Original subtitles

The plane! The plane!

- Uh, Tattoo... - Wait.

You are going to say,

"Tattoo, what a beautiful day." Right?

- What? - Don't worry.

- I just read your mind. - Indeed.

Well, I was hoping there was a reason for your new headdress.

How to Read Minds is a new book I just read.

- "The secret of psychic power unleashed." - Ah.

That's how I knew you were gonna say,

"Tattoo, is that a beautiful day?"

Well, it is a beautiful day, Tattoo, but I'm afraid what I was going to say was, uh,

you have your bath towel on crooked.

Uh, Tattoo, excuse me.

Smiles, everyone. Smiles.

Are we lowering our standards, boss?

That inauspicious gentleman, Tattoo, is Mr. Stanley Scheckter,

a San Francisco-based process server.

His is a life filled with seedy hotel rooms,

wayward husbands and deadbeats of all sizes and shapes.

- Another freebie? - No, Tattoo.

His ambition has always been to become a private investigator...

Another Sam Spade, Philip Marlowe, Lew Archer.

His fantasy is to solve a big case,

one worthy of his talents.

In that case, I'm afraid that

Mr. Scheckter's client is in serious trouble.

When do we eat?

Oh, Mumsy. Your allergies.

Might have known they'd have flowers here.

I'm hungry. A family like that is a fantasy in itself.

- What do they want? - Most of the family just thinks they're here on vacation.

But it's actually Mr. Stouton's fantasy, and he's asked for two things.

First, a modicum of peace and quiet.

I can believe that, but what's the second?

Something he feels he's never had from his family... a little respect.

Respect? Can we give him that?

Very easily, Tattoo. In fact, it was

Mr. Stouton himself who provided the schedule.

Schedule? For a weekend of events for his family...

filled with elegance and good taste.

A weekend wherein Mr. Stouton...

will receive full and proper credit for everything.

So they can see him in a new light, and they will respect him.

That's what he hopes for, Tattoo. That's what he hopes for.

My dear guests, I am Mr. Roarke, your host.

Welcome to Fantasy Island.

Why don't you have something to eat, Mumsy? I'm not hungry.

I don't want to eat. I just wanna get to my room.

Excuse me just a second. I'll be right back.

Mr. Roarke. Mr. Stouton.

I'm really very excited about all this. I'm so glad.

You really will be able to give me what I wanted?

We shall certainly try, hey, Tattoo?

Mr. Stouton, everything has been arranged just like you asked for.

The accommodations...

The birthday celebration for your wonderful mother-in-law...

and the dinner tonight.

And every detail just like you wanted it.

- We'll have the royal cottage, won't we? - But of course.

Uh, well, I'm afraid something has come up.

We won't be getting the royal cottage?

One of those ridiculous little mix-ups.

But I assure you, no harm done.

You'll like the bungalow we have selected for you.

Bungalow? No, but I went over all that with you, and I was quite specific.

I wanted the royal cottage.

I'm sorry, Mr. Stouton. The mix-up was unavoidable.

Well, if it was unavoidable.

Aki. Aki.

Will you show the Stoutons to their bungalow, please?

I'll have your food sent to you, hmm? This way, please.

Honey, it was unavoidable. What could I do?

With him, everything is unavoidable.

♪♪

Oh. Mr. Roarke. Mr. Scheckter, I hope you're enjoying yourself.

Yeah, I am, but I was just wondering,

when do we get started, Mr. Roarke?

Um, you are aware, Mr. Scheckter,

of the very real dangers involved...

in your particular fantasy, are you not?

Dangers? What dangers?

Mr. Scheckter, a private investigator...

A good one...

Places his life on the line with each case.

His life, Mr. Scheckter... Literally.

You do understand this?

Oh, sure I understand it.

Well, I came here to do it, so let's do it.

You shall, Mr. Scheckter.

Very soon.

Uh, give me a refill on that, will ya?

In fact... make it a double.

Yes, Arthur, you do that.

You tell my husband, and then you tell him about Peggy.

Iris, you're going to be sensible about this.

I'm tired of being sensible, Arthur.

Now let go of me and tell your protégé to stay out of my way.

- Iris, you're going to hear me out. - Hey, folks.

- Fella, you stay out of it. - I don't mean to interfere, but...

Good. Let's keep it that way.

Iris, sit down.

I don't think the lady wants your company.

So why don't you just, uh,

take off, okay?

Uh!

Oh, dear. Oh.

My car's just outside.

That's his gunsel. I'll take care of him.

Come on.

Her name was Iris. Iris Chandler.

Spelled C-L-A-S-S... capital "C" and underlined.

She needed a private eye, and, of course, I was available.

When she looked at you, it was like a 30,000-volt charge,

with a message in those deep, blue eyes that would melt a telegraph key.

They're charging him an arm and a leg,

and he lets them walk all over him.

I suppose we should feel grateful we've even got a roof over our heads.

It's really quite a place. It's not bad.

I knew I shouldn't have come. Florence, I told you.

It's light, spacious, airy.

Spacious? The bedroom's on the wrong side.

The living room's on the wrong side.

Typical tropical island,

and not one lousy tangerine in the basket.

You didn't have any trouble with the oranges.

You don't have to pick on Arnold.

If that's what I think it is growing outside my window...

Florence, he knows I'm allergic.

Hey, look, we're here. That's the main thing.

Let's enjoy it, okay?

You would too, Fred Stouton. Your own family stacked up in here...

like it was Labor Day weekend at Rockaway Beach,

and you want to enjoy it.

I like your taste in houses.

Peggy... my stepdaughter.

I like your taste in stepdaughters too.

Yes, she is attractive, isn't she?

Very nice. Thank you.

You, uh, need a detective because of that guy in the bar?

Arthur? Arthur Hemmings. Yes.

He owns what used to be called a roadhouse...

A small nightclub, a cocktail lounge.

Don't tell me. Don't tell me.

There's a casino in the back.

Why, yes. Casino, horse parlor...

Anything else he can make a dollar from.

How much are you into him for?

It's my daughter who's into him, sir. Not my wife.

Darling.

I presume this is the detective you said you were going to engage.

Mr. Scheckter, my husband... Theodore Chandler.

How do you do? How do you do?

You told him about Peg's I.O.U.'s?

So far, she's signed $50,000 in I.O.U.'s.

Well, why don't you just pay 'em off?

Arthur won't let us just pay them off.

- Can I get you a drink, Mr. Scheckter? - Never when I'm on a case.

Those markers are Arthur Hemmings's entrée into the Chandler fortune.

Otherwise, the police will be informed.

Peggy will be prosecuted, jailed.

Excuse me, Mrs. Chandler, but, uh, gambling debts cannot be legally collected.

Bad checks can be, Mr. Scheckter.

Ah.

She paid the markers by check, and the checks bounced.

Unless she has the markers, she can't prove

the checks were written for gambling debts.

My daughter may be wild and uncontrollable, Mr. Scheckter, but she's my daughter.

And the thought of her in prison...

You want the markers.

I want her out of the clutches of that monster.

You've come to the right man, Mr. Chandler.

And your son, what does he do?

Oh, Arnold is going to private school. That's nice.

He flunked out of every regular school we put him in.

He's young. What did you want to do when you were 12?

I'm not sure I was ever allowed to be 12.

Oh, Mr. Roarke. Mr. Stouton.

- I trust you're comfortable and happy. - I suppose so, considering.

I was beginning to wonder, though,

about the peace and quiet I was expecting... and the respect.

Oh, give it time, Mr. Stouton. You just got here.

Well, I'd better be getting back.

Mr. Stouton had a very good question,

and you did not even have a good answer.

No peace, no respect. Not even a tangerine in his fruit basket.

Too much attention to picky little details, Tattoo,

is the mark of a small man.

But I am a small man.

Arthur's club is on the other side of town.

You know, Mrs. Chandler, there's more to this than you're telling me.

What do you mean?

I mean the part about your relationship with Arthur Hemmings...

that your husband doesn't know.

I have to know what I'm getting into here.

I went to Arthur to talk to him about Peggy's debt.

Sure.

My husband is dead from the waist down.

Arthur Hemmings is a man... A whole man.

He's strong and beautiful.

Mr. Scheckter, you're blushing.

Me? No, you kiddin'?

No, it's just...

Something I ate. I think I'm chokin' on one of them walnuts.

Don't you understand? I was weak.

I am weak. I need your help.

I, uh... I'll help you.

No wonder Sam Spade's suits were always rumpled.

Uh, Mr... Mr. Roarke?

Mr. Stouton. Please forgive me.

I was... Sit down. Sit down. Thank you.

May we offer you something to drink? No, no. Thank you.

All right. Um, I've been giving a lot of thought...

to that dear, gracious lady... Your mother-in-law.

- You mean about the birthday? - You wanted a party.

But I thought we ought to do something different to celebrate the occasion.

Well, that depends. Mumsy doesn't always like things to be different.

I'd be willing to bet one kind of birthday party she's never had...

This time of year in New Jersey, you know... is a picnic.

Oh, for heaven's sake. She loves picnics.

There, you see?

Then we must prepare a very special picnic for her.

Um, what else does, uh, dear Mumsy like?

Well, she's very sentimental. She likes old-fashioned things...

Mushy songs, Irish tenors, pickled eggs.

Good, good. Let's see if we can work out something really nice...

Old-fashioned, sentimental.

Speaking about old-fashioneds, she's not much of a drinker,

but there's a certain kind of punch she likes...

with a bit of a... A stick in it, you know?

You're really quite fond of the old lady, aren't you?

No, but my wife is,

and I'm very fond of my wife.

♪♪

Iris Chandler painted a pretty fair picture...

of Arthur Hemmings's club.

It looked like one of those second-rate roadhouse joints you find back East.

Oh, come on, Fitzy. Hey. Come on.

I'm just fine. You've had too much to drink.

I'm gonna take you home. I can drive myself home, Fitz.

Peggy, give me the keys. No.

Peggy. Peggy, come on. You're in no condition. I'm not drunk, Fitz.

Peggy, please. Arthur told me to drive you home.

- He's worried about you. - Of course he is. He's in love with me.

Bye-bye, Fitzy.

For a girl who's supposed to be being blackmailed by Arthur Hemmings,

she certainly spoke well of him.

Going inside, Mr. Scheckter?

Oh. Mr. Roarke. I didn't hear you come up.

If you're gonna go inside, you'd better be packing a gat.

Huh? A piece.

A rod. You know, a roscoe.

A .38 special.

That's what Bogart used to carry.

I'm afraid the danger my friend portrays is quite real, Mr. Scheckter.

That's why we've come. The situation you're involved in...

has gone beyond the point I first, uh, anticipated...

Beyond the point where I can control your safety.

Rest assured, we are prepared to refund the price of your fantasy,

in full, of course.

It-It's really that dangerous?

If I'm gonna give back money, it's got to be dangerous.

But this is my big case,

the one I've dreamed about all my life.

Mr. Scheckter, it could very well be the case that ends your life.

Well, if it is, then I will have gone out in style.

I'm staying, Mr. Roarke.

So be it, but remember, from this point on,

there is nothing I can do to help you... nothing.

You are totally on your own.

I understand, and I'm ready.

I think I've just about got this baby wrapped up anyway.

Go on, go on. Get outta here.

Something wrong, Tattoo?

Yeah. I was beginning to like him.

♪♪

Have you seen Arthur? Try the office, honey.

Arthur?

Arthur.

Oh, my gosh.

Arthur Hemmings. He's dead.

"Mortimer Foxxe.

$17,000"?

It was 4:00 a.m., and I knew now...

why Mr. Roarke had tried to warn me last night.

The big, hard-looking cop was Fallon... Sergeant Gus Fallon.

They weren't buying my story about somebody sapping me,

but I wasn't gonna tell them about the marker I found signed by Mortimer Foxxe.

Come on, Lieutenant. What reason would I have to kill Arthur Hemmings?

I never even saw the man before yesterday.

Who says a hired killer has to be friends with his target?

Draper, you keep this jackass away from me, or I will kill somebody... him!

All right, all right, all right.

Look, Stanley, I'm sorry, but we're gonna have to take you in.

Okay, Lieutenant. I'll come downtown and talk it over...

Everything except who hired me.

Now, that's confidential.

Are those really necessary? Put 'em away, Gus, huh?

Come on. Come on.

You didn't see anybody when you went into the office?

If I saw him, you think I'd have let him hit me?

Maybe he followed you in. No. I'd have heard the tongue of the door lock click...

if anybody opened it.

Give me your gun. Sorry, Lieutenant,

but I got a personal stake in this now.

I find anything, you're the first cop I call.

1-Alpha-7. We got a fugitive.

Male Caucasian, 145 pounds, short.

♪♪

Oh, Fred, this is just wonderful.

You even remembered to have them put a stick in Mumsy's punch.

I've never had a picnic on my birthday before.

You see? Everything's gonna be fine.

Ooh, look. Pickled eggs.

My sister Thelma always had a picnic for her birthday.

Nobody ever does anything nice for me.

Monsieur, you have created a magnificent outing.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

A little more punch, Mumsy?

Yeah, kiddo. And this time, fill it up, will ya?

Here you go, Mumsy. Well, that's more like it.

Uh-oh. I bet they forgot to fix Mumsy's punch.

Go away. Go away.

Oh! Isn't it wonderful?

Yeah, I guess so.

Not what I'd call entertainment though.

All right, all right.

Having difficulty, Tattoo?

No trouble. No trouble.

They tell me Chester is very good.

He beats almost everyone.

It does not make any difference.

With my finely tuned psychic power,

I know every move before he makes them.

Ah, I see.

And besides, he's only a monkey.

- Don't you hate a bad winner? - Mm-hmm.

♪♪

Happy birthday.

I've never seen her so happy before.

I've never seen her so drunk before.

Okay, Mumsy, here we go.

Come on, old girl. Now, first, make a wish.

♪♪

What's that? It's chocolate.

♪♪

Well, things are pickin' up.

Tallyho! To fox! To fox! Tallyho!

Tallyho, what!

Now that's entertainment.

Hemmings dead, my neck on the block,

and the only solid lead the name on that marker I saw before the lights went out...

Mortimer Foxxe, an antique dealer no less.

One of those fashionable shops you don't go to for bargains.

May I help you?

Mr. Foxxe? Yes.

Perhaps something in Ming. Louis Quatorze.

I'd prefer some information.

Information? About what?

About the marker I found with your name on it in Arthur Hemmings's nightclub.

I'm not required to answer your questions.

Well, maybe not, sweetheart,

but I think you'd rather talk to me than the cops.

That was a Ming vase. Oh, I'm sorry.

Send me the bill. Oh, please! Please!

Don't move.

All right. What do you want to know?

I find your I.O.U. in the hand of a dead gangster,

and then somebody saps me from behind.

What do you think I wanna know?

Arthur was dead when I walked into his office.

Oh. So, when I walk in, naturally you have no choice but to hit me.

Well, I...

I didn't know who you were. I-I didn't care.

All I wanted were the markers in Hemmings's file.

Gamblers come in all shapes and sizes, don't they?

All you wanted were your markers, huh?

Not only mine. Everyone's.

If Arthur was torturing me, you can imagine what he was doing to other people.

You got everybody's markers?

Yes, and I'll be sending them back to the people who signed them.

Let me have Peggy Chandler's.

I'll take 'em back to her personally.

That's all I want, Mr. Foxxe, just the ones from Peggy Chandler.

I don't recall any markers with that name.

Here, I'll show you.

See for yourself. There are no I.O.U.'s from Peggy Chandler.

Are you sure?

- You didn't miss any? - Positive.

Thank you, Mr. Foxxe.

Thank you very, very much.

Twenty bucks for the vase okay?

It was worth 8,000.

Well, like I say,

just, uh, send me the bill.

Mumsy, are you all right?

I almost got killed.

Horses trampling through my birthday party.

You think he cares?

I told you, Florence, before you married him... a selfish man. You told me too.

Of all the places in the world we could've gone,

you suppose there's any place worse than this?

Aw, I don't know. The food's not bad.

If nobody minds, I think I'll take a walk.

Oh, sure. There goes the old macho bit.

Never mind the wife and kiddie. Just get up and go.

He just got up and went.

Aw, shut up, Arnold.

Hello, Iris? Stanley?

I think you might be in great danger. We have to meet.

Whatever Peggy or Arthur told you was a lie.

There are no I.O.U.'s, sweetheart. None.

The roadhouse. The police closed it after the murder.

I'll meet you there at 10:00 tonight.

Uh, I know this bungalow is not precisely...

what most of you had in mind.

That's a mild way of putting it.

Dreadful's what it is.

Fortunately,

there is another family quite partial to it.

In fact, they have it every year.

As a matter of fact, they have it this year, too,

starting, uh,

well, tomorrow morning.

I'm a little slow today, Mr. Roarke.

- Just what is it you're saying? - Well, I'm afraid I'm saying...

there's been another...

laughable little mix-up in the reservations, and, uh...

Well, you are in their bungalow.

Laughable? That's funny. I don't see anybody laughing.

I think I have something even better for you...

A marvelous suite in one of our older buildings.

Not so close to the ocean, so it's a lot quieter.

And you won't even need to pack.

You'll have a drink with me,

and the staff will have you out of here within 20 minutes.

Mr. Roarke, all my life, I've tried to be a reasonable man,

but you've finally reached my breaking point.

And as far as moving, I've got a better idea.

You go have a drink and figure out somebody else to flimflam instead of me...

and give them the heave-ho in 20 minutes...

Someone who's not onto your style yet.

I beg your pardon?

You're a con man. You're a lightweight fraud.

You sell reservations and don't even write them down.

You promise every wild sort of service short of raising the dead,

and you can't even manage a lousy picnic without making a shambles of it.

It was very, uh, colorful.

There's only one thing I like less than your service, and that's your manner...

which I find very condescending and flip.

- Flip? - Oh, come on. I'm too old for that.

If I wanna be treated like a schmo, I can get that from my own family.

That's the only thing they're good at.

Are you telling me you refuse to move?

Move? We'll move...

Monday morning, from here to the plane.

In the meantime, if there's one hint of bad service or inconvenience,

you'll hear from some lawyers.

If there's any discourtesy, that'll be between you and me...

Outside, with the coats off.

Well, sir,

if that's your attitude.

Tattoo.

Fred Stouton! Florence.

Sit down and shut up!

It's happening just as I told you it would. He's losing his marbles.

Oh, I'm losing a lot more than that, Roberta.

You know she doesn't like to be called Roberta.

Especially by you.

That's too bad, 'cause Roberta's what I'm gonna call her from now on.

You get that, Roberta? And that's not the only change I'm gonna make in this family.

I can feel it coming on now.

Acid indigestion. Heartburn.

The stewardess on the plane will get you something for it.

Plane? The next plane outta here...

Taking your mother back to some of her other kids.

- He doesn't want me. - Want you? I never have.

Florence, go help Roberta pack.

Wow. Wait till they get you home.

When you're done with that, you might want to come back and help Arnold.

Because, to coin a phrase, I'm just about fed up with our son's behavior.

It was 10:00, the time in any investigation...

when a good private eye would have to rely on a hunch, a gut feeling.

I could tell by the burning in the pit of my stomach...

that it was my turn to gamble...

To draw to an inside straight, to bet on the gray horse.

I was so close to breaking this baby wide open I could taste it.

Iris?

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Iris.

Stanley.

I was so worried about you.

I'm okay. You're not. What do you mean?

No Peggy Chandler markers, Iris.

Didn't you hear me?

Stanley, you're lying to me. Why are you lying?

Oh. Whoever killed Arthur also took the markers.

That's what happened. Of course that's what happened.

No, Iris. What happened is there never were any markers of Peggy's.

She lied?

Iris, the only thing Peggy lied to her father about...

was her true relationship with Arthur Hemmings.

She was having an affair with him.

No. No, that's not true.

Arthur threw you over the minute he laid eyes on your husband's daughter.

He was crazy for her.

That's what you and Hemmings were arguing

about at the bar when you suckered me into it.

I never asked you to interfere.

No, but I think you knew I would.

You set me up then, and you set me up again in Hemmings's office.

How can you say those things? How can you even think them?

Oh, come on, Mrs. Chandler.

All I have to do is ask your husband who told him about Peggy's I.O.U.'s.

It couldn't have been Arthur, because there

never were any markers in the first place.

And it certainly wasn't Peggy.

Well,

that leaves only one other person... me.

I came back here again...

One final attempt to persuade Arthur...

to end this foolish infatuation with Peggy.

Well, it got out of hand.

He struck me.

I had to defend myself.

Yeah, with a pair of scissors...

or some equally sharp instrument... in his back.

It was an accident. I swear.

Oh, Stanley.

If you feel anything for me... Anything at all...

You can't turn me in now,

not knowing how I feel about you.

Oh, Stanley, we could go away together,

the two of us together.

Oh, yeah? Go away where?

Anywhere you like.

We can go to Miami, Rio.

No. I couldn't trust you, Iris.

Watching my back every time you're in my arms...

is not my idea of a healthy, mature relationship.

No, baby.

You're takin' the fall.

I don't think so, darling. Not this time.

I don't think you'll pull the trigger.

At least not in front of an audience.

Lights, please.

Lights, please.

Did you get all that?

Every word.

Stanley, you did a real nice job.

What about him? Sergeant, you've got your prisoner.

Go on.

Yeah.

And don't forget to read her her rights.

Once again, she looked at me...

with those baby blues that carried the 30,000 volts.

But this time, I wasn't buying.

At least he got in some peace and quiet.

You're really proud of yourself, hmm, boss?

You should have seen the old lady getting on the plane...

Didn't dare open her mouth.

Pop?

Hi, Arnold.

Can I talk to you for a minute?

Sure. Sit down, Son.

I've been doing a lot of thinking.

That's terrific.

I know you're mad at me. No, I'm not mad. I'm angry.

Only dogs get mad. When they get mad, they foam at the mouth.

See? No foam. You're funny, Dad.

Oh? Wait till I tell the kids at school...

about you telling off Mr. Roarke.

A real hero. Ah. I'm no hero.

Yes, you are, Dad. To me anyway.

Telling Mumsy off the way you did... you've really got guts.

Can I buy you a drink? Sure.

How about a glass of milk? Fine with me.

Okay.

Arnold told me you were out here.

I suppose it was an oversight...

Not tossing me out with everybody else.

Toss you out? What are you talking about?

You're my wife. I love you.

Well, if you're gonna be pleasant about this,

I can be just as damn pleasant as you can, Fred Stouton.

I've been telling you that for years.

I take it all back, boss.

This time, you should really be proud of yourself.

Thank you. You see, Tattoo, being the owner of Fantasy Island...

means never having to say you're sorry.

Uh-oh. Here comes more trouble.

Faith such as yours, Tattoo, could move a molehill... almost.

Good morning, Mr. Roarke. Uh, small problem.

Mrs. Stouton and I just realized that, well,

we're having such a marvelous time, and...

And we wondered if we could stay a few more days.

- We don't need a big place. - Anywhere Dad can get some rest.

With all due respect, Mr. Stouton,

you may stay anywhere you want.

Your wish is our command.

Thank you... again.

Well, Mr. Scheckter, was your fantasy all that you anticipated?

Mr. Roarke, it was more than anything I could possibly have dreamed of.

- Cracking a big case like that was just... - Oh, uh...

Mr. Roarke, we want to thank you very much.

Yes. It was truly a unique opportunity...

for our entire cast and company...

to rehearse our play in such authentic sets.

I am so glad you're pleased, and I hope you have a very pleasant journey.

Thank you. Good-bye. Good-bye.

You mean it was all a play? It was all just make-believe?

Was it really, Mr. Scheckter?

Perhaps that's a mystery you can unravel on the plane.

Good-bye and good luck.

Bye.

Good-bye.

Tattoo, I just noticed... you're not wearing your turban.

I gave that up. I don't think there is such a thing as mind reading.

Oh? Well, I suppose that's a valuable lesson to have learned.

- No. - No what?

No, you may not have a twenty-dollar advance on your salary...

so you can go to the disco tonight.

One must learn to live within one's own budget.

How did you know?

I just thought to ask you a few minutes ago.

- Really? - Mm-hmm.

Huh.