Original subtitles

Have you ever had the feeling that you knew what

someone was going to say just before he said it?

Or have you ever walked into a strange room

and had the sensation that you'd been there before?

Well, if you have, you've taken a small step beyond.

Now watch a giant step.

We're about to go

beyond the gay, grinning face of the circus

into the very private world of the Flying Patruzzios;

aerialists unsurpassed.

One night about five years ago on the high trapeze,

something happened.

It was a performance for which no tickets were ever sold,

but one man saw it.

All right. That's okay.

Now let me see your wrists, Mario.

I can do it myself.

You let her see them.

Why don't you stop treating me like I was six years old?

Please, stop worrying!

Hey, hey, it's Papa I worry about, you know?

Those wrists, they got to catch him. Ah!

His wrists are okay.

The rest of him not so okay.

Lay off!

Oh, come on, you two fighting again?

Eh, finetala.

If Papa would just mind his own business...

I give him a father's advice.

He doesn't listen, that's his funeral!

Carlotta, that... that fancy wife of his.

I'm-a happy you didn't forget we got a show to do today.

Paul, uh, did you see Carlotta anywhere?

Yeah, right outside. She's yakking with that red-headed fella.

You know, the guy who takes care

of the animals.

Hey, Carlotta!

Come. We've got to get ready.

So? I'm ready.

In old country, women don't talk

to every bum that passes in town.

Old country, old country, old country!

Take a look at a map. This is the USA!

So, in the USA, they got no regard for honor, eh?

No, no respect for family name?

Ah, "family name"!

Oh, that don't mean nothing, eh?!

Hey, Papa!

Uh, please, please, eat, eat your chocolates!

The "Amazing Patruzzios" are at it again.

What were you doing out there?

Check with the FBI.

Carlotta...

How many times do I have to tell you?

I don't hand out timetables!

Nos catsal.

Could be I married the wrong Patruzzio.

Pop, she does not mean anything.

She just got crazy sense of humor, you know.

Nice crowd out front.

No one's sitting on their hands.

I'm-a not gonna stand for this no more.

No more making eyes to every man that passes.

No more telling-a your own brother...!

Papa, she was kidding.

Capisce?!

Everybody's laughing behind our backs.

Everybody's saying, "Poor Mario."

She's going to be a good wife or out she goes!

Don't tell me, "Out she goes"! She's my wife.

You do like I tell you!

Well, don't count on it!

I hope the blood is dry by the time I have to catch you.

Mario!

Papa, he does not mean that.

No, he doesn't mean it.

He-He lost his temper, that's all. Like you, Gino.

Come on. Come on... preparati.

Come on, Gino. Don't think about it. Come on.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I must ask for complete silence

as the Flying Patruzzios attempt their death-defying feat

which has made them the toast of seven continents.

You will notice they are removing the safety net

from the center ring.

And now may I call your attention to the platform

80 feet above, where Signor Gino Patruzzio

is about ready for his plunge into space.

Across the ring, his son Mario will attempt to catch him.

Again, I ask for silence.

They are about ready,

so I must implore every one of you

to remain absolutely silent.

Papa, Mario didn't mean that.

Papa!

Gino!

Doctor, how is he?

Well, he's going to live.

Oh!

Oh, thank you, Doctor, thank you!

Not yet, not yet, don't thank me yet.

He's paralyzed.

Every nerve, every muscle in his body.

He can't talk. He can't turn his head.

Oh! H-How long he will be like that?

I don't know.

A man like Papa... strong like a boy of 20.

He's awake now. You can see him for a few moments.

Mama, Mama, Mama.

Okay. All right. We-We go, eh?

We go see Papa.

Mario, you are the oldest son.

You-you go in first, eh? Come on.

No, Mama, I... Come on.

Mama, he thinks I dropped him!

Papa don't think nothing. You go in first. Avanti!

But Mama... Go in!

Where you been?

Walking.

That was sure a dumb thing to do,

running off like that.

I couldn't help it.

How does he look?

Well, if you ask me

it would have been better if he'd have died.

Don't talk like that!

I saw him, you didn't.

He's like a mummy or something.

Hey, shut up!

I tell you, it gives you the creeps

just looking at him!

I said shut up!

Look, buster, it's been a pretty tough night

for all of us.

But just don't get smart with me

because I won't put up with it.

You're not that big a bargain. Remember that.

Carlotta, I'm sorry.

I-I couldn't go in to look at him.

I knew what I would see in his eyes.

Carlotta, I didn't drop him.

Well, who said you did?

His eyes would say I did.

Pop...

Papa, Papa...

I heard you were here, Mario.

Welcome home.

I was just picking up a few things.

I asked Carlotta, but... she was busy.

I went to visit your dad the other day.

Did your ma tell you?

You know, no one ever accused C.C. Higgins

of being a betting man...

but I've got a $20 bill

that says Signor Gino Patruzzio

is gonna be back up on that trapeze within a year.

Every time I call the hospital it's always "No change."

Aw, don't give me that "no change."

I saw that old Latin sparkle in his eyes.

What's the hurry?

Uh, got lots of things to take care of.

Oh, come on, Mario. Give me a break.

I'm not trying to push you,

but when you coming back to work?

Sorry, Mr. Higgins, no more of that for me.

It's been three weeks.

Every Thursday there's been a paycheck

just like you were still bringing in the customers.

Mr. Higgins, I appreciate...

How long can that go on?

Fair is fair, boy.

Now, a week from Wednesday

we're moving on to Chicago.

I want you and Paul and Carlotta to be with us.

I wouldn't go back on the trapeze

if you gave me the whole circus and let me wear a parachute.

Do you know what those doctor's bills

are going to be like?

Don't worry. They'll be paid.

Walk out on me and I won't pay them!

Mr. Patruzzio.

Sit down, sit down.

You didn't answer half the questions, Mr. Patruzzio.

They're stupid questions.

They made me nervous.

These job classification tests are very important.

They're an attempt to approach employment

on a scientific basis.

Scientific?

"'A' sees an airplane flying overhead

in a northerly direction."

What are you gonna get me here, a job watching airplanes?

The idea is to measure intelligence.

You advertise you get people jobs if they pay.

Okay, I got money to pay.

I don't want a bunch of stupid tests.

I want a job.

Have you done any other kind of work?

I mean, besides the circus.

I told you, I been working on a trapeze

since I was 11 years old.

You haven't even answered the questions about education.

Once, my mama, she paid a bookkeeper with the circus

to teach my brother and me how to read and write.

Frankly, I don't know what to suggest.

I mean, it's almost impossible

without previous experience of some sort.

Uh, there might be work as a laborer.

Laborer?

Well, the pay is very good,

sometimes as high as three dollars an hour.

Hey, Mister,

I made 400 bucks a week last year.

I got to pay you to get me a job for three bucks an hour?

Perhaps you should go back.

Hey.

I didn't come here for no tests.

And I don't come here for no advice.

Carlotta?

Carlotta?!

I thought maybe you...

Oh, I don't know what I thought.

I just feel rotten!

Would you send up a bellboy, please?

I almost visited Papa today.

I sure came close.

Look what I bought him.

Italian cigars.

Boy, they're like sticks of dynamite.

Does he love them.

And how's he supposed to smoke them?

It's just the idea of the thing.

Like a peace offering.

Like I was thinking about him.

Zip me up.

I bought the cigars, and I went down to Sixth Street

to catch the bus that goes to the hospital.

And I would tell the nurse who I was.

"I'm Mario Patruzzio, the oldest son,

and I've come to spend an hour with my father."

And I would walk right down the hall...

No thinking about anything...

Right into room 612, and I would pull up a chair.

And I'd say, "Hey, Papa.

"Papa, I bought you some of these lousy cigars

so you could stink up the whole place!"

That's not what I would say.

I would drop to my knees, and I would say,

"Papa...

"say you know I didn't let you fall.

Say you know so I can live!"

I couldn't.

I couldn't face him!

Come on in.

Right there.

W-Where are we going?

I'm going.

But you can't.

Watch me.

You can't!

Listen, buster, it wasn't exactly a bed of roses,

even when you were one of the Magnificent Patruzzios.

Go home to Mama, Mario.

She'll make you a thick minestrone soup,

and everything will be just fine.

Papa was right about you.

Papa said you were no good!

Papa was right.

Papa was right.

No good.

She's no good.

The manager at the hotel said you'd probably be here.

Hey, Pete, another.

Mama sent me.

Tell her I'm okay.

She didn't send me to see if you are okay.

We need some more money.

Here, tell her to buy herself ten pounds fancy chocolates,

compliments of her oldest son.

That's all you have?

That's it, that's the whole bankroll.

So what are we supposed to do?

Look, I sent you a hundred bucks last week.

That was two weeks ago.

What do you want, blood?

I tried to get a job.

Me, too, I tried.

And the mailman still keeps coming around,

still with around- the-clock nurses.

You should see the bill we got from the specialist

who flew out here last month.

Done him a lot of good, huh?

He's alive.

Hey, Paul, what do you want me to do?

Ask me something hard.

Call Mr. Higgins in Chicago and tell him we are coming back.

No.

All right.

You tell me how we get money.

I get a pain in my stomach just thinking about the trapeze.

Besides, what are you talking about?

Look at me.

I'm out of condition.

I'm stale.

The exercise trapeze is still in the practice shed.

Eh, it would take me months to get back my timing.

Mr. Higgins said we can use anytime we wanted.

I can't do it.

You owe it to Pa!

I owe it to Pa.

I owe Papa one thing.

I only owe Papa one thing.

Okay, Papa!

Now is your turn to drop me.

Papa!

Hey, you fool, what are you doing up there?!

You drunk?!

He caught me!

Papa... he caught me!

What are you talking about?

Come on down. You are drunk.

I tell you, he caught me!

Look!

Look at the-the catch bar!

For the love of God.

He's dead.

Isn't he?

Mr. Patruzzio?

He's certainly not dead.

They'll have him down from the examining room any minute now.

Oh, thank God.

You know, it was the strangest thing.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

He was sound asleep,

and then he sort of mumbled something, and then

he reached out his arms like that.

Oh, but how could that be?

His arms are paralyzed.

Well, I called the doctors right away,

and they took him right up to the neuro-surgical room.

Excuse me.

Must have been your imagination.

He can't even move his little finger.

Per amor de Dio...

Papa.

Papa, Papa.

Explain it?

What we can explain is like a grain of sand

in the Sahara of the unexplainable.

But we do have a talent for fastening labels

onto everything we don't understand.

But does that lull us into thinking

that by giving something a name, we rob it of its mystery?

All right.

The word to describe what happened

to Gino Patruzzio is "bilocation."

The definition:

Allowing the body image to show itself...

And even act... At great spatial distances.

Now, does that make everything crystal clear?

I thought not.

But then, wouldn't it be terrifying

if everything was known?

If there was nothing left for man to discover

about his universe... or himself?

In a moment, something about next week.

For next week, we seriously suggest

an adult audience only...

when we bring you a form of psychic experience

never before put on film.

It is called "The Burning Girl."