All language subtitles for Succubus 1968 - Jesus Franco_Subtítulos02.ENG

Animal!

No! No!

No, don't!

Oh, no!

I have done well, She is perfect,
A disciple who mirrors my own image,

The essence of evil,
A devil on earth,

Not bad.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Where did you find her?

In the most incredible place.
Lisbon.

- Well...
- Well, what?

What are you doing here?

I was bored, so I came
to your apartment. Do you mind?

No.

- May I stay?
- Suit yourself.

- Are you drunk?
- A little.

But don't worry.
I'm not seeing double,

and I don't plan to burst
into rousing song, my love.

The furniture's falling apart.
Just like I am.

What I need is another drink,
don't you think?

I think you've had enough.

Ah! A love letter, if I'm correct?

What do you think?

An inventory.

"Apartment furnishings
loaned to Bill Mullway,

an excellent gentleman
of impeccable character."

"Bachelor, American citizen,
producer of shows by profession,

seducer of women by inclination."

- Now what are you doing?
- I am Lorna, erotic love queen.

Queen of dance. Ex-stripper.

Old-fashioned and boring.

Have fun.

You don't understand.
I'm a witch and irresistible.

Does the Rue de la Paix
hold any significance for you?

- Paris.
- What else?

- Jewels.
- Hmm. Do you fear birds perchance?

- Yes.
- Why?

- Because of their feathers.
- And pachyderms?

Attract me.

- Knives?
- Attract me!

- Pencils?
- I won't answer.

- Bells?
- Leave me alone!

Cannon?

Harps. Second-hand harps.

Cheap. Very cheap.

Harps for sale. Good harps.
Hardly been used.

Cheap. Very cheap.

I must hurry to the castle,
They'll all be waiting,

Princess Borodin will be furious,
It's my own dinner party,

Poor Princess,
so bound by earthly bandages,

How little is her perception,

These Lisbon trolleys
remind me of San Francisco,

They say it's a beautiful city,

Have I been there? A faint memory,

No, it's overshadowed,

How vulgar the servants of today are,

The manners of the footmen
and the lackeys were so pleasing,

And yet, his eyes do burn,

They do burn,

In the sweltering heat
of the tropics,

Pandora opened
her forbidden box of evils

and cursed all men thereafter,

Vengeance!.

Still, why should all those young men
die in senseless wars?

Good evening,

You must come with me, now, miss,

- It's five o'clock,
- Five o'clock?

Five o'clock, five o'clock,,,

She's always so beautiful,
Her hair is so shiny,

The colour of hope, momma?

I have done well, She is perfect,

A disciple who mirrors my own image,
The essence of evil,

A devil on earth,

The Admiral, I must go to him,
We'll play our amusing word game,

A ritual dance of unknown forces
which demand either love or death,

Thank you, madam.

- Have you put the child to bed yet?
- Yes, madam.

- You may leave.
- Good night, madam.

The Admiral is here, waiting.

- Have you brought the symbols?
- Don't worry.

Here are your pebbles.

- Tisza.
- Eucalyptus.

- Godard.
- Syndrome.

- Gandhi.
- Spurs.

- Faulkner.
- Cold.

- Henry Miller.
- Birds in winter.

Capote.

- Charlie Mingus.
- Anger.

- The Story of O,
- Whips.

- Justine,
- Love.

- Justine,
- Love.

- Love.
- Body.

Camus.

Blake.

Tomorrow.

The inferno.

The unconscious.

Marquis de Sade.

- Religion.
- Gomorrah.

- Religion.
- Gomorrah.

Goethe. De Sade.

Gomorrah.

Will you pay the penalty
for not answering correctly?

- I will.
- You will?

I know what the consequences
are in your little game.

- Haven't I always paid?
- Indeed.

- François Villon.
- Bitterness.

- Johann Strauss.
- Bats.

- Peter Weiss.
- Circle.

- Kafka.
- Castle.

- Heine.
- Domino.

- Hitchcock.
- Eyes.

- Caldwell.
- Murder.

No, not that way.
It's too slow. Pick it up.

There's no movement, pick it up.

You're right.

Where have you been?

- Don't you remember?
- No.

You don't have a good memory at all.

What about the long nights
spent together in Copenhagen?

I don't know you. I've never been
to Copenhagen. You're mistaken.

The act with Lorna isn't safe.
In rehearsal, she wanted Bella.

I heard about it.
You know, accidents can happen.

Dinner is served, Countess,

Countess, the men with the swords

have beheaded that lovely young
mermaid who swam into the harbour,

- It's heartless, barbaric,
- Lorna? What's the matter?

I have good news.
You're staying with the show.

I'm taking you with us to Berlin.

Thank you, Bill.
I'm glad I'm going to be with you.

So am I.

Go in.

Pay your last respects
to the dead man. Go in.

Lorna!

What's the matter with you?

I can't understand it.

For one moment,
I thought I knew that man.

Oh, yes.

- Huh?
- Sorry.

Oh, kiss me, please!

Stop! Enough.

Hmm.

"A spider's foot, a toad's belly,
a fox's brain."

"Unfortunately,
no such animals exist."

"But there are words
to describe them."

"Take a light jump
through the fields

and there will you find
the smell of meadows,

an intoxication of air."

"Could it be only a mystique

that's enclosed us in masquerade
or cruel illusion? Who knows?"

Whatever you say.

Well, John,
how do you like it so far?

Come and dance with me, please.
Please.

Well, he has lots of admirers.

- Yes. I think that's great.
- Yeah, I bet you do.

- But I'm here.
- What for?

- I like you.
- Oh, I see.

I would never have known.

Now, what do you think about that
for a start?

Nothing. But I think Bill
might think something.

I'm not afraid of him. He's a friend.

Hmm. I'm not either. I love him.

"There is no mistake about her,
no cloven hooves."

"But as she is a Greek goddess,

so is she a devil."

Where are my dolls?

My little dolls.

Juliet, Romeo.

They would have loved each other
forever.

"In a furnace in a fiery hell,

she will rot."

"A devil who must swallow the living
in pursuit of her earthbound desires,

but a devil who must devour the dead
in pursuit of her hell-borne lust."

Oh, Dante, Beatrice.

"The serpent is venomous to us all."

Get up! We're getting out of here.

You bitch!

Hey! What's the matter with you two?
Take it easy.

- Now kiss and make up.
- I'm not at all angry with him.

Good evening.

You're not leaving so soon, are you?

Your behaviour struck me
as being strange. Very strange.

Who are you? I don't remember you.

Do you know
what that circle up there is for?

Of course. It's simple. Let's see.

O-S-S. Hmm. I don't know.

Do you remember the song we sang

many years ago?

We had a beautiful love,
didn't we, my prince?

Yes, I admit it. I've loved
many times. What about you?

- Too many times.
- I don't want to hear about it.

Were you heartless,
cruel and calculating?

- I was.
- But now?

Not any more. It's different.

I'm glad to hear that.
Why do you think it's different now?

I don't remember
ever feeling this way.

A feeling of totality, completeness.

Yes. I know what you mean.

I'm glad you brought me here.
It's absolutely beautiful.

I knew you'd enjoy it.

I've never seen anything like it.

It is incredible.

- Anybody live here?
- Nobody.

It's got a strange history.

I suppose it's fantasy
for the most part.

Sounds like a fairy tale, really.

Once upon a time, there was a prince

who fell in love
with a beautiful girl,

someone who had lost her memory.

He offered her his life
and his fortune.

They were married.
He ordered a palace to be built.

She designed it herself, supervised
every detail of its construction

as if she were following a blueprint
lodged in her memory.

Where, she didn't know.

A year went by.
They lived happily together

until one day,
by a river in a garden,

she stabbed the prince,
thus murdering him.

It was as if
she were overpowered by a devil.

Just before he died, her husband
asked her why she had done this.

She couldn't answer, but again,
a vague, distant memory

stirred her consciousness.

She wondered where she had seen
the palace and the garden before.

As she leaned over her dead husband
to give him a final kiss,

in a sudden flash, she knew.

She knew with icy recognition this
was part of her memory in the past.

There was no doubt in her mind,

the palace had been built
in another world.

She knew now
where she had seen it all before.

In the deepest depths of hell.

It belonged to Lucifer. The devil.

Chicago, Chicago,
that toddling town

Chicago, Chicago,
I'll show you around

- Is James here tonight?
- I haven't seen him for a while.

Did you know that Chicago is a game?
I'll explain it to you.

Everyone has three throws.
Only the one and six count.

To win Chicago, you need
three ones on the first throw.

You understand?
Come on, I'll show you.

1 6 5 is also a winner.

That didn't work out.

- Ah! The 1 6 5.
- I want to try it.

Alright. Try it.

It's fun.

- It's a marvellous town, Berlin.
- I don't know it.

Oh, well, it's a town
with lots of stones around it.

A lot of old and ugly people.

And with planes from the Russians
all making such a terrible noise,

you can't even sleep.

That's precisely why
there's such great nightlife there.

Good. It's going well.

- You know, I like you, Lorna.
- You just like women.

No. Just you.

- Me, too.
- Good.

Gentlemen, I'd like to speak
with the Countess.

- Bonsoir, my dear.
- Who are you? Go away.

I am in command.

Always remember,
Countess, who you are.

- Who was that?
- He's a complete stranger.

Chicago, Chicago,
that toddling town,

Chicago, Chicago...
Come on, everybody, sing!

Mickey Spillane, alone
with a beautiful foreigner,

- starts his cross-examination.
- Oh!

- Your name, baby?
- I don't remember.

- Profession?
- To love you, Spillane.

Where did you stash the drugs?

- Search me, mon amour,
- Alright.

I won't fall for that.
Why do they call you Countess?

- Because I'm a Russian countess.
- Why do you speak to those people?

- Because...
- Who are the men who spy on you?

- I tell you I don't know.
- You're lying.

- Tell me what you want.
- I don't want anything.

- Who are you?
- You promised not to ask questions.

To take me as I am.

I've changed my mind
about everything. Who are you?

Oh, Bill.

You're trying to get out of taking
me with you to Berlin. I get it.

You don't get it at all.

They tell me
the guinea pigs have died.

I don't care.

They've prohibited all neon signs.

I don't care.

- Wallace is living in South Africa.
- I don't care.

- Marilyn Monroe was murdered.
- She's dead.

- Liz Taylor's divorced.
- I don't care.

Neither Nietzsche nor Hegel
will ever be shown.

Hegel is never shown.

- You like to go to the movies?
- They bore me.

- Horror films?
- They're my weakness.

- Are you afraid of Dracula.
- No.

- The Phantom?
- No.

- Of this dinosaur?
- No.

- And what about Frankenstein?
- No.

They're quite sweet.

And what about this one here?
The new one?

Lorna?

Lorna? Lorna?

Hello, Lorna.

What do you want?

You asked me to meet you here.
Have you forgotten?

- May I drive?
- Of course, if you'd like.

If you don't mind, Lorna,
I'd like to go to your house.

- If you want.
- I want.

- It's a place for fantasies.
- Come with me.

- Do you really live here?
- I've always lived here.

Oh!

Cheers.

Come here.

Have you ever loved a woman, Lorna?

In Corfu, I loved Lorna Green.

Go on.

In Capri, it was Lorna Green.
In Cairo and England.

In Lisbon, it was Lorna Green.

And if some other woman were
to enter your life, what about her?

I love everything and everyone
who reflects Lorna Green.

Anyone who mirrors her.

When you make love to her,
of whom do you think?

Those who made their mark,
whether ugly or attractive.

There are many
that I can choose from.

I'd like you to be thinking of me
while caressing her.

There are many.

What an odd room.

Do you sleep here?

No. It's where I store antiques

and costumes.

This dress belonged to Mary Stuart.

And this one to Lola Montez.

And this one,
this belonged to Madam Butterfly.

Oh! It would look better on you.
Will you wear it?

Take off my coat.

Oh!

My friend, these impulses
not controlled by your unconscious

show very serious modalities.

I'll explain that to you
some other time.

However, you've got to get over
these odd fantasies.

It's quite schizophrenic.

Hmm?

This costume's nice. Put it on.

Alright. If you like.

I will undress you.

- Whose room is this?
- It's mine.

It's my bedroom.

Oh!

Help! Please! Help!

Oh!

Lost in feathers.

Man is just a child.

My feathers are the child in man.

What do you think of it?

It's not bad. I like it.
It's a little outmoded, though, Bill.

- Outmoded?
- A bit so.

You're right.
Have to change things every day

to know what they think
at every point.

It's not so very hard. Ask me.

- Stockhausen.
- He's bad.

- Calder.
- He's bad.

- Pop Art.
- Very, very bad.

- The Rolling Stones.
- Not bad. Antiquated.

What isn't antiquated?

Well, Palestrina, Goethe,
Cortázar, Rubinstein.

- They're not antiquated.
- Good.

Films are outmoded, don't you agree?

They're shown
three months after they're made.

Buñuel, Fritz Lang, Godard.
They're not outmoded.

Every time I see their films,
they seem new to me.

They've got something,
something to give to us each time.

The day begins very early here,

The clubs close much too late,

I'm tired, I don't like to feel
the sun in my eyes

after hours of work in a dark place,

Oh, Lorna! Where are you now?

Why do I still think of her?

Why now?

I must be patient,

I must give time,
Enough time to heal,

All human beings
needed to restore themselves,

Yes,

Time is the age-old answer
to forget the bad,

To think of the good,

To think of tomorrow,

Oh, I love these curves,

It forces the driver
to grip the wheel

and the wheel in turn
to grip the driver,

Dawn in the city is sad,

And yet, in a way, more friendly,

I'll sleep now,

A day for me
only begins to start at night,

Lorna! You did come.

You followed me here.

I can't believe it's really you.

I belong to you. I have come to you.

Everyone asked me to. He did, too.

How did you get in?
How did you manage?

I can get in anywhere I want.
I find everything that I want.

Will you always stay?

I will stay until the end.

Why did you come back, Lorna?

I tried to love you.

But now I know love is not enough.

The only important thing
is that you're back.

Here, with me.

Maybe love is different.

Maybe it's better or worse.

But this feeling goes beyond it.

Countless poets
have spoken of love

and filled thousands of pages
trying to explain it.

I know now that they failed.

Give me your hand, Lorna.

I want to forget everything
in the world for a while.

The peacefulness of the lake
is hypnotic.

Maybe I'll be able to absorb
its tranquillity.

We all need silence.

I won't ask you
any more questions, Lorna.

Except one.
Will you be mine forever?

Lorna, did you hear me?

Will you?

Will you?

Yes, I will.

Let up on the volume.
It sounds too full.

Still much too full.

Now a bit louder.
Good, that's fine.

Darling.

I can't stay for the rehearsal.
I have an appointment.

- I'll be back in a few hours.
- Don't be long.

- Go ahead. Lorna's ready.
- Alright.

- Hello.
- Hello.

- It's perfect.
- I know.

She'll be ready soon. I'm sorry
for her. Like an angel of the Bible.

- You like her, don't you?
- She doesn't know how much.

- Have we gone too far?
- No. No, my dear friend.

It's the only way out for you.

OK. I'll go back now.

When you hear me shout,
start shooting.

Alright.

Don't!

Go ahead. Untie me. Go ahead.

Leave him alone!

Lorna! You've gone crazy! Lorna!

Lorna.

Don't do it, Lorna.
Don't do it! Lorna!

Lorna, it's crazy!

Lorna!

Don't! Lorna!

Lorna!

No, Lorna!

Yes.

Yes.

Lorna!

Don't!

Lorna! Lorna!

I never did anything to you! Please!

Lorna, we've been friends so long.
Don't hurt me.

Lorna, please untie me.

Don't. I'm begging you, Lorna,
untie me.

Lorna, you must free me.

Please! You're in trouble.
I want to help you, Lorna.

Please free me.

Lorna, please don't. Untie me.

Lorna, you mustn't.

Please free me, Lorna, I beg you.
Lorna, don't hurt me!

Don't hurt me! Lorna, don't...

Lorna!

Lorna! Lorna!

Stop! Stop!

The angel of peace,

How symbolic!

I'll take a nice warm bath
and sleep till late afternoon,

A still, quiet feeling surrounds me,
like having entered a cathedral,

I think I'll redecorate
the apartment.

I don't want anything around
to remind me of the past.

That's over.

Good morning.

Good morning, Lorna.

Come here.

Come here.

Come here.

I love you, Bill.

Kiss me.

Kiss me.

It's pleasant here. Untroubled.

My power is going to bring you peace.

You must begin to sleep, my dear.
You're tired now.

You're right. To feel no pain,
I've got to be very still.

I must not remember anything.

- Rest, rest. I need rest.
- I'll guard your sleep.

You'll rest, I promise.

She loved the games men played
with death when death must win

as though the slain man's blood
and breath revived Faustine,

For you, Lorna, are Faustine.