Original subtitles

To the uninitiated, voodoo has long been thought of as a primitive ghost.

Most of what the average layman knows of voodoo comes only from misleading news

of it in Hollywood horror movies.

Sometimes in paperbacks readers emphasize witch doctors or the sticking

in voodoo dolls.

But the fact is that voodoo encompasses an exceedingly complex religion and

magic with complicated rituals and symbols that have developed for

years, perhaps longer than any other of today's established faiths. The believer

in voodoo, and there are millions of blacks and some whites as well, who

practice it, centers his hope and fears as strongly on as it does the follower

of Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, or Islam.

Here it comes. Oh, God.

Here it comes.

Oh, now.

Now. Go.

Go, baby.

Oh, yeah.

Oh, God.

Get back in there and finish this job, you suit.

You bitch.

You call me after, you understand?

And more pictures, you hear me?

Dumb broad.

Bitch.

What's all this about?

F &M, torture.

Oh, that's a long story.

We discovered this place, you know. We think it's a real voodoo cult.

This guy who owns a bar, right? The Red Baron.

I used to take my wife there all the time.

Remember, I took you once. You said it gave you the creeps.

Hey. Caters to some of the city's big shots.

Well, the owner's supposed to be some kind of a voodoo priest, and a lot of

customers are his followers.

I just happened on this place one night.

You know, I kept the staff working overtime to get the February issue out.

The article on homosexuality was still at the typesetters by 12 midnight.

So I went out for a drink.

I noticed a good -looking black man, whom I found out later was the owner,

behind the cash register for what looked like a wax doll.

And he struck it sharply.

It seemed like a strange thing to do, but then in this city, it's full of nuts

anyway.

I went back there often.

It was almost a compulsion.

One night, my favorite waitress, Mary, confided to me that the owner was in

a voodoo priest, and that most of the clients were believers, followers.

I was dumbfounded.

Disbelieving at first with my polished editorial skepticism, you know, I was

struck with the logic of it all.

It was then I arranged for one of our reporters to cover the whole story.

They're all believers.

You can see something strange in their eyes.

Anyway, it looked like any other bar.

But there was an atmosphere about it.

Sort of a feeling of mystery.

Like something strange was about to happen at any instant.

It hung in the air thicker than the cigarette smoke in the newsroom.

Anyway, the phone call was from this stupid broad named Sandy, who was the

reporter who was assigned to cover the story.

Probably go back and get more pictures.

Christ, Jesus.

Take more pictures.

Great God, intercede for us.

Saint Joseph, intercede with Jesus, our Redeemer.

Saint Joseph, charm, charm our eyes.

Angels of heaven, have pity on us.

Saint Andrews and holy angels, behold us at your knees,

at the feet of Mary.

All saints, all saints, all saints, hear us.

Hail Virgin Mary.

Hail the Virgin of good health.

Help us get this virgin.

Pain for pleasure.

Pleasure for pain.

Extreme.

Absolute pleasure.

Hail the master creator of heaven and earth.

Hail St. Andrews. Hail St. Nick.

Hail the Holy Ghost.

And you lucky virgin, are you ready for the initiation?

And you will obey us.

Whatever we are going to do to you

I need her to blog.

Oh, man, this will be the biggest, the boldest,

the best story of my life. I don't believe this.

Hit it.

Come back and get some more of this action.

I better go now.

But me.

I... I...

Thank you.

Thank you.

Yeah. Yeah.

What do you mean you're not coming in?

Why not?

What?

Blank.

Not one photo came out?

Jesus Christ, you're not kidding you're not coming in. Today, tomorrow, anytime.

You're fired.

Stupid bitch.

Can you believe this? That was Sandy, right? The reporter?

She saw everything.

The whippings, the tortures, the fucking everything.

She took some pictures. Not one stinking picture came out. The whole row came

out blank from the darkroom. I don't believe it.

Stupid cunt.

Did you say torturing, beating, and fucking?

Yeah. The whole ceremony is only a pretext for sexual, well, sexual

among the believers.

Listen to this.

Wow.

Ready? Voodoo initiates.

For all those who have abandoned the tradition of cabaret, tamasis, also

as congos and hibos and chained, they are members of the so -called red, or

criminal sex, who shed human blood for sacrifice offerings.

The red sex, who lean toward the Petro rite of voodoo, bear such diverse names

as hairless pigs, grey pigs, and blood, pain, and excretion.

Their emblem is the destroying sword of St. Michael, which corresponds in

astrology to the sword of Orion in the zodiac.

or the bow of Sagittarius.

They're grouped into sects devoted to ritual destruction.

They make use of the sword and the bow in accomplishing their purposes.

Tradition holds that they once dressed in white.

Today, however, they prefer to wear blood red.

Members of these sects have become ritual destroyers through a false

crucifixion.

Wow, I'd love to see that.

You know, I've always wanted to, like... Well, stop dreaming.

I'm sorry, but I already told my wife I'd take her.

We're going to the bar to find out about the end of the ceremony.

Maybe we'll find a way to get in.

You mean you're really going to participate?

Why not? My wife is one bitch I'd love to beat the shit out of.

And if we have to play the game to get the story?

All right, pretty good.

Is this the stuff I asked you to get me?

How about the real stuff?

This is.

Come on, I'm not talking about the stuff they sell everybody.

No, I'm telling you, this guy here knows what he's talking about. He is a priest

at a satanic church out in California.

He opened it up a few years back about... Yeah, December. I'm not really

interested in Satanism, per se. What I'm looking for is some information on

voodoo. Is it?

What about sex and the occult?

I read it. It's half. The occult is voodoo. No, it's not.

Come on. It's just for the everyday people.

Man,

this guy has been through... These are his astrotrips that he wrote about.

And he knows what he's talking about, like he's been into it for many years.

I'm looking for something.

Some real voodoo. His sexual desires have increased.

They're like... Oh, I don't need any help with my sexual desire.

He's gone into masochism. That's where masochism comes from.

That's the same frame you have to throw your mind to.

Hey, Marie.

Refill. When I'm being beat, I see Lucifer.

I'm not there.

I mean, I feel it and I love it.

But that doesn't help me. What I'm looking for is some information on the

York, you know, some of the cults.

Some of the real voodoo cults going on in the city.

What about you?

You told me you could latch me into some authentic information on voodoo.

Well, I don't know.

Come on, let's wear the C -note.

Fastest hundred you ever made.

Well, there's a ceremony tonight.

Well, there's a ceremony.

I may be able to get through.

Ring?

Ring?

Hey, we arrived late.

After the ceremony had finished, of course.

Thanks to my wife.

The singer and Baron himself and all the others were there.

The whole thing had turned into an orgy.

I found myself driven by some force.

My wife is one bitch I'd love to beat the shit out of.

My wife is one bitch I'd love to beat the shit out of.

My wife is one bitch I'd love to beat the shit out of.

Thank you.

Pleasure. Pain.

What gives a virgin the extreme?

for pleasure, pleasure for pain, the extreme, absolute pleasure.

I love you.

Oh, please.

Please.

Oh, God.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

. .

.

How are you?

Thank you.

Oh, God, it comes.

Oh, quick.

Oh, my God.

Uh -oh.

Hmm.

That's all.

That's it.

Entire story.

Never thought I'd finish it.

200 pages of the best writing I've ever done.

I'm so proud of you.

What the... I just finished.

Good night.