All language subtitles for La trampa de la muerte (Deathtrap) (1982) .spa.eng.xvid.ac3.dvd-rip.eng

[Hushed voices in the background]

[Grunts]

Aah.

Cooperative as ever,
Abigail.

Woman, whispering: It's
the worst play I've ever seen.

Man, whispering:
I can't believe

Sidney Bruhl wrote it.

Good evening,
Mr. Bruhl.

How'd it go?

Man on TV:
You want to be alone.

[Audience laughing
and applauding]

Man on TV:
The lines are trouble.

But you don't
have to look your best.

[Audience laughing]

Ohh.

[Telephone rings]

Aah!

Ohh. Sidney?

Darling?

Oh, darling,
I've been so anxious!

How's it going?

What do you mean
it's a disaster?

Oh, Sidney, you always
think that on opening night.

Of course
it's not a disaster.

They're laughing,
aren't they?

Sidney...

Are they laughing?

Sweetheart...

Sidney...

They're not laughing
at all?

[Clack]

My God. Who could
ever have believed

it would
end this way?

Who?

Who?!

[Applause]

Well, Bruhl,
you want to know who?

I'll tell you who.

My lawyer,

my accountant,

my proctologist,

even my goddamn wife!

Yeah, she told me,
she said, "you produce

"another crock by
that putz Sidney,

you deserve
to go broke."

Even my goddamn wife!

She should know, Seymour.
it's her money.

Putz!

Listen, pal,
you and me

been in this business
a long time, right?

Long enough to know it ain't
your opening night crowd

that hands down
the verdict.

So just relax, kid.

Count your loot,

and drink
your orange blossom.

Thanks, Burt.

The critics are gonna
love you, Mr. Bruhl.

You got my promise, ok?

Here we go.

[Turns on TV]

Man: Our drama critic,
Stewart Klein.

Sidney Bruhl's new play,

which opened tonight
at The Music Box,

is billed
as a comedy-thriller.

So much for truth
in advertising.

[TV knob clicking]

Well, theatre lovers,
there is bad news tonight.

Bad sets, bad costumes,
bad direction, bad actors,

and from playwright
Sidney Bruhl,

a spectacularly
bad play.

Well, Sidney Bruhl's
new whodunit Murder Most Fair

opened tonight
at The Music Box.

but there's no point
in you folks going there,

'cause I'm gonna tell you
who done it.

Sidney Bruhl done it.

And what's inexcusable
is he done it in public.

Well, they weren't
real raves, Sidney,

but they certainly
weren't what I call bad.

I'm doing the only
sensible thing!

I'm getting pissed!

And I'll see you
in East Hampton in the morning.

Conductor: East Hampton.

East Hampton.

Cabby: That'll be $52.

Aah!

Oh!

Every time I come in
this bloody house,

you scream!

I have just been to
the worst opening night

of my bloody life--

and that is
no small boast--

I was called a putz
by Seymour Starger,

and I had to come back home
on the bloody train!

Why didn't you take
a limousine?

Because I can no longer
afford a bloody limousine!

Of course you can. I can,
and everything I have is yours.

Don't you understand?!

I want to pay for my own
bloody limousines!

Myra, I have had four bombs
in a row!

And you know, they deserved
to bomb, because they stank!

Murder Most Fair
was total shit!

Because I'm written out.

Out!

I can no longer cut it,
my darling.

Do you know what happened
to me tonight?

I passed out
in the train,

and I came to in
the terminus at Montauk!

End of the line!

Bloody symbolic.

My Christ...

This has been some kind
of Walpurghisnacht.

Oh, darling.

Oh.

Darling, I won't let you
do this to yourself.

Darling, listen to me.

Darling, you're a wonderful,
wonderful writer!

You are just going through
a streak of bad luck!

And! And to add bloody
insult to injury,

this came to the theatre
tonight. Tonight!

What, darling? What?

This is what.

A thriller in two acts.
one set, five characters.

A juicy murder in Act One,
terror in Act Two.

An ironic and
astonishing resolution,

good dialogue, laughs
in all the right places,

very, very commercial,
and easy to cast!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Darling, what's funny?

What's funny?

I'll tell you
what's bloody funny!

It was written by some
ignorant, infant asshole

in the seminar I gave
last year at college,

name of...

Clifford Anderson.

Oh, li-listen to this.

Listen to this.

Uh, blah blah blah,

"...without your guidance
and inspiration..."

Uh, blah blah blah,

"...therefore,
it is only fitting

"that you should be
the first person to read it.

"If you find it..."

Blah blah blah,

"...your own great work, I'll
consider my time well spent,

"and the fee
for the seminar

more than adequately
rewarded."

Oh, my darling, that's
very nice. Touching.

"P.S.

"P.S. Please excuse
the carbon copy.

"The local Xerox machine
is on the fritz,

"and I couldn't stand
the thought

"of waiting a few days
to send my firstborn child

off to its spiritual
father."

Ohh.

Would 'ems wike
to frow up?

Oh.

Little son of a bitch
even types well.

[Breathing heavily]

Wait a minute.

Not so little.

I think
I remember him.

Obese.

Yes, I do
remember him.

He was the glandular case
that sat in the front

and never took his piggy
little eyes off me.

Darling, is it
really that good?

Is--is it really
that good?

It couldn't be,
could it?

I mean, a first attempt
by a total amateur?

I'll tell you
how good that is.

Even a gifted director
couldn't hurt it.

Myra?

Darling, this is just--

Do you realize this is
the first opening night ever

that I couldn't be with you?

Darling, I felt so bad.

Darling,
I was so anxious.

I know, darling.

I should have given
more thought

about you
being left at home.

Myra?

Yes, darling?

Myra. Myra.

Yes?

I must be able
to trust you, darling.

Oh.

You cannot smoke.

You know that,
don't you?

You taking your pills?

No.

Now, everything's
going to be all right

Provided you take
reasonable precautions.

Don't make me
worry about you

every time you're
out of my sight.

Oh, darling,
I am so sorry,

but I was so anxious.

That's not
your job, anxiety.

Anxiety's my job,
you got that?

I've got that, darling.

Myra: How does Mr. Anderson's
play read when you're sober?

It's worse
than I thought.

It's flawless.

So...so maybe you should
do something about it.

What I should do
is beat the fat bastard

over the head with
that mace over there,

bury him in a hole

big enough to
accommodate his bloat,

and then send his
little masterpiece off

under my own name.

There's the best idea
I've had in ten years.

Yes, darling,

it's so unfair,
isn't it?

Hmm?

I mean, what's the point
in owning a mace

if you don't use it?

[Laughs]

Darling, do you know what
I was thinking last night?

Why don't you
produce the play?

I mean, you've been involved in
production for over twenty years.

You certainly know
as much about it

as someone
like Seymour Starger.

Darling, though
I might be capable

of killing
Clifford Anderson,

I am not up
to the criminal behavior

of a Broadway producer.

I daresay not.

Well, have you thought
about collaboration?

I don't want any help in
killing Clifford Anderson.

I want to strike
the blow myself.

Darling, seriously.

Have you thought about
collaborating on the play?

on Deathtrap?

Surely, if it's as good
as you say it is,

it wouldn't hurt
if it got a little bit

of the old Sidney Bruhl
polish and pizazz.

What do you think,
my darling darling?

And don't tell me
that an absolute amateur

wouldn't be thrilled at
the chance of working with you.

You mean,
I sex it up a little

and then split
50/50, huh?

But of course
I'd get top billing.

Why not? On the basis
of who you are.

You sure you don't
mean who I was?

Sidney!

You were and are...

The author
of The Murder Game,

the longest-running
thriller

in the history
of Broadway.

God.

I hadn't realized.

You mind the failure
as much as I do,

Don't you, Myra?

I expect
it was rather fun

being married to
that Sidney Bruhl.

Ah, well.

Nothing recedes
like success.

Oh, darling, call him.

Call him now.
Where does he live?

Up in Quogue.

You don't like
the mace?

No, definitely not.

Blood on the carpet.

Then the next day
Helga Ten Dorp's out there

Picking up
psychic vibrations.

Helga Ten Dorp
from Holland?

I hardly think
that's likely.

Oh, I knew it! I knew
you'd gone blank with boredom

the other night at Nan's.

They never stopped
talking about it.

Helga Ten Dorp, she's taking
the Prisky cottage for six months.

Paul Wyman's
representing her.

A big book
and U.S. promotion.

My God, darling, Paul
was impersonating her

for twenty minutes
the other night.

Oh, is that
what he was doing?

I thought he was finally
coming out of the closet.

Ha ha ha ha.

Anyway,
about Miss Ten Dorp,

I don't think Paul's agency
would handle her, darling,

if she weren't genuine.

Oh, listen, Nan and Tom had her
over for dinner last week.

She told Tom
all about his backaches,

all about the money
he lost in silver futures,

and all about his father's
thing for tall women.

Oh, and she found
a set of keys

that Nan lost in 1969,
darling.

They were right there
under the clothes dryer.

You know,
right this minute,

she's probably down
there with her radar

picking up your blips.

My word.

That does
give one pause.

she's really fantastic.

The European police

believe implicitly
in her, darling.

That's half
of why she's here.

She's supposed
to be resting up

from pointing
at murderers.

Is the larder
up to another pot of tea?

Hmm.

Look, the same
bloody key ring

from both Millie
and Tom.

[Laughing]

Darling, you know,
I really do think

that you should call
Mr. Anderson.

Wait a minute.

The fat one didn't
stay the full week,

and his name was Quen--
Quincy?

Something beginning
with a "Q."

Anderson. Anderson.

I wonder if Anderson was
the one with the stammer.

[Laughing]

My God, they all seemed
so dim and underdone.

Would you
listen to me?

Did you hear
what I said?

I think you should
call Mr. Anderson.

You have not got
a thing to lose.

Myra.

What?

Have I gone through
everything?

Yours and mine?

Is that why you want me
to phone this guy?

No, darling,
it's not the money.

I'm ok, which means
you're ok, dopey.

Darling,
you're a writer.

All writers go through
periods like this.

All you need
is a change of pace.

Anything.

A collaboration.

To work with
someone young.

Younger.

Don't you see?

By teaching
Mr. Anderson,

you'll get yourself
started again.

Darling, really,

I think it is a God-sent
opportunity.

I really do.

Call him.

The mace
would be quicker.

Oh, Sidney, be serious.

Sidney, what's
the matter with you?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God. You did have
a bad night, didn't you?

[Laughs]

I think that you're thinking
that after last night

You actually would kill
to have another hit play.

Do you know what this play
would net its author

in today's market?

Between
$3 and $5 million.

And that is without
the Deathtrap t-shirts.

Now, if that isn't a thinking
man's motive for murder,

I don't know what is.

"362-1894."

[Dialing phone]

Hello.

Is this, uh,
Clifford Anderson?

Sidney Bruhl.

Yes, I have,

and I must say,
in all sincerity,

this is a very promising
first draft.

A trifle unsteady
at the odd moment,

but it has
all the makings.

Oh, yes.

I know that feeling
so well.

I thought The Murder Game
was finished

the first time 'round,

but then I gave it
to someone

with real theatre
experience.

They took it in hand
and helped me revise it.

I hate to think
what would have happened

if I had sent it out
in its original form.

Well, actually,
it was George S. Kaufman.

Yes, but he wouldn't
take any credit,

though
I urged him to.

But, um, listen,

what sort of reaction
have you had from other people?

Oh.

No one at all?

Well, uh, that's, uh,
that's very flattering.

I mean, but you must've
shown it to someone.

I mean, uh, your wife,
your friends,

um, other people
at the seminar?

Oh, I see.

Well, that sounds like
an ideal situation for a writer.

Yeah.

Oh, yes, of course.

Yes, another thriller.

It's about a woman
with ESP.

It's based on--on, uh,
Helga Ten Dorp.

You know,
the Dutch psychic?

She's a neighbor
of ours.

It's called
The Frowning Wife.

Yes, well, that's
just a working title.

I loved Deathtrap,
incidentally.

Both the title
and the play.

Well, yes, I have,

but I mean too many
to go over on the phone.

As a matter of fact,
I'm free this evening.

Yes.

Why don't you drive over?

It's not very far.

Oh. Hmm.

Well, I tell you what,
you get a train,

and I'll come
and pick you up

at the East Hampton
station.

All right?

The what?

The 7:29.

Oh, that'll be fine.

Oh, uh, um, and would you bring
the original copy with you?

Yes.

I--I think it's best that we
have two copies to read from.

And the carbon's
a little bit hard

on these weary
old eyes.

Yes, well,
we'll make that 7:29.

Um, yes.

Well, I'll see you then.

Oh, and, um, Clifford,

Um, I may be
a few minutes late,

I have some errands
to run. yes.

So wait for me
by the station,

and I'll be along
eventually.

I'll be in
a brown Mercedes.

Yes. All right.

Well, bye-bye, then.
I'll see you later.

What errands
do you have to run?

Oh, I thought you said
something about library books.

Picking them up,
taking them back.

No, I didn't.

I--I don't think I--
I don't think I did.

Well, I thought you did.

I did?

The Xerox
has been mended.

But he wants to wait
a couple of days

in case I have
any small suggestions.

No one else
has read it.

No one else even knows
he's working on it.

He's house-sitting for
a couple who are in Europe,

and he's unmarried.

His car...

is in the garage
for repairs.

[Laughs]

So, no one will see you
picking him up.

That's right.

Why did you ask him
to bring the original?

Because we need two copies.

I don't want him

leaning over my shoulder
all evening,

jeering at my ring-
around-the-collar, do I?

Yes, but won't he have
another carbon copy

lying around somewhere?

And notes and rough drafts
and outlines.

And on opening night
of my dazzling triumph,

his gray-haired
old mother

will come tearing
down the aisle screaming,

closely followed by

the Quogue and East Hampton
police departments.

[Flips turn signal]

Hi, Mr. Bruhl.

Ohh.

Wow.

This is beautiful.

I frequently fantasize
about high-tech--

something
you just hose down.

Hello.

Oh, thank you.

Here we are,
darling.

This is Clifford Anderson.
My wife Myra.

Hi. Pleasure
to meet you.

So nice of you to come,
Mr. Anderson.

No, no. I am very proud
to be asked.

Oh, boy!

[Clifford whistles
in amazement]

Clifford:
Is--is this the mace

that was used
in Murderous Child?

Sidney: Yes.

And this here--
See this small one here?

That's the dagger
from The Murder Game.

Wow.

Be careful.
It's sharp.

The prop one was substituted
in the second act.

Mmm.

Oh, g--

In For The Kill,
right?

Yes.

Myra: The train
must've been late.

Was it?

Uh, no,
Mr. Bruhl was.

Train was on time.

I had to get
some gas,

and Frank insisted
on poking around

under the hood
for ten minutes.

Oh, my God.

Gunpoi--

Do you know
that Gunpoint

is the first play
that I ever saw?

I was 12 years old.

Young man, if you're
trying to depress me,

you're right
on target.

Oh, I'm sorry.

But really, that's how
I got hooked on thrillers.

Angel Street
did it to me.

"Bella, where is
that grocery bill?

"what have you done
with it...

you poor, wretched
creature?"

I was 15.

Sounds like
some awful disease

that's passed down

from generation to
generation, doesn't it?

Yes, it's called
thrilleritis malignus.

The fevered pursuit
of the one set,

five-character moneymaker.

Oh, hmmph. I'm not pursuing
money, Mr. Bruhl.

Well, I mean, I might
like to have some

if I could have a place
like this to work in,

but that isn't the reason
that I wrote Deathtrap.

You're infected,
all right.

But you're still
in the early stages.

Would you like something?
Would you like a drink?

Yes, please. Can I
have some ginger ale?

Of course.

Sidney, would you
like a scotch?

I believe I'll have
a ginger ale, too, darling.

These aren't all
from your plays, are they?

Good God, no.

I haven't written
that many.

Friends give me things,
you know,

and I, um, prowl
the antique shops.

Now there's
a disease.

I found that one
the other day

in, uh, Sag Harbor.

18th century Burma.

Oh, boy,
that is beautiful.

As you can see,

I'm taking
very good care

of my spiritual child.

Lock and key.

Oh, I've got
the original.

It's not in a binder,
though--for the Xeroxing.

Makes no nevermind.

Thank you.

I've got the first draft
here, too.

How many did you do?

Uh, just the one.

It's kind of a mess,
but I think you can decipher it.

There are some scenes
I've cut.

I had a feeling there was
a Diane and Carlo scene

I wasn't seeing
before the murder.

That's right!

See, I thought the act
might run too long.

Good instinct.

What have you got
in there?

Uh, let's see,
I've got the outline,

from which I've departed
considerably, though.

I made it the way
that you suggested,

page per scene,
loose leaf.

Thank you.

And I've got some notes
that I've jotted down

but never got to use.

Everything was just
in one envelope,

so I just grabbed it.

It's a two-hour walk
to the train station,

so I had to leave
right after we talked.

Two hours? Mmm.

To Deathtrap.

Deathtrap.

Deathtrap!

And it'll be toasted with
more than ginger ale someday

if Sidney's right about it,
and I'm sure that he is.

I'll be quiet.

Darling,

this is Clifford's
first play,

and I am
its first reader.

I wonder if he wouldn't rather
this discussion was just...

between us two hacks.

Of course.

This ok?

Don't be embarrassed
to say so, Clifford.

No. No, I don't mind
Mrs. Bruhl being here.

In fact, I like it.

Makes me feel
a little bit less

as though I've been summoned
to the principal's office.

Uh, you're welcome to read
the play, too, Mrs. Bruhl,

if you'd like to.

I'd like to.
Thank you.

I wish you'd mentioned
on the phone

that you wanted Myra
to read it.

I'd have asked you
to bring another carbon.

I don't have another one,
but she can read this one,

and we could pass the pages
back and forth.

I can move over here
next to you.

You don't have
another carbon?

No, I just have the one.

See, I thought I'd be
Xeroxing the originals--

Wait a second.
I want to think.

Let me think
for a moment.

Mr. Anderson,
Sidney is simply bursting

with creative ideas
about your play.

I've never seen him
so enthusiastic.

He gets so many plays
from aspiring playwrights,

plays that are supposedly
ready for production,

and usually
he just laughs

and says the most
disparaging things.

I know he could improve
your play tremendously.

He could turn it
into a hit

that would run
for years and years

and make more
than enough money

for everyone concerned.

Is this what you meant
by "I'll be quiet"?

No, I won't be.
I will not be quiet.

I'm gonna say something
that's been on my mind

ever since your
telephone conversation.

It is very wrong of you
to expect Sidney

to give you the fruit of
his years of experience,

his hard-earned knowledge,
without any quid pro quo,

as if that stupid seminar
were still in session.

But he offered--

It's wrong of you to have
made that offer, Sidney!

I am the one
in this household

whose feet
are on the ground,

whose eyes
are on the checkbook.

I'm gonna make a suggestion
to you, Sidney,

and it's gonna come
as a big shock to you,

and I want you to give it
your grave and your earnest

and your thoughtful
consideration.

Sidney, will you
do that for me?

Will you promise that you'll
do it for me, Sidney?

[Exhales]

Put aside the play
you're working on.

Yes.

Yes.

Put aside the play
about Helga Ten Dorp

and how she finds keys

under clothes dryers
and murderers.

Just put it aside.

Put it aside

and work with Mr. Anderson
on his play.

Collaborate with him.

That's the suggestion
I'm making, Sidney.

That's what I think
is the fair,

the sensible,
the rational thing to do.

Deathtrap by Clifford Anderson
and Sidney Bruhl.

Put aside
The Drowning Wife?

I thought
it was "frowning."

Frowning? What sort of title
would that be?

The Drowning Wife

No, Sidney,
it will keep.

Sidney, people are
always interested

in psychics who can
point at someone

and say, "That man
murdered that man!"

[Breathing heavily]

Anyway, Sidney, please,
put it aside.

Please, Sidney.

Do for Mr. Anderson what…

what George S. Kaufman
did for you.

That was a very
persuasive speech,

and obviously
sincerely felt.

Although how it
must have sounded

to Clifford--

Well, I sort of feel as though
I'm on the spot here.

Yes, you are, really.

Myra has put you there.

As a matter of fact,
she has put us both there.

I just thought I should
bring it up now.

Right now
before anything--

Um, may I just say,

um, first of all,
I'm overwhelmed.

I mean, I'm really
honored and staggered

that Sidney Bruhl would
actually consider the--

You know, there I was,
I was 12 years old.

I was sitting in that
theatre and now I'm here--

We get--we get the gist
of the message, Clifford.

But, um, you see,
the thing is, uh, look.

It's as if
I went to a doctor,

one of the world's
leading specialists,

and he recommended
surgery.

Well, even--even
with all my respect

for his eminence,
his experience,

I still want to get
a second opinion, wouldn't i?

Oh, I mean, I'm sure
that your ideas are terrific.

When I hear them,

I'm probably going to
hit my head and say,

"Wow, why didn't I think
of doing it that way?"

But, uh, I think
you're right, Mrs. Bruhl.

I don't think it would be fair
for me to hear them now

without some sort of
an understanding or arrangement.

And, uh, to be
perfectly honest with you,

without having heard them,

I really feel that Deathtrap
is pretty good as it is.

What I ought to do, I think,
is just Xerox a few copies

and send them off
to those agents

that you recommended
in the seminar.

And, uh, well, if they say
it needs major rewriting,

I'll be back here begging you
to do what Mrs. Bruhl suggested.

We can make whatever arrangement
you think is fair at that time.

Maybe the same one
you had with Mr. Kaufman.

Um, I really hope
I haven't offended you.

Not at all.

Oh, Mr. Anderson, please.

Agents only know
about contracts.

They don't know
about creative...

Don't, Myra!

Don't beg!

He'll think he has the wealth
of the Indies in there

and we're Mr. and Mrs.
Long John Silver.

I would never think
anything like that.

Really, I am
very grateful to you

for going out of
your way to help me.

But the truth is
I'm not really.

Myra here has just been
rattling on for a moment.

The fact is, I do
not wish to set aside

a play as timely
and inventive

as The Drowning Wife

in order to do
wet-nurse work

on something
as speculative

as Deathtrap.

Why--Myra, sit down.
Don't hover!

Sit down!

Do as you said. Show
it to some agents,

and then, if you decide
that a major rewrite

is in order,
get in touch.

Who knows,
I might hit a snag.

It's happened
before.

Thank you very much,
I will.

Though I doubt that
I shall this time.

I already have
The Drowning Wife

completely outlined

and I'm halfway
through it.

And I have a play
ready to go next.

Based on the life
of Harry Houdini.

Jeez, there's been so much
television stuff on Houdini.

Oh, yes, lousy stuff.
Phony and pathetic.

In reality,

Houdini's life was
extraordinarily dramatic.

He's always been
an idol of mine.

These are a pair
of his handcuffs.

Sidney.

He always made his own
magical apparatus,

Did you know that?

Extraordinary craftsmanship.

Take a look.

- Sidney.
- Wow!

Sit down, Myra.

My God, Sidney,
for God's sakes,

I don't even believe
what you're thinking.

I must apologize for Myra's
suspicions, Clifford.

But a few years back,
we had a nasty experience

with a plagiaristic
playwright,

whose name
we will not mention.

So now she gets alarmed if i
so much as tell a fellow writer

what language I'm writing in.

Don't take it personally.

Oh, have a--
have a good look at those.

They're quite remarkable.

Jeez, they really seem
like very solid,

escape-proof cuffs.

Give them a try.

Huh! Well, you mean
put them on?

They cost me $1,300.

Wow! Let's see.

Firmly manacled?

Yeah, it sure
seems that way.

Now turn your wrists
like this,

now, turn, press, pull.

No, you're not
doing it right.

It's got to be all
in one single movement.

Turn, press, pull.

Both: Turn, press, pull.

I guess I'm just
not Houdini.

It's all right.
I have the keys here.

Somewhere.

Don't fuss with them,
Clifford, you'll ruin them.

Sorry.

Key, key, key. Where are you,
little brass key?

I wonder if I put it
up there somewhere.

[Whistling]

Um...

I forgot to mention
that I should be getting

a phone call
any minute now.

There's a girl that's coming
to see me at, uh, at 8:30.

It's about what time
it is now, isn't it?

You see, I- I couldn't
reach her before I took off,

so I just left her a note
in the hall mirror,

telling her where I am
and giving her this number.

Uh, so she can call
and find out

what train I'll
be taking back,

so she can pick me up
at the station.

I mean,
one two-hour walk a day

is just about enough
for me.

So I hope you find
the key pretty soon,

otherwise, you'll have
to hold the phone for me.

How's she going to get in
to read the note?

Oh, she has a key.

Ah. You said in the car you
didn't know anyone in Quogue,

except a few tradespeople.

No, you see,
she's from Islip.

Her name is
Marietta Kelnofski.

she teaches at
Stoney Brook. Phys ed.

How'd you get this number?
It's not listed.

I've had it
for a long time.

I got it from Mrs. Beecham
at the university.

I'm very friendly
with her.

That's before I decided
to send Deathtrap

to The Music Box.

Beecham?

Yes. The short
red-haired lady

with the hearing aid.

I hope she gave you
the right number

because we changed it
a few weeks ago.

An obscene caller
was boring us,

and I don't remember notifying
old Southampton College.

What number did you
give Ms. Kelnofski?

Well, I don't remember.

324-3049

or 324-5457?

Uh, the first one,
it was 3049.

Ah, the new one.

I must have notified
the university

and completely
forgot about it.

How strange and
how untypical of me.

Well, uh, could you go on
looking for the key, please?

Certainly.

Sidney!

What?

My heart won't take it.

Did you take your pill?

Uh-uh.

Why are you so anxious?

You must know that I'll
find the key here somewhere.

Oh, Sidney!

Egads, I do believe
that you two thought

I was going
to take that mace

and do a Vincent Price,
didn't you?

You can't write
a play like that

and not have a mind that
envisions possibilities.

True, very true.
I'm paranoid myself.

What's your excuse,
o loyal and loving wife?

Eleven years of tender
marital relations,

and she apparently believes me
capable of, well...

There's a lesson in there
somewhere, isn't there? Hmm?

Ahem.

Here we are, Clifford.
uncuff yourself.

Deathtrap is promising,
but it's not that promising.

Good.

I think your best
invention so far

Is the name
Marietta Klenofski.

It's lovely.
Congratulations.

Well, thanks.

Mrs. Beecham's
hearing aid however,

that was a bit heavy.

Oh, I hoped it was
the kind of fine detail

that you always
told us to try for.

Are you sure this
is the right key?

Egads, Houdini
opened them in a milk can

ten feet under water,
and you--

Aah!

Aaah!

[Myra screaming]

Shut up, Myra!

Right on the rug.

One point for neatness.

Well, my darling,

your heart seems to have
held up quite well.

It can convalesce
on the Riviera.

After the opening
of Deathtrap.

We'll go to prison
for life.

No, we will not.

A young would-be
playwright...

walks away from his
house-sitting job.

No. The police
won't even yawn.

Leaving his clothes
and his typewriter.

Why not? Who can
figure kids these days?

Especially
would-be artistes.

Maybe he realized
he wasn't going to make it,

so he ran off
to preach ecology

or join the Reverend Moon.
Who knows?

What are you going
to do with him?

Bury him
behind the garage.

No. In the
vegetable patch.

Easier digging.

Why don't you take a brandy
or something, darling?

I am going to be
a winner again.

I'm going to be the envy
of all the people I envy.

All your dear friends

are going to see you
living on my money.

Myra, would you
mind helping me

carry the body, please?

Myra, it's done.

There's no point in
my getting a hernia.

Myra, come and help me
carry the bloody body!

Hurry up!

Take this other end.

Quickly!

Come on!

Aah!

Don't do that.

Come on, now.

Thank God
he wasn't the fat one.

Did you scrape your shoes off
before you came in?

We're out one rug,
but I saw some lovely ones

at Bloomingdale's
the other day.

I've tidied up
the study, darling.

All the props are back--

I have a feeling you're
about to deliver a speech.

Oh, I've just been
trying to understand

how you could do it,
Sidney.

Bearing in mind your
disappointments,

your embarrassment at
our financial situation,

but I can't.

And I don't know how
you're going to be able

to feel like a winner

when we'll both know
that it's his play.

I can't understand
that either.

I mean, you are...

completely alien
to me, Sidney.

And that just can't
be since 5:00.

I mean, you must always
have been very different

from the man
I thought you were.

I don't think the police
are going to be

as disinterested
as you do either,

so I wouldn't want
anything to happen

that would embarrass you
or be--

look like
we were being suspicious

if they came
to question us.

Well, how could they?
He disappeared in Quogue.

This is East Hampton.

Mm-hmm.

By checking into
his past associations.

I mean,
his name and address

were on the return envelope,
weren't they, hmm?

Anybody at the theatre
last night could have seen it,

they could have
remembered it, right?

If they do come,

I'll simply say
that he did write to me,

asking for
a secretarial position.

He sent me his resumĎ
and I threw it away,

which I know I shouldn't
have done, constable,

but then I've been
so busy night and day

writing this play.

Now, which one was he?

Was he the fat one?
The thin one?

Or was he this one?

This one?

Ah, yes, the one
who is so interested

in the Hare Krishna
movement.

Sidney?

In a month or so,
if we haven't been arrested...

Sidney!

What?

I want you to leave.

I want you to leave.

We'll have a few arguments
in people's living rooms.

You can write them for us,
little tiffs about money

or you ogling
Nan Wesson.

Oh, I wish you could take
the vegetable patch with you,

but since you can't,
you'll buy it from me, ok?

As soon as the money
starts rolling in

before you go
to the Riviera.

You'll buy the goddamn
vegetable patch,

You'll buy the house,
you'll buy the whole 9.3 acres.

We could get Buck Raymond
or Maury Escher

to set a fair price.

[Laughs] Darling, you've
had such a painful--

Aah!

Don't touch me!

Myra, you have been through

a shocking
and painful experience

and you are
not yourself.

Neither am i.

Behind all
the Sidney Bruhl dialogue

I am peeing
the Sidney Bruhl pants.

I'm terrified
of being caught

and absolutely
guilt-ridden

about having been
insane enough to do it.

I'm going
to give half the money

to the New Dramatists League.

I swear it.

Now is no time to talk
about it. Anything.

I mean,
in a week or so,

when we're both
ourselves again,

everything will look
a lot cheerier.

You are yourself.
Right now. And so am I.

[Doorbell rings]

Go ahead. "He sent me
a resumƒéƒƒ officer."

It's Lottie and Ralph, come
to yammer about the party.

It's probably
Helga Ten Dorp

and her famous
pointing finger.

[Doorbell rings]

It is Lottie and Ralph.
Damn them.

I've got to let them in.

Are you up
to facing them?

No. You go--
you go upstairs.

Alone?

Jesus Christ.

- Dear lady--
- Aaah!

[Dutch/German accent]
It's only me.

I am your neighbor
from the house of Prisky.

Uh, please,
will you let me come in?

Hello.
Hello.

I'm Helga Ten Dorp,
Mr. Bruhl.

It's most urgent
I speak to you.

I called information,

but that lady
will not tell your number.

Please, will you
let me come in?

Yes, yes. Please.

I am friend and client
of Paul Wyman.

I apologize for so late
I'm coming,

but you will forgive
when I makes the explaining.

Oh, you forgive
my costume!

I do running
morning and night.

Uh, this shines in dark.

I don't get hit
by traffic, ja.

Yeah.

There's a room
with pain.

No, not kitchen, no.

Sidney: Excuse me,
Miss Ten Dorp.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

[Gasps]
Just like I sees them.

Pain.

Pain, pain, pain!

Neither of us--

Why keep you such
pain-covered things?

Those?

They're antiques and
souvenirs from my plays.

I'm a playwright.

Ja, Sidney Bruhl.

Paul Wyman tells me.

Paul sells my book
when finished.

This is
my wife Myra.

How do you do?

My dear, what gives you
such pain, dear lady?

Oh, well, nothing.
Really.

Oh, no, no.
Something pains you.

Paul tells you of me?

I am Helga Ten Dorp.
I am psychic.

Yes, he told us.

I wanted to talk
to you--

I always know I feels
the pain from here.

And more than pain.

Since 8:30, when begins
The Merv Griffin Show.

I'm on next week,
you will watch.

Oh, yes, yes,
certainly.

Will you make a note
of that, Myra?

Thursday night.
I call the information,

but the lady will
not tell me number.

I say, "It's urgent,
you must tell me number.

I'm Helga Ten Dorp.
I'm psychic."

She says,
"Guess the number."

Well, I try,

but I see only the 324,
which is everybody.

Because the pain
gets worse.

And more than pain.

More than pain?

Ja, something else
here.

Something frightening.

No, no, no, thank you,
it will interfere.

What will?

Uh, the drink you were
about to offer me.

Must keep unclouded
the head. Never drink.

Were you going to
offer her a drink?

Yeah.

Was used many times
by beautiful woman,

but only pretending.

That's fantastic.

That was used
every night

in my play
The Murder Game

by Tallulah,
a beautiful actress.

Will be used again
by another woman.

Not in play,
but because of play...

Because of play,
another woman uses this knife.

You must put away
these things.

Yes, yes, I will.

In a month or so, I'm going
to sell the whole collection.

I'm fed up
with them anyway.

May be too late.

Listen, my dears,

I do not enjoy
to make unhappy people,

but I must speaks when
I see something, ja?

Yeah.

There's danger here.

Much danger to you
and to you.

There's death
in this room.

Something
that invites death,

that--that
carries death.

It's a deathtrap.

One says this in English,
the deathtrap?

Yes, yes, that's the
title of my new play.

That's where you're
getting it from.

There is a death
in the play.

That's what you're
responding to.

I work at that desk
over there.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Yeah.

It feels like
real death.

I try to be convincing.

I act everything out
as I write it.

Man...in boots...
young man.

Watch out for him. Here
in this room he attacks you.

He attacks me?

Ja, with one of those.

Comes as friend
to help you. To--

to work with you,
but attacks.

Is confusion here.
Young man in boots.

He sits in this chair
and he talks of two people.

Smith and Colonna?
No, one person.

Small, black, buns
over ears, no, ribbon?

Is in your play,

Is such a black man,
this Smith Colonna?

No, I don't know
that name.

Do you know that name,
darling? Colonna?

No, I don't know
that name.

Remember what else
I tell you.

Dagger is used again
by woman because of play.

And the man in boots
attacks you.

Of these two things
I'm certain.

All else is confusing.

Oh, but the pain
is less now, ja?

Ja. no--yes!

I mean, no. I never had any pain
to begin with, really.

What an extraordinary
gift. I've--

I've always been
skeptical about ESP,

but, well, after this...

Whoo! Tonight,

not in many years
have I had such a feeling.

Like I was 20 again.

Have you always
had this gift?

Ever since childhood?

Oh, especially
in childhood.

My parents didn't wrap
Christmas presents.

Why wasting paper?

And then later, you know,

in my teens ages
walking with boys.

Ugh, such images.

Would you like
that drink now?

I'd very much
like to talk to you.

Thank you, you know,
but I must go to house.

I am very tired.

But you will come and take
dinner with me sometime? ja?

I will tell you
all my life.

Is very interesting.

It would make good play,

but first book.

When you were a child,

you lived in large house
with yellow shutters.

Eh?

Yes!

Good night.

Oh, my dear,
be careful.

Right. No boots.
Good night.

Good night.

Oh, remember
Thursday night.

Merv Griffin.

Sidney: Would you open
the window, darling?

[Sighs]

Why don't you
take a pill?

I don't want a pill.

I want a drink.
I want a brandy.

[Sighs]
No, I'll get it.

Shall I bring one
for you?

Bring the bottle.

[Creaking]

Sidney?

[Creaking]

Sidney!

Sidney!

Sidney!

There's something
out there.

What?

There's something
out there.

Myra, now,
come on.

I heard it.
Sidney, don't leave me!

Don't leave me, Sidney.

Sidney, don't leave me,
please!

Oh, Sidney, please!

There's nothing
down there.

I heard it, Sidney.
I heard it.

- Myra.
- I heard it!

- No, Sidney!
- Myra!

- Myra!
- Sidney, I heard it.

- Myra, you're coming downstairs.
- Sidney!

We've got to go...

I don't want to go.

and get the brandy.

I'd rather not go.

There is nothing there.

You got to go down there once
and for all and satisfy me...

No!

and satisfy yourself.

There is nothing
down there.

There is something.
I saw it.

It's just the wind.

It's just the wind.

And it's
blowing the leaves--

Sidney, I don't
want to do this.

blowing the leaves
against the windows.

It's right here.
I heard it.

Listen, luv,
you're overwrought

and no wonder in the condition
you're in. Come on!

I don't want
to do this.

I cannot
let you do this--

Honey, I'm not
going to look.

You've got to look.
Look! Look!

Aaah!

Nothing there.

See, it's nothing.

Let's have
that drink.

It wasn't locked.

Well, that's hardly surprising,
everything considered.

Oh, yes.

[Sighs]

I suggest you
sip this one.

Oh, thank you.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Sidney?

What?
What is it?

I have to say
something.

Sidney?

Yeah?

Part of me tonight--
oh, Sidney--

Some terrible,
unknown part of me--aah!

Oh, God...was hoping
that you would do it.

At the same time that I was
terrified that you would,

part of me was really hoping.

I saw your money.
I saw the name and...

You tried
to stop me.

I did?

Yes, you did
your best.

Now...

darling...

This was my doing
and my doing alone.

Do you understand?

Mm-hmm.

If anything goes wrong,

I don't want
any confusion

on that point...

Mm-mmm.

whatsoever,
darling.

None at all.

But nothing
will go wrong.

I promise you.

Just believe
in me, Myra.

Please. Please
believe in me.

Mmm.

Believe.

Do you think
it's possible...

that murder
is an aphrodisiac?

Mmm. Ha ha ha.

Up we go.

Ha ha ha.

Look at that moon,
darling.

Isn't that moon
beautiful?

Open the window,
darling.

Aaah!

Aaah!

Aaah!

Sidney!

Aaaah!

Aaaah!

Listen, all I did
was help carry you.

Oh, no.

Ohhh!

[Gasping]

It worked.
She's dead.

Yes, of course.

She's had minor heart
attacks over much less.

For future reference,
Clifford...

that styrofoam log
hurts.

Sorry.

You did it much harder

than you did
in the motel room.

Well, Christ, what about
that Helga Ten Dorp lady?

I almost had a heart attack
out there myself

when she says I was
going to attack you.

God!

"Ja. Is a very
confusing image."

Thank God for that.

Perhaps it's
a good job she came.

Now she'll be
telling everybody

that she felt the physical
pain of the oncoming attack.

Every little bit helps.

I've been telling
people for days

that Myra was a bit
under the weather.

Oh, Christ.

If only that goddamned
lousy production

had worked...

even halfway.

I'd have had
a movie sale.

There would
have been enough.

We could have
just taken off.

It didn't work,
Sidney.

And you knew
it wasn't going to

from the second week
of rehearsal.

I didn't want
to kill her.

I didn't.

Well, this is not
exactly what they call

involuntary homicide.

I'll get my things.

There's no hurry.

I'm going to wait
a few minutes

before I call
the ambulance.

Also,
we don't want anyone

working miracles of
resuscitation, do we?

Come and clean yourself
up and give me a hand.

What if that madame
Ten Dorp comes back?

I don't see
why she should.

The pain has stopped,
hasn't it?

Cripes!

Why you burning it?
There's nothing incriminating.

Still, I'll say I was
getting rid of manuscripts

as the grim reaper struck.

The closer you stay
to the truth the better.

Farewell, Deathtrap.

Would that you were
the genuine article.

I really am going to
try something on ESP.

That was an awfully impressive
demonstration the lady gave,

despite the mistakes.

Now, I'm going
to make the call now,

So you go
and get your things.

Well, how long you think
you're going to be?

Well,
at least two hours.

I may have to go
with her. I don't know.

Well, ciao.

Ciao. Oh, Cliff.

The floorboards upstairs
creak,

So, do a quick washup,

get into bed,

and stay there.

I'll buy that.

Hello?
Th-this is Sidney Bruhl.

I-I'm at 10 Hook Pond Lane.

Could you please
send an ambulance

as quickly as possible?

My wife has had a coronary.

Please, come immediately.

Thank you.

Good-bye.

Minister: Accept
the soul of our sister

Myra Elizabeth
Maxwell Bruhl

In the name
of the Father

and of the Son

and of the Holy Ghost.
Amen.

[Typing]

That must have been
quite a welfare office.

Oh, it was.

You know, everybody had
a really poignant story.

Well, they're creating
the play, really.

They're just
doing it for me.

It just
writes itself out?

Yeah, that's right.

No notes?
No outlines?

Well, this isn't
a thriller, Sidney.

It's not dependent on
intricate plotting

and contrived theatrics.

I mean...

See,
these are real people.

and all I'm doing is
just bringing them on,

letting them pour out their
dreams and frustrations.

You know,
like the clerks

with their pettiness
and frustration.

And the clients
with their bitterness

and their battered
self-esteem.

I've really lost interest
in thrillers, Sidney.

What I'm doing here
is relevant.

Even though
you said that word,

I am still going
to let you stay here.

Let me see a few pages.

Ah, I'd rather wait till
the whole thing's done.

I'll just give it to you
in one glorious bundle.

Do you mind?

Of course,
what's another half hour?

Nothing doing?

Why don't you have
Helga Ten Dorp over?

I don't know,

Maybe talking with her
might spark something.

You do like to live
dangerously, don't you?

No way. I do not want her
on the premises.

Never again, thank you.

Oh, I don't know.

Maybe not
when the moon is full,

but any other time,
why not?

I mean, Christ,
look at the egg she laid

on the Griffin show.
That was pathetic.

Yes. She was
pretty rattled.

[Doorbell rings]

I'll go.

We don't want to break
the flow, do we, dear?

Porter.

How are you,
Sidney?

Oh, I'm not
too bad, thanks.

There are a couple
of things--

I had to be in the area

and I just decided
to take a chance--

Uh, thank you.

You feel up
to a few papers?

Why not? I'd be glad
of the break.

Would you like
some coffee?

Of course I would.

Sidney: This is Clifford
Anderson, my secretary.

My friend, Porter Milgrim.

How do you do, sir?

How do you do?

Sidney: I would say my attorney,
but he'd bill me.

Ah, well, I'm going
to bill you anyways.

It's a business call.

Look at that.

Isn't that a beauty?

Partner's desk.

Mmm. Where did you
find it?

I happened on it
last week.

It makes more sense

than cluttering
up the place

with two single ones.

And it is
deductible, Porter.

Well, uh, shouldn't
I go get the groceries now?

And you and Mr. Milgrim
can talk in private.

Would you mind?

No. I have to do it sometime.
Might as well go now.

Oh, wait a second,
Porter.

Hold on, Clifford.

Porter: Take your time,
Sidney.

I haven't started
the clock yet.

I like this room--
has character.

It's a pleasure
to be working here.

He's looking well.

Well, just in the last
few days, really.

You know, it was
pretty bad last week.

He was crying
every night.

You could hear him
right through the walls.

He was drinking, too.

Ahh.

But he'll be all right.

You know, his work's
a great solace to him.

Twenty do it?

Oh, it should do.

We just need salad things,
milk, paper napkins.

I'm going to Gibson's.

- Got the keys to the car?
- Yeah.

Oh, and yogurt.
Any flavor but prune.

Well, it's very nice
meeting you

or see you later,

whichever
it turns out to be.

Pleasant
young fellow.

Good-looking,
too.

I guess.

Do you think
he's gay?

Oh, didn't strike me
that way.

I have a sneaking suspicion
he might be.

Still, so long
as he does his job

and doesn't fly on little
fairy wings into my chamber,

I suppose it's
none of my business.

Besides,
how people would talk

if I'd taken on a female
secretary, right?

If she were under 80.

That's why I called
Clifford.

Good to see you looking
so well, Sidney.

That's the main reason
I've come.

I was delegated by
the Wessons and the Harveys.

That young man's been
discouraging all callers,

and we were afraid
you might be

in worse shape
than he was letting on.

Obviously
that's not the case.

No, but I'm not up
to socializing yet.

But I'm coming through.

The work is
a great solace.

That's what he said.

Bring that damn thing
out on the porch.

Let's at least deal
with it in the sunlight.

Right.

And the next item on
the agenda is your will.

Now that Myra's gone,
you ought to look it over.

As it stands, if anything
should happen to you,

your cousins in England
would inherit.

Do you want to
leave it that way?

I'll deal with it
later.

You hang on to it, Porter.

Well, don't put it off.

This is the third item:

This is only approximate

because I don't have
up-to-date appraisal

on the real estate yet,

but this is what
you can anticipate...

Roughly...give or take
a few thousand dollars.

I had no idea
there was this much.

Porter: Well, old man...

you've gotten off cheap.

Sidney: Yes, I'm aware of that.

What's the procedure?

You dictate and he types?

Oh, no, I type
the first draft

and then he types...
and types and types.

He also
does the letters.

That what he was doing
before--letters?

Oh, no. he's trying
to write his own play.

Oh, the seminar,
of course.

Yes, he started yesterday,

will probably finish tomorrow.

Well, I hope he's not
stealing your ESP idea.

Have you discussed it
with him?

What in the world
makes you say that?

Well, whatever
he was working on,

he locked it up
in this drawer.

Unobtrusively,
but I noticed.

No, not unobtrusively.
Slyly.

Then again, maybe he was
afraid you'd steal his idea.

Oh, the dreams
and frustrations

of welfare workers?

He worked
in a welfare office?

Yeah, that's where
he was before.

Oh, well, then it was
only force of habit.

People in large offices
often lock their desks.

I'm sorry
if I worried you, Sidney.

Suspicious legal mind.

He's probably exactly
what he seems--

an honest and helpful
young man.

Completely trustworthy.

No doubt.

Oh, that, uh, check
from the insurance company--

has it come yet?

No.

Well, I'm sure it's something
you'd rather not do yourself.

Would you like me
to get after them?

Would you mind?

I'll write them
first thing in the morning.

I'd appreciate that,
Porter.

When are you coming
to town to have dinner?

Oh, in a week or two,

I'll be ready to face
the world again.

Good.

Good.

Good-bye, Porter.

I'm proud of you,
Sidney.

Shit.

Bloody
old-world craftsmen.

[Car engine,
screeching tires]

Where have you been?

Gibson's.

Then I stopped by
the jeans shop.

Got mauled by
that bitch Nan Wesson.

She thinks I'm standing
between you two.

And so you are, luv.

I'll put away.

Clifford: No, that's
all right. I'll do it.

You shopped.
I'll put away.

I know you want to get back
to your welfare office.

Well, only literarily.

[Coins clank]

Change is
in the bowl.

[Typing]

Cliff, can you
come in here a sec?

Where are you?

What's going on?
Hello?

Where the hell
were you?

where the hell
were you?

I--I thought you
hadn't heard me,

so I--I ambled round
through the dappled day.

I thought you might
like one of these.

I had a sudden craving
as in the commercials.

So, you've lost your
interest in thrillers?

Mm-hmm.

No taste for
the intricate plotting,

the two-dimensional
characters.

You want to do
something real...

and meaningful...
Socially relevant.

Hey, give me a break,
will you?

I mean, your idea will
start coming in a minute.

"Deathtrap.

"a thriller in two acts
by Clifford Anderson.

"Characters:
Julian Crane,

"a playwright.
Doris Crane, his wife.

"Victor Madison,
Crane's protégé.

"Inga Van Bronk,
a psychic.

"The action takes place
in Julian Crane's study

in the Crane home in
East Hampton, New York."

How the hell did you--

"Stage left,
a brick fireplace,

"practical to the extent

"that paper can be burned in it.

"Center stage, french doors,

"a post-Colonial
modification,

"opening out to
a shrubbery-flanked patio.

"The room is decorated
with a collection

of antique weapons
and shackles."

A nice selection
of which

I'm about to use
any minute, Clifford.

Would you like me
to explain?

What? That you're a lunatic
with a death wish?

Ha ha ha.

I've got the same wish
you have, Sidney.

A success wish!

This is not going
to bring you success!

This, you asshole,

is going to bring you 20 to life
in maximum security!

Listen to me.
Come on.

It hit me that night

When you were
looking for the key.

This can make
a terrific thriller.

It will make a
terrific thriller.

In which someone like me
and someone like you

give someone like Myra
a fatal heart attack?!

Absolutely right.
At the end of Act One.

Clifford,
I hate to ask this,

but could you give me

your own special
definition of success?!

Being gangbanged in a shower
in the state penitentiary?!

Oh, jeez, I knew

you were going to have
reservations about it.

Reservations?!

I am standing here petrified,
stupefied, horrified!

How's that for
bloody reservations?!

Come on, Sidney, listen.

Look, there is no way
for anybody to prove

what did or did not cause
Myra to have a heart attack.

Ha ha!

A--a playwright,

a writer of thrillers,

and living
in Long Island!

Sidney, come on,
babe, babe, babe,

If I could change things,
I would, but I can't.

Now, look, it's got
to be a playwright.

who else can pretend
to be about to receive

a finished work that
can make a ton of money?

Uh, a composer,
a novel--

Why am i
discussing this?!

Oh, check.

A surefire, smash-hit
symphony. Uh-huh.

And does a novelist
or a composer know

where to get a chain
that squirts blood

or how to stage
a convincing murder?

It's got to be a playwright
who writes thrillers,

'Cause, I mean,
I don't know,

Arthur Miller probably
has old sample cases

hanging on the wall.
Uh...

I can make it Bridgehampton,
not East Hampton.

Why make it anywhere?!

Why make it?!

Ha ha! Because
it's there, Sidney.

That's mountains,
not plays!

Plays are not there until
some asshole writes them!

Oh, oh, come on.
Oh, hey, hey, come on.

It's all right. Sh-shh.
Just sit down. Sit down.

Come on, sit down.
Come on.

It's all right.

Hey, sh-shh.
Listen to me.

Sh-shh. OK? Now, think
for a minute, all right?

Just think about everything

that happened that night.

Now, try to see it

from an audience's
point of view.

See, everything that
we did to convince Myra

that she was seeing
a real murder

would have exactly
the same effect

on an audience,
wouldn't it?

Didn't we write a play?
Didn't we rehearse a play?

Didn't we plan it?
Didn't we execute it?

Wasn't she the audience?

We did it!
And it worked.

It worked perfectly,

And nobody can prove

what really happened
here, nobody!

And what are you
going to say

to the men from The Times
when they ask you,

"didn't you work
for Sidney Bruhl,

"and didn't his wife
have a heart attack

at about the same time
you came here?"

Uh...no comment.

Well, I have a comment.

No! Absolutely
and definitely no!

I have a name
and a reputation.

Somewhat tattered,
perhaps,

but still good
for dinner invitations

and summer seminars.

And I wish
to live out my years

as the man who wrote
The Murder Game,

not as the faggot
who knocked off his wife.

Why, look!
A brick fireplace!

I wonder
if it is practical

to the extent that
paper can burn in it.

Stop right where
you are, fella.

You burn that and I'll
go right out of here

and write it
someplace else.

Now, you give it to me.

Give it to me!!

Thank you.

You know, we really,

really shouldn't get angry
with each other, Sidney.

You see, that's--that's
not what I want.

Of course not.

Let's, uh...talk about
exactly what it is...

you do want.

Certainly.

I want a shortcut, and i
really don't give a shit

whose property
it cuts through,

if you understand me.

And you think that that play,
that wild concoction of...

of truth, of fact.

Clifford, my dear,

those facts are the most
outlandish and preposterous...

set of circumstances
entertaining enough

to persuade an audience
to suspend its disbelief.

Opening lecture.

You're an excellent
student, Clifford.

Student, companion,

Lover...
Collaborator.

We're going to write
Deathtrap, Sidney,

you and me. I mean,
it's perfect.

Ha! Oh, Christ, what
the hell do you care

if the publicity
gets a little sticky?

Come on, don't be
such an old nellie.

I mean, just look around
you! Jesus Christ,

You don't have to read
Hustler. You know?

Just read, uh...

Village Voice,
People Magazine.

Sidney, I'll
tell you something.

Everything that you
have ever thought of

and a hell of a lot
that you haven't

is in print
and on the screen.

I mean, babe,
it is a tidal wave.

All the news is fit
to print and show.

Sidney,
nobody gives a shit

who did what or
who they did it to.

All they want
is to be in on it.

I mean, you
killed your wife?

That's OK. why don't you
abuse your kids,

poison the well,
flog bats?

As long as you
get on television,

talk about it
afterwards.

You know I'm right,
don't you?

Sidney, you ever
hear of somebody

turning down a party

where they think they
can meet Nixon or Vesco

or any one of those big guys
that got away with it?

Now, listen.

I've given this a lot
of serious thought,

and I really think if
there's some talk about us

and about Myra,
it can help the play.

Well...

you really have given it
some thought, haven't you?

Who knows? You, uh,
you may be right, but, uh...

But what?

Let's be honest,
Clifford, and I mean...

really honest.

If you had the choice between
turning out just a hit play

and turning out a hit play
with dangerous origins,

you'd choose
the latter, right?

Clever old Sid.

Now, level with me, luv;

Those little brushes
with the authorities--

in your infancy,
as it were,

before you matured and
settled down, so to speak--

did any of
the--the courts

or the social workers
or the shrinks...

did anybody
ever use the word...

What word, luv?

"Sociopath."

I-isn't that
what it's called?

That's what it's called.

Does that word...
frighten you, Sidney?

Oh, no, it doesn't
frighten me.

It does, however...

give me pause.

Clinically, it means,
as I'm sure you know,

it means one who has no sense
of moral obligation whatsoever.

Now, if, and I repeat, if

I decide to kick
over the traces

and actually write
Deathtrap...

With me.

Oh, yes, of course, with you.

If I decided to enter

into such a risky
and exciting collaboration,

I wonder if, um...

If what?

I wonder if
it would not be--

well, just a trifle
starry-eyed of me

to contemplate a partnership

where I could count on no sense
of moral obligation whatsoever.

Are you trying to say

that you don't think
that you can trust me?

How clearly you put it.

That's up to you,
Sidney.

You can trust me.

You can always trust me.

You just have to be sure
about one little thing.

And that is?

You just have to be sure

that whatever happens,
I need you.

For instance,

Like I need you now.

Would you count the ways?

Sure.

One--it's a little academic,
perhaps, but nevertheless,

I know that scene one
is still coming out

a little stilted
and heavy-handed.

Of course I could
help you fix that.

Then do it.

God knows I could do
with half the royalties

of a good, solid hit.

Porter just gave me
the figures

on Myra's estate.

It was a bit
of a shock.

Even smaller
than I thought.

42,000 lousy bucks.

There's the house
and land, of course,

but I can't
even sell any acreage

until the will
goes through probate,

and he says that will
take nearly two years.

You're not going to
live long on that much.

What about the insurance?

Minimal.

My offer's open, Sidney.

I'll do it!

They can wag
their damn tongues off.

I'll blush all the way
to the bank.

Ah! You mean it?

Ta-da!

Bruhl and Anderson.

Bruhl and Anderson.

We'll make it Bridgehampton,
not East Hampton.

Oh, what the hell,
who cares?

I don't believe it.
me, Clifford Anderson,

actually collaborating
with Sidney Bruhl!

Don't kid a kidder, cliff.
That's from Act One.

Here you go.

Happy new year.

Deathtrap.

Deathtrap.

I think we might have a problem
with Act Two, 'cause...

Uh-oh. How so?

Well, we've got a murder
in the first act.

we got two murders,
as a matter of fact.

I think that Act Two
might be a letdown.

Not necessarily.

Maybe we should bring in
a fifth character.

A detective
like a Long Island version

of the one they had
in Dial M, huh?

Inspector Hubbard.

Yeah, I think
Inga Van Bronk

should come in
again, too.

Good. Now, you go on
drafting Act One, Clifford,

and let me do the thinking
about Act Two.

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Knock on window]

It's Helga.

It's only Helga, Mr. Bruhl.

You're not Mr. Bruhl.

Uh, Mr. Bruhl isn't here.

Oh.

Is very wet.

Oh, sorry.

Uh, why don't you come in?

OK.

Whoo.

Uh, Mr. Bruhl should
be back in a minute.

You are, uh...

I'm Clifford Anderson.

I'm his secretary.

I'm Helga Ten Dorp.

I'm psychic.

Uh, yes, I know.

In fact, Mr. Bruhl
told me about you.

He said you were actually able
to predict his wife's death.

Ja. Ja, was much pain
right here.

Hmm.

Very sad.
Such a nice lady.

Ay, this room.

He is well,
Mr. Bruhl?

Oh, yes, ma'am,
He's just fine.

In fact, he's gone out to dinner
for the first time since--

He said he'd be back
around 10:00.

Should be about that now.

It will be
big storm.

much wind
and rain,

lightning
and thunder.

Again trees
will fall.

Are you sure?

Ja, was on radio.

I come to borrow candles.

Are none in cottage.

Uou have?

Well, I'm sure
he must have some.

Why don't you
sit down, ma'am?

Thank you.

Boots?

You wear boots?

Oh, yes, ma'am.

Practically everybody
does these days.

They're
very comfortable.

Uh, you are for long time
secretary to Mr. Bruhl?

Uh, no.

Actually I came here
about three weeks ago

after his wife died.

[Car pulls up]

Excuse me.

Ah, Mr. Bruhl.

Bloody bore Porter is.

Glad you're back.
Mrs. Ten Dorp is here.

Oh, Helga,
how nice to see you.

How good you get
home before storm.

Miss Ten Dorp says
we're in for a bad one.

She came to borrow
some candles.

Do we have any?

Yes, there's
some upstairs.

I saw you on
The Merv Griffin Show.

It wasn't a very good
night, was it?

What is it?

Is man I warn you of.

Man in boots
who attacks you.

Warn me?

Oh, yes. In the turmoil
of Myra's death--

Is he.

Candles are not
why I come.

I have many candles.
but again tonight,

I feel danger here
in this room.

The feeling,
very strong.

You should not
have him here.

Oh, this is weird.

This is
absolutely amazing.

Do you know,

I decided just tonight
to dismiss him?

I was discussing this
with my lawyer.

Now, I felt uneasy
about him last week,

and I asked my lawyer
to check on him.

[Gasps]

Smith-Corona?

Is his?

Why, uh, yes.

Corona, not Colonna.

You must send away
this man at once.

Oh, I was going to.

Well, give him
his notice, at least.

And I shan't put it off
now that you've warned me.

But tell me,

are you positive that
you saw him attacking me?

Very sharp,
Very clear.

Like TV with cable.

Ah, thank you.

Ja, I take two.

There's plenty more.

Oh, no, no, two is enough.

Clifford: It's really
blowing up out there.

Ja, sometimes they get it
right, these weathermen.

You want I should stay?

No, there's no need.

You're going to get very
wet out there, you know?

I'm not afraid of rain.

Good night.

It was very nice
meeting you.

She told you

I'm man in boots
who attacks you, ja?

Ja.

She noticed them just
before you came in.

I told her you were
giving me karate lessons

and we were attacking each other
all over the place.

The closer you stick
to the truth, the better.

Old bat.

Listen, I finished Act One.

Well, your evening was
better spent than mine.

I've ended it with
Julian on the phone.

"Oh, God, how can
I go on without her?"

Yeah, he wants the doctor
to think he's upset, right?

The dialogue's
a bit Tin Pan Alley,

but your timing
couldn't be better.

I've got Act Two
ready to go.

Terrific.

Well, at least
I think I have.

There are two bits of business
I'm not sure will work.

Mm-hmm.

We'll try them,
and if they do,

we'll go through
the whole thing scene by scene.

It's really
full of surprises.

Ah. Let's hear them.

Oh, shit, I'm fed up
with this weather.

Cliff, check the upstairs
windows, will you?

Just made it.

It's really going
to be a bitch.

So, what's the bits,
the business?

Uh, they're in
the final scene.

Yeah?

Uh, Victor has
spilled the beans,

and our detective has come
to beard Julian in his den.

Right?

Julian goes berserk,

shoots the detective
in the left arm.

Left.

But there's only
one bullet in the gun.

I'll explain that later.

Now, he's got to get
to the upstage wall,

grab a weapon,
and finish him off.

Now, the first
question is,

can a one-armed inspector
in very good physical condition

stop a two-armed,
middle-aged playwright?

And the answer
has to be no.

So let's try it.

Uh, me julian,
you detective.

Right over here.

Why?

Don't you remember
the seminar?

When in doubt,

Physicalize.
Physicalize.

Come on.

OK.

All right, so my left arm
is out of commission.

Yes.

Uh-huh.

- You ready?
- Yeah.

Go!

[Thunder]

Voilà.

It works.

I scratched
your neck.

Oh, I'll survive.

Now, the next bit
is less strenuous

and very brief.

Glad to hear it.

Uh, come up here.

Now I'm the detective...

and you're Julian.

OK.

Now take the ax
off the wall.

Uh, this one?

Yeah.

OK.

No, it doesn't look
natural that way.

Well, it feels
natural this way.

Uh, try it the other way.

The other way.

No, it really doesn't
feel natural this way.

Put it back the way
you had it, then.

OK.

Yeah, feels--

feels better
this way.

Good.

Uh, I'll tell you
what, Cliff,

put the ax
down on the floor.

Stand very still,
Clifford.

We're going
to say good-bye.

This weapon
from Gunpoint...

is now full of
live bullets, luv.

I loaded it myself
last night.

I just can't have
the play written, Cliff.

And I honestly
cannot think

of any other way
to stop you but this.

And I do not wish to join

all the ex-mistresses
of ex-presidents

and former CIA assassins

and happy hookers

lining up to--
to tell Tom Snyder

and Phil Donahue
how it was.

That's not my style.

It's just not me,
is it, luv?

It's not going to be
you either, luv,

spending the next
25 years slaving away

at crappy jobs
for no money.

You have got a very firm
grip on unreality, Sid.

46 years old,
you're written out,

you're
practically broke.

I'm afraid I told you
a little fib.

Between the insurance
which arrived a few days ago,

and what Myra really left,

I'll have about
a million dollars.

Plus, of course,

this quite
valuable property.

And I do hope to have
another hit play someday.

Hope springs eternal.

You shit! You'll never
get away with this.

Why not?

Such wildly extenuating
circumstances.

I asked Porter to have you
checked out in Riverhead,

do a serious rundown.

And I spent this evening
listening to his report.

Porter was shocked,

very disturbed at this possibly
quite dangerous young man

I had innocently
taken into my place.

Porter insists that the sooner
I send you packing,

the better.

So I come home,

and I give you your notice.

But you become
abusive and violent.

Luckily,
I get to the gun.

I'm truly sorry, Cliff.

I shall miss you.

You opened up
certain doors for me,

and for that I'm grateful.

Oh, God.

This is going to be even
harder than I expected.

Good-bye, Clifford.

Bye, Sidney.

[Click]

[Click]

[Click]

Bang bang.

Sorry the click is so
anticlimactic, Sidney,

But I needed the bullets
from that gun...

for this one.

Now sit down,
dum-dum. Sit down!

Right in that chair,
thank you.

Reversal, Sidney.

Remember?

You stressed it in
the seminar, first day.

But you see,
the problem was,

I had this terrific
first act--

I just couldn't think
of what came next.

You see, dialogue's
a snap for me,

but I still have little
problems with plotting.

and that was
very frustrating,

Particularly because I'm
sharing bed and board

with the old
master plotter himself.

Let's see.

I think you're
about a 42 regular.

You can put your gun
down, Sidney.

Unlock them, please.

[Thunder]

Ha.

It's corny
but effective.

Well, there I am
with my problem.

See, Sidney's not
going to help me--

well, not voluntarily.

This--I know that
from square one,

'cause Sidney uses
three kinds of mouthwash

and four kinds
of deodorant--

not for him the whiff
of scandal.

But I think to myself,

Is there a way that
maybe I can harness

that 17-jewel brain

and get it to work
for me all unwittingly?

So I go on
drafting Act One,

and every time
I leave the room,

I put it inconspicuously
in the drawer. Ha ha.

So inconspicuously
in fact,

that for a day
and a half,

smart old Sidney
doesn't even notice.

And then dull old Porter
comes in

and twigs right away.

Oh, what a relief.

So, on we go
with my scenario.

You rifling my desk,

confronting me
with the evidence,

et cetera, et cetera,
et cetera.

You're a prick, you know that?

Aww, sticks
and stones, Sidney.

Ha. Hey, Sidney,
here we are, huh?

Bruhl and Anderson.

Now, I write,
and Sidney thinks.

Hmm.

And I really
don't sleep much.

Uh, last night,
for example,

I hardly got a wink

with all your elephantine
tiptoeing around.

Tin Pan Alley dialogue?

God, do you think
I'm stupid?

That was
dummy dialogue!

Dummy to keep you comfy
while you're plotting.

For every wooden line
I wrote there,

there's an aerial one
up here.

I am going to burn this shit
myself when I leave here.

Now you give me
the key, please.

And you put them on.

Oh, and I do thank you
for Act Two, Sidney,

but we're not going to have
a Long Island detective.

Julian's lawyer
is the fifth character.

Julian finds out
in scene one

that Victor is actually
writing the real Deathtrap

about Doris' murder.

He pretends that he
will collaborate--

through the arm
of the chair.

Don't be stupid.

Put the handcuffs through
the arm of the chair.

Thank you.

Yes. Old Julian pretends
that he will collaborate.

Meanwhile,
he has his lawyer

do some checking up
on Victor,

knowing that there are
some charges to be found...

most of them
very, very unfair.

Scene Two...

Julian sets Victor up

for what will look like
a murder in self-defense

by getting him to
act out bits of business

from the play.

Unh! Unh! Unh!

God, that's nice, Sidney!

I mean, wow!

That is simple.
It is workable.

It's gonna play.

I'm really
in your debt.

So, Julian
shoots Victor,

who's a handsome,
charming, wonderful kid

that Julian has
led astray, seduced--

You big creep.

Ah-ah-ah-ah.

But at the very
next moment,

Inga Van Bronk
and the lawyer come in.

See, she's called him

because she's been getting
bad vibes all night.

They met
at Doris' funeral.

Now, Victor lives
just long enough

to tell the truth
about himself and Julian...

and about Doris' funeral.

and then...

Julian shoots himself...

Curtain.

Is that it?

What do you mean,
"Is that it"?

They're both dead, dummy.
The play is over.

Julian shoots himself?

That's exceedingly
feeble, Clifford.

I'd be glad to think
about it some more.

No, no. That's OK.
I can fill in the holes.

Now, here's
the big surprise, Sidney.

Are you ready?

[Gasps]

I'm not gonna kill you.

Ha.

Hey, I just wanted
a hit play. Ha ha.

And I'm really not
the total sociopath

that you'd like to think.

Sidney, I'm gonna pack,
I'm gonna call a cab,

and I really hope that
I can get one in this storm

because otherwise you're going
to have to sit there all night.

When the cab is safely
at the door...

I'm going to
give you the key

and unlock one wrist.

You will tell people
that you gave me my notice.

I accepted it with grace.

But if you hassle me
in any way,

you will be opening up
a very messy can of worms.

If you don't bother me

between now and the opening
of Deathtrap,

I'll say, "Well, yes,
I got the idea years ago.

"I worked for Sidney Bruhl
for a few weeks, but I left...

"'cause I was so depressed

"at the way he kept humping
beautiful women...

out of grief
for his wife."

[Thunder]

Electrical effects
by God himself.

So long, Sidney.

It's really been educational.

Sidney: Cliff?

Cliff?

You can come down.

Those were
Houdini's handcuffs.

[Thunder]

[Creak]

[Creak]

[Creak]

[Creaking]

[Creak]

[Creak]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

Hang in there, Long Island Light.

[Thunder]

Jesus!

[Thunder]

They're gone.

[Thunder]

Oh, shit!

Shit! Shit!

Candles.
Ah, candles.

Matches, matches,
matches.

Oh, shit!
Matches.

Matches, matches.

Helga: Matches.

Candle.

I came to help.

Such troubles.

But not trouble
for you.

Trouble from you!

Well, strictly speaking, Helga,

I'd say we're both
in a spot of trouble.

Now you will want
to kill me, ja?

First mrs. Bruhl--
somehow you do that.

I'm right, ja?
then the boy...

No.
You've got it wrong.

He killed Myra.

And tonight,
he tried to kill me.

Then why you need
burn evidence

if evidence
prove he did it?

Ja, I don't think.

[Thunder]

That's not evidence, Helga.

It's a manuscript, a play.

A play? About death?

I will read.

[Thunder]

You will not kill me with
beautiful woman's dagger!

I will not allow that!

I don't wish to make
violence, Mr. Bruhl, but--

There are no bullets
in that gun, Helga.

It's a stage prop.

If you don't believe me,
check it out.

Ja, maybe I check it
by pulling trigger.

Suit yourself.

But it's just as easy
to check it by--

If no bullets in gun,

then you don't let me
cross room to fireplace.

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

Aah!

[Gun drops]

Sidney: I thought
I heard the gun drop.

Heh. You dropped it,
didn't you, Helga?

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

Let go of the knife, Helga.

Get back, Helga! Get back!

Get back!

[Thunder]

[Gasps]

[Audience gasps]

Ahh!

Actress: Inga,
you're well out of this!

[Laughter, applause]

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo!

Ha ha ha!
Helga, baby,

we've got ourselves
a smash!

What a play you wrote!

We're gonna make ourselves
a fortune here, Helga!

Waste not, want not!