Original subtitles

One second.

This is Henry Mann.

They got him downstairs.

Take your time.

Thank you, Gretchen.

Dear reader,

This is not a story in the conventional sense.

You see, nothing is neat and tidy, nor is it laid out with ease for a dim

-witted pony, which I hope you are not, for both our sakes.

No, this story in particular is a cautionary tale, and I shall begin at

end, as not to dramatize.

My husband is dead.

Killed in the dead of night.

His last breath taken after a series of inexplicable, unconnected events that

together would change the world forever.

Ironically, the days leading up to his demise would remind me why I had loved

him.

But it would be the moments afterward that would set me free.

You see, this is not a tale of murder.

This is a story of rebirth.

I suppose the reason I say all of this is to perhaps inspire you to look at

series of events from a different perspective.

This story would begin the morning the artist arrived.

He was supposed to be delivered the night prior, but I did not know this

My

husband

and I were in that period of marriage where we loathed each other.

I still had not forgiven him for selling her a brownstone and moving us up to

the country.

Is that the pheasant you're eating?

You have eyes, don't you? Where we didn't have so much as a working

Thomas!

Are they going to be out there all winter? I mean, it's fucking freezing.

winter.

I'm meeting tomorrow with Mr. Edison on a business opportunity.

Thomas Edison.

They overheard the Morgans, and, well, now he's coming up to the House

Might very well reverse our little conundrum.

We can time this, right?

Andrews invested twice. Both times they saw returns before putting pen to paper.

Credit alone.

Just on credit alone.

It's just not fair to the little people in this world.

Now, that doesn't really have to be the pheasant. I believe you know Tommy from

a past life. It really could be a chicken breast.

They're interchangeable fowl. We'd be none the wiser, right, Gretchen?

Is there something I should know about Thomas?

Well, like how he likes his tea?

Oh, God, I miss the city. No one misses the city. And good tea. We're in the

country. It's an enviable location.

There is no one in the country here to envy us.

Or at least that is what I have assumed.

Putain de machine, American de merde.

I'm so very sorry.

This is quite embarrassing.

You see, the Henrys don't service these Model Ts as often as you might expect.

Do you know, Ford?

I sent some frustration.

What was that?

Are you a Jew?

No, sir.

Well, I don't think so, anyway.

You hear that?

What? A car.

It's a car!

Stop it! Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

That one's old.

Left over from something or other.

How's the resume?

Well, look at me.

I'm looking.

So?

You look as tempestuous as the day I met you.

Only 40 years older.

Ludwig says I'm almost ready.

For what?

You know, jaunt, sparring, fight. You're not fighting. You're not a fighter.

Maybe I could win a match or two.

Poor people, they fight.

No. Have something to fight for. Bring in a little income. Oh, damn it. Marion,

don't be a fool. Oh, said the man who invited Thomas Edison up to the house.

You know, come to think of it, I do remember one of Thomas Edison's

idiosyncrasies. He liked to win at all costs.

Trust me, Thomas Edison is a really smart businessman.

I'm being serious. Are you? You wanted Ludwig, I bought you Ludwig. Oh, you

brought me Ludwig. Very literally, yes.

You know what was wrong with you? Please do tell. You were just never very

charismatic as a businessman. You know the definition of a hobbyist.

You.

You are the definition of a hobbyist.

And I love you.

I can say that because I love you.

But you lack the ferocity to succeed.

You've given up on everything but me.

You know, I feel in the mood for some entertainment.

The night would progress with normalcy. I would insist on a performance from his

ballerina, Rachmaninoff.

A prelude, perhaps. Not a prelude, not tonight.

I have meetings tomorrow.

C -sharp minor.

No.

G -sharp. C -sharp minor.

If anything, G -Sharp, you know she can't dance to the other noise.

Lily.

From Mrs. Henry inside.

It would be the prelude in C -Sharp Minor.

Shut up!

Are you

going

to pee?

Yes, of course.

She toys with us.

I did toy with them. Think of it this way.

You'll be the first ballerina to ever dance to a Rachmaninoff prelude.

Let's get on with it.

Before you judge

me and my circumstance, I implore you to read until the bitter end.

It is only on the final page of this journal that you might be well enough

equipped to tell fact from fiction, hero from villain.

Find me Ludwig.

Jab. Jab.

Jab.

Jab.

The French.

It's sexy, but in moderation.

Do I approve?

Oh, my darling, it was marvelous.

No one dances to Rachmaninoff like you. No one dances to Rachmaninoff.

You should fuck her every once in a while.

These are circumstances that are

sometimes lost on young, beautiful ballerinas.

Complexities you shouldn't bore yourself with.

You have real talent.

It was the very same line he used on me.

You have all sorts of talent. Before I was demoted to hobbyist.

Imagine your perfect little dance figure on the stage

in Paris for all the world to see.

Their eyes longing for my most intimate skin.

The skin that you and you alone are rightful owner of.

It's what you want, is it not?

Oh, my God.

I would love to see you in Paris.

The girl and I were not all that different.

She was young and optimistic.

Filled with purpose.

Looking back now, I can admit I was rooting for her.

Subconsciously hoping she might avoid the mistake I had made.

I think there was a part of her that reminded me what it felt like.

To be alive.

Congratulations, Thomas.

I am so very proud of what you have accomplished.

your ass.

Mais je joue le jeu, car il m 'a été dit que si je me conduis bien, j 'ai mes

chances pour l 'un des rôles de Coppelia cet automne.

Je serai bientôt de retour à Paris, si Dieu le veut.

Votre Lili, toujours tendrement.

Yes,

Norman? I just wanted to remind you I have meetings tomorrow.

With Thomas Edison, yes.

Good, good.

Is that all?

I also have an artist coming tomorrow. You should know.

What artist?

Someone the Rockefellers introduced us to.

Apparently everyone's meeting with him. He's in from Paris only for a short

time. You know me and art. I know nothing until it's hit me on the crease

forehead. The mini creases.

Often it's too late and we're left with nothing.

And our neighbors with the classics.

Not this time, Marianne.

Look at me being the passionate, impulsive man you married. Are you

Ah! You should be proud.

What are you talking about?

Have you commissioned something?

No, no, no, nothing major.

No. You know how time works, Marianne.

Rockefeller's William, even Andrew. No, Andrew is a Carnegie.

Well, I'm a Henry.

Oh, my God, I have to say.

Good for you.

I refuse to sit and have my portrait taken for an artist. I wouldn't expect

he'll paint the poodles.

It's already been decided long before this drab conversation.

It was just like that. His fate had been sealed for a portrait of poodles.

When you arrive at the windmill, you make a left.

Then it's only four streets further.

It'll be the only house with lights.

The only house with lights?

What does this mean?

No one else lives here in the off -season except the Henrys. The Henry

will be the only house with lights.

It is very dark.

It's very, very dark.

Yes. I cannot see very well after dusk.

I understand that you do not know much about me, but know this.

I am all but blind.

Huh?

You're a blind artist?

Mm -hmm.

Leave them.

They're just monkeys.

Money on that.

Sir.

What? This is pretty good.

For a blind guy.

We shall now take a short intermission while the artist fumbles around in the

woods.

Thomas Edison has done it again, only this time it's the moving picture with

synchronized sound.

Introducing the Kinetophone.

And for a limited time, Mr. Edison will be offering shares to the general public

so you too might try your hand at changing the world.

From the inventor of the light bulb, the Kinetophone, don't wait. Purchase your

stock today.

He walked all night, unable to find the house until dawn.

Who the fuck are you?

Happy meeting day, sir, Mr. Henry.

Is she awake?

Not yet, sir.

You see to it she stays occupied.

Yes? All day?

Yes, sir. I don't need Tomfoolery, not today.

No, sir. Tell me, has she ever shared with you the history?

History, sir? With Thomas Edison.

Peculiar comments last night about... Oh, never mind.

I feel good. You feel good?

I feel good.

The artist, sir.

He's here, too.

Shall I arrange a tea with you, sir?

Tea? What kind of tea?

Earl Grey, if you like, sir. Arrange a tea with the poodles.

Yes, sir.

Okay. Go.

Gretchen, Gretchen, Gretchen! Yes, sir.

Keep her occupied all day, yes?

All day, sir.

Let's go, let's go, let's go!

Good luck, Doctor.

It appears you've lost blood.

It might be safe to assume that you are hallucinating at this very moment.

Mrs.

Henry?

Mrs. Henry?

Yeah, I'm in here.

Is everything all right, ma 'am? Of course it's all right. We wouldn't be

right.

It's just normally you're lying in the bed until I pull the curtains.

Well, I just thought a 6 a .m. bath would be just rightly on a day like

And what sort of a day is today, ma 'am? That's a bit of an overstep, isn't it?

Yes, of course. I mean, I just... Sorry, ma 'am. Yes, I just mean that today is

just a day like any other day, and let's just leave it at that, and I won't have

you prying and making something out of nothing.

Find me Ludwig

Excuse

me Have

I missed breakfast?

Hello. You look unhoused.

Arden.

The hounds are ready for you.

Mr.

Edison.

I trust your journey was refreshing.

It was nippy.

Nippy, yes. Yes, it's nippy.

Well. Tell me.

Was it, um... Was it the polo match in Atlantic City?

Was what the polo match in Atlantic City?

One last we crossed paths.

Oh, very possibly.

Would you permit me to be brief?

I'm due back in the city for supper.

All right? Yes.

Now, if you will, I was told it was something...

innovative that you are after. Something dramatic and something, well, very

daring. That is exactly right.

Something with dramatic upside, I should say. Well, my portfolio does not exist

merely as a means to fuel your wealth, sir. What is it, then?

Well,

I'll tell you what it is.

This right here is going to redefine the next hundred years, perhaps more.

It's going to make women weep and men cower, so it's not just a cash grab.

Please don't invest in it, unless your personal fulfillment comes from truly

changing the world.

What will you do for supper?

What? Whose home?

My own, Mr.

Henry.

Let's get started, shall we?

I'd like to try a number from Les Saisons.

Les Saisons, Les Saisons.

It's always a number from this season.

Oh, is it?

Fucking Buddha.

And one and two and three and four and one and

two and three and four and spin.

Have you hired new help?

Not when you speak plainly.

A wizard man.

The gardener man.

He's been roaming the kitchen aimlessly.

Hands up.

Is that the... You heard it, Billy?

That might make sense.

Put your eyes right in there. I'm going to lower these over your ears. They

should be quite comfortable.

I don't see anything.

Not yet. This is the first of its kind, you understand?

What? Immersive entertainment. The moving picture with music.

Hands up!

She has that deep sense of utter darkness.

Darkness?

And one, and two, and three, and four, and back.

Archdarkness. Ludwig, what do you mean?

Like that of a murderer.

A murderer?

In my house?

Now, any accusation of murder is one we most always take seriously.

I have to speak to Norman about this.

if the accusation is completely and utterly without merit.

Back. Arch.

Hold.

Hold. Hold.

Oh, God.

What?

For fuck's sake, what?

It's your physique.

What about my physique?

Oh, you who. Is there a spot of tea I might have swung up from the kitchen?

Yes. And honey?

Lots of honey, yes.

Oh, you're a doll. What's your name?

Beatrice, sir. Oh, really?

Beatrice? That's your real name?

Yes, sir. An oriental maid named Beatrice.

What a chinky little thrill.

Fucking asshole.

Listen, Lily, I pick and choose my battles with you. You understand this

in America, yes?

I understand the saying, yes, I do not understand you. You're just not telling

me the fantasy, darling. And as I've said time and time again to you and to

I just don't see it.

I just don't know how to get you there.

Then I will speak to Mr.

Henry and have him find me someone who will get me there. Oh, you wouldn't

and he would never get rid of me.

Who do you think he'll side with?

An old act who couldn't sport talent if you fucked him in the face? Or who, you,

his whore?

I will go to Paris.

And I will dance.

Dream, baby, dream.

Oh, my goodness.

Isn't that something?

Ma 'am, I've had the carriage brought around. I thought today would be a

day for a drive.

Drive? And a picnic, maybe. Really? Didn't Ferdinand break his leg?

Is it?

Well,

how is the carriage going to be brought around if Ferdinand has broken his leg?

Maybe he's healed.

Maybe he's healed.

Oh, my God.

Oh, look at that.

An amusement.

Isn't that marvelous?

This is spectacular.

Norman?

Norman?

Oh, you're almost at the finale. Can you see the bearded man from Coney Island

in a musical number with a llama? A llama. There's a llama.

Oh, my God.

Norman?

Can you hear those acoustics? That's two cellos and a clarinet. Or two clarinets

and a cello. Norman, I need a word.

I'll have you know that I heard a word. You are a genius, sir. You are a genius.

There's a rumor that this painter or this artist or whatever it is that the

Rockmarion called him, he might be a murderer.

Who's a murderer?

Oh, hello.

Oh.

Thomas. Thomas Edison.

I can't remember.

Yes, I know. I just didn't recognize you because you've grown really old really

quickly.

I'm sorry. Do we know each other?

Shut up.

Well, the opinion of a woman.

Forever humbling, eh?

Oh, yeah.

The opinion of a woman. The work of a woman. The plight of a woman.

I'm sorry. I don't follow that. Oh, I get it all.

Marion. My name is Marion, as you very well know.

Marion.

God of life.

Lovely name.

Oh, there's a shot.

I believe you both might have crossed paths some years ago.

Marion was a university student. You were a guest lecturer.

I believe the year was, oh, God.

1867. Yes, that's right. Yes.

Yeah. Now, I do recall a young student named Marion, a bright, young,

independent thinker. I believe the line was, she said, over my dead body, shall

I ever marry?

Mm -hmm.

Mm -hmm.

Mm -hmm.

Yes.

Here we are. Married all the same. Yes.

Married and seemingly happy.

Happy and fulfilled, yeah?

Norman. Norman. Norman. Norman!

Norman! Would you please just have a word with the painter or whatever it is

call him before we lose the last of our help? Good day.

Come.

My apologies, Mr. Anderson, for her outburst. She's... She's a woman.

You'll excuse me just a moment.

She didn't mean anything about the help, I assure you. She's just... Just excuse

me just a moment.

I knew you had such a grip on you. I'll show you more than a grip. You screw

this up for me. Funny you could have been this assertive when we shared a bed

together.

There you are.

Apologies.

Busy day, big day, busy.

You know the ones, I'm sure.

You heard of Thomas Edison?

Is that name wafted across the pond?

He's here today.

He's in the house.

I told you, quite eccentric.

What is this animal?

It's from my trip to South Africa.

I was of the U .S. contingent. It was a good world trip through Grant.

You lift Jesus Grant, former president of the United States. I am French.

He's a dear friend. Why do I care about your president?

I imagine you don't. I ask you what the animal, and you tell me that you have a

friend. It's a story, I would say.

You're inquiring about the buck, that's all.

Listen, I'm on a bit of a schedule.

I simply wanted to inquire about your demeanor in the house.

It isn't me, it's my wife.

She's, um...

What do you know about art?

I know you're one of those impressionists.

You make quite a ruckus over there, I've heard.

So you read the press?

No, I've heard.

So you don't read?

Do you? A bit.

Which I imagine you do not.

Therefore, you're either a well -read intellectual who finds his passion

the page, or a soulless twat inspired by paper bills.

I am dealing with.

Whether my art is to be understood or merely a

carcass on your wall.

Yes.

Well. Tea.

I am going to Paris.

You can help or you can get the fuck out!

You wench!

Get back here!

Have you met your handsome subjects yet?

They're fidgety.

They're dogs.

Fidgety in their soul.

Perhaps they are uncomfortable with their existence in your world.

Who isn't?

Are you uncomfortable?

Sitting here with you?

Quiet.

I will need my twice -over quoted fee.

I'm sorry.

Perhaps you prefer to shoot the bitches and mount them on your wall.

Next to this other, uh... It's a buck.

What?

Uh -huh.

You can pay in cash.

Cash? Oui.

I don't deal in cash.

Oh. I'm a man of means. I don't deal in cash.

Are you broke?

I beg your pardon? I asked if you were broke.

No, I'm not broke.

No need to be ashamed.

I am broke.

That's why I'm here, painting your fucking puddles.

I'm not broke.

I don't take credit.

So I will reside on the property until I may collect my fee. Could take weeks to

wait on the banks. Painting must remain in my possession. I could send you along

with a promissory note. I will not take a promissory note. Emma Henry, a

promissory note, you can rest assured. I'm sure you will find a way there.

Always do.

Would you be so kind as to have somebody show me to my quarters?

Somebody's out the door. Just open the door and someone will help you.

Mr. Edison is waiting.

Sir?

Sir? Mr.

Edison? Oh, yes.

Thank you.

How was he? How was he? He was French. He was very fucking French. What does

that mean? I mean, you know what we say in your own home? I didn't pay you the

attention you desire, Marion. Is that why you act like a petulant child today

all days?

Anything to sabotage a deal with Thomas Edison.

I need to close.

The deal. He is a liar and a cheat.

He is Thomas Edison. He is Thomas fucking Edison.

You will bite your tongue, Marion, and you will know your place, woman.

You stay here another minute.

You're a wench. You think I need you?

You are a stupid whore with a crooked pussy. Of course I'm a stupid whore. I'm

ballerina. A great fucking ballerina on my way to Paris. Or you go back to your

little show with the dancing monkeys with the little midges with the funny

You're the dancing monkey. My show was reviewed by the Times. In God's name.

fucking Times.

Mr. Henry, look at what she's done to my face. Lily, Lily.

The fraud is fucking fraud. He takes your money and sleeps on my thighs.

not true. I often work with my eyes closed.

St. Mary with her fake virgin pussy. Mr. Henry, Mr. Henry. She's a cunt, Norman.

Yes, well.

Who's a cunt?

Oh, Jesus.

Hello, Mrs. Henry.

Marriott, who is a cunt?

Apologies for the language, ma 'am.

Marriott, leave it.

Just leave it. I was speaking to Marriott, Mr. Smith.

Yeah. You know, let's just all journey back to our quarters.

We can discuss this over drinks in the parlor later, because I have meetings. I

have very important meetings. Well, perhaps I shall handle this so that you

you know, carry on with your very important meetings.

Are you the cunt?

Am I the cunt?

Dear Helen, no.

Is she the cunt? Or my husband?

Oh, no.

Marion! I implore you to leave this alone!

Shut up, Marion.

Marion, Marion!

Well, I think you're all fucking cunts and leeches. That's what I think.

Mr. Henry, Mr.

Henry is coming this way.

You are a fucking cow of a woman.

You're making me sweat. Just for once. Look, I want to say something, Mary.

You must feel trapped by him. Do you? Do you feel trapped living with him? You

should feel trapped. You know why? Because you are trapped just like the

us. We're like mutts in a cage of... No, canaries in a cage of... You know what

I mean? The fucking metaphor about cages. Shut up, woman. Shut up. These

they lie to us. I never lie. They tie us with their kind eyes.

Mary, shut it.

Shut up. Are you trying to say to me? Marion, he doesn't have it. He doesn't

have it within him to say. A woman was never to be published. I did you a

You are never going to go to Paris. Quite a brazen one at that. You are

going to Paris.

Do you hear me? You bet on the wrong pony and you lost.

We all did.

The rest of it, that's just a matter of chance.

You lost, I lost.

Shut up.

Not mine. Shut up, Marion.

I'm getting the sense this isn't entirely about me. Marion!

Marion! God damn it!

Oh,

God.

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Well, would you look at that? He's out cold.

Where is my fucking room?

Ensemble!

Norman, Norman!

It's Marion.

He's not going to kill you.

He's just French.

Sir, I'll show you to your room.

Your room, this way, sir.

My husband was right about one thing.

It wasn't me who'd end up dead.