Original subtitles

I. . .

I forgive you for everything, Melizza.

Do you hear? For everything.

But. . .but now I need you.

Just once more, I need you.

You must come back to me, Melizza.

(Bell tolls)

(Bell stops)

(Woman laughs)

(She screams)

(Stifled screams)

(Man laughs)

- (Man) Good night. - (Woman) Good night. Ha-ha-ha-ha!

(Bell tolls)

(Jazz plays)

Fantastic.

- Yes, but of course. . . - Shh. Wait.

(Jazz plays)

- Amazing. - Yes, Bruno, it's really great.

I'm impressed.

- Max, what do you think? - Interesting.

Formal, but interesting.

- Formal? - Yeah, sure.

It is a bit formal, isn't it?

Yes, Max is right. It's formal.

Oh, it's an experiment.

What about the painting, Max?

What? You have a new painting, Max?

Yes, it's true.

And this time, he's promised that I'll be recognizable.

And you have it here now?

You're about to witness an historic occasion,

the first public presentation of quantum painting.

Quantum painting?

I have perfected an instrument, a liquid gun,

by which I am able to apply the laws of quantum physics to my art.

(Daisy) Hey, Max.

That's pretty good.

So, you can paint a real picture after all. It even looks like me.

Max, I don't understand this. It's. . .it's formal.

It. . .it's a joke?

A hoax?

And because of the paradoxical nature of quantum theory,

it is necessary that the energy be superimposed

upon a completely formal image.

This is achieved by means of the quantum gun.

- (Glass shatter) - Signor Max, please.

- Ha-ha-ha-ha! What. . . - Quiet, you fool!

I am about to astound the world.

The quantum gun contains a tiny projectile loaded with pigment.

When it strikes the canvas with tremendous velocity. . .

But you shall see.

The canvas even now is ready to receive its quantum of energy.

Hey, Max, what are you doing? Are you crazy?

(Gunshot)

Wow! Did you see that?

(Jazz plays)

- This looks astounding! - I warn you!

- Never seen anything like it. - Yes, Max, you've done it again.

Look!

Millions of tiny little flicks.

- Like the universe. - That's my face, Max.

- That isn't funny. - Of course it's not funny.

It's. . .it's brilliant. It's tremendous.

- It's pure quantum energy. - Well, I think it's puerile.

You think? What does it matter what you think? I am the artist!

Signor Max, please. I have a buyer, a professional buyer.

Perhaps I can be of some assistance, madam?

If there is any particular painting. . .

Oh, there is.

Have you anything by this fellow who paints these. . .

these dead red nudes?

Ah, Antonio Sordi.

Madame, you. . .you are indeed fortunate. I. . . I have just one.

The latest one, in fact.

(She gasps)

Oh, yes! Exactly.

- I'll take it. - The world is full of idiots.

Genuine Sordi. Genuine nobody.

Dead red nudes.

I think it's rather good.

Very well. I shall paint your portrait.

Right now, for all posterity.

I shall entitle it, "Portrait of an Idiot".

You will be famous.

Portrait. . .

. . .of an. . .

- . . .idiot. - Hey!

Wait. Wait! Amazing!

The form. The composition.

More! More!

I shall astound the world.

Daisy?

(Piano plays)

No, no, no, no. No, no, no.

Darling, you do not understand. You do. . .

The movement is mechanically simple,

but. . .but you must create the agony,

the agony of the soul of the earth,

which is struggling, struggling to free itself

from. . .from the cosmic current

which is binding it irresistibly to the primordial energy ocean.

Now, darling, please. Please let's try again. Please.

I don't know if I understand it yet.

Don't. . .don't say that, darling. Don't say that word, please.

Just remember the soul of the earth.

Please, darling, let's try again.

This is it! This is it!

Darling, this is the soul of the earth.

Girls, thank you very much. Good night.

We will create again tomorrow. Thank you very much!

Daisy, hi.

- Dorean, what do you call that? - (Piano plays)

That's a very serious moment in a very serious new ballet.

All very far out, you know. Come on, while I change.

No, no, no, girls! You don't understand, girls! You do not. . .

Speaking of crazy artists, how's that Max?

Max? Oh, yeah, Max.

Well. . .

Dorean, I was thinking about moving back into your place for a while.

If it's alright with you.

Oh, sure, Daisy, of course. Most of your stuff's still there anyway.

Hey, Daisy, I'm glad. I think that Max is a kook anyway.

Got your keys?

Yes. Aren't you coming home now?

No, I'm meeting someone.

Oh, I thought there were rules around here about ballet

and, er. . .outside attachments.

There are, but no one's gonna find out.

I'm being very discreet.

We have a secret meeting place down by the beach.

Why are you being so discreet? You really should be careful.

You're a little naive when it comes to men.

(Seagulls cry)

(She hums a song)

(She gasps)

- Oh! - Oh, I. . . I'm sorry.

I frightened you.

Don't be afraid. I'll leave if you like.

Oh. Oh, no. I'm all right.

Don't go.

It's just that I was looking at those pictures in the window.

They're kind of spooky and I. . .

- Are you? - Mm, yes, Antonio Sordi.

I, er. . .come here quite often to look at my lost children.

Well, I can understand that.

It was silly of me to be frightened. It's just that the pictures are so. . .

Yes, I know, gruesome.

Yes.

But fascinating.

Like looking down from a high place.

It. . .it frightens you because. . .

it makes you realize that you'd like to jump off.

It shows you that the horror of death is that you. . .

. . .desire it.

That's a very astute observation. Are you an artist?

Oh, no.

But I often contribute to the work of. . .

others.

I suppose I should introduce myself.

My name is Daisy Allen and I'm a student of this and that

and. . .

I'm talking an awful lot, aren't I?

I'm afraid I had a little too much to drink.

No, no, not at all.

I'm pleased that you're no longer frightened.

You may even criticize my work, if you like.

Well, I certainly shall.

Now, the trouble is. . .

I don't see enough of it.

Why aren't you home working right now?

You're quite right. I should be.

But it seems my muse has been avoiding me.

You need. . .

. . .a subject.

(Bell tolls)

Oh, what a marvelous place to work in!

It certainly seems suited to your style.

(Sordi) It's more cheerful during the day.

- No doubt. - (Bell tolls)

Say, those bells really get to you, don't they?

Oh, yes, the bells. I hardly notice them anymore.

They're right above us in the tower.

You know, they've rung every hour on the hour since the 1 1 th century.

Except for once, when there wasn't a Sordi to wind the mechanism.

Sordi?

This some kind of ancestral home of yours?

Yes, at one time.

Now it's a museum, and I'm allowed to rent this miserable corner. . .

. . .and wind the clock.

But these are so much better than any I've seen in the shop.

Such brilliant darkness and death.

That's the essence of what I'm after,

to bring death to the canvas, as others seek to give it life.

The dead red nudes, they're called.

- Do you know that? - Oh, it doesn't matter.

These are only steps along the way.

I haven't achieved what I'm after yet.

Soon, perhaps.

Well, anyway, you still have to work from a live model, don't you?

Of course.

So, where would you like me?

Here, try this.

Just take a relaxed pose,

anything that seems normal and comfortable.

(Easel rattles)

Are you going to paint me dead?

I never plan a picture.

It must be allowed to grow according to its own natural law.

- (Daisy) Is this all right? - It's perfect.

It's a pleasure to have a model who understands composition.

Well, it's the way you've arranged the pillows. It feels so natural.

What made the clock stop?

What's that?

The clock up above, with the bell.

You said it stopped once.

Oh, yes, that's right.

Well, it was in the 1 5th century,

at the time of Erno Sordi, an ancestor of mine.

He was a great artist, a genius.

Hundreds of years ahead of his time. He worked here in this very room.

Erno Sordi? I don't think I know the name.

Almost none of his paintings are in existence today.

Even copies are rare.

But he was greater than Rembrandt, greater than Titian.

They painted the flesh and sometimes the soul.

Erno Sordi went deeper.

Beyond the soul.

Of course, he had to be destroyed.

- You don't want to hear all this. - (Daisy) Oh, please.

I'm fascinated.

Oh.

Erno Sordi's paintings apparently had a sort of magical power

to affect the viewer.

Modern psychologists would say that he. . .

depicted the contents of the unconscious mind.

The Church expressed it in much the same way

by saying he was in league with the devil,

and only Satan could have inspired it.

(Ghastly woman laughter)

(Melizza laughs)

He was tried by an ecclesiastical court

and charged with sorcery.

The chief witness against him was a remarkably beautiful woman.

(Melizza laughs)

His mistress. . .

. . .Melizza.

He was burned at the stake.

All his priceless paintings were thrown on the fire with him.

His accuser, Melizza, danced around the flames, laughing hideously. . .

. . .while the flesh boiled from his body.

(She laughs)

He painted a portrait of Melizza.

It had such compelling power,

she thought he'd somehow stolen her soul

and sealed it in the painting.

She was mad.

(She laughs)

(She screams)

(Screams)

Oh! Oh!

(Screams)

(Laughs)

(Melizza laughs)

Tony, where were you? I waited all night.

I'm sorry. You'll forgive me when you know I finished another painting.

That's wonderful. Of course I forgive you.

Anyway, you're here now and I'm awfully glad to see you.

You know, I was dreaming just then that I was in your studio,

dusting a statue,

and you were standing in a big beam of sunlight,

painting a bright yellow picture.

(Sordi) Then what happened?

You turned around, looked at me and winked.

(Both chuckle)

Tony, what's your studio really like?

Well, it's not at all like you dreamed, I assure you.

You must be exhausted.

Being an artist, painting a picture.

Really creating something fine.

It's almost like giving birth to a child, isn't it?

Tony?

Why can't I come to your studio?

It's not the place for you, when I work. Soon, perhaps.

We won't talk about it now. I've got just the thing for you.

- You hungry? - Mm-hm, very.

A jug of wine,

a loaf of bread and thou.

Come here. You'll cut yourself.

I never can do that.

Do you remember the first day we met?

- How long ago was that? - Don't you know?

Exactly 1 5 days and six hours ago.

Is that all?

I remember watching you from up on the cliffs.

I enjoyed seeing you play in the water.

You looked like a little child.

I can hardly remember my life before I met you.

Hey, I've got the whole evening off. Let's go to the opera.

Yeah, I'd love that.

I'm sorry. I can't. I have to see somebody about business tonight.

- I'll see you tomorrow, won't I? - Yes, of course.

- Let's go down to the water. - No.

- Oh, come on. - No, I like watching you. Go ahead.

(Jazz plays)

So, with the model herself applied directly to the canvas,

eliminating the necessity for artificial media such as a brush,

- we can. . . - Yes, I see it.

It's magnificent.

The artist directly manipulates the model on to the canvas,

as he would manipulate a brush.

Exactly. Of course, this is only an exercise.

Obviously, the next step is to apply the technique to a full figure study,

possibly even a group.

Right, and by all means a self-portrait.

A group.

It needs something, a towel for the model.

(Jazz plays)

Mm.

Another dead red one. They're good.

The usual terms?

Oh, signor, this time I. . . I'm going to need the money right away.

Oh, well, in that case, I would be taking a risk

so, well, the best I can do is 75.

75?

All right, you thief, just give me the money and let me get out of here

so I don't have to look at your greasy face.

An interesting technique. Quite valid, of course.

But it needs something.

Yes, it does. Max is quite right. It needs something.

There is something lacking. But, Bruno, you must see that.

Well, you may be right, but. . .

Perhaps the element of quantum energy.

Perhaps, but. . .

Allow me, gentlemen.

- Magnificent! - Fantastic!

Quantum!

Sordi. We meet at last.

How dare you deface another man's work?

You commercial hack!

I think I'm beginning to understand.

It's really quite interesting. Ingenious.

- What? - You see how it catches the light?

Idiots.

Yes, and oozes just like it was alive.

Fools!

Ah, the fools!

Daisy! Et tu?

(Orchestral music plays)

(Guests chatter)

It's getting cold. Would you like to come in?

I think I'd rather stay here a while.

- Coming? - Why not? Will you excuse us?

(Orchestral music plays)

(Twig snaps)

Hello?

(Music plays)

Pam?

- Pamela? - What's wrong?

She's not here.

The ground's wet. Maybe she's gone in swimming.

That's odd. There's a pair of women's shoes in the pool.

(She gasps)

- Max! - Exactly.

Where have you been?

Anywhere I'm wanted.

Well, you're always welcome here, Max. You know that.

Well, you may say so, but what about Daisy?

Well, why wouldn't she?

Is she here now? Could I talk to her?

Well, she isn't here. I haven't seen her for days.

- I thought she was with you. - No.

It's not like her to just run off like that, without saying anything.

I wonder if something's wrong.

- I know someone who's seen her. - (Donna) Oh?

Yesterday I saw a new painting of her done by that hack Sordi.

I thought she only posed for you.

Well, she did, but we had a little disagreement.

As a matter of fact, it was more like a fight.

Anyway, I. . . I haven't seen her since and. . .

Well, I miss her. I'd like to patch things up.

Well, what about whatshisname, who just painted her?

Maybe he knows where she is. Why don't you ask him?

Sordi? Out of the question. Never.

It. . .it's bad enough that Daisy posed for him.

But if I have to go to him and ask where she is, well. . .

it's just out of the question.

This isn't any time to be proud, Max, if you really want her back.

Yes, but there are just some things a man can't do.

Do you think maybe you could ask him?

Well, I would like to know where she is.

All right, I'll do it.

(Thunder rumbles)

(Wind whistles)

- (Sordi) Who's there? - Mr. Sordi?

Yes. What do you want?

I'm looking for my sister Daisy Allen. Do you know who I mean?

She posed for you recently, and I thought you might know where she is.

(Sordi) What makes you think I know her?

Well, a friend of mine saw the painting you did of her.

I don't know anybody by that name.

Are you sure?

- She has dark hair and. . . - (Sordi) I never heard of her.

(Door slams)

- Some tower, huh? - Yes.

Visitors used to come from all around, just to see it.

But now nobody comes anymore.

Guess the old ones have forgotten all about it.

And the young ones. What do they know?

I bet you you don't even know anything about it.

- Know what? - She says, "Know what?"

The legend. What else? That's the trouble with you young people.

You think you know everything. You never listen.

You're just like my son. He never listens either.

A lot of peculiar things happened up in there.

But I can't tell you about 'em, 'cause you're just too smart.

But I'd like to know about the legend.

So, find out for yourself. Don't come bothering me.

I got my own problems.

(Donna) "Be ye warned, else it happen again.

"In another time, when the world was young,

"there came to pass an occurrence most curious and vile.

"One Erno Sordi, a painter, was burnt to death at the stake

"for casting a spell on his beloved, the beauteous Melizza.

"Beneath his dwelling, they did bury his ashes.

"Time passed and all was forgotten.

"Then was the town besieged by a vampire,

"whose foul deeds did fill the populace with fear and disgust.

"It was the same Sordi, returned from the dead, bound for vengeance.

"Each night, for many weeks, he did feast upon the blood of a maid,

"yet even then did the artist live on in the creature.

"When he had blood enough to suffice,

"then would he take the insensate forms of his victims

"to the bell tower of the house, where once he dwelt,

"and there paint them in the final agony of death.

"But there came a night when the moon was full

"and the townsmen did find the track of the vampire

"and follow him to his lair, high in the tower.

"There, in great haste, they smote him down,

"driving a stake through his heart,

"whereupon he. . .he expired and crumbled unto dust."

Very colorful folklore.

Is that all you can say?

Don't you see the parallel between this legend

and all those stories in the papers lately about women disappearing?

And the kind of painting Sordi does.

And one of them looking like Daisy.

And he's living in the tower that's in the legend.

And his name.

Are you suggesting that Sordi is a vampire, who abducts women?

I don't know, but there are no other clues about Daisy.

I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do. It's up to the police now.

But they don't think the picture proves anything.

Well, maybe they're right.

Maybe it's not Daisy, just someone who looks like her.

You don't really believe that, do you?

No.

Why don't we try to find out for ourselves?

Maybe there's something in the legend that we don't understand

that would become more clear if we knew more about him.

I think we should follow him, watch him very carefully. . .

. . .and see what he does with his time.

Count me out.

I'm sure that Sordi is many things, but a vampire is not one of them.

(Trumpet plays jazz)

(Laughter)

Oh, no!

(Laughter)

(Trumpet plays)

- Look here! - I'm sorry.

What's your hurry?

- Come on. - Why don't you sing something?

(Trumpet drowns out speech)

Come on, just one.

Come and have a drink.

- Hey, look what I found. - Whoo-hoo!

(Men cheer)

- Hey! - Whoa!

Ha-ha!

(Trumpet plays)

Hello!

Hey, come on.

Hey.

(She screams)

Hey, come on back! We didn't mean anything! Honest!

Don't be a spoilsport. At least give her a head start. Ha-ha!

Man, look at those fangs! They're better than mine.

That guy's got no sense of humor.

(Trumpet plays)

(Fairground music plays)

- Please help me! - Sorry.

That man, he's following me.

Grab her! She's gonna jump!

Come on, honey. The ride's over.

(She gasps)

- Tony? - Hm?

Do you make love to lots of women?

Now, what kind of a question is that to ask?

I bet you make love to all the women that pose for your pictures,

don't you?

That's why you never want me to come to your studio.

You're exactly right. I keep several there at all times.

I wouldn't be surprised.

Tony?

Why don't you ever. . .

you know, make a pass at me?

I. . .

I have too much respect for you.

But I don't want you to respect me, not that kind.

I want you to love me, really.

But I do. You know that.

I never knew what happiness was till I saw you. Don't spoil it.

Oh, kiss me, Tony. Kiss me.

Oh, Tony.

Oh!

Tony! Tony!

(Sobs)

Please! Tony!

Give me time! You've got to give me time!

(Sobs)

(Laughs)

(Sobs)

(Bell tolls)

(Screams)

(Low chatter)

Observe. Quantum is not merely decorative.

It has social utility too.

(He chuckles)

- Dorean! What's the hurry, girl? - Max!

A man! He's been chasing me all the way from the beach!

(Screams)

Get him!

Is there somewhere you can go, where you'll be safe?

- Dorean? - Yes. I guess so.

Good.

I have a friend who lives in the bell tower in the old part of the city.

I'll go there.

(Fighters grunt)

Aaah!

- Did you see his face? - Yeah. Why?

I've never seen anything like it before.

- What do you mean? - He looked just like a vampire.

What are you talking about? Hey! He's gone!

- I can't believe it. - I can.

Maybe there was something in that old legend Donna was reading me.

He was chasing Dorean. Hey, wait a minute!

What?

She said she was going to the old bell tower. That's where Sordi lives.

What's he got to do with this? I thought we were chasing that. . .

that vampire.

Exactly. Come on.

(Melizza laughs)

(Laughter gets louder)

(Laughter stops)

I. . .

I forgive you for everything, Melizza. Do you hear?

For everything.

But. . .but now I need you.

Just once more, I need you.

You must come back to me, Melizza.

(Footsteps approach)

Melizza?

(Footsteps approach)

(Creaks)

(Door creaks)

(Rats squeak)

(Screams)

You've come back to me, just like I knew you would.

We shall work together again, just as before.

We shall create death together.

(Dorean screams)

This is the moment we've both been waiting for, isn't it?

No more accusations, no more betrayals, doubts.

It's all forgotten, forgiven,

so that now, at last, we can achieve together what was always meant to be.

Tonight, Sordi shall paint again like Sordi.

That's all trash!

Thank God I can still destroy them.

Now no one shall know Sordi except for the artist Sordi.

This could be the first new work worthy of his name.

And so a great new era in the hist. . .

. . .history of art begins.

And you're to be a part of it, Melizza,

an indispensable part.

Think of it, Melizza.

What an honor, to be preserved forever like the Mona Lisa,

beautiful beyond description, untouched by time and age.

See?

How clean,

how sharp, how painless.

Just one quick caress.

Then peace,

immortality.

(Bell tolls)

(Wax fragments clink)

No.

(Sordi groans)

(Sordi screams)

(Bell tolls)

Come on now! Come on!

Daisy!

- Good Lord! - No!

Dorean, what happened?

(Melizza laughs)