But why would anyone
pretend to be dead?

Well, the world has a way
of ignoring live artists

and celebrating dead ones.

Kristopher would not
be the first painter

to fake his own death.

Let's see what you've got on
our elusive Mr. Gentian.

Well, he was
a native new yorker,

went to Cooper union,
an arts scholarship.

His family's deceased.

He had a small inheritance,

but it must have run out.

He owed money to everybody
when he died.

Sounds like Kristopher,
all right.

Address?

A loft in the
east village,

but he'd been evicted.

Living on the street.

The night he died,

the temperature got down
to 20 below.

They found the body
in an alley off bleeker.

With all of Kristopher's I.D.?
Mm-hmm.

A friend viewed the body--
confirmed identification.

A Mr. Smith.

No, smyth.

Jonathon smyth.

He owns a bookstore.

Let me guess.

It's in the village.
7-7-7?

Vincent. Come.

You heard me approach?

I saw you, in
the waters.

Oh, yes, child, come look.

Vincent:
All I see is ripples
and reflections,

the flame of the candle.

You are your
father's son.

What do you see?

The past,
the future,

the faces of the dead.

Spirits seek their own level,
too, Vincent, like the waters.

(Laughing)

But I am a
crazy old woman

ask the father.

Did he tell you ghost stories
when you were young, child?

I...

Fled the headless horseman.

Rode in kipling's
phantom rickshaw. Yes.

I remember Marley's ghost.

Bound by chains he
forged in life.

But there are other kinds
of chains, Vincent.

Fear, love, hate...

Dreams.

Your world has room
for spirits, Narcissa.

Catherine lives
in another world.

A world where ghosts
walk only in stories.

Are you so sure, child?

Come, then.

Look again.

Open your eyes.

Look deep.

Could such a
being as this

walk the world your
Catherine lives in?

(Door bell jangles)

Oh, I'm sorry,
we're closed.

You are the persistent
one, aren't you?

Is that a compliment,
Mr. Smyth?

You lied to me.

Well, I fibbed.

How long have you
known Kristopher?

When he was a little boy,
he used to come in here.

He'd sit and read for
hours, book after book.

Mythology, folklore, poetry.

Even after he grew up,
he'd rather read than eat.

Then why did you pretend
you didn't know him?

Because it is such a bother.

No one believes me, anyhow.

You're not the first, you know.

Not the first what?

To see Kristopher's ghost.

He materializes for all

the more attractive
young ladies.

I can't believe this.

You see.

You're still claiming he's dead?

My dear young lady,
Kristopher is dead.

I had to identify
the body myself.

Such a shame.

He had so much talent.

(Sighs)

That's it.

I give up.

Wait a minute.

His paintings.

There was no will,
no family...

He never sold
any of his paintings.

What happened to them?

His landlord
took them.

A dreadful man.

For back rent?

Yeah, he took all
the books, too,

but I bought those back.

I thought it was
only right.

Old friends coming home again.

The landlord must have tried
to sell the paintings, too.

Undoubtedly.

But the only portraits
that he appreciated

were the ones on dollar bills.

I doubt if he succeeded.

Kristopher's work is
most probably off

in storage somewhere,

if they still exist.

They exist, all right.

Otherwise what's the point
of this charade?

My dear young lady,

you're so young and so cynical.

You should not be so certain.

The world devours all
of our certainties.

And all of our beauties,
as well.

(Dog barking)

(Distant siren blares)

(Engine starting)

♪ ♪

(Gentle creaking)

(Gasps)

Damn it.

(Gasps)

Vincent.

For a minute there, I thought...

(Sighs)

Well, thank god it's you.

I tell you, I am...

Half-sick of shadows?

Yes.

I was ready to give up
before you unlocked the door.

Catherine...

I didn't unlock any doors.

Then...

(Roars)

Hi.

Catherine:
How long have you been here?

Kristopher:
Here? I don't know.

It's funny, you know.

I can't seem to remem...

It's this way. I think.

I want some answers,
Kristopher.

How did you open that padlock
without my seeing you?

I just did. I didn't
want you to go away.

You're living here
now, is that it?

So many questions.

Watch out, you
might get answers.

You'll explain all the wonders
and mysteries in life.

And all the wonders
and mysteries...

Die.

I hate questions.

That's my stuff!

(Chuckles)

(Sighs)

Coloring books.

I couldn't get enough
of these when I was little.

You went outside the lines.

I liked going
outside the lines.

Vincent:
Some men ignore
the boundaries.

Hmm.

All the boundaries.

Catherine:
Coloring books is one thing.

Pretending to be dead
is something else.

Dead? What do you
mean, dead? Who's dead?

Good question.

Look, I don't
think you planned it.

I never plan anything,
if I can help it.

You'd just hit
rock bottom,

your work was gone.

You were living
on the street.

No one cared.

You stumble
across a dead man.

Roughly the same
age, same build.

Maybe I am dead.

As good as dead, anyway.

An artist is only as
alive as his work, right?

And botticelli will
live forever,

but me...

♪ ♪

Oh, Kristopher, these are
wonderful. Where are...?

Oh, I hate it
when he does this.

He's gone, Catherine.

I have no sense of him.

That's impossible.

Is it?

Oh, he must be
hiding somewhere.

Maybe there's another door.

Or a magical one.

I don't believe
in magic.

Then what
is all this?

Jenny:
If the revisions
aren't in by this week,

he will not make the fall list.
(Intercom buzzes)

All right, I've got another
call. You tell him that, okay?

Jenny aaronson.

Catherine:
Hi, Jen, it's me.

Oh, Cathy. Hi.

Does this mean that we're
finally gonna make dinner?

Oh, I wish. Maybe next week.

Where have I heard
that before?

(Laughs)

Listen, Jen, I need a favor.

All those art books
you've edited,

you must know
a few gallery owners.

(Chuckles)

Some of them a lot better
than I ever hoped to.

I want to arrange a show.

Easier said than done. When?

Soon. A week? Two weeks?

Is that possible?

Absolutely no way.

Well, let me work on it.

I've got some people who owe me
some pretty big favors.

Is this for this guy?

The one who wanted
you to pose?

Yes. Kristopher gentian.

Did you do it?

My god, you did. All right.

You have got to tell
me everything.

Is he any good?

How are his paintings?

What should I tell
the gallery owners?

Oh, you can tell them he is
better than good--

he's dead.

(Soft music playing)

(Visitors murmuring)

I don't think you'll find the
model's phone number there.

What do you figure they want
for something like this?

Why? You thinking of buying it?

Hey, why not?
The guy's dead, right?

It's gotta be
a good investment.

Yeah, I think I could
stand to look at her

for a long time.
Whadda ya think?

Put it right
over the couch.

Excuse me.

(Indistinct conversations)

Catherine:
Where is he?

Who?

The waiter. With the champagne.

Oh. Um... here you go.

No, I'm not thirsty.

Mr. Smyth.

Did you
come with Kristopher?

From his family crypt?

I knew he wouldn't be able
to resist his own opening.

Oh, I'm sure
that he's here

in spirit.

To think how close we came
to... to losing all this.

You've done a
marvelous thing.

All I contributed
was a setting.

The marvels belong
to Kristopher.

They've sold half a
dozen works already.

The rest should be gone
before the show is over.

The gallery takes
a commission off the top.

I told them to send the
rest of the money to you.

To me? My dear young
lady, whatever for?

Kristopher, of course.

He'll need money
for paints, canvas, rent.

But Kristopher is, uh... dead.

So you don't want the money?

You mustn't put words
in my mouth.

There's always, um...

Cemetery upkeep.

Oh, and, um, as
long as I'm here,

I hope you wouldn't mind
introducing me

to the proprietor
of this establishment.

Just in case, say, more works
by Kristopher gentian

should happen to show up?

I daresay.

You can never tell.

(Laughing)

Oh, it went great.

Don't you think
it went great?

Yeah, I'm happy.
You know,

I didn't know
they made artists

like Kristopher anymore.

They don't.

Do you want to
share a cab?

You know, the night's so
lovely, I think I'll walk.

Okay.

Thanks for everything.

Oh, my pleasure.

Okay, and dinner?

Tuesday.
Good.

Okay.

Bye.

Cathy?

I was so afraid
that you'd gone.

Here.

What is this?

Well, I can't
say for sure,

but whatever it
is, it's yours.

It turned up when
we were rooting

through that
dreadful warehouse.

It was sealed
up way in the back.

I don't know. Anyway,

it has your
name on it.

So I put it
aside for you.

Did you know the artist
when he was alive?

Of course you... what...

What am I saying?

Anyway...

Here.

Enjoy.

Catherine:
He had his sketch of me
to work from, I suppose,

but he must have
painted you from memory.

Astonishing, isn't it?

You might even
say "magical."

Now you're starting to
sound like Kristopher.

Am I?

Hmm.

Why are you smiling?

Kristopher worked
only in oils.

Yes.

Oils take months to dry
completely, Catherine.

Sometimes years.

This canvas...

Don't say it.

I have to hold
onto some

of my certainties,
don't I?

Kristopher:
We shall lay our hands upon
the Basilisk and see the Jewel

in the toad's head.

Champing his gilded oats,

the hippogriff will stand
in our stalls,

and over our heads will float
the bluebird,

singing of beautiful
and impossible things,

of things that are lovely
and that never happen,

of things that are not
and that should be.