All language subtitles for Switch (1991) 720p BluRay x264-GUACAMOLE

Hello.

Mr. Brooks, there's a Margo Brofman
on the phone for you.

- Oh, yeah? Put her through.
- Okay.

- Hello?
- Hey, Margo!

I'm giving a surprise party
Sunday night. Can you come?

Who're you gonna surprise?

You.

- Who else is coming?
- Just Felicia and Liz.

Oh, yeah?

- What's the occasion?
- That's the surprise.

- Hey, Mac.
- Nice-looking threads.

- Can I take some roses?
- Help yourself.

Thanks.

Here you go.

Come in, Steve.

Looking good, slick.

- Felicia.
- Hello, Steve.

Thank you.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

And Liz.

- Hi, Steve.
- Hi.

Hey, Margo.
Come on in.

Unbelievable!

Looking good there.

Sexy!

Unbelievable!

Slick, you are something else!

Come on, Margo.
It's my turn.

Oh, yes.

I don't believe this.

I'm sitting here with three
beautiful women who said they hated me.

- I gotta be dreaming.
- We still hate you.

We decided you should be punished
for the way you treat women.

Oh, yeah.

Men like you
just have to be stopped.

How're you gonna stop me?

We're going to kill you.

What a way to die.

Oh, God.

We did it.

We still gotta get him out of
the hot tub and down to the river.

- I don't think I can.
- You have to!

We can't do it without you.

You bitches.

Where am I?

Purgatory.

- Where's that?
- Between heaven and hell.

What happens now?

On one hand, you've earned
enough credits to get you into heaven.

- Thank God.
- You're welcome.

On the other hand,
you've been so rotten to women,

you deserve to go straight to hell.

That's pretty rotten.

Perfect record.
They all hate you.

- All of them?
- As far as I know.

You should know, but...

it's kinda hard for me to believe
there aren't a couple of women...

Right now
I'll settle for one.

So I've decided
that you should go back...

and find one female
who truly likes Steve Brooks.

If you find her, you go to heaven.

If you don't,
you'll spend eternity in hell.

Back?

Unless you have
a better suggestion.

No, no.

Back's fine.
Back's terrific.

Good morning. It's Ross Britain.
It's 8 a.m. in the Big Apple.

Here's Keith Slaughter and the Butchers

playing what Jerry Falwell describes
as the devil's music.

Excuse me.

- Yes?
- I wish to lodge a complaint.

What is it this time?

I have as much right
to Steve Brooks' soul as you do.

That's why I sent him back.

If he can't find one female who
likes him, then his soul is yours.

That's not a fair test.

He'll pick some helpless...

unsuspecting female...

pretend to be everything he's not.

In the end she'll adore him.

And you'll be honour-bound to admit...

an unregenerate debaucher
into heaven.

What do you suggest?

Teach him a lesson,
and at the same time

make it impossible for him
to work his macho machinations

on any more unsuspecting females.

And how do I do that?

Easy.

Make him a woman.

Security.

Okay, Mrs. Wetherspoon.

I'll take care of it right away.

Some woman's screaming her head off
in Brooks' apartment.

Again?

She didn't sound like the others.

It was bloodcurdling.

Mr. Brooks?

Mr. Brooks?

- You want I should call SWAT?
- No.

Mr. Brooks?

Anybody here?

Are you sure
you don't need a backup?

Mr. Brooks!

It's Mac!

Mr. Brooks?

Hey, lady. Miss?

I'm up! I'm up!
What time is it?

Mac!

You okay?

- What the hell happened?
- Easy.

Looks like you fainted
or something.

I guess I must have fainted
or something.

Oh, yeah.

Holy shit!

Holy shit!

Holy shit!

Holy shit!

- Where's Mr. Brooks?
- Where's Mr. Brooks?

- Who are you?
- Where's Mr. Brooks?

Who am I?

Who am I?

How'd you get in here?

How do you know my name?
I never passed you through.

- Al was on duty.
- He didn't tell me.

You sign in?

I don't remember.

All guest are required
to sign the register.

You couldn't have gotten in unless
Mr. Brooks said it was okay

and you signed that register.

Mr. Brooks must have said it was okay
and I must have signed, right?

Because here I am!

Here I am! Here I fucking am!

- I'm not feeling too well.
- Want me to call a doctor?

No.

No, no.

It's okay, it's okay.

You know, I just...
I kinda...

I keeled over there
'cause I got some bad news...

but I'm gonna shower, shave.

I'm gonna
pull myself together here.

You know how it is, Mac.
You get up on the wrong side of the bed.

- You haven't brushed you teeth.
- When will Mr. Brooks come back?

Not for a very long time.

- Really?
- Yeah. He, uh...

You see, he told me
that he was going away.

- He's gone away.
- Yeah.

And he asked me
to take care of his apartment.

- You're taking care...
- Yeah. Because...

- Because we're sisters.
- Sisters?

I'm the sister.
I mean, I'm his half-sister.

We have different mothers,
but he gave me his key,

showed me how everything works,

so I'm gonna be fine,
just fine.

Okay, yeah.

- Thanks a lot.
- Sure.

How you doing there,
Mrs. Wetherspoon?

Un-fucking-believable.

- Hello?
- Hello.

Hey, Walter.
How you doin', buddy?

Who's this?

Who is this?

Who is this?

Okay, look, Walter.
I'm gonna try something here.

I'm a woman.

Yeah?

It's me, Walter.
I'm a woman.

Is this Connie?

No, it isn't Connie.
It's me.

Okay. Forget it.
I'm a man.

I'm Amanda. I'm Steve's sister.

Wait till you get a load of me.

Steve doesn't have a sister.
Can I talk to Steve, please?

You are...
I mean, you can't.

It's after 10:00.
Steve hasn't shown up for work.

Look, it's really complicated.

Why don't you meet me for lunch
and I'll explain it to you.

Steve would have told me
if he had a sister.

No, he wouldn't.

I'll meet you
at the City Grille at 1:00.

Wait, wait!
How I'm gonna know it's you?

You can't miss me, pal.

I'm blonde, about 5'7".

Built like a brick shithouse.

Desk.

Yes, Mr. Reed.

Hold on a second.

- That's the broad.
- I never passed her by here.

- You let her in?
- No, I didn't. She told me you...

- Morning, May.
- Wait a minute.

- She still in the sack?
- Wait a minute. You can't go up there!

- I'd love a cup of coffee.
- Mrs. Brofman!

Mrs. Brofman!

Mrs. Brofman!

Mrs. Brofman! Mrs. Brofman!

Mrs. Brofman, open the door!

Mrs. Brofman, open the door!

What, Mae?

What? What?

- Who are you? Get out!
- Are you all right?

Mae, call the police!

Then you could tell them all about
that little party you threw last night.

What?

Divers shouldn't have any trouble
finding the body.

Mae?

I can just hear
Felicia and Liz now.

Oh, yeah.

"We tried to drown him
in the hot tub, but...

Margo shot him."

Mae!

"Three times in the chest."

Mae?

Don't call the police.
Forget the police.

- You sure?
- Yes.

All right.

Who are you?

Where's the gun?

Who the hell are you?

Oh, take a good look, Margo.

They say the eyes
are the windows to the soul.

Look into my eyes.
Whose soul do you see?

It's me, Margo... Steve.

You're crazy!

I picked you because you're a lot
smarter than those other two bimbos.

Also, you believe
that fag psychic of yours

told you you were Helen of Troy
in another incarnation.

Way I figure it,
you'd have no trouble believing

that I am the late, great
Steven Brooks, your ex-lover,

reincarnated as a gorgeous female.

Look deep, Margo.

You better believe it, slick.

'Cause after I borrow a dress
and some lipstick...

I am gonna have lunch
with my buddy Walter

and you are gonna teach me

everything I always wanted to know
about women but was afraid to ask.

How ya doin', Walter?

- Amanda?
- In the flesh.

And what about that flesh?

Jesus Christ.

Susie, I'll have
a margarita, please.

So what do you think?
Did you get a good look at my legs?

- So, Steve never mentioned me?
- No.

Well, that's understandable.

We only just discovered each other
a few days ago.

I'm his half-sister.
We have different mothers.

He sure did talk about you
quite a bit.

Really?

Check out that ass.

How'd you like to give her
a punch in the pants?

You're not gay, are you?

If I'm gay, Clint Eastwood
is a transvestite. Excuse me.

You don't look like Steve,
except something...

about the eyes that...

But you sure do act like him.
You always drink margaritas?

- Yeah.
- So does Steve.

Well, here's to Steve,
wherever he may be.

By the way, where is he?

I don't know.
He just said that he was going away.

- And he'd be gone for a long time.
- You're kidding me.

- No. He kept talking about Gauguin.
- Who?

Gauguin.
He was a French painter.

He decided to chuck it all
and move to Tahiti to paint.

He said he was
fed up with everything.

And between you and me...

- he seemed very depressed.
- Depressed?

Last night, three of his ex-girlfriends
were throwing him a dinner party.

When he left me,
he couldn't have been happier.

Maybe the party didn't turn out
exactly like he planned.

Steve is not the kind of man

who would suddenly decide
to chuck it all and not tell me.

- Did you check his office?
- For what?

I don't know.
Maybe he left you a note.

- You heard anything?
- No. It's very strange.

Beth, this is Amanda Brooks,
Steve's sister.

- How're you doing?
- Mind if I look in his office?

- Maybe he left a note.
- Go ahead.

But when I cleaned up his desk,
I didn't find anything.

- You're his sister, huh?
- Half-sister.

We only just discovered each other
a few days ago.

Oh, 'cause I've been his secretary
for two years

and he never said anything...

- Nothing.
- Did you look in the drawer?

- Yeah.
- Let me have a look.

He told Amanda he was gonna chuck it all
and be like Gauguin.

The painter?

- I can't believe he wouldn't call me.
- What's this?

- What?
- It's a note. Says "To Walter."

- Where'd you find that?
- In the drawer.

I looked...

"Dear, Walter.
I'm fed up with my life.

I've decided to chuck it all
and start again like Gauguin.

I asked Amanda, my half-sister,
to stay in my apartment while I'm gone.

Take her to lunch. You'll like her.
She's got a great pair of...

So long. Steve."

- Was that his handwriting?
- Yeah.

What's the matter?

He's really gone.

Yeah, it looks that way, sugar.

He always called me that.

Jesus! You must have been
really crazy about him.

I hated him. I just...

I always cry when I'm
really, really happy.

Sorry. Excuse me.

I'm sorry, Mr. Freidkin.

Walter.

Mr. Freidkin,
we just found this.

- Steve's sister.
- Half-sister.

Our Steve?

Why, that son of a gun.

He didn't know about her
until a couple of days ago.

Talk about your family secrets.

You should read the note.

What note?

Gauguin?

- This is a joke, right?
- No, he's gone.

- I don't believe it.
- You must be Arnold, Steve's boss.

- How you doing, Arnold?
- Yes.

Steve told me a lot about you.

Well, not all bad, I hope.

No, not all of it.

We're gonna miss him.
He was one hell of an advertising man.

He was that, yeah, but...

I think he can be improved on.

Oh, really? How's that?

Why don't you take me to your office.
I'll tell you. How's that?

You're sure I can't
get you something stronger?

No, thanks. Except for
the occasional margarita at lunch,

I make it a habit
not to drink on the job.

You sound like your brother.

- Who do you work for?
- You, I hope.

I'm flattered.

Have you had experience
in advertising?

Hire me and I'll get you
the Faxton account.

Get me the Faxton account
and you're hired.

Hire me, I won't tell you wife
about apartment "J" on West 57th Street.

My God.

What else did Steve tell you?

He told me you pay him 200 a year,
plus fringes. I'll take 250.

Why should I pay you more
than Steve's getting?

Steve didn't give you a hard-on.

Denise.

You knew Steve Brooks
pretty well, didn't ya?

- "Knew"?
- Well, know.

- Pretty well.
- So tell me.

What adjective would you say
best describes him?

Asshole.

That could also be a noun.

Major asshole.

Sounds great.
When do you start?

Tomorrow morning.
What can I say?

- How about you show me the ropes?
- Sure.

Goddamn Italian shoes.

Yeah, well. It's gonna really be
great working with you. Steve and all.

- Why don't we have dinner tonight?
- Yeah.

How about a little sushi
at Aiko's.

Eight o'clock. Couple of beers at Duke's.

- Okay.
- Great.

See you later, bud.

Well...

Let's see which one of your guides

is available
to give us some answers.

Jesus.

Greetings, sahib.

Multiple blessings
from the eternal spirit.

It's Pasha.

Pasha, is it appropriate
that we speak?

Exceedingly so, sahib.

The answer
to your question is,

in order for Sahib Brooks
to be...

reincarnated, he must first be dead.

He's dead.

He is?

Well, isn't he? I mean, you're
supposed to know about those things.

If, indeed,
Sahib Brooks'...

immortal soul has left
the bondage of this earth,

it is reasonable to assume

it has not yet arrived
at its predestined spiritual abode

or of course I would know of it.

Okay. Let's say that he is dead

and he has been reincarnated
as a woman.

- The eternal soul...
- Let me finish!

Sorry, Pasha.

Could it still be the same man
in a different body?

Although the grand design
provides for...

almost any possibility,

I have never heard of such a case
as you speak of.

But I will investigate
and report the next time we communicate.

In the meantime,
peace be with you

and Brahma, the supreme soul,

the essence of the universe,

guide and protect you.

That really
takes it out of me.

- Pasha wasn't much fucking help.
- Margo!

Aside from the fact that this...

woman claims to be
the late Mr. Brooks,

is there any other reason why you might
think that he would be dead?

Of course not!
What other reason could there be?

You've reached 555-6731.

Please leave a message,
I'll call you back.

Hello, Kurt,
you psychic, psycho fag.

Margo, get your ass
to Bloomingdale's. See you in an hour.

Oh, yeah, that's pretty.

Where are you going?

I'm going to Aiko's.

Don't you think something
a little less formal for sushi?

Yeah, probably, but maybe
we should get it anyway.

Bound to be other nights
when I can wear it.

Oh, bound to be.

You think I'd look good
in something like that?

There's not much
you wouldn't look good in.

I bet you say that to all the boys
who become girls.

You need a bra.

We're about the same size?

Oh, yeah. I think we...

- Cash or charge?
- What's the total?

Including cosmetics,
perfume and jewellery,

it's $41,611.89.

How you wanna
pay for that, slick?

She never lets me
pay for a thing.

If I tried, she'd probably shoot me,
dump me in the river.

Do you know how many poor animals
they had to kill to make that coat?

Do you know how many rich animals
I had to fuck to get this coat?

Here she comes.

Excuse me.
Miss Brooks, is it?

I'm Stuart Higgins,
the apartment manager.

Nice to meet you.
Do me a favour, Al.

I'm expecting a big delivery
from Bloomingdale's.

Would you send it up?
I got a hot date tonight.

I'm sorry, but I can't allow you
to stay in Mr. Brooks' apartment

unless you can prove
you really are his sister.

- Do you have some identification?
- Like what?

- A driver's license?
- I don't drive.

- Credit cards?
- I don't charge.

You told Mac the night guard

that your brother
told Al the day guard

that you'd be staying
in your brother's apartment.

- Yeah.
- Well...

this is Al, and he doesn't remember
your brother saying that.

- You don't remember that, Al?
- No, ma'am.

- How old are you?
- Forty-nine.

You told me you were 50.
Don't you remember?

The day my brother introduced us,
you said you just had a birthday.

- I met you?
- Yeah, I told you how young you looked.

Could start that early.
It could.

It's probably nothing serious,
just short-term,

but if I were you,
I'd get it checked.

You can call Arnold Freidkin.
He's my boss at F&B.

If that doesn't satisfy you,
call Laura Patrick.

- Who?
- Laura Patrick.

Redhead my brother fixed you up with
when your wife was out of town.

You should get checked too.
You're getting just as forgetful as Al.

Check out the headlights
on the blonde.

How'd you like to play "hide
the salami" with that for about a week?

Not me. You.

You don't think that's
a perfectly legitimate question?

Coming from a guy, maybe.

You don't think
women talk to women that way?

Yeah, I guess so.
Sometimes. Some women.

So what's wrong with a woman
talking to a man that way?

I don't know. I just think that
when a man talks to a woman,

or a woman talks to a man...

it should be more romantic.

So women aren't supposed to feel or talk
about the same things a man feels?

It's okay for a man to say
"I'm horny. I'd like to get laid."

- This is not okay for a woman to say?
- You sound like Gloria Steinem.

Let's go to Duke's.

- Steve told you about Duke's?
- Yeah.

I used to put your brother to bed
after six of these.

- Yeah? How many is this?
- Five.

Good. I got one to go.

Nope. That's a double.

Then I'll just sip it.

I was afraid of that.

- I really miss him.
- Who? Duke?

No. Steve.

Why? I mean, face it.

He wasn't the nicest guy
in the world.

Especially where women
are concerned.

He loves kids, though.
And dogs.

And he does things for people
nobody knows about

except for me and the shrink he was
seeing for about six months.

And God.

- Yeah. He knows.
- She.

He's like Popeye.

- God?
- No. Steve. You know.

"I am what I am."
He is what he is.

He's a smart, funny, charming,

dyed-in-the-wool
male chauvinist,

who brags about most things other guys
are afraid to admit to themselves.

And you know what?
He likes me.

He's very loyal.

You wanna know why, Walter?

Why?

Because he envies you.

See, you're a good guy.

How do you know that?

- That you're a good guy?
- No, that he envies me.

Oh. Well.

He told me.
He said, "Amanda...

you stick with Walt.

He's a good guy."

- Maybe I'm not so good.
- How come?

To tell you the truth,

I really, really
wanna go to bed with you.

Like that's a hot news flash.

I can't because you're
my best friend's sister.

What do you mean? Steve wouldn't have
trouble going to bed with your sister.

I don't have a sister.
Even if I did, I don't think he would.

Oh, he would.
Take my word for it.

So what are you saying?
That I should?

I mean, if I could...

If you could, yeah, sure.

- But you can't.
- No?

No. Sorry.

You mind telling me why?

'Cause I'm not really
who you think I am.

It's me, Walt...
Steve.

I died, and...

God wouldn't let me into heaven

'cause I been such a shit
to women.

That's why? God.

If I want to go to heaven,

I gotta find...

I gotta find one female
who likes me.

That's not gonna be easy.

- Hey. You believe I'm Steve?
- Yeah. Sure.

I knew you would.

- Hey, Steve.
- What?

I'd still like
to fuck your sister.

- She is not Steve!
- You didn't look in her eyes.

She didn't kiss you,
for Christ's sake.

- Give me that.
- Spooky.

It's bullshit, darling.

You're a sucker for that kind of thing.
That's why she chose you.

How does she know about everything?

You can laugh, but I get the feeling
she's watching us right now.

Hello?

You're a major stockholder
with Faxton Cosmetics.

I want an appointment
with Sheila Faxton tomorrow afternoon.

You sound drunk.

You sound stoned.

Three of you getting high, trying
to figure out what to do about me?

- Was that...
- Steve.

- You mean Amanda.
- No, I mean Steve!

Coffee.

Where is my address book?

- Your address book?
- Steve's address book.

- Oh. Bottom drawer.
- No, I looked there.

Guess I can't think
with all this hair.

You have beautiful hair.

You know how long it takes to dry?
Get me my barber.

Your barber?

I don't have a barber.
My hairdresser.

In fact, who does your hair?
It's nice. It's all off your face.

Sergei, actually.

Sergei, good.
Get me an appointment with Sergei.

Go, go, go!

How may I
direct your call?

Hello. A Miss Darlene Wooster,
please.

One moment, please.

- This is Darlene.
- Darlene.

I'm writing a book called
Great Names In Advertising.

Steven Brooks gave you
as a recommendation.

I was wondering if you could
tell me about him.

I don't believe
that asshole gave you my number!

Didn't think
you were so hot, either.

Morning.

What's up?

You said you wanted me
to show you the ropes, so...

Oh, yeah. Right.

- You look like shit, pal.
- You don't look too good yourself.

You all right?
You're red.

- Got a fever or somethin'?
- Probably too much rouge.

Gotta be a fuckin' Rembrandt
to put on makeup.

Put your chin up.
There you go. That's good.

Remember when
I thought you were Connie?

That's Connie.

Good. All right.
Let's take a break.

I think I need salt
'cause I keep crampin' up.

- Okay, turn the music down.
- Hi.

Hi. I'm Amanda Brooks.
I'm Steve's sister.

He never told me he had a sister.

I'm his half-sister.

Hello, Walter. He never told me
he had a half a sister.

- Have you seen him lately?
- Haven't heard from him in three days.

I'm afraid he's disappeared.

- Where?
- Well...

We don't know.
He just...

said he went someplace
to start again.

- Start what?
- His life.

- Like Gauguin.
- Who?

Gauguin, Connie, is a painter...

who gave everything up
and moved to Tahiti.

I thought you said
you didn't know where he went.

Right. So I guess you're
really gonna miss him.

Yeah, I guess.

- You liked him a lot, didn't you?
- Sure.

- You're lying.
- No, I like him okay.

You're just saying that because
I'm his sister. Tell me the truth.

He's a putz. Sorry.

You slept with him.

Sure, and here I am
on the cover of Dream.

I'm the Dream girl for November.

- Connie, get changed.
- Yeah.

Nice meeting ya.

You know, you're gorgeous. You oughta
be a Dream girl for December.

- See ya.
- Bye.

If there are some of you who may not
have read my memo yesterday,

F&B has added two new additions

to its growing family.

Miss Amanda Brooks,

whose pretty feet

will be filling her brother's
prematurely-departed shoes.

And Mr. Dan Jones,
recruited from our West Coast office.

All right.
Let's do some brainstorming.

Who wants to get the ball rolling?

The Mama Weiss commercial
has been very successful.

You know,
that was your brother's account.

I have an idea that
might be just as good,

maybe even better,
for Haycrest Foods.

Home movies. Probably Dad,

photographing the family
doing family things.

Kids washing the car
on Sunday morning,

squirting each other
with the hose.

Mom caught in her curlers
picking up the morning papers.

Family dog taking a little nap.

Mom serving up some pancakes
to the kids for breakfast.

Kids fighting over the bottle
of Haycrest maple syrup,

which falls, bounces
but does not break.

Amateur-style home movies,
professional message.

Excuse me. I'm sorry to interrupt,

but did you discuss this idea
with Steve?

No. Why?

Well, I'm a little embarrassed
to bring this up,

but I was taking some home movies
the other day

and I came up with almost exactly
the same concept.

Really?

I called Steve immediately
and told him about it.

I don't know what to say.
I feel very foolish.

Oh, you shouldn't. Always remember
that in this company

it's not authorship that counts,
it's teamwork.

Mr. Edmonds can see you now.
This way.

Amanda, I was just thinking.
Since we're both new here,

how about joining... forces?

- Have dinner, talk it over.
- Great idea.

- Get to know each other.
- Yeah.

Let me save you
some time and trouble, Dan.

I know all about you.
Your reputation has preceded you.

Don't tell me you're one of those women
who believes everything she hears?

Even if your reputation
hadn't preceded you,

I'd still know all about you.

Is that suede?

You're a pretty smart,
good-looking,

sexual deviate,

who has to score in order to prove
he's not inadequate.

Sounds like you've made
this speech before.

Don't get me wrong.
Some of my best friends are deviates.

But save yourself an expensive meal,
whatever's left of your ego,

because there is no way in hell

you are ever gonna get me into the sack.

And switch aftershaves.
You smell like a salad.

Miss Brooks.

I think I'll call you Amanda.

Since you know about the apartment,

why don't you let me
give you a personal tour?

It's stocked with champagne,
and it has a great view of the park.

No, thanks.
I'm allergic to grapes

and corporate executives who take credit
for other people's ideas.

- You're not suggesting...
- I'm not suggesting anything.

You and I both know
you never called Steve.

Even if you're right,
and you aren't,

don't you think that's dangerous talk
for a corporate employee?

- I think I can afford it.
- Really? What makes you think so?

I have a two o'clock appointment
with Sheila Faxton.

Still interested
in the Faxton account, Arnold?

- Yes.
- I thought so.

- You got a problem, pal?
- Yeah.

If you don't kiss me,
I'm gonna be sick.

Then I think
we both got a problem,

because if I do kiss you,
I'm gonna be sick.

Have a nice day.

- Miss Brooks is here to see you.
- All right. Send her in.

Go on in.

Amanda Brooks.

Thank you for taking the time
to see me, Miss Faxton.

You're welcome.

If Margo wasn't
a majority stockholder in Faxton,

you wouldn't have made it
past the front door.

Now that you're here,
what can I do for you?

You've got five minutes.

Okay, I'll get right to the point.

I work for Freidkin & Booth, and...

we'd like to represent
Faxton Cosmetics.

Horton & Benson represent Faxton.
Why should I change?

Because we're new-fashioned.
Our people are younger and brighter.

And I go with the deal.

Exactly what does that mean,
Miss Brooks?

If you wanna find out, it's gonna take
a lot longer than five minutes.

Okay.

I'm having a party this evening,
a few special friends.

Kelly will give you the address.

Good. Oh, what time?

8:30.

Sharp.

Great.
Oh, what'll I wear?

Whatever you like.

I'll be there.

With bells on.

Eight o'clock in New York City.
This is Kid Kelly.

Here's
"Are You Listening, Lucky" by Joe Ely.

Do you believe this body?
I'll never get used to this.

Be careful of Sheila.
She can be dangerous.

Do I detect a note of authentic concern
over my future welfare?

No, but these days my welfare
seems to depend on yours.

Kathleen Seymour lived with Sheila
for ten years.

She developed this fragrance for Faxton
and she always wore it.

Yeah? What happened to her?

She eloped with a French architect.
Sheila never got over it.

You think it prudent to remind her?

Knowing Sheila, I think
it ought to just do the trick.

Give it a whirl.

- Nice touch.
- Thanks.

- What the hell is this?
- It's a body suit.

You've taken a million of them
off women.

I used to hate these things. Shit.

Snap crotch.
Step into it.

- "Step into it."
- No, no. That's very fragile.

- Snap...
- "Snap crotch. Step into it."

- How're you doin'?
- Good, thanks. How are you?

Excuse me.

Oh, boy.

- Hi. How you doing? Nice party.
- Wow.

- Hello.
- Hello, Sheila.

- What's that you're wearing?
- I don't know.

A little something I pulled
out of the closet.

- Not really sure who designed it.
- I mean the perfume.

Oh, well, that's yours.

- You make it. It's called...
- Yeah.

I know what it's called.

Come on. I'll introduce you
to some friends.

Great.

- So, you don't like the perfume?
- I love it.

It just makes me
a little sad sometimes.

And a little angry.

When we get to know each other
a little better...

I'll tell you all about it.

Great.

- Willy, Amanda.
- How're you doing, Will?

You were right, Margo.
That Sheila can be dangerous.

After the party,
we went up to her bedroom.

We killed a magnum of champagne
in nothing flat.

We did about ten minutes on the merits
of good advertising and safe sex.

Then we started
to undress each other.

- I'll do it.
- Thanks.

You know, I'll just put these
in my purse, okay? Excuse me.

I was seriously
looking forward to what I fantasized

was gonna be a truly unique
sexual experience for me.

But it wasn't turning out that way.

Something was definitely
out of sync.

So I said to myself,
"Steve, baby, come on.

You may be a gorgeous female
on the outside,

but inside,
you're still 100 % male.

And Sheila is just another rich,
horny broad looking to get laid.

So go for it.
What's the big deal here?"

- Zipper?
- No, it's a bodysuit.

It has one of those...
You know, those...

Those snappy crotches.

Unsnap it.

Oh, yeah. Okay.

It got very weird.
Suddenly, I felt...

I felt like
my panty hose were strangling me.

I got the shakes.
I couldn't breathe.

And then she started kissing me.
And I fainted.

I am so goddamn confused.

I feel like my brains
are being ripped apart.

- Did you do any drugs?
- You know I never take drugs.

That's right.
You never do. Did.

Jesus Christ.

- It really is you, isn't it, Steve?
- Yes! Yes!

Okay.

All right. You want me to tell you
why you couldn't handle it?

Unless you'd like me
to jump off the fucking roof.

- She's gay.
- No kidding.

- And you are a macho, homophobic...
- Homophobic?

Yes, and gay, male or female,
scares the living hell out of you.

Right.

- Where are you going?
- To jump off the fucking roof.

I should be so lucky.

Son of a bitch!

Morning.

- Amanda, morning.
- Morning.

I understand you saw the layouts
for the Brewster Mills jobs, right?

- Yeah, it sucks.
- Hey, it's only a rough draft.

- Women buy these products, Dan.
- I think I'm aware of that.

No, that's a man's concept
of what appeals to a woman.

Well, all the women I showed it to
thought it looked terrific.

What women? Your secretary?
The ladies in accounting?

What are they gonna say
to Mr. California-suntan-vice-president?

- Arnold thought it looked great.
- Oh, Arnold would.

He's about as sensitive
to a woman's needs as Jack the Ripper.

Hey, maybe you're right,
but why are you so pissed off?

I'll tell ya why
I'm so pissed off, buddy boy.

I'm sick and tired of being treated
like a piece of meat.

Ouch.

- Hello?
- Morning.

I called you twice.

Yeah, I just got in.
So, tell me...

have you thought any more about giving
Freidkin & Booth the Faxton account?

Well, you're all business
this morning, aren't you?

Well, it's very important to me.

I'll give it some more thought, and when
I decide, I'll give you a call, okay?

- Okay.
- Bye.

- Sheila?
- Yes?

- In the meantime...
- Yeah? In the meantime?

In the meantime,
could we have dinner?

Sure.

We can have dinner
at Sardi's.

Sardi's? Couldn't we go somewhere
a little less public?

Well, that's no fun.

I want to show you off.

I'll pick you up at 7:30.

Bye.

- Come on.
- Where we going?

- We're going to the gym.
- Why?

I'm gonna whip your ass.

Okay. Game to 11?

- I'll spot you two.
- Game to 11. You can shove your two.

Ray.

Don't get nervous.

Come on, Walter. You're not gonna
let a girl beat you, are you?

Shake hands with fate!

Call the foul!
Call the stupid foul!

- Come on!
- Tie score.

Next basket wins.

- Yes!
- Yeah!

- Whoa! Bravo!
- Nice game.

- Way to go.
- First time you beat me.

What are you talking about?
I never played you before.

Yeah, that's what I said.
First time you beat me.

And the last time.

Well, you played
pretty damn good for a girl.

Don't be so fucking condescending,
Walter.

I play pretty damn good for a man.

Ouch!

Miss Faxton?

- Bring me the wine list.
- Yes, of course.

Unless you'd rather choose?

Oh, no. It's your evening.

You know,
I think we have a problem.

What's that?

No give-and-take.
We both want to be the aggressor.

Somebody's gotta be the man, right?

What are we gonna do about it?

- Flip a coin.
- Ha, ha. I'm serious.

You know,
if you were really serious,

you wouldn't have taken me
to this place.

Where would you
like me to take you?

You come here often?

I used to when I was a man.

When was that?

Not so long ago in another life.

Did you like being a man?

Oh, yeah.

What's it like?

Compared to what?

Being a woman.

Don't get me wrong.
I'm not...

You know, being a woman...

it's not half bad.

It's being both
that is the bitch.

I'll drink to that.

- How you doing, ladies?
- Aw, fuck off.

What a shame. Didn't your mother tell
you nice girls don't talk like that?

Bet you don't talk like that,
doll face, huh?

Only to assholes who don't pay attention
when they're told to fuck off.

Oh, I should have guessed.
Which one likes to be the man, huh?

Tonight it's my turn.

You talk like a man.
You fight like one.

Guess you really must have been one.

Come on.

Let me take you someplace
where you can be yourself.

Wherever that is.

- Go ahead.
- Okay.

Some place.

Good evening, ladies.
May I take your order?

- Two margaritas.
- Right away.

- See? That wasn't so difficult?
- For who?

You can tell Freidkin
he can have the Faxton account.

Thanks, Sheila. Thanks.

Wanna dance?

Yeah. Sure.

Sure.

- Who's gonna lead?
- You are.

Okay.

Geez. I forgot how to do this.

This doesn't feel right.

- I can't.
- Then I will.

I really wanna work this out.

- Okay.
- I'm terribly attracted to you.

Oh, God.

Sheila, don't do this.

It's not that easy. You'll have to give me
one good reason why I shouldn't.

Listen to me.

I only came on to you
to get the Faxton account.

That's the only reason?

Yeah.

You're cruel like a man.

Sheila, listen to me.
Let me explain to you.

- Listen, you don't understand.
- But I do.

- You having a problem, Miss Faxton?
- Hey, fuck off, okay?

- It's all right, Nancy.
- No, it's not all right, Nancy.

I don't like being grabbed.

Ow! Ouch!

Oh, geez!

As you could see,
I'm not doing very good so far.

Would it be kosher
if I prayed to You for a little help?

Well, I'm not giving up yet.

It's 3 a.m. in the Big Apple,
and coming to you direct

from the Gahena Casino,
located on the Hades turnpike,

a stone's throw from the centre
of the Earth, the molten music

of Judas Iscariot
and his 30-piece orchestra.

What is that smell?

Brimstone.

You'll get used to it
after a few hundred years.

Who in hell are you?

Who in hell do you think I am?

You look like the devil.

Well, you don't look
so good yourself.

Just a little
netherworld humour there.

Hilarious.
What do you want?

You.

- Your time's up.
- Says who?

Have you found one female
who likes Steve Brooks?

Well, I haven't
talked to them all yet.

You'd just be wasting your time.
You see, I know who they are

and they all think that Steve Brooks
is a selfish, inconsiderate,

unredeemable male chauvinist pig.

I don't believe you! You're not
to be trusted. You're the devil.

Anyway, you know, He/She didn't give me
any timetable on this thing.

- Look, you hate being a woman, right?
- Well...

There's no fun in PMS
or shaving your legs.

And what have you got
to look forward to?

Guys like you used to be,
always trying to get into your pants?

Cellulite, menopause.

I'll tell you what I'm going to do.

Right now there's a shortage
of good recruiters.

I bet there's not a man alive
who wouldn't sell his soul

for the chance
to jump in the sack with you.

Forget it!

Sooner or later
I'm going to get you anyway.

Come along now, and I'll guarantee you
a hell of a time.

If you're gonna get me anyway, I'd just
as soon it was later and not sooner.

Terrible sight, to see a beautiful body
like yours go through a meltdown.

- What?
- Tell you what.

You want to hedge your bet with me?

Make eternity a little less...

hellish?

What did you have in mind?

Did you see Rosemary's Baby?

Yeah.
What? No! No!

I can't, see?
I'm expecting my periods.

I can't. I can't.

It's straight up eight o'clock.
- What?

from the centre
of the known universe, New York City.

This is Ross Brittain,
and we're locked into a pretty nice day.

Sunshine, blue skies, so check
your body parts and let's get busy!

Sorry I'm late.

I've called this meeting
to congratulate Amanda

for convincing Miss Faxton

that F&B is the best agency
to handle Faxton Cosmetics

and to hear personally
from Miss Faxton

what ideas she might have
to put us on the right track.

Miss Faxton?

Well, obviously, I have some ideas.

Faxton Cosmetics is the keystone
to Faxton, Inc

and I intend to work hands-on
with the account executive.

Therefore, I expect you to give me
your most qualified, most experienced

and most political executive.

Naturally.
Do you have someone in mind?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.

What about Dan?

- Oh, I'd be honoured.
- Fine.

- Good.
- Then it's settled.

Absolutely. I understand.

Congratulations, Dan.

Thanks.
I want you on the team.

Oh, good. Why don't we discuss it
over dinner...

at Sardi's?

Unless you prefer to go someplace
a little more private.

No. Sardi's is great.

Good.

Then I can show you off.

Amanda, I located Rebecca Heckencamp
who is now Mrs. Rebecca Sanderson,

still living in Allentown.

Good. Get her.

Amanda, something's come up, and
I can't have dinner with you tonight.

Sheila Faxton wants to talk to you
about the account, huh?

Yeah. I'm really disappointed.

I was looking forward
to getting to know you better.

Next week, maybe?
Monday? Tuesday?

Look, don't push it Dan, okay?

Okay.

Schmuck.

Rebecca Sanderson.

- Rebecca.
- Yes?

I'm doing a book
about the advertising business

and the men who've been
successful in the field.

I understand that you went
to high school with Mr. Steven Brooks.

Steven Brooks? The prick
that knocked me up? I hate his guts!

Really? I'm shocked because,
you know...

that's not at all
the way he remembers it.

Well, he has a lousy memory.
If I see him, I'll rip his balls off!

And you still feel that way
after all these years?

- You bet. The son of a bitch...
- Oh, I understand.

I just can't print it.

Getting down to the bottom
of the barrel, slick.

So it looks like Danny boy's gonna be
tied up for the weekend, huh?

Tied up is a definite possibility.

- Wanna go to Duke's?
- Sure. We'll shoot some straight pool.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

Hello?
- Hello, Brenda?

- Who is this?
- I'm calling about Steven Brooks...

- Go fuck yourself.
- Hello? Brenda?

Shit!

Did you call your hairdresser?

He can't take you
until next Wednesday.

What did... Fuck!
All's I want is a fucking haircut!

- What can I do for you?
- I'll take a ham on rye.

This is a barber shop,
not a delicatessen.

Oh. Well, then,
why don't you give me a haircut?

Laura, Higgins.
Wife still out of town?

Hey, Walt. Sorry I'm so late.
Had one of those psycho cab drivers.

What?

Oh, yeah. I had a haircut.

- Like it?
- Yeah, it's...

It's just such a surprise.
You don't have any...

What happened?
You looked so beautiful.

It took me an hour
to blow it dry every morning.

- Hi, Amanda.
- Yo, Casanova.

- What are you drinking?
- Bud.

Two Buds.

- Where'd you learn to shoot?
- Misspent youth.

I bet you could beat Steve.

I doubt it.

Hey, that's her. She's the one
I was telling you about last night.

- Her?
- Yeah.

Cut her hair.
That's more like it.

- Last night I thought she was a girl.
- Hey, guys.

- Let it go, Walter.
- She hit you when you wasn't looking?

- You gotta be kidding me. Her?
- We're in the middle of a game here.

Forget about it, Walter.

Hey, Walter, you with her...
him... whatever she is?

- Yeah. You got a problem with that?
- Looks like you got the problem.

- We should take the problem outside.
- Let's go do it.

Hey, doll face,
did somebody hurt you?

Hi.

Okay. Come on, bud.

For Christ's fucking sake,
Walter, you're really gaining weight.

How you doing there,
Mrs. Wetherspoon?

Oh, Jesus Christ.
Okay, you.

Oh, yeah.

- Okay.
- Amanda?

Yeah, Walter. It's me.

Hi.

Oh, God.
Hey, cut it out, Walter.

Jesus!

Okay. Come on, bud.

I got you. I got you.

I got you now.
Okay.

Here you go.

Walter?

Okay, come on, Walter.
Take off your pants.

Why, Miss Brooks,
what would your brother say?

You know you're too drunk to get home.

- You'll have to sleep here.
- Okay.

So we'll take off your pants
and then...

Come on, Walter, quit fooling around now.

- Okay. I'll help.
- Get into bed.

Give me a hand here, Walter.
Come on, pretty boy. That's it.

Okay. Quit fucking around.

Okay.

- Okay, come on. Get in the bed, Walter.
- Yes, dear.

Oh, God.

- The lights are on.
- Yeah, I know the light's on.

What do you think I am? You think
I don't know when the light is on?

Schmuck.

Walter.

Get your hand off my ass.

You sure?

No more hanky-panky, Walter.

No more hanky-panky.

I'm up! I'm up.

Oh, yeah.

- Hello.
- Mrs. Brofman here to see you.

What?
What the hell time is it?

It's a quarter to ten.

Okay. Send her up.

- Go on up.
- Thanks, Mac.

Ridiculous.

Oh, my God Alm...

Walter, where are your shorts?

When you went to bed last night
you were wearing your shorts.

- Now, when did you take them off?
- I don't recall the exact moment.

And wipe that stupid smile
off your face.

Walter, how come
you took your shorts off?

- Amanda, don't you remember?
- Remember what, Walter?

- Remember what?
- Well, we made love.

Son of a bitch.

- Good morning.
- What's so fucking good about it?

You're in a great mood.
What's the matter? Got your period?

I should be so fucking lucky.

Yeah? What happened?

It's a long story.

Just give me the punch line.

I lost my virginity.

Obviously without your consent.

I passed out.
I don't remember anything.

- Who's the unlucky man?
- Hi, Margo.

Walter...

Well, it's not exactly Romeo and Juliet,
but, then, I always say to each his own.

- Amanda, we gotta talk.
- I don't talk to rapists.

- Rapists?
- I was drunk, passed out.

- She loved it!
- Bullshit, Walt!

Don't you give me
that macho, self-serving crap.

I was unconscious, buddy boy.
I didn't love anything.

I was helpless.
You took advantage of me.

I have never taken advantage
of anybody in my life.

That's what all you guys say. You take
a girl out for dinner, get her drunk.

It's date rape, Walt. Read the paper.
It happens all the time.

- Well, not here last night.
- I don't believe it.

I mean, after all the years
we've been buddies, it's like...

You know, guys like you are
what's wrong with society.

- All the years we've been buddies?
- What the fuck are you talking about?

Don't try to change
the subject here.

Do you realize every six minutes
a woman is raped in this country?

- I didn't realize. I'm sorry.
- You didn't realize. Why should you?

You're one of the
assholes responsible for the statistic!

- Wait a goddamn minute...
- For what, Walt?

For you to rape some other poor,
innocent, unsuspecting female?

I was a virgin, goddamn you!

This morning,
the body of Steven Brooks,

New York advertising executive

was discovered floating
in the East River.

According to the police, Brooks
had been shot three times in the chest.

We'll continue to report on the facts...

And, when we return, Ken Lomax will
bring you the entertainment report.

Hello?

Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.

Well, who was that?

It was the police.

I gotta identify my body.

Sorry to do this to you, but apparently
you're his only living relative.

This isn't going to be very pleasant.
The body's been in the water for days.

God, I look awful.

Holy shit.

Jesus H. Christ.

- Miss Brooks...
- Oh, Higgins.

- The police came with a search warrant.
- What?

If they arrest you, please don't say
anything about the little redhead.

What makes you think
they're gonna arrest me?

They found your gun.

This whole thing feels
like a bad dream.

Are you really sure
that they can't trace that gun?

Not a chance.

You bitch!

You planted that gun
in my apartment.

The gun's not registered!
They'll never trace it!

You killed me, Margo.
I'm not taking the rap for it.

What are you gonna tell them?
"You're not really a woman"?

- You're Steve Brooks back from the dead?
- I got you to believe me, didn't I?

They'll lock you in a padded cell
and throw away the key!

You'll never find that one female
who's gonna get you into heaven.

How much money you got?

Three thousand.
It's in my purse on the bed.

Direct from New York
to Los Angeles, at gate number one.

Miss Brooks.
Going someplace?

No, I just like
to hang around airports.

You're under arrest for the murder
of Steven Brooks.

You invited Mr. Brooks to the party.

Yes, but he never showed up.

- She's lying!
- Your witness.

- When did you meet the defendant?
- The morning after the party.

What did she tell you?

That she was Steve Brooks
reincarnated as a woman.

- What else did she tell you?
- That I shot him.

Who?

Him. Her.

- What else did she say?
- That God had sent him back.

- Would you mind speaking up, please?
- That God had sent him back

and that he couldn't get into heaven
until he found

one female who liked him.

- Him?
- Steve. Her.

But she was drunk.

No, I wasn't that drunk.

Do you swear to tell the truth, the
whole truth and nothing but the truth?

- So help me, God.
- State your name.

Steven Brooks.

It's been five months, Walter.
You gotta get me outta here.

I'm doing the best that I can.

- So how do you feel?
- How do I feel?

How the fuck do you think I feel,
Walter?

I'm gonna have a baby.

It's your fucking fault. I'd like
to strangle you. That's how I feel.

Look, I'm sorry. I don't know if you
recall, but you were very cooperative.

I simply do not choose
to accept that fact, Walter.

Drunk or sober, do you think
that for one cotton-picking second

Steve Brooks would ever even consider
making love to another man,

let alone his best friend?

Steve Brooks? No.

- You still don't believe I'm Steve.
- I don't, and I'm gonna tell you why.

Three years ago, your birthday.
I sent you a little brunette.

- You called her Aztec.
- Hey!

Look, I don't know
how you know about that.

If Steve Brooks did get pregnant,
he'd have an abortion.

I nearly did.

Why'd you change your mind?

You're not gonna believe this, but...

there I was, lying on that table,

and I had my feet
in those stirrupy things,

and all of a sudden,
it just came to me in a flash

that maybe the only reason I wasn't
roasting somewhere in hell was...

was because God wanted me
to have this baby.

That's the only reason?

And making
the Guinness Book of Records.

I don't know.
I guess you really are Steve.

- What's wrong?
- I don't know. Oh, God!

Dr. Gold
to O.B. room 501, please.

Hey, Walter.

How'd you know it was me?

Old Spice.

And you tiptoe louder
than Gregory Hines tap-dances.

Don't punch him.

I talked to the doctor today,
you know?

Oh, yeah?

What'd he say?

He's worried about you.

Says you got high blood pressure

and...

diabetes.

I'm a big girl, Walt.
Cut to the chase.

He said that if you carry
the baby to full term...

that there's a possibility
that you might...

Die?

What about the baby, Walter?

Well, see, that's the thing.

He said that if you decide
not to have the baby, then...

Oh, no.
I'm having the baby, Walter.

Can we talk about this?

No, we can't talk about this.

You can't imagine what it's like

to have a life inside you.

And it's growing, Walter.
It's moving.

It lives because I live.

And when I die...

there's a part of me that...

goes on.

It's a truly amazing thing.

It is an honest-to-God miracle.

Which reminds me, you know...

just in case
what the doctor says is true...

you know...

How do you feel
about being a full-time father?

Great.

I knew you wouldn't
let me down, buddy.

Well...

don't you think
we ought to get married first?

Oh, yeah, yeah. Sure.

- I gotta get some rest here, Walt.
- Okay.

Good night, honey.

"Honey"?

Amanda, do you take Walter
to be your lawful wedded husband?

I do.

And do you, Walter, take Amanda
to be your lawful wedded wife?

I do.

- I do.
- The rings.

Oh, yeah.

With this ring I thee wed.

There ya go, Walt.

I now pronounce you

husband and wife.

Mr. Stone.

Morning.

Walter,
I won't beat about the bush.

Your marriage has become
an embarrassment to the firm, so...

I'm going to have to let you go.

Well, I was gonna
quit anyway, Arnold.

See, I'm gonna become a father soon,
and it would really be an embarrassment

for me to have to tell my kid
that I work for somebody like you.

Dr. Harrison to O.B.I.C.U.

- That's it. Hold on.
- Push!

- You gotta breathe a little.
- One more.

Yes, push.

That's it.
You're doing fine.

- That's it. Push. Good.
- No, don't!

You got it. Almost there now.
That's it. Very good.

Congratulations. It's a girl.

Look.

- You know what, Walt?
- What?

I think she likes me.

- Something's wrong, Doctor.
- Get her B.P. Take the baby now.

Amanda?
Doc?

What the hell's wrong?
She's not haemorrhaging.

- What's wrong? Amanda.
- Mr. Stone.

Somebody do something!

Wow.
What a beautiful baby.

Yes, you did well.

Wish I could be there
and watch her grow up.

Oh, you can watch her grow up.

But in the meantime you have to
decide whether you want to be a male...

Or a female angel.

Oh, hey. That's a tough one.

Okay if I think about it
for a while?

I love you, Mommy.

Okay.

Let's go.

Have you made up your mind?

I don't want to be a problem,
but it's not an easy decision.

- I really liked being a man.
- Naturally.

- Being a woman had advantages.
- Definitely.

Could I think about it
just a little longer?

Take your time.
You have all eternity.