All language subtitles for Miss Forbes (1958)

- Good morning, Father.
- Good morning, my dear.

- Oh, careful.
- Eh?

Oh, I'm sorry. You should know better
than to barge in here when I'm busy.

- Busy?
- Now, none of that.

When I'm on holiday
this is what keeps me busy.

- Mail, Father.
- I don't want to read it.

- There's a letter from Cornwall.
- I don't know anyone in Cornwall.

Yes, you do. Peter Tompson.
I'll open it.

Oh, Peter.
What's he doing down there?

Oh, Father, you're impossible.
You know he's got a job down there.

He's General Practitioner.

So he did.
What's he up to, then?

Well, why don't you read it
and find out?

- No, you read it.
- All right.

Ah... ah... ah... ah!

"Dear Sir James..."

A typical doctor's handwriting.
it's worse than yours, Father.

Oh, here. Give it to me.

Hm. "Just a brief line to inform you...

"For some time our village has been...

"beset by a number
of mysterious and fatal maladies.

"People have been dying off...

�Lassitude, no will to live...�

Well, this doesn't sound like Peter.
it's very rambling.

I wonder what's it's all about.

Well, we could easily find out.

"l desperately need your advice.
Symptoms can't be attributed to..."

- Find out? How?
- By going to Cornwall and asking him.

Go to Cornwall?
it's miles away.

Well, you can fish just as well
in Cornwall as here, Father.

Didn't your school friend...

What's her name?
Didn't she marry young Tompson?

- Alice? Mm.
- Ha.

I suppose your suggestion
that we should go to Cornwall

has nothing to do with the fact
that you'd like to see her again, eh?

Shall I pack your things?

I don't know why
I give in to you so easily.

And look up the train times.

I don't know why
I put up with you at all.

- I should have drowned you at birth.
- Thank you, Father.

I knew you'd understand.

- Come on, then. Come on, then.
- Whoo!

Oh, look, Father!

Look! A fox!

I've seen a fox.
Several of them, in fact.

I've no doubt your fox
looks very similar to all the others.

Oh, they're hunting him!

Father, those men
are hunting that fox.

Men have always hunted.

For food, yes. Not for blood lust.

Well, can't you do something, Father?

I have not come all this way
to interfere with local customs

and antagonise the people
just to satisfy your sensitivity

about the welfare of wild animals.

Father, you must agree that...

Just because you are my daughter
doesn't mean I have to agree to...

Whoa, there!

Now what's happened?

- You, have you seen him?
- Who, sir?

- The fox, you idiot!
- No, I haven't, young sir.

I've been keeping
my eyes on the road.

Idiot!

Is it a fox you're looking for?

Well, my dear young lady,
that was the idea.

I saw him.
He was running that way.

You'll have to hurry to catch him.
He was running fast.

We'll catch him.
Never fear. Come on.

I have a distinct feeling you were not
telling that young man the truth, Sylvia.

Your distinct feeling is correct, Father.

Oh. Well, the fox will be grateful.

I doubt if the same can be said
for the young man.

I only hope you don't meet him again.

- What is it, Sylvia?
- A funeral.

Come on!

Come on then. Whoa!

Oh!

What the devil
do you think you're doing?

So the fox went that way, did it?

You'd better stay out of my sight,
young lady!

How horrible.
They should be reported.

I expect they will be, my dear.

And no doubt those your ruffians
will say it was an accident.

- Is there anything we can do, Vicar?
- Yeah, you can keep away from us.

Please, it was not our fault!

Leave us alone!

- But surely...
- I said leave us alone!

I know it wasn't your fault, my dear.

That was the poor lad's brother
in the coffin.

The Lord is punishing us
for our sins.

Whoa!

Oh, put the bags down there,
please, Coachman.

I'm sorry. The doctor isn't in.

- Alice?
- Who is it?

Alice, don't you remember me?

- Sylvia?
- Yes!

Oh, Sir James.

What a wonderful surprise.
Why didn't you let me know?

Well, come in.
Do come in.

Thank you.

- When did you arrive?
- We got here about half an hour ago.

Well, it�s nice seeing you again
Mrs Tompson.

- Oh, Father, call her Alice.
- Yes, please do.

Very well, Alice.

Hello, what's this?

It's nothing. it's just a cut.

- Well, I hope you're taking care of it.
- Oh, don't fuss so much.

Well, you can't be too careful
about these things.

Would you like me
to have a look at it?

It's all right.
My husband is a doctor.

Ah, yes. So they tell me.

- He is a very good doctor.
- Father is only joking, Alice.

Peter was his favourite pupil,
remember?

- Now, let me have a good look at you.
- No!

No, please don�t. I...

I look so untidy

Well, I don't know about that,

but you don't look too well to me.

- Are you eating enough?
- Oh, Father, really!

Don't take any notice of him, Alice.

Oh, why didn't you let me know
you were coming?

I'm so sorry.
You must think me very inhospitable.

No, not at all, my dear.

If it's inconvenient
we can always stay at the inn.

Oh, no. I wouldn't dream of it.
Of course you'll stay here.

It's just that I...

Well, the house isn't very clean.

Can I get you something?
Some tea?

We'd both love some.
Come on.

Kettle won't be a moment.

Hm. I suppose
there isn't anything stronger, is there?

Well, I'll ask,
but I don't expect...

Oh, don't worry.
I'll slip out later.

Well, where's that husband of yours?
Out on his rounds?

Yes, I expect so.

- Plenty of patients?
- Not as many as we'd like.

Oh, really?

There's been a lot of trouble.

What sort of trouble?

Oh, I...

I expect Peter would rather tell you
about it himself.

I'll see to the kettle. Excuse me.

You go and have a gossip
about your old school days.

I'll slip into the village
and see what I can find out.

All right, Father. Don't be long.

- Charlie.
- Aye, aye.

Will you have
a drink with me, Martinus?

Thank you, but I'll buy my own.

Beer, Tom.

I... I did my best for him.

I'm sorry.

- Wasn't good enough, was it?
- Apparently not.

What do you think it were, Doctor?

- That killed him?
- Aye, that killed him.

What was it that killed them all?

I don't know.

You don't know.

And you call yourself a doctor?

You won't let me find out.
If you let me carry out one post mortem.

It's no good cutting him up
after he's dead. It's too late.

- You're being ridiculous
- Ridiculous is it?

There's my brother lying dead
out there.

And twelve others like him. Twelve.

How long have you
been with us, Doctor?

Twelve months, isn't it?
That's one a month.

- Steady, Tom
- One a month.

Not a very good record, is it?

Are you trying to say
no one died before I came here?

At least we knew what they died from.

And if I was to tell you they died
from swamp fever or the plague

or some other nonsense,
would that make you happier?

- Yes, if it were the truth.
- Well, it wouldn't be the truth.

I'm not going to start telling
a lot of ridiculous lies

just to keep you people satisfied.

It's not good enough.

Oh, so we are not good enough
for you now?

- I didn't say that.
- it's what you meant, though.

Well, let me tell you something, Doctor.

You're not good enough for us.

Do you understand me?
You're not good enough!

- Ah, Doctor, there you are.
- Sir James!

- Good afternoon, gentlemen.
- Good afternoon.

We've met before
in rather distressing circumstances.

May I now introduce myself?

Sir James Forbes, Professor
of Medicine at London University.

And this young man was
my cleverest and most able pupil.

I hope you realise
how lucky you are to have him here.

Landlord, see these gentlemen
have a drink with me, will you?

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Come on, Peter,
are you ready?

- Good afternoon, gentlemen.
- Good afternoon.

- Sir James, what are you doing here?
- You've lost weight, my boy.

- Alice not feeding you properly?
- Yes, but...

- Aren't you glad to see me?
- You've no idea.

- Why have you come?
- You wrote to me.

It's very kind of you
to come all this way, sir.

I've just seen Alice.
She's not looking well.

Poor Alice.
I'm afraid she needs a holiday badly.

- You both do, by the look of you.
- Can't manage one at the moment, sir.

- You've no idea what it's been like.
- Well, we'll talk about it later,

without any of this hocus pocus
you put in your letter.

Ah!

That was an excellent meal.

You girls are to be congratulated,
eh, Peter?

Oh, yes, Sir James. Indeed.

Still, what I always say is,
cooking is a science and not an art.

If you get it right once

there's no earthly reason
why you shouldn't get it right every time.

Now, you girls run along to bed.
Peter and I will do the dishes

- But, Father, you can't...
- But Father, nothing.

You've had a long day
and I'm sure Alice is tired.

Yes, I am tired, it's true.

Good night, Peter. Father.

Good night, my dear.

It's so nice to see you again, Sir James.

Thank you, my dear.
it's nice to see you, too.

For you, Sir James?

No, thank you.

That's not the answer,
you know, Peter.

I know.

I wish I knew the answer.

First of all, we have to decide
what the question is, don't we?

This disease seems to be
more mental than physical.

Yes, but you were
a little obscure, Peter.

You said there was no attributable
cause for this mental affliction.

I'd like to Know a little more
about the symptoms.

- What about appetite?
- The patient show a loss of appetite.

Skin colour?

In every case a loss of skin colour, too.

- Reflexes?
- Retarding

Hm, like someone
in need of a holiday in fact, eh?

- You don't mean Alice, surely?
- Now, now, now.

Don't let's jump to any conclusions.

- What did the autopsies show?
- I didn't make any.

You didn't make any?
What's come over you?

It is not permitted to make any.

- Well, who stopped you?
- The villagers.

They don't want the bodies
of their love ones cut about.

What about the coroner?
Surely he supported your applications?

- There isn't one.
- No coroner?

This isn't London, sir.

This is a Cornish village,
inhabited by simple country people

riddled with superstition
and all dominated by a Squire.

He acts as coroner and magistrate,
judge and jury.

And who is this jack of all trades?

Hamilton, sir. Squire Hamilton.

Master?

Tonight. Tell the others.

They are not back
from the chase, Master.

Tell them to prepare
just as soon as they return.

I do hope you meet him, Sylvia.
He's such a charming man.

- Is he now?
- And so handsome.

- And rich.
- And unattached?

Yes. Yes, he is, as a matter of fact.

You're not trying to marry me off
by any chance?

Well, you could do a great deal worse.

He's got a lovely house
and a lot of money.

And what does Peter think?

He doesn't like him.

He thinks he's arrogant
and overbearing.

But he's wrong. He is wrong.

- Good night.
- Alice.

You're trying to tell me something else,
aren't you?

No!

No, I'm not, but I...

- I must go.
- What did you say his name was again?

Clive Hamilton.

Goodnight, Sylvia.

I'm sorry.

Don't apologise to me, dear boy.
It's your Crockery.

Here, you'd better let me do the drying.

- I really do need a drink.
- Rubbish.

What you need
is an end to your worries.

So far we've nothing to start on,
nothing to help us at all.

I know.

We must have a body to examine.
We can't possibly work without one.

If you�re thinking
of applying for an exhumation...

Apply for nothing.
We'll dig one up.

- We'll what?
- Dig one up.

That lad they buried today will do.
Nice and fresh.

Then we might learn something.

- But we can�t just go out and start...
- We�ll do it tonight.

There's a full moon.
Couldn't be better.

We'll start off about midnight.

Alice.

Alice!

Alice?

Is that you Alice?
Aah!

Wait a minute. I know you.

I know you!

Come on.

Oh!

Oh!

Ah.

Oh, oh.

Go away!

Oh, no. No!

Hey, Tom. Get her off!

Oh, let me go!

Leave me alone. Oh, oh!

- Come on.
- Let go!

Let me go! Let me go!

- Catch.
- Catch.

Oh!

What's it to be, lads?
Aces high?

Aces high.

Cut.

Ten of spades, four of diamonds,
Jack of clubs

Jack of hearts.

Let her go.

King of hearts.

Very appropriate.

Don't... Don't touch me.

- Don't you dare touch me.
- Come on, little fox.

Go to ground.

Leave her alone!

Get out of my sight, the lot of you.

Get out!

Get out!

Miss Forbes...

I know that it is useless to ask you
to forgive my friends.

Such behaviour is beneath contempt
and beyond forgiveness.

I only ask
that you accept my solemn word

that I knew nothing
of what was going on.

How do you know my name?

The arrival in as small a village as this

of a beautiful young lady
and her distinguished father

could scarcely go unnoticed,
Miss Forbes.

My name is Hamilton,
Clive Hamilton.

Will you kindly take me home,
Mr Hamilton?

I fear you have not forgiven me yet.

Your fears are well founded,
Mr Hamilton. I have not.

Now, will you take me home
or do I have to walk?

Is there nothing I can do to persuade
you of my personal innocence?

Nothing.
I take it, then, I have to walk?

My carriage is at your disposal.

Unfortunately,
I can't leave at this moment

but I shall instruct
one of my young guests...

- Thank you. I prefer to walk.
- Miss Forbes, you can't walk.

You might be attacked, Miss Forbes.

I've already been attacked.

And it was here in your house.

Now, please open the door.

Thank you.

And tomorrow I shall go
straight to the police.

- Please don't do that, Miss Forbes.
- Why shouldn't I?

I am the Squire of this little community

and responsible
for the welfare of everyone in it.

Should any scandal attach
to my name,

the effect could be disastrous
for all these people.

I can't expect you to understand
why that should be.

I just ask that you believe it.

And what about those...

...your charming young guests?

Will you leave me to punish them
in the way I think most fit?

I promise they'll suffer
for what they've done.

Or would have done.

If it hadn't been for you.

Yes, that's true, I suppose.

Very well, Mr Hamilton.

I won't go to the police.

- This time.
- Thank you.

Are you sure you can find the way?

Thank you, Mr Hamilton.
Good night.

Please take great care
not to stray from the path.

There are tin mines under this land.The ground sometimes subsides.

Denver!

Everything is ready, Master.

. Ah.

Alice.

Alice!

Good evening, Officer.

You just step up here a moment,
gentlemen, please.

I... I realise this looks...

it's a serious charge
you'll be on in the morning.

What charge?

Who might this gentleman be?

Sir James Forbes.

- Good evening, sir.
- Good evening.

What are you going to charge us with?

Body snatching I should think, sir.

I see.

Well, in that case I suppose...

you don't mind if we have a quick look.

I don't care who you are, sir!

Well.

What's going on, sir?

I don't know, Sergeant,
any more than you do.

Now, look, Sergeant, I need your help.

My help, sir?

Say nothing of what
you've seen here tonight.

Now look, Sergeant,
it doesn't need me to tell you

there's something very wrong
in this village.

All these young men dying
and now this.

Well, some people say
it is the marsh fever, sir.

Oh, marsh fiddlesticks.

In any case, it couldn't cause a body
to disappear into thin air, could it?

- No, sir.
- Well, then, will you help me or not?

I'd like to help you, sir. Really I would.

My boy was one of the first to go, sir.

Well, then, help me for his sake.

Very well, sir.
I'll withhold my report for 48 hours.

I dare not do more than that.

Thank you, Sergeant.

You won't regret it. I'm sure of that.

What are we going to do about this, sir?

We'll fill it in, make it look
as if it's never been touched.

We can manage this on our own,
Sir James.

Why don't you wait inside
where it's warm.

Thank you, Peter.
Yes, I will.

- Good night, Sergeant
- Good night, sir.

Right-ho, let's get on with it.

Sylvia?

Have you seen Alice?
She's not in her room.

Come in, Peter, and sit down.

- Sit?
- Please sit down.

I have some shocking news
for you Peter.

- What is it?
- Alice.

Then she was ill.

- I must go tell her.
- Wait.

- I have to see her.
- She's not here.

- Where is she?
- Control yourself, Peter.

She's not here.
Now, listen to me.

She's outside somewhere,
on the moors.

She's dead.

No.

Sylvia found her.

No.

No.

Oh, God.

Forgive me.

I killed her.

- That�s not true. You know it isn�t.
- Yes, it�s my fault.

- I should have known.
- That's nonsense, Peter.

If she's been struck by this disease,
it's no fault of yours.

Take me to her, wherever she is.

Yes, I will, Peter. I will.

But there's one thing we have to do.

We must find out about the disease,
find out what it is and destroy it.

You will have to let me
perform an autopsy.

- God.
- We have to, Peter.

And I shall need your help.

- I'm ready, Father.
- Yes, very well.

We'll ask the sergeant to come with us.

- Hey, Martinus.
- Heh?

Come on, wake up!
Come on, let's have a word with you.

No!

Extraordinary.

- No sign of rigor mortis.
- Hm.

When did she do this?

- Some days ago.
- How?

Piece of glass, I think.
She was rather secretive about it.

- Oh?
- It was a clean wound.

Well?

It's not human.

- it's not human blood.
- Exactly.

She's been splashed
with the blood of some animal.

Do you think
she might have been attacked?

By an animal?

There are no external signs of violence.
None at all.

Then how did she die?

That's what we are trying
to find out, Peter.

How did she die?

Stop it!
I can't stand any more.

It's not a matter of what you can
or can't stand, my lad.

- it's the truth that matters, the truth.
- I'm telling you the truth.

- Look, Jack.
- Sergeant.

Sergeant.
Look, I was up there.

You saw me
so it's no use my denying it.

And she... And the body was found
right by me, all right.

But I didn't kill her. I didn�t kill her!

So you say, but you was drunk.

And so I'll go on saying,
because it's the truth.

All right.

What was you doing up there, anyway?

I told you. I'd just had a skinful.
I don't know why I went up there.

Just to get away from everything.

Are you sure you didn't see her?

- And follow her into the woods?
- No!

You'd had a row with her husband.
There's plenty who'll swear to that.

Now, I put it to you
that you wanted your revenge.

- So you saw her and followed her...
- No, I tell you, no!

- Is that the truth?
- Yeah, it is.

I'm sure of that, at least.

What do you mean by that, "at least"'?

What do you mean by it?

You wouldn't believe me, anyway.

You leave that to me to decide.

You saw something else up there,
didn't you?

What was it? What was it?

My brother.

- You saw your...
- My brother, yes. The one that's dead!

The one that's buried out there.

I saw him just as clear
as I see you now.

All grey, his eyes staring.

I saw him.

And yet I know he's out there,
lying in his coffin.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Peter, you'd better go up
and get some rest.

You've been on your feet for 24 hours.

I can't rest. I'll just go and make
all the arrangements for the funeral.

Yes?

- Excuse me, sir.
- What is it, Sergeant?

The front door was open
so I took the liberty...

Well, what is it?

- it's young Martinus, sir.
- What about him?

You should have a word with him.

Oh, very well.

I did see him, sir. I swear it.

Everything I told the sergeant
is the truth.

I'm telling you, sir.

I did see him, sir.
I saw my brother.

Your brother is dead and buried.

I know that, sir.
Didn't I bury him myself?

But I saw him in his shroud.

- Standing, staring at me.
- How could you see him?

God only knows, sir.
But I saw him.

God only knows, indeed.

That's all, Sergeant.

You don't believe me, do you, sir?

On the contrary,
I believe everything you say.

Well, are you satisfied now, Sergeant?

No.

- You just heard the gentleman say...
- I know what the gentleman said.

But I'm the law here.

And I'm responsible for you until
I have made further investigations.

Put him in the cell, Constable.

Father.

Feeling better, my dear?

Feeling well enough to talk?

Now, when you told me about Alice,
you said there was a man with her.

Did you recognise him?

No.

You remember the young man we saw

who was following
the funeral procession,

the one who shouted at us to go away?

Yes.

- He's been arrested.
- But it wasn't him.

But you said
you didn't recognise the man.

Is it possible that the man you saw

was the man in the coffin?

It was, wasn't it?

But how?

Never mind how, my dear.

Just one more question
and then you can rest.

When we found Alice

was she in the same place
where you saw her with this man?

No, no she wasn't.

It was up by some old mine works.
I don't Know exactly where.

Well, I'll try to find them.
You go back to sleep.

No, I'll be getting up in a few minutes.
Thank you, Father.

Very well.

Ah, Peter.

- How is she?
- Oh, very much better.

She's talking of getting up.

Well, I feel like a stroll.
Care to join me?

Yes.

I want a word with the sergeant
so we'll call in on the way.

Where are we going, sir?

Up on the moors.

A breath of air will do us both good.

I didn't know this place even existed.

What did they mine here?

- Tin, sir.
- Tin?

Yes, there's a rich vein
runs under here sir, worth a fortune.

Then why has it been allowed
to fall into decay like this?

There was a lot of accidents, sir.

Miners killed and maimed.

They wouldn't go down there.
They said it was unlucky.

Old Squire was furious,
but he had to shut it down.

Has young Hamilton tried to reopen it?

Oh, no, sir, but then
he don't need the money.

- Where does he get his money from?
- I can't rightly say, sir.

He was away
when his father died in foreign parts.

The old squire left him the house
and a lot of unpaid bills.

When young Squire come back here,

he shut himself up there,
wouldn't see nobody.

Then suddenly he had a lot
of young people down staying there

and spending money like water.

It's creepy.

- They do say, sir, that it's...
- What do they say, Sergeant?

- That it's haunted?
- Well, how did you know that, sir?

It doesn't take much guessing, does it?

Come on, Peter, we mustn't leave
Sylvia alone too long.

Thank you, Sergeant.

- May I come in?
- Please.

Thank you.

What can I do for you?

At our last meeting
you made it abundantly clear

that my attentions
would not be welcomed,

that you would as soon
never see me again.

I appreciate your feelings
and the reason for them.

I wouldn't dream of imposing
myself on you, only...

Only I felt I had to come
and tell you how terribly sorry I was

to hear the news of your friend,
Alice Tompson.

I knew her, you know, not very well

but enough to realise
what a very fine lady she was.

Please accept my sincere condolences.

Thank you, but would they not be better
given to her husband?

I fear they would not be accepted,
Miss Forbes.

- Oh?
- Doctor Tompson doesn't like me.

You are not alone in your opinion of me.

I can't imagine that the opinion
of others affects you very much.

Oh, I should like to be popular,
of course.

I should be lying if I said otherwise.

But I realised long ago that
in order to be popular one must conform.

I find that too big a price to pay.

Conform?

Well, to the standards of conduct
dictated by convention.

I have my own standards.
I conform to them.

At least you are honest, Mr Hamilton.

Probably my only virtue.

I'm always honest,
even with myself.

I wonder how many people
can truthfully admit to that.

Not many, I agree.

I am becoming a bore.
I have taken up enough of your time.

Oh, I wonder,

could I impose on you
for a glass of water?

Oh, yes of course.
Unless you prefer sherry?

Please, I don't want
to put you to any trouble.

It's no trouble.

Do you believe in life after death,
Miss Forbes?

- That's an odd question.
- Odd?

To ask a stranger.

I was hoping that
you no longer considered me a stranger.

Very well.
Yes, I do believe in life after death.

Do you?

I'm sure of it, Miss Forbes.

I'm sorry.

- Here, let me...
- Oh!

How clumsy of me. I'm so sorry.

It's nothing, really.

This should prevent
the risk of any infection.

You must think me a clumsy idiot.

I really do apologise.

One cannot be too careful.

There. Is that better?

- Thank you.
- A safety pin should hold it.

I have one in my bag.

Allow me.

May I say that I consider you
to be a very brave young lady.

Because of this?

Because of everything, Miss Forbes.

I'll see myself out.

it's the Master. Open.

Man that is born of woman
hath but a short time to live

and is full of misery.

He cometh up
and he is cut down like a flower.

He fleeth, as it were, a shadow
and never continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life we are in death.

Yet, O Lord God most holy,

O Lord God most mighty,

O holy and most merciful Saviour,

deliver us not into the bitter pains
of eternal death.

O holy and merciful Saviour,

Thou most worthy judge eternal,

suffer us not at our last hour

for any pains of death

to fall from Thee...

...for as much as it has pleased
almighty God in his great mercy

to take unto Himself the soul
of our dear sister here departed.

Vicar, may I ask a favour of you?

I am given to understand
that you have a fine collection of books

on a variety of subjects.

I wonder if you have any
on witchcraft or black magic.

If so, may I have the use
of your library?

- Come with me.
- Thank you.

Come in, sir.

No, no, please sit down.

Oh, hello, Peter.

Peter...

Have you ever heard of voodoo?

- it's a form of witchcraft, isn't it?
- Exactly.

It's practiced in the Caribbean,
in Haiti to be precise.

Please sit down, Vicar.

I find all kinds of witchcraft
slightly nauseating

and this I find absolutely disgusting.

You're not following
and there's no reason why you should

if I don't explain properly.

- Unless you would like to...
- No, I'm ignorant in these matters.

Oh, well.

Sylvia tells us that
she saw something on the moors,

something that was a man
and yet not a man.

Her description
was of a walking corpse,

the corpse of Martinus' brother.

Now...

...young Martinus also says
that he saw something on the moor,

something that he insists
was his brother.

But we know that his brother is dead.

We also know
that he is not lying in his coffin.

Now, what do you make of that?

That he was buried alive,

that he somehow freed himself
and he's out there.

But I've told you, Peter, I saw him.

And he was as dead then
as any corpse I have ever seen.

No, that's not the answer.

Then, what is?
What is the connection with voodoo?

Someone in this village
is practicing witchcraft.

That corpse wandering
on the moors is...

...an undead, a zombie.

It's incredible, sir.

How can you, a man of science,
believe that?

I have an advantage
over you there, Peter.

I spent the afternoon reading up
the subject in the vicar's library.

And it's all there.

It's all clearly scientifically stated.

And we have the evidence
of two sensible human beings.

What can be done?

About Martinus' brother? Nothing.

I'm thinking of Alice.

- Are you saying that Alice is...?
- Peter, I am.

I pray that I'm wrong.

But I�m going to watch over her grave tonight with the vicar until daybreak.

I'll come, too.

I�d rather you didn�t.
I think you need some rest.,

- I am rested, sir.
- Well, I'm...

If anything were to happen,
I'd rather you weren't there.

I'm coming with you.

Very well.

- Vicar?
- What?

I think you should go home now.
it's very late.

Dr Tompson and I will stay on.

- If you're sure.
- Yes, yes. Quite sure.

All right.

- Good night, Sir James.
- Good night.

What happened?

- Who attacked you?
- I don't know.

He wore a mask.

We'll take you home.

I shall be all right now, thank you.
If you should need me...

Don't worry.
We won't hesitate to call you.

Thank you, Sir James.

We must get back.
This may have been a trick.

Zombie.

- Oh.
- Peter?

Peter, it's all right.
it's all right now.

You had a nightmare.

A nightmare?

Then, it wasn't Alice?

I'm afraid that part of it was true.

You fainted
and we brought you back here.

And Alice?

Reburied properly.

The vicar gave her absolution.

She will be at peace now.

Peace? Is there such a thing?

There will be, my son,
and with God's help

and the energy of your good friend,
I am sure of it.

Well, I must get back to my church now.

Thank you for your help, Vicar.

It is I who should be thanking you.
I shall pray for you both.

Would you care to tell me
about your dream?

It sometimes helps.

I dreamed I saw the dead rise.

All the graves in the churchyard opened
and the dead came out.

All the graves were empty.

In heaven's name, where are they?
What's happened to them, sir?

It is essential that none of the villagers
should know of this.

We must get these graves filled in
before anyone is astir.

Very good, sir.

Sergeant, I want another word
with your prisoner, young Martinus.

- You want to see him right away, sir?
- Yes, immediately.

He's got away, Sergeant!

Anyone can see that.
The question is how?

The question is, where did he go?
Has he joined the others?

- The others?
- You know what I mean.

But he's not dead, sir.

Not yet, Sergeant.

But he soon will be.

Did the prisoner
have any visitors yesterday?

- Well, did he?
- Er... No, sir.

- Are you sure?
- Yes, sir.

Well, only the squire, that is.

- What did he want?
- He wanted a word with the prisoner.

I didn't think there was anything wrong.

- What did they talk about?
- Oh, I didn't listen, sir.

I didn't think it would be right.

They just talked? Nothing else?

- No, nothing, sir.
- Are you sure?

Well, of course I'm sure, sir.
They just talked.

Oh, the Squire asked
for a glass of water.

For the prisoner.
He said he was thirsty so I got him one.

Where is it?

- The water?
- The glass!

I threw it away, sir. It got broken.

- Who broke it? You?
- No, the Squire.

And young Martinus out himself?

How did you know that?

Never mind.

Sylvia.

Sylvia?

- Yes, Father. Whats the matter?
- Oh, there you are.

Oh, nothing, I...

I was just getting
a little worried about you.

Why? I'm all right now.
I'm just clearing up.

- How's the finger?
- Fine, thank you. Almost healed.

I must get on.

Ah, Peter. I have to go out again.
I want you to do something for me.

Don't let Sylvia out of your sight
until I tell you it is safe to do so.

- But, sir...
- Please.

Believe me when I say she is in danger.

- What can I do for you?
- We have met before, young man,

in somewhat disturbing circumstances.

However, I shall not
hold that against you.

Is Mr Hamilton in?

He's in but he's busy.

Good. Will you tell him
that I want to see him?

I've told you, he is busy.

I'm glad to hear it.
I, too, am a busy man.

But as I have found the time
to come all the way out to see him

I think that he could come out to see me.

Would you tell him that, please?

Well?

Yes, thank you.

- Are you being funny?
- No, I'm not being funny.

I'm just trying to remember
my manners.

I wish I could say the same for you.

My name is Forbes.
Yours is Hamilton, I believe.

What do you want?

I want to talk to you, Mr Hamilton.

In private.

Get out.

What do you want to see me about?

About Alice Tompson.

About young Martin us.

- About my daughter, Mr Hamilton.
- What about them?

And about many others
who should be at rest now,

at rest in their graves.

- What has happened to them?
- How should I know?

I don't know how but you do know.

You know very well
what has happened to them.

Are you mad?

I almost wish I was.
This business is so appalling.

Mr Hamilton...

Am I right in thinking

that you have spent a large part
of your life in the Caribbean,

in Haiti, to be precise?

And while you where there,

did you learn something
of the practice of voodoo?

You are mad!

No, I'm not.
But can the same be said of you?

Get out of here!

- I'm not going.
- Yes, you are.

Good night, Mr Hamilton.

Well, I'm ready.

Kada nostra. Kada estra.

Kada nostra.

Kada estra.

- Kada nostra.
- What was that?

Nothing, Peter.

Come to me.

You will come to me.

- What is it?
- Some water, please.

Come and sit down.

Sylvia?

Aargh!

Help! Help!

- Hamilton, where is he?
- I don't Know.

- Where is he? Where is he?
- I don't know.

- Do you want to burn to death?
- No, no, no!

- Where is he?
- He's in the mine.

Get to the mineshaft, all of you!

Peter, look out! Peter!

Ohh!

Hurry!

Ah! Let me out!

Who the hell is that?

What? Son of a bitch.

Good Lord, I think
that one's alive.

Let me see about that one.

Middle of the night...

Paul, light that other lantern
for me.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Hurry up with that lantern.

Hey, Alan, I can't find
the sail bag.

It's forward.

I looked, I can't find it.

Oh, Christ, I'll get it.

- Hey, Paul.
- Yeah?

This island doesn't smell
so hot.

Well, that's because they
probably don't bury

their dead too deep.

This place is creepy.

Are we really going
to dig up a dead body?

That's what he said.

Sort of makes him a ghoul,
doesn't it?

- Boy, that's typecasting.
- Shh, he'll hear you.

So.

So, you'll be an unemployed
actress.

Paul, use this.

Well, I don't see
any dead people.

Oh, the, uh, the
graveyard starts right

up around that bend.

Where's the cottage?

Oh, a few hundred yards
from the graveyard.

Say, um, Paul, I was thinking.
Since, uh, Terry's a new member

of the company, sort of, uh,
coming into her theatrical

puberty, so to speak, ha ha,

I just might have to invoke
the rule of primal juncture.

Primal juncture, what's that?

It means he gets to make
it with me first.

Sort of like the slave master
breaking in all

the new virgins, right?

Well, crudely put, but, uh,
basically accurate.

Well, Paul?

Well, you'll have to ask
the virgin.

You're about ten years
too late.

I lost it when I was a Brownie,
to an Eagle Scout.

Oh, really?

Scout's honor.

Uh, how many merits
does an Eagle Scout

get for seducing a Brownie?
- I don't know, you'll have

to check that in your
Boy Scout Manual,

under Things to do in
the woods."

Clever girl.

Everybody grab your
suitcases.

Hey, Alan, who's your travel
agent? Count Dracula?

I feel like I'm on the Late,
Late Show.

I'd whistle past the graveyard,
but my lips are afraid

to be separated.

Gee, I wonder if Tab Hunter
started like this?

Oh, I haven't laughed this hard
since Granny

got caught in the wringer.

There's a light ahead.

- What is it?
- That's the graveyard.

What the hell are they
doing

with a street lamp out here?

This used to be a resort island.
Come on.

Oh, and don't vorry,
they only drink

kosher blood here, and all
the vampires have their health

cards and they get inspected
once a week.

You know, Alan, you're really
weird. You oughta be in a wax

museum somewhere.

Kneeling right under the guy
in the black hood.

Well, there it is. Ulalume,
the sanctum of Satan.

It's a set, you had it built.

It's a masterpiece.
The vibrations are powerful.

Why the hell would they build
a graveyard out here?

Ah, yes, a logical question, uh,
to which there is

a logical answer. The island
you see has a history,

which I shall relate. But first,
the ten cent tour.

Which we get for only
a quarter.

This area is the pauper
secfion.

All the corpses here were buried
recently.

Kelly just, urn, levels off a
section of ground, throws

the stiffs in it until the
section is filled

then levels off another.

You mean the people right under
my feet were just put here?

Ha ha, they're hardly cold.
And a more delightful gaggle

of retches you will never meet.

Murderers, rapists...

There aren't any paupers
buried in that section.

No, indeed there aren't.
That is hallowed ground.

Come children, Uncle Alan's
going to curdle your blood.

Uncle Alan already does.

Turns my stomach too.

I hope these things are
going to stay in the ground.

- Not if I can help it.
- Yick.

Feast your eyes on one
of the last vestiges of grace,

one of the last flights of pure
imagination,

of unadulterated creativity.

It's a boneyard.

A boneyard? A boneyard?
What a travesty!

A sacrilege! A masterful
reduction of the sublime

to the commonplace.

Only a truly ordinary mind,
Jeffrey, could conceive

such an idea.

It is kind of pretty.

Give me a moment.
The magnitude of your

simplitude overwhelms me.

Oh, what the hell's he
talkin' about?

Humor him, it's an old
war injury. I'll talk to him.

Alan... is it your hemorrhoids
again?

Your levity does not amuse
me, Jeffrey.

You're on sacred ground,
my friend.

A very font of evil. For in this
very crypt, lay a man

whose malice appalled
the gods.

Whose unrelenting thirst
for vengeance inflamed

the mind of Satan himself.

Even now, demonic forces
hover here,

feeding upon the psychic
force of that one act.

Be still.

Listen.

Even now, their malevolent
gaze may be falling upon you.

I don't care if their gaze falls
upon me, as long as they

keep their pea-pickin' hands
to themselves.

Come, children, stay in single
file and take hold

of one another. There are, urn,
things in the night

waiting for children who stray
out of the light.

It's a good thing he's a
director, because, wow,

- what a bad actor.
- I don't know,

I kind of get the feeling
something is following us.

- Oh, what rot.
- Could be.

Could be rotten.

- Did you hear that?
- Yeah, I think I did.

Oh, brother, Alan will love
this. I know I heard

something. Wait a minute.

Well, we all heard it.

Evil entities. I told you
about them.

Not evil entities. Probably just
one weird person.

What's the difference? We've
got a shotgun in here.

Paul, you can't scare off demons
with a shotgun.

I don't care about demons,
I just hope we haven't

offended the leader of some
hippy cult.

Oh, Christ, did you have
to say that?

No, no, he's right.

What a perfect place
for a mass murder.

How about this - a group
of jaded young deviants,

that's us, comes to a burial
island to, uh, dabble

in witchcraft, try a few spells,
but, uh, but we stumble

onto some really sick cult
which follows us along

a deserted path until,
until finally...

- Oh, come on.
- I'm leaving.

Don't give him the satisfaction.

What, I'm just being realistic.
I mean, uh, they're having

trouble all over the world
with grave robbers,

ghouls, people breaking
into cemeteries.

But we're the grave robbers,
whose going to bother us?

Nobody... but demons.

Come on now, children,
it's late

and we've got a lot to do.

- Cheerful.
- Yeah, it has a nice,

homey feeling.

Better get used to it, it's home
for now.

How long has this place
been empty?

About two years.

This door is pretty sturdy.
Let's check the windows.

- Who lives here?
- The caretaker of the cemetery.

- Where is he now?
- An insane asylum.

Oh, God, I'm afraid to ask.

Oh, it's quite ordinary, really.

Killed his wife and two children,
they found him babbling.

Why didn't they get another
caretaker?

They did.

Hey, look. There's a woodpile.
At least we can build a fire.

That's the best news I've heard
all night.

Paul, come here.

We can kick these shutters in.

Go ahead, Paul, do your
athlete thing.

Go through and open the door.

Jesus Christ!

- Paul, what's the matter?
- Paul!

Spiders, goddamnit!
Jesus, I hate spiders!

Jesus, I hate spiders!

You scared the hell
out of us.

Oh, sorry!

Why don't you come around,
I'll open the door.

Ah, not bad. Um, Jeff and Paul,
you bring in the trunk, and, uh,

Jeffrey, then you build a fire
in the fireplace. All right?

Hmm, not bad, not bad at all.

I, uh, I suggest we explore
the quarters while Jeffrey's

building the fire. We may
even come across a fuse box,

- who knows?
- I suggest, let's sit

by the fireplace until it's lit.
You Boy Scouts go and explore.

Anya, why don't you tidy up?
And, Jeffrey, you repair

that window, would you please?

Paul, Terry and I will ferret
out the castle.

Hey, why don't we let the mighty
Joe Karate repair the window,

since he broke it.

I'm going to ferret out
the castle with the master.

Hmm, look.

Oh, God! Oh, this is getting
worse all the time.

- What is it?
- Rats.

Well, if we come under siege,
and the supplies run low...

- rat stew.
- In your case,

that would be cannibalism.

Ha. Let's check upstairs. Paul,
get me that lantern,

would you please?

I keep thinking about Satan
worshipers with hatchets.

I'm not surprised.

Did you read about those
campers last week?

A group of kids came
over to their campsite and,

invited them for dinner.
When they got to the kid's

camp, they realized they
were the dinner.

All right, all right.
Jesus Christ.

- Hey, did they...?
- Yeah, they sure did.

Look, I, uh... I shouldn't ask,
but whatever happened

to the other caretaker?

- He hanged himself.
- You shouldn't have asked.

In, uh, in this very room,
if I'm not mistaken.

Now, wait a minute. This is too
much.

You tell us the first caretaker
murdered his family,

the second caretaker hanged
himself.

I mean, it's like a grade B
movie where the villian

tries to drive the victims mad.

Oh, a villain, how flattering.

Do you have a large insurance
policy on this company?

No, I'm bumping you all
off as my contribution

to good theater.

Terry and I are going downstairs

This is beginning to look
like the “Lost Weekend."

You know what they say,
"A fire a day keeps those

ghosts away."

Why would you want to keep
them away?

Wouldn't it be beautiful to be
really in the presence

of a ghost?

- A being from another plane.
- You're serious?

Yes, of course.

Well, I don't know. I always
heard that ghosts have a way

of being downright nasty.

Oh, that's not true. What people
perceive as evil in ghosts

and spirits is only a reflection
of their own malevolence

and fear.

People create their own demons.

That's not very original, Anya.

Something is going to happen
tonight...

I can feel it.

Oh, I wouldn't go in there,
Anya. The place is full of rats.

Oh, they don't bother me.
Rats don't mind people

that don't mind them.

I'll have to remember that

next time I run into a rat.

Personally, I never met a rat
I didn't like.

"Let's take a rat
to lunch today, show him

that he's one of the bunch
today."

All right, children, story time.

Uncle Alan's going to chill
your marrow and make you

squeal and get all wet
and get goose pimples.

What the hell's the gun for?

Just in case any little ghosties
try to break in here

and gobble up my children.

Hey, you got silver buckshot
in there?

- No... but I've got this.
- What is it?

What is it? It's the sorcerer's
source box, the warlock's

war chest, the conjuror's
conjuration.

The nincompoop's knapsack.

If things get really desperate,
I'll just have you re-enact

some of your past performances.

Not even a thing from the
blackest pit of hell

could stand up to that.

- What else have you got?
- Oh, I've got many things.

For instance, this.

Banes to ward off evil entities.

Gee, Mr. Wizard, how do you
get the litmus paper

to turn blue?

Same way I get the egg
into the Coke bottle, bitch.

And this treasure of treasures

Here, Anya, hold that
'til I'm ready.

What, pray tell, is that
treasure of treasures?

Later, Jeffrey, later.
First, my robe.

Oh, wow! Where can I pick
up one of those?

On the other side of eternity,
my dear.

Talk about "my" performances.

What time is it?

Uh, it's 11230.

Perfect.

Perfect for what?

Midnight is the optimum time
for any summation.

Wait a minute, just exactly
what are we summoning?

I think it's about time
the wizard came clean.

Oh, time the wizard came clean.

Ha ha ha, you know that's very
poetic, Paul, in a prosaic

kind of way.

Look, we may not be poets,
but we do have a right

to know what's going on.

The people speak! A little
democratic action, ay?

Well, let me remind you, my
darlings, that this company

is not a democratic enterprise.
It's a feudal state.

I rule it. I own it. I own you.

The only difference between this
feudal state and any other

feudal state is that here the
serfs, uh, that's you, can quit

anytime you like. Anybody
wanna quit? Huh?

Huh?

Aw, the revolution is dead.
Long live the king.

Ha ha ha. However, as befits
a benevolent and loving ruler,

I shall divulge all.
Anya, the book.

This is a grimoire, a book
of ancient spells, descending

in a direct line from the druids
and the old religion.

It has spells, counter spells,
conjurations, summations and...

here is the spell I have chosen
for our purposes.

It details the simple steps
and the simple words

necessary to enable a master
to call forth the dead

from their graves, to bend their
wills to his and serve him

always in this world...
and the next.

And this island meets
the unique stipulations

required for a summation.

A consummate evil was
committed here, a curse lies

upon it and there are fresh
cadavers available

and waiting for us.

And it's nearly midnight, so I
suggest we go

and exhume our corpse.

Hey, Alan, how many years
do they give you

- for grave robbing?
- They hang you.

Suspended sentence, ay?

- Oh, my God, is nothing sacred?
- Ding dong, Avon calling, ha ha.

I suppose Jeff and I
are the burial detail?

Val can help you.

Let's see, "Orville Dunworth,
1929-1971."

Oh... he oughta be ripe.

Ok, this is the one.

So, this is the lucky stiff,
huh?

Oh, shut up.

Ok, troops, dig in.

- Where's Anya?
- She's back by the crypt.

Excellent. Well, let's see
if anybody's home. Open up.

Hope he doesn't mind us dropping
in like this.

Jesus Christ, is that for real?

God, I don't believe it.

Looks like Dracula.

Decomposition does strange
things to people.

Haul him up, Jeff, let's take
a closer look.

You want me to touch that thing?

He won't bite you.

Oh, I wouldn't bet on it.

Just lift him up to the rim,
Jeff. Paul and I will haul

him out.

- Roy?
- Certainly, you crazy bitch.

- You bastards!
- Listen, Alan...

This crazy man bloodied
my nose.

No... ha ha ha.

Paul, listen, it isn't funny,
we were on the verge

of a genuine tragedy here.

I Peed my pants.
I Peed my pants.

Listen, my nose is bleeding.
That's blood from my body.

Listen, Alan, you didn't say
there'd be a madman

with an axe. Jesus Christ,
I could've been seriously hurt.

- You mean this was a gag?
- No! No, Paul, these are two

real ghouls. They just, they just
had a change of heart,

that's all.

Yeah, we're trying
to go straight.

I oughta use this
on you, man.

Ha ha ha, I peed my pants.
Huh, yeah, I peed my pants.

Medic!

Oh, good heavens.

Mayhem, carnage, ugh,
this is really the limit.

I mean fun's fun, but really!

Hush, darling, I'm putting you
in for a Purple Heart.

Is that Emerson?

Oh, my God!

You've got a weird sense
of humor.

Oh, come one, let's give
the devil his due.

Very good, Alan.

Get up, Jeff.

I Peed my pants.

We all did.

That was really masterful.

How long did you take on this?

Emerson, Roy and I came out here
yesterday and set it up.

Bravo! Come on Emer,
let me see your makeup.

Ha ha, magnificent. How long
did it take you?

Oh, I worked on it
for about three hours.

Mine took four hours,
of course, I was the lead.

Because you're stupid enough
to let yourself be buried

in a filthy hole.

- How long were you in there?
- About an hour.

You can last several hours.

Let's see your battle wound,
Roy.

And of course the mad, cultist
killer who was stalking us

was Emerson.

I cannot tell a lie, it was I
and my trusty fangs.

Only a truly sick mind could
have conceived such a plot.

Thank you.

And you, you little devils,
you gave the best performance

of your entire careers.

I peed in my pants.

Will you quit giving us a
play-by-play

of your flabby bladder?

My God, you should have seen
the creature

we took out of that hole.
I nearly fainted,

he's really dead.

He was probably a dishwasher.

That's a far cry from robber
barons and rape and demons.

There are a bunch of plumbers
and panhandlers buried out here.

Pretty punk stuff to tempt
Satan with.

Not quite so. I'm sure there are
quite a few murderers

and other assorted types
that will please the master.

Emerson, what time is it?

- It's five of twelve.
- Ah, the Witching hour.

We have to hurry, he won't wait.

Urn, what did you do with what's
his name, Orville?

- He's over behind that tomb.
- Wait a minute.

The joke's over. Terry's scared
as hell,

I'm taking her out of here.

Have a good swim and don't
forget to drop

your script off at the theater
when you get back.

It's ok, Paul. It scared me,
that's all. I'm all right now.

Look, this has gone far enough,
man.

Look, it's my job too, I don't
want to be fired.

- You sure?
- Oh, why don't you stop?

If I made her crawl in that
coffin and spend the night

with Orville, you wouldn't lift
a finger to help if you thought

it would cost you your job.

And you know why? Because you're
headed for the top...

the new Brando, actor, stud,
bon vivant. All man-bull.

You know what you are?
You're a slab of meat

I hired to dress my stage.
And I like my sides of beef

to hang quietly in the corner
until I need them.

So why don't you just shut up!

Oh, I hate it when you get so
sentimental and mushy like that.

Of course they'll stay.

They wouldn't miss a chance
to see you

square off with the devil.

Or maybe eat a little crow,
when your performance

gets a big yawn.

If we judge by past performance,
I don't think I'll bore anybody.

You can't live old reviews.
This is a new play.

Let's get it on.

What do you say, children?

Would you like to see
the maestro perform?

Do you think we can take it?

I'm not too worried.

Jeffy?

I don't care, give 'em hell.
Anybody got a dry Pamper?

Gentlemen?

As long as we don't have
to dig 'em up.

All right, it's time.

Go and drag Orville over here.

- Anya? Where's Anya?
- She's abiding.

Anya, what are you doing now?

I'm gazing at the scroll
of immortality.

Well, when you come to the end
of a chapter, will you please

crawl up out of that hole and
get the book and the makings.

It's really much nicer in here.

Great, we'll make it for a
weekend sometime, all right?

Come on now, it almost midnight.

Is it?

Good. Good. He's magnificent.
Look at him, Anya.

I wonder what he's thinking.

Jeff, get the candles.

Lift Orville up here.

Let's see. We'll... prop him
up against the crucifix.

Bend his arms over the lateral.

My God, he's stiff as plaster.

Ha ha, perfect.

Anya, the envelope.

"And what's in the envelope?"
they all asked, breathlessly.

What's in the
envelope, Alan?

Blood. The dried blood of an
unborn infant,

as called for in the Book
of Spells.

Now, don't worry,
no murder was committed,

it's just that every summation
demands a sovereign ingredient

to a sacrifice.

This is ours. Help me up.

Now we begin.

Jeff, Paul, Emerson and Roy,
grab shovels.

I want you to follow behind me,
break the earth over the graves.

Thus.

I will go after and anoint them
as prescribed. Go.

And after we do all of this,
the dead are going to rise

from their graves, right?

Thus spaketh the master.

Hmm, an oldie but a goodie.

Silence!

Poor Anya.

Any second now, I expect
to see her float off.

Summon the dead,
bullshit.

Jesus Christ!

- What is it?
- Look.

Hold this.

God.
It's beautiful.

It's hideous.

- The root broke it open.
- This is a sign.

They will rise.
This is the sign.

Bull.

The root undermined the coffin,
that's all.

It's a sign.

Anya.

Come.

What happened over there, Alan?

Never mind.

Kneel around the grave.

Clasp your hands together in the
inverted prayer, like this.

Open your minds.
Remove all doubt,

but be on your guard.

Let nothing take hold of you.
Let nothing enter your body.

From this time on, you must
be silent.

"O Great Diviner,

Master of the Three Worlds,

Disciple who became Master,

Lord of the Nether World,

Lord of Night,

Prince of Darkness,

Despoiler of Light,

Diviner of Powers,

Redeemer of Passion,

Crucible of Flesh.

By the blood incarnate,
by the flesh made proud,

by the soul devoured of itself,

by these words we do implore,
by these deeds we do supplicate

and call upon the grace of thee,
Lord Almighty of the Underworld,

to release the souls
of all thy servants

who lie here un-redeemed
to release them

to serve thy servant,

bending their wills always to his,
thus to thine own.

By the blood of babes unborn,
by the inversion of the Savior,

by the bond of thine own hand,

we do entreat thee, deliver them
up to us to command

in thy name, to serve our will and
thine own.

By Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles,
Arkaneez

and all the under lords we do entreat,

let them rise, let them rise up.

Spiritus aquatani, salvete, let them rise.

Let them rise up, Satan, god of all.

They must be out to lunch.

Shut up, Jeffrey.

Looks like a no-show.

A fraud, a cheap, plastic
fraud.

Ha! Satan, you phony.
You liar!

You sorry sot!

I paid my money
and I expect my merchandise.

You cretinous clown.
You don't have any power.

Petty panderer! Cheap,
chiseling con artist!

Two-bit, penny-ante potion
peddler!

You lose, Alan.

You lose. Your summation
is a bummer.

A silly little ghost story.

You should have stuck
to the clown act.

It suits your talent.

And your vilification of Satan
is rice pudding, soggy oatmeal,

stale goods, Alan, like all
your creative efforts.

You're a clerk, Alan,
a bookkeeper.

You'd better accept that.

And you know why?

Because it takes an artist to deal
with the devil,

not an insurance man
with delusions of grandeur.

Get out of the grave.

Get out of the grave, Alan.

Let an artist show you how
call a curse down on Satan.

Hail, Satanic Majesty!

Hail, mighty Master of Evil!

Tormentor of Lost Souls,

paragon of Perfidy,

antichrist, vilest of the vile,

respected foe of Jehovah and the archangel,

usurper, seducer,

panderer supreme.

Hail!

Hail!

So what's with this little thing
we're asking?

A few rotting corpses
to serve our meager needs.

So what's the trouble, hmm?

You got the blood you were
asking, right?

You got Orville, right?

You've got the warlock and his war chest.

Right?

Is that a bargain, I ask you?

A vizard, foist class!

So vhere's the goods?

Satan!

You tveaker of puppy-dog tails!

You bilious bag of bombast.

You paltry purveyor of potence.

You half-vitted Helicon of horse manure.

Mighty master of evil!

Ha!

Your most terrifying trick
is growing warts

on old ladies' noses,

scaring scarecrows, snitching buttons,

ingrown toenails, corns and chickenpox.

That's your speed.

Very good, Valerie, very good.

Excellent.

Bravo. Not bad.

It's a tie game!

Not quite. I've got another ace
in the hole.

Or, uh, an ace out of the hole,
I should say.

- It's party time, it's the shank
of the evening.

My friend, Orville, and I
are having cocktails

in ten minutes at my
island cottage.

- Strictly informal.
- Wait a minute,

- you can't do that.
- Oh, but I can.

It's Orville's coming-out party.
He's been away for a long time.

Orville's in the underground,
you know.

I'm sure he has many
interesting things to tell us.

Alan, you're not really
gonna take that thing

- back to the cottage.
- But it's his party.

I, I mean, it certainly would
be rude not to invite

him to his own party.

We should show some respect
for the dead.

Why? The dead are losers.

If anybody hasn't earned
respect, it's the dead.

A man has a right to some
dignity, even when he's dead.

Man? Man is a machine
that manufactures manure.

Anya?

We'll put him back.

I think he'll like it.

We won't embarrass him,
will we, Alan?

Oh, not a bit, no.

I'd be mortified, I...

More than likely Orville will shame
us all.

You always seem to be holding
the cards, Alan.

Let's see how many more you
have up your sleeve.

OK.

Jeff, you and Paul escort Orville
back to the cottage.

Carry him Roman style.

Roy, you and Emerson stay here
and fill in the graves.

And then bring the trunk back
to the cottage when you come.

Why do we get all the physical
stuff?

Because you're such physical
brutes.

Oh, and you'd better bring
the caretaker

back to the house with you.

Wait 'til Gay Power hears
about this.

It's customary to carry
the corpse over the threshold.

Right!

Looks like the honeymoon
is over.

Wrong, we're not even
married yet.

Wait a minute now,
let's see.

Stand him... him?
Her? It?

Stand "it" up.

- You crushed his bouquet.
- Correction - it's bouquet.

It does have a very definite
bouquet

Careful, that's my bride-to-be
you're talking about.

A perfect match.

And you, a holy man.
Shame, shame.

Paul, you can be best man.

Or should I say best corpse?

Ten to one it's a shotgun
wedding.

Let's see. Family of the groom
on the right.

Family of the corpse on the
left. Val, if you don't mind.

Laughs.

All right, who's going to give
the bride away?

I don't know but you
better hurry.

Music.

Begin.

Dearly beloved,

we are gathered here today
to join together this man

and this, urn, body,

in holy - well, not so holy,
but it's okay, wedlock.

Uh, more or less.

All right, please repeat
after me.

I, Alan, take this body...

I, Alan, take this body...

Welcome to it, you deserve
everything you're getting.

To love, honor and cherish,
in sickness and in health,

for richer or for poorer,
'til death do you part.

And you'd better hurry, believe
you me. Ha ha ha...

And, Orville, do you
go along with all of this?

Well, then by the power invested
in me by Reddy Kilowatt,

I now pronounce you man and...
well, whatever he is. Ha ha.

Paul, see if you can put
some life into the party.

Which party are you
referring to?

Down, Jeff.

OK, Big P, let's get this show
on the road.

What's the matter, big fella?

Cat-daver got your tongue?

What a bunch of stiffs, eh, Orv?

That's all right, keep a stiff
upper lip.

Keep a stiff upper lip!

Orville's my straight man.

All right, pretty boy,
you do it.

I can't think of anything funny
to say.

That's because it's not funny.

It's disgusting.

Disgusting?

Do I, uh, disgust you,

Miss, uh, Seducible Brownie?

Why, this is just good,
clean fun.

Sure, check it out in your
Girl Scout Manual under,

"Things to do in the cemetery".

Now, wait a minute.
- Sit down, meat.

You know, I don't think
that Orville likes

being called, uh, disgusting.

I know that I don't like
being called disgusting.

Perhaps you shouldn't be working
for someone so, uh...

disgusting!

Hmm? Maybe I ought to just
release you from your contract

under the, uh, "disgusting"
clause.

And, and also from my
disgusting "claws." Hmm?

Well, guess we'll have to dig
up a new actor, eh, Orville?

Got anyone you'd
like to recommend?

- No.
- It's an immediate opening.

I didn't mean to start anything.

You didn't mean to start
anything? Why did you, then?

- I was upset.
- Well, now Orville's upset.

I don't know. I'll see
if he'll forgive you.

What do you think, Orville?