Original subtitles

Samson.

Samson.

Samson, you up?

Samson.

Idiot. Granite-head. I almost had it.

Your eggs are getting cold.

Samson, let go.

Okay.

Samson, I'm late.

- You tell her. Now. - Morning, Mrs. Shillitoe.

- Morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald. - Lf you have a minute...

Well, I'm kind of late for work.

He insulted my husband again yesterday.

I'll tell him to lay off.

You keep saying that. He's getting worse.

Well, you see, it's this thing he's working on.

Have a nice sunstroke, Mrs. Agastini.

Mr. Shillitoe.

Mr. Shillitoe, I must talk with you.

Mr. Shillitoe.

Mr. Shillitoe!

Mr. Shillitoe, you're behind with subsistence payments.

We'll have to take court action.

Mr. Shillitoe.

Children, please. Mr. Shillitoe.

Hey, can you help a fella out?

Fifteen cents. For the subway.

Mr. Shillitoe, as of today...

...you're four weeks behind with subsistence payments: $300.

Don't... me.

Unless you pay, the former Mrs. Shillitoe will take court action.

- Know what will happen? - Fifteen cents for the subway.

If they hadn't raised the fare, you'd settle for a nickel.

What foul typhoon blows from the crib to this?

- Now, Mr. Shillitoe, please. - Think.

Use your imagination.

- You've gotta get to Baltimore. - Mr. Shillitoe, please.

- And the fare is 10 bucks. - Listen to me, please.

Will you let me have 10 bucks to go to Baltimore?

Mr. Shillitoe, I mean it. You don't want to go to jail again.

It could be three months this time.

Pay the arrears tonight or I'll serve you...

- I'll get you your blood money! - By tonight or else!

- Ninety cents to get to Newark? - Get away, will you.

You can start in here.

Mr. Bingham is out of town for the week.

Stone walls do not a prison make.

Do they make a prison?

- I beg your pardon? - The hell they don't.

- This is where they make them. - We don't make them here.

- We're Eefins. - Eefins?

Yes, Eefins. E-E-F-l-N-S.

Electronic Equipment for Interplanetary Navigational Systems.

It's used in the RK 402.

You mean that this is gonna conquer all that?

Of course. That's our universe.

Watch your step, pouty mouth.

Stars are fragile stuff.

- Miss Walnicki? - Yes?

These are Mr. Kuntzman's estimates of the ZY101-4678W.

- Thank you, Mr. Lukov. - Sure.

I need your name for our records.

Longfellow. Hank Longfellow.

- I'm Miss Walnicki. - Hi.

Why did you call me "pouty mouth"?

Forget it.

- No, why? - Because you are.

I've never been called "pouty mouth" before.

What factory turned you out? Radcliffe? Smith? Vassar?

I don't know what you're talking about. I went to secretarial school.

Really?

Red. Everything's red.

Annatto sand, fuchsine sky, vermilion sun...

...merely different shades of red.

But they tell you that it's a rainbow so you won't know you're in hell.

Cochineal, there's a tasty red.

Made from the dried-up bodies of female insects.

Why don't you volunteer yours?

Why, Mr. Longfellow.

I don't know why I'm doing this. L...

Miss Walnicki.

Miss Walnicki, do you have $300?

- The doors are locked. - It smells like soap.

There was someone in cleaning Mr. Bingham's office.

- Where's Miss Walnicki? - I'll find her.

- Get the key. - Are you sure this is the right key?

Will someone please check the cafeteria for Miss Walnicki?

I checked there. I've looked everywhere.

Mr. Longfellow.

Come on, folks. Back to work, please.

Please, come on, folks.

Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.

All right, everyone get back to work. Go back to your desks, please.

Foam?

Samson, what foam?

Rhoda, come and get your order.

Listen, Samson, can't you apologize or something?

- Rhoda! - Yeah.

Yeah, I know. It's 300.

Oh, Samson, I can't borrow any more money from him.

Will you stop yelling?

- Rhoda! - All right.

Listen, I gotta go. I'll do the best I can.

All right. Yeah. Okay. Goodbye.

- Hey, get me my apple pie, will you? - A bologna sandwich, huh?

Excuse me.

- He's gotta call at noon? - He's been laid off.

- What did he do now? - Nothing.

- It's the slow season for carpet cleaning. - Yeah, yeah, sure.

For what, Knocker? Seventy-five bucks a week alimony for what?

- I don't even remember her name. - Beverly.

Yeah, Beverly. I'll tell you the secret of life, Knocker.

- Never marry a Beverly. - Why did you?

Why? Well, she said it was just a formality.

Just a formality. Japan surrendered with less formality.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah. - Look, Knocker, you're my last hope.

This is the big one. It's beginning to flow.

But I need time. I need time and peace.

Look, I can't write poetry in jail. I've tried it.

I told you: Not another dime.

- Knocker... - Hey, Samson?

- Hi, Rhoda. - Hi, Angie.

Hey, Samson, Mr. Butter's got some great news for you.

- Hello, Samson. - Mr. Butter, when was the operation?

- He don't mean anything. - I mean everything.

Samson.

Won't you at least listen to what he's got to say?

- Tell him what you told me. - I've arranged a cultural luncheon...

...for the Woman's League of the Seven Arts, tomorrow at Picasso Hall.

- This guy's playing the harp. - And Endicott Brown reading his poetry.

Endicott's come down with laryngitis.

- Oh, poor dear. - No, no, no.

You can take his place and then read your poetry.

Idiot!

You want me to read to housewives and mothers?

- These are very intelligent women. - Then you read to them.

You got a nice soprano voice.

All right, but I thought you could use the $200.

Two hundred bucks, Samson. You only gotta recite for 20 minutes.

- Nothing doing. - You owe it to your work.

Your one book didn't reach too many people.

- How many copies did it sell? - A hundred and twenty-eight.

- Deserve better. - I'm not a performer.

Samson, 200 bucks. That's 10 bucks a minute.

I don't perform.

Mr. Shillitoe.

- Rollie, do you want to make it 400? - Two hundred.

- How about 300? - Mr. Shillitoe.

- Two hundred. - I'll take it.

Mr. Shillitoe, I got a subpoena. Mr. Shillitoe.

I don't know. Perhaps I better have Lelage Davenport read her poems.

No, women don't like to listen to another woman.

Sure don't.

He'll be all right, you'll see. They'll love him.

All right. Noon tomorrow then. Sharp.

Rhoda, put on the fights.

Yeah, all right.

Don't worry, Rhoda. He'll get another job.

- Yeah. - He's very unusual.

I know.

I do understand.

You cannot discuss case histories that way.

- Well, doctor, in your opinion... - It's not scientifically valid.

Can analysis really help the artist?

The man of genius?

Well, yes. Depends on the artist, depends on the analyst, of course.

Well, let's take the classic example: The writer who's dried up.

- The blocked writer? - Yeah.

I've had great success with that problem.

- Rhoda, the fights! - All right, already.

Oh, yes. Well, now, as I said, the person of genius is my special interest.

- Oh, yes. - He's an extreme from normality...

... in the same way that, well, a man of evil is.

- See, these are the edges... - Rhoda!

- of the human spectrum.

One thing I find to criticize in my profession is...

... more and more psychiatrists are dealing with only the middle of this spectrum.

They're confining themselves to those fundamentals of behavioral analyses...

... which are no longer challenging. This is a dangerous sign.

Dangerous for who? The psychiatrist or the patient?

From our point of view, from the psychiatrist.

For our work now, in the present, and the foreseeable future...

... it really must be largely intuitive.

Doctor, you mean, largely guesswork.

Seriously, Dave. Dave, listen, no.

Now, see, from there, it isn't very far to becoming pill and serum dispensers.

Now, see, I think that psychiatrists must move farther and farther...

... towards the ends of the spectrum.

But just a moment.

In a democracy like ours, shouldn't we be more concerned with...

- Morning, Ava. - Good morning.

I think I'll just have orange juice with my coffee.

- eventually tackle the two areas about which we still know next to nothing.

- The area of evil. - Scott's on a hunger strike.

Is that so? I suppose we could always feed him intravenously.

Did you read my speech for tonight?

I'm talking about the extremes, that's the important thing.

- Not yet. - lf we keep a neat little file...

... of cerebral symptoms, motor symptoms, sensory symptoms...

... visceral symptoms, et cetera, where do we go from there?

- What's "sim-sims"? - Symptoms.

I'm gonna be out of town Friday.

What's symptoms?

- Oh, a symptom is something that... - Don't give into her.

Tell me, tell me, tell me.

- You eat your breakfast. - I won't.

- when he does, he'll eventually tackle the two areas...

- Can't we have that thing off? - Now, no harm done.

- Look at this mess. - It's the school bus.

They are coming right now. The school bus, Mrs. West.

Right, I heard you. Take them downstairs.

- They're coming, they're comi... - Daddy, flip me, flip me. Flip me.

- All right. - Oh, excuse me. It's Dr. Vorbeck.

- Flip me, Daddy, flip me. - Dr. Vorbeck's on the phone.

Dr. Vorbeck on the phone.

- Tell him to come right up. - He says to come right up. Thank you.

- Busy day today? - No.

Thought you had a harp lesson this afternoon.

- No. - Why not?

Because I'm a lousy harpist.

My teacher's giving a recital. I'm going to that.

- Well, that ought to be fun. - Hysterical.

- All right, let's have it. - I'm sick of harp lessons.

I'm sick of modern dancing lessons and painting lessons.

And I'm sick of the kids!

I'm bored.

You know, for a moment you sounded like one of my patients.

Maybe I should be. At least I'd see you once in a while.

Darling, if there's anyone who doesn't need psychoanalysis...

...it's you.

Thanks.

We'll talk, really talk, tonight.

- Your banquet's tonight. - Oh, damn.

- Good morning, doctor. - Good morning.

See you tonight.

- Hi. - Freddy.

- Lydia. - Hello, Freddy.

Darling.

- Tense, darling, very tense. - You think so?

Oliver says I'm the one person who doesn't need analysis.

Everybody needs psychoanalysis.

You think the inner recesses of my mind would be interesting?

Be at my office tomorrow morning at 10:00 and we'll find out.

If I ever think she needs help, I'll see that she gets it.

Now, come on, let's go.

Bravo! Bravo!

Thank you, Mr. Jericho, thank you. That was absolutely brilliant.

Bravo!

Thank you.

And now, we of the Woman's League of the Seven Arts...

...have a very special treat in store for us:

Mr. Samson Shillitoe...

...poet.

Mr. Shillitoe has most graciously consented to read for us...

...from his own book of poems, Hellebore.

Hellebore, incidentally, is a medicinal herb...

...which in ancient times was used to cure madness.

I looked it up.

Mr. Samson Shillitoe.

Samson.

Once upon a time, a boy wrote, Hail to thee, blithe spirit!

And they kicked him out of school.

And a man wrote:

"Here I am a Poet, that doth drink of life As lesser men drink wine"

Him, they locked in a cage.

Oh, and another man wrote:

Put them all together And they spell MO THER

Him, they gave respect, reverence, money...

...money, money.

What's wrong with a poem to mothers?

I happen to be a mother.

Briar, briar, limberlock Twelve geese in a flock

The old ones ride The young ones' backs

And they can't get over The chimney stacks

What's that supposed to mean?

It means stop passing the buck to babies.

- But, Mr. Shillitoe. - Yeah?

Please, ladies, please. I do think we should let Mr. Shillitoe continue.

Shall we proceed?

Women.

Women...

...have you had love?

How was it told? With the diamonds and brocade?

Did he ever say he loved your moments of glad grace?

Or did he ever say:

O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June?

Women you are.

Red, red roses you are.

Blossom.

Unfold.

Open your corsets and bloom.

Let some metaphors creep above your knees.

I don't think that's right. I don't like that a bit.

Now...

...I'll read to you.

You. Where do you think you're going? Sit down.

Don't you walk out on me.

Puerile, insolent, sniffy-snob, culture-chasing vulture.

Go look for blossoms in a hardware store. You'll die for lack of this.

Go on, to the gallows. Run to the gallows.

How dare you!

Shut up!

Sit down!

Ladies of the Moral Rectitude and Seven Sins Society...

...you tuberculin-tested hags...

...I oppose the fabulous immensity of your nothingness.

- Rhoda. - He's doing what?

- Rhoda, get off the phone! - I'll be right there.

Two goulash, hold the corn.

Easy on the mayo.

What are you doing?

Rhoda, where you going?

Rhoda. Rhoda! All right for you!

It's obvious he's no poet.

- Watch that orchid. - I've never been so embarrassed.

You leave him alone, you silly bitches! You let go of him!

Come on, Samson, I'll take care of it.

Don't you touch him or I'll crack you over the head!

I'll let you have it right across the head if you don't watch out.

Spine-snappers. You don't want my poetry. You want my liver.

Out! Out! Out! You go away, you finks!

Out!

You ought to be put away for ruining our lovely, little...

Get him out of here before I call the police.

- Samson, what happened? - They didn't like my reading.

- Oh, you're gonna pay for this damage. - You can take it out of my 200 bucks.

He doesn't expect to be paid for what he's done?

What do you mean? You promised him 200 bucks.

I'll die first.

They'll never let me be chairwoman of anything again.

Now, let... You invited him.

- But he didn't recite a single poem. - Everything he says is a poem.

Now give me my 200 bucks.

- Don't give it to her. - You give me that money!

- You better give me that money! - Don't give it to her!

Please, please. Oh, please, I can't take any more.

All right, all right. This is disgusting. And you're immoral to take it.

He's finished. He can't write anymore. He can't even hold a job.

Whatever talent he did have is gone.

You go and drop dead, and I mean right now, you fink.

Here I meet my mockers, scorn for scoff.

- Samson, what happened? - I tried to tell them, Rhoda. I really did.

Why do I have to be a poet, Rhoda?

Why a poet?

Why not a saint?

Why this everlasting song?

Something's wrong somewhere.

- Leonard. - Excuse me.

Come on, honey.

Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn.

- Leonard, will you leave her alone? - Please. I'll take care of her.

- You'll tell everything to Mother, lady. - Yes.

I've asked the patient to have her husband come in.

It's possible that he has encouraged her infidelity...

...so I shall try to ascertain any lack of virility on his part.

- You can't come in here just any time. - Lady, it's very important.

I told you, you must be referred by your physician.

And I told you I'm not the patient.

- Now, if you don't leave... - Hey, hey.

Hey, listen. Hey. Dr. West?

- Yes? - Oh, it's about Samson.

Everybody's been telling me that he needs help.

You know, your kind of help.

In order to take on another patient, I'd have to give up one of my present cases.

- So? - Well, that's impossible.

- But he's very important. - Well, of course he is.

- Doctor, you're due at the Institute. - I know, I know.

- Miss Bueler. - They called about the article again.

I'll finish that tonight. Now, Miss Bueler, make an appointment for Mr?

- Shillitoe, Samson Shillitoe. - Samson Shillitoe.

I think maybe... Try Dr. Huddleson.

No, you don't understand. It's gotta be him.

Dr. West. Dr. West.

There's $200 there. How many treatments will that buy?

No, no. You pay whoever the doctor is as you go along.

- Oh, no. I gotta get rid of this today. - Really?

Oh, sure. If he finds out about it...

- Sorry. Samson always says to me... - Excuse me.

Wait a minute.

Now, he doesn't really hit me. I mean, he just comes close.

- Understand, I'm not complaining... - Excuse me, sorry. I'm late, I have to go.

I saw you on television, and you said you can help writers.

I've helped writers, but I never heard of Samson Shillitoe.

Well, you should have.

Now, listen to this. This is the Buffalo Courier-Express.

"With Hellebore by Samson Shillitoe...

...a new voice is heard throughout the land.

At last we have a tendentious poet."

- Tendentious means he's got a cause. - I know.

Now this one in the Poetry Journal is a half a page long.

"Mr. Shillitoe seems determined to stand apart...

...and to forge a new poetry.

And since poetry is made from life"...

Hey, wait. Wait a minute.

- Go away. - What kind of a doctor are you?

- I'm not interested. - I offered you $200.

I don't take patients in the middle of Fifth Avenue. Go away.

- You gotta listen to me. - Go about your business.

The New York Times is looking forward to his next book.

Oh, lady.

Not talking about some phony, teaching at a girl's college.

Samson is a dedicated man. He's a great poet.

You heard what those reviews said.

And they were only about a collection of small poems.

You see, he's writing this big poem, and now it just won't come out.

It's bigger than anything he's ever done.

Almost five years he's been working on it, but now it just stopped.

Like you said, he's blocked.

Don't you understand?

You know, when the poem is going right...

...he's in another world.

And words are just bouncing all over the place.

There's just nothing like it.

Sometimes it can start in the middle of the night.

It can start any time at all, and in the craziest places.

Don't you understand?

It's tearing him apart, and there is nothing I can do...

...because I don't know where his inspiration comes from.

I mean, wherever it comes from, it sure doesn't come from me.

Look, I couldn't possibly...

Now, listen, I haven't cried since I was three years old.

But I'm afraid he's gonna do something dumb.

I mean, a lot of writers kill themselves when they get like that.

You've gotta help him.

Please, you've gotta help him.

All right, mix it up, mix it up, let's go.

Now, what did I tell you, kid? You see this guy's clobbering you.

You can't have your right hand protect your chin...

- He ain't here. - I'll look around.

Just keep doing what you're doing.

Hey, hey.

Get up.

Get up.

Give it to him.

I hereby serve you this subpoena and Officer Quirk is my witness.

Take it.

Take it.

Take it!

Now you've done it, Shillitoe. Assaulting an officer of the law.

You come back here.

Mr. Shillitoe, you come back here. You come back here.

Open this door! End of the line. You open this door!

- Do you hear me? Open up! - Guys.

Open this door!

- You better get out of town, Samson. - Only 15 minutes.

Okay, okay. Here.

End of the line. You open this door!

- Rhoda. - Hey.

Go borrow a suitcase from the Fitzgeralds.

- Where are we going? - It's none of your business.

It is my business if I'm going there, ain't it?

Cob City, Indiana. Okay?

- Why? - Well, I've got an uncle there.

Come on, hurry up. Hurry up.

Listen, you can run away from here, but you can't run away from yourself.

Now get the suitcase. Quick!

Hey, how are we gonna get to Indiana?

By bus. Now get packing and give me the 200 bucks.

No.

What?

I haven't got it.

- Give me that dough. - I can't. I gave it to Dr. West.

- You're pregnant? - No. He's a psychiatrist.

- A psychiatrist? Stop kidding. Give me... - I'm not kidding.

You gave it to a psychiatrist?

Why? Did somebody tell you a psychiatrist can cure stupidity?

- Samson, it's not for me, it's for you. - For me?

Hitting me is not gonna get it back. I already paid for 20 visits in advance.

- You gave him my money? - Samson, it's only 10 bucks a visit.

- Usually he charges more than that. - It's my money.

He charges more than that, but he's interested in your case. See...?

- My case? - Yeah. Now, see, there's his card.

It's 41-8 Park Avenue. You're supposed to be there at 3:00 tomorrow...

You decided that I needed a psychiatrist?

- Well, you need help. - You decided?

You, with a brain smaller than a pygmy's gene. You...

The poem's taking shape. I need time, a place to work.

And you gave my money away.

Samson, I did it for you.

See what's happening.

Samson. Samson, you don't understand. I did it for you.

We'II, come on. Help her.

- Don't you hit her! - Stop it, or I'll call the police!

Scissor-brain witch.

Samson!

Rhoda!

Rhoda.

- Oh, my leg. - Come on.

You rotten bully.

Get your hands off of me.

- I gotta get out of town. - Lunatic.

- You shouldn't be walking around loose. - Go to Indiana. Don't care where you go.

You're crazy. You're nuts.

Okay.

Come on. Come on.

Come on. Let's go.

I...

I'll walk you to the elevator.

- You'll what? - Well, I've got to go to the office.

- No, Oliver. - Just for a little while.

No, Oliver. That's three nights in a row.

- I'll be back in less than an hour. - Not tonight, please.

Honey, look, you know I've got to finish dictating that article.

You know how important it is.

After tonight it'll be done.

- Do it in the morning. - I'm at the Institute in the morning.

Oh, please.

The deadline's tomorrow. It has to be typed and delivered by noon.

Nuts with the article. Let's go to bed.

All right, get ready. I'll be there in 45 minutes.

What the hell are you doing?

- Dr. West? - Who are you?

- Are you West? - Yes.

You owe me 200 bucks.

Shillitoe.

- Samson Shillitoe? - Right. Two hundred bucks.

I promised your wife that under no conditions would I give you the money.

You'll find I'm pretty good at karate.

Oh, you would be.

Come on, West, gimme my dough.

No. Absolutely not.

- You can't need the money that much. - No, but I think you need me.

- You idiot. - Do you really think so?

Mr. Shillitoe, you appear to be too intelligent...

...to stoop to name-calling, but if it helps...

...you call me anything you like. - Quack.

Frankly, I didn't want you as a patient. My schedule is overcrowded as it is.

However, your wife told me certain things...

...that made me change my mind. - What things?

Well, for one, that you've been unable to write.

West, you stick to mending scratches of disappointment.

One of the rules of a tragic time is that real enemies never meet in open combat.

Oh, but I don't think we're enemies.

No? You protect what is, while I envision what can be.

- And we're not enemies? - That's nicely phrased.

Nicely phrased? Oh, you sound just like a woman.

"Oh, you say things so beautifully, I could listen to you forever."

And by forever, a woman means at the most 20 minutes.

- But you still get involved with them. - No, they get involved with me.

Because they know I'm capable of a beauty...

...more real and lasting than theirs.

- The cunning little beasts can't stand it. - And they interfere with your work?

Look, gimme my money and let me get out of here.

Listen, Shillitoe, listen.

Do you have any idea how dull most of my patients are?

But of course.

Look at it from my point of view.

Do you realize how rarely I get a case that's any real challenge?

May I?

- Help yourself. - Thank you.

I mean, what could psychiatry have done against the rages of Beethoven?

Could I have cured Edgar Allan Poe of drink? Or saved Van Gogh?

What is this poetry that you sacrifice everything for? Why do you write it?

And we can only get the answer from the artist himself.

And here you are, perhaps a writer of great potential.

Or maybe a phony.

There's nothing I can do but take the time to find out.

And after all, I have been paid in advance.

Do not confuse The difficult with suffering

To be sad is easier than going mad

Look, West...

...I'm in a jam with the cops.

I need my dough to get out of town, honest.

- You don't believe me, do you? - No, I don't.

We've come a long way Toward ignorance and all uphill

- What does it mean? - That could put you out of business.

Shillitoe, I've heard enough to know you have a good mind...

...that's alive, alert, inquisitive. - Give me my money!

- There's no reason for your despair. - What despair?

Your wife has told me about your moods.

- She's afraid you might kill yourself. - What?

Oh, women.

Somewhere they got the idea that laughter means happiness.

So from the moment you're born...

...they tickle your feet, chuck you under the chin till you laugh yourself sick.

The moment you stop, have one serious thought...

...you're on the brink of suicide.

- You mind if I borrow your book? - Help yourself.

Look, West, give me my money back.

Now go home.

You give me back my dough or you start earning it now.

You know what time it is?

Then a sigh Like the caves of hell sighed

When the incestuous mother Uttered the name death

The sound reverberated

Farewell And again and again

Farewell Farewell

What does that mean?

Where you going?

- Good night. - What do you mean, "Good night"?

If you can't interpret a simple dream, I want my money back.

Good night.

- Where am I supposed to go? - Go home.

- I told you, I can't. A cop's after me. - What did you do?

I couldn't pay my alimony.

West, tonight the third part of my poem began to take shape.

I need a place to work. Let me stay here just until morning.

I'll dedicate it to you, to West.

Dr. West.

- My secretary gets here at 9:30. - I'll be gone by 9.

Cleaned up, locked up, gone.

Be back for your appointment at 3:00.

Don't worry. I still want my 200 bucks.

Well, it's only 190 now. You just had your first session.

All right, Samson, come on in and see what you did to me.

Who the hell are you?

I said, who the hell are you?

I'm looking for Samson Shillitoe.

Well, you're wasting your time because he never discusses his poetry.

- Where is he? - How in the hell should I know?

Where is he?

Right now, he's about halfway to Indiana...

...and if you don't get out, I'm gonna start screaming...

...cop or no co... You understand?

One, two, three.

Look out.

I'm gonna report you to the precinct, you fascist finkhead!

- Maybe you'd like to come in and watch. - Leonard, change your attitude.

- Keep quiet. - Don't tell me to keep quiet.

He's doing it to mock me.

Your fancy doctor wants to see me. So I'm here.

And our son and your wonderful mother are witnesses.

That mensch. He's got a heart as black as the ace of diamonds.

Dr. West?

He's not here.

- When's he expected? - What time's your appointment?

- I don't have one yet. - Gotta have an appointment.

Do you work with Dr. West?

You one of his patients?

In a way.

What's wrong with you?

Nothing. What's wrong with you?

I am not a patient.

Don't be smug. It could happen just like that.

My wife, Evelyn, she's the patient.

Yeah?

- My name's Tupperman. - Mine's Swinburne.

Dr. West told my wife to ask me to stop in.

Three-two-five?

No, she wasn't married, just pregnant.

Two-one-eight. No. Let me see.

The embezzler, peeping Tom.

- Three-three-one. - It was nice meeting you.

Come here.

- What's that? - I think it's your wife.

My wife?

- Not until we're sure she's 331. - How do I know what number she is?

- How many times she been here? - Four.

- Suffers from mild hysteria? - It ain't so mild.

Must be her.

File 3311, fourth visit.

Today, the patient admitted that she had recently committed adultery.

It was this act which caused her hysteria and her coming to me.

Dana, take a little stroll so your mother and I can talk.

- I'm tired. - Dana, I said stroll.

Evelyn, you're holding out on me.

I have nothing to say.

Except to Dr. West.

Dr. West. Suddenly he knows better than your own mother.

I've asked the patient to have her husband come in.

It's possible that he's encouraged her infidelity...

... so I shall try to ascertain any lack of virility on his part.

- Virility? Lack of vir...? - That's you.

Lack of virility?

You're gonna ascertain my virility?

How's this for virility? How's this?

Virility, eh? Virility? How's this?

Take it easy.

Easy now.

Oh, Evelyn. Evelyn.

Evelyn.

Everything she wanted, I gave her.

A diamond wristwatch.

A mink coat. Not a jacket, a full length.

She wants a psychiatrist, so I let her have a psychiatrist.

Did I ever complain about the $35 a visit?

- Only charges me 10. - Ten?

Come on, she's outside in the car.

- Tell everything you heard. - I don't want to get involved.

Oh, please, please. I'll do you a favor someday.

I'm in real estate. Do you need an apartment?

- I need a room, but I gotta have it today. - Done. Come on.

We'll throw her mother out. You can have her room.

Oh, no.

You thought you got away with something?

Again you underestimated me, you with your fancy doctor.

I know everything. Everything!

Swinburne here will back me up. Won't you?

- Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. - Evelyn.

It's him. Get him. Get him.

Let me out of here.

- Oh, no, what are you...? - Let me out!

All right, get out. Come here. Let me in.

- Evelyn, Evelyn! - Oh, Evelyn.

I'm sorry, Evelyn, we'll talk about it. I'm sorry for everything that I said.

I know who that was. He shampooed our carpets.

Get a doctor. Please, help. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything I said.

Evelyn? We'll talk about it. Everything will be all right.

No, I think we should build as we're on our way up with the crescendo.

Build more, keep building. Down one and build together. Together.

That's it, build.

- All the way down, one back up again... - Excuse me.

Hello?

Dr. Longfellow, he isn't here.

He said something about a meeting at the Institute.

And as so often happens with chimpanzees upon reaching maturity...

...Jo-Jo became savage.

He killed two other chimps, an orangutan and a big baboon.

So, what do we do with Jo-Jo?

What do we do with such a dangerous creature?

Do we isolate him forever?

Do we kill him? No.

There is another way of eliminating this catatonic state.

So the zoo authorities gave me permission to use my method:

The Menken transorbital prefrontal technique.

The procedure is simple and exactly the same as I use on humans.

Lift the eyelid, make the insertion through the conjunctival sac and orbital plate...

...into the orbital surface of the frontal lobe.

To a depth of exactly four centimeters.

I will not appreciably damage any of the cortex.

But with an arc swing of the instrument...

...I cut the inferior quadrant of the lobe, passing just anterior...

Thank you. Just anterior to the tip of the lateral ventricles.

Of course, this must be done to both major and minor lobes...

...for the operation to be effective.

But the beauty of this technique is that it can be done almost anywhere.

Even in the doctor's office.

Marvelous.

So I vote we let Dr. Menken leucotomize...

...all the nasty chimpanzees we have as patients.

I've never appreciated the Prussian sense of humor.

I'm not Prussian. I'm Viennese.

Dr. Menken, why have you insisted on showing us this?

Well, I thought it obvious, doctor.

You're the head of Para Park.

Dr. Kropotkin is the resident director. The rest of us are members of the board.

You want to use psychosurgery at Para Park?

- On violent cases, yes. - But this is a creature from the jungle.

If it had been raised in a healthy environment...

Nonsense. As I just told you, he was a destructive...

What you have told us proves nothing.

There are organic differences between the ape's brain and the human's.

My technique has had the same success on humans.

I've already done it more than 30 times.

But in a well-organized, organic society...

I thought we had progressed beyond lobotomies.

This is not the old-style lobotomy.

It's the Menken Technique.

Anyway, you talk of progress. You've still got them on couches.

- I resent that. - Why?

How far have you progressed from your precious Sigmund?

Dr. Freud.

He wasn't Sigmund to me, and he isn't Sigmund to you.

- I demand an apology. - Oh, come on.

Are we supposed to be scientists or diplomats?

All right, now. Let's keep it scientific.

Whether you call it lobotomy, leucotomy or the Menken Technique...

...the method is imprecise and always destroys brain tissue.

The patients live in a lower emotional level, and the damage is irreparable.

So, what alternative do you offer?

Love?

Understanding their fathers?

These were destructive people.

Years of wallowing in self-pity while you held their hands...

...isn't gonna make them any less so.

But if you give these people a congenial environment...

...then the stresses and strains of life will not affect them.

Let me go. Let me go.

Let me go, damn you. I guarantee, I'Il...

West, give me that money. I need it.

You mercenary fink.

Oh, that's all right. All right. It's okay. Let him go.

- Give me that money! - Let him go. It's all right.

West, my money.

Excuse me. I want to talk to you. Come here, come here.

Now, listen, I just might be able to get you into Para Park.

- Para Park? - It's a private hospital.

There's nothing you won't do to keep my money.

Oh, no. You'd be one of the special cases admitted free.

Oh, yeah, bargain day.

Of course, you realize the police couldn't touch you at Para Park.

Or maybe you prefer prison to a nice quiet room where you can work.

You see, it depends on me getting my colleagues to go along.

Dr. West comes out on Saturdays and he'll want a session with you.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays you will have a group therapy.

But remember, if there is anything that you should want to thresh out...

...I'm available.

- Are you sure I'll have a private room? - Oh, yeah.

- And I'll be left alone to work? - Of course.

- Good. - Communicate with your muse.

Don't worry. No one will disturb you.

- Did you call them today? - Yeah.

He's progressing nicely, thank you.

They've been telling you that for two weeks.

- They'll never cure him. - Shut up.

They're doing miracles these days.

- Maybe you ought to go and visit him. - No, they said not yet.

Well, just don't worry. These doctors know what they're doing.

Yeah.

- It says surgery there. - A technical term.

No, that's not so technical. I know what that means.

In medical terminology...

...many things come under the heading of surgery which you might not think so.

The extraction of a tooth, for example.

You call that surgery?

So if you will just sign here.

Believe me, it's the right thing to do.

No, I don't wanna do anything that's gonna hurt him.

Of course not. Like I said, it's just like having a tooth out.

Listen, I had one out right here, you see?

- Mrs. Shillitoe. - And it hurt like hell.

You'd like your husband home again as soon as possible, wouldn't you?

Yeah, but I think I'll talk to Dr. West about him...

...because he's the one who's taking care of him.

Yes, but as I've explained...

...Dr. West is the head of Para Park Hospital.

So even with your signature...

...no treatment can be given your husband...

...unless Dr. West and his fellow specialists approve.

So, what are we? Are we doctors, or are we a part of the disease?

The others: Mechanics.

They fix leaks in the plumbing.

I say, tear out all the pipes and start from scratch.

Thanks, Vera.

If you want better people, then you must give them a better world.

Please, Sammy, don't work anymore today.

- I gotta work, Vera. - Oh, but you should relax just a little.

Yeah, I know.

Dr. Kropotkin.

- Yes? - Dr. Kropotkin, Dr. West is arriving.

Thank you.

- Doctor. - Arnold.

- Good afternoon, Mrs. West. - Hello.

- Doctor, could I talk to you for a minute? - Yeah, come over here.

- What has he done? - What ain't he done?

- You been bothering him? - No.

- The group therapy meetings? - Yeah.

They ain't meetings no more. They're lectures.

And how about the new ripple bath?

Supposed to be for all patients. He's always in it, writing.

- Well, let Dr. Kropotkin deal with that. - Dr. West.

If you ask me, they're having an extra-marital relationship.

- Hello, doctor. - Dr. West.

Mrs. West.

Glad you got here before Dr. Menken.

We should talk about his wanting to operate.

Now, don't worry. There won't be any surgery here. Excuse me.

Lydia, this whole thing shouldn't take more than an hour.

Well, let's see, one hour your time's about six hours standard time.

Excuse me. I'll see you inside.

Be a good girl. As soon as the meeting's over...

...we'll go down to the bay and find a special place for dinner.

Talk to the patients. They like company.

Maybe I should have brought my harp.

All right, all right...

- Hello, Freddy. - Lydia, darling. It's so good to see you.

- Where's Oliver? - With Dr. Kropotkin, I think.

And left you all alone?

- Oh, Lydia, if you were my wife l... - Freddy.

You wouldn't be out of my sight for a second.

I think your meeting is ready to start.

Menken with his knife. If Freud knew...

See you later, darling.

Goodbye, Freddy.

Excuse me.

- What's so fascinating? - Nothing. The ripple bath. I was curious.

If you want to go first, go right ahead. But don't dawdle.

No, thank you.

Don't let me disturb you.

- We've met before, sort of. - I know. You're one of them.

- One of what? - Intake valves with maternal tendencies.

We can't all live in the world of Apollo.

What would you know about Apollo?

Oh, some of us intake valves have read a little.

Well, this place seems to be agreeing with him.

Oh, yes. He's adjusting very well.

He's been working very hard on his poem.

He's on the third part. I'll show it to you.

- There, you see. - This might be a help at the meeting.

- Oh, no, l... - I'll get his permission.

Very well. You want I should look for him?

No. I'll find him.

You might look in the hydrotherapy room.

- All right. Don't worry, I'll talk to her. - Thank you, doctor.

Oliver, I thought the meeting was ready to start.

- Yeah, in Dr. Kropotkin's office. - Aren't you coming?

I'll be there in a few minutes, yes.

Oliver, I...

Nothing.

And what does this place offer as a cure?

Painting, Ping-Pong and whirlpool baths.

- How has the patient been responding? - He seems to be happy.

Happiness is not a psychiatric term.

I mean, he is functioning. He is identifying.

And he is writing. He is actually writing.

Oliver, we are discussing Mr. Shillitoe and his accomplishments.

- Dr. Menken has proposed surgery. - I have insisted.

- He is not a chimpanzee. - He's destructive.

- I've been doing some investigating... - But he's responding to treatment.

- Dr. West, tell him. - Yes, tell me.

How are you curing his violent spells?

Well, it's really... It's much too early to say.

Well, we have been helping him with understanding...

...with encouragement and with his environment.

Environment?

I appeal to you as scientists.

- I demand a chance to prove I'm right. - He is not violent now.

Of course, not here in a cocoon.

Can he stay here for the rest of his life?

Your technique is castration. You will make him a vegetable.

You will destroy his passion.

And what about his gift?

- What gift? - His poetry.

To hell with his poetry! I want to make him a useful, social human being.

I think maybe the poetry is a substitute for sex.

Yes, the man's obviously not successful with women.

His wife has given her consent. She wants to help him.

I insist we take a vote. I vote yes.

- I vote an emphatic no. - I say no.

Dr. Vorbeck?

Well, I...

I'm considering.

If I say no, no operation.

And if I say yes, then Dr. West has the deciding vote.

I think under the circumstances...

...I say...

...yes.

Thank you, Dr. Vorbeck.

You are another mechanic.

And you have lost anyway. We all know what Dr. West feels.

Your methods have failed on this man.

Make it official, Oliver. Vote.

Oliver, for the well-being of the patient...

...for his wife, for society, you must vote yes.

It's two for it, two against.

Give them your "no" vote, doctor.

I say...

...yes.

Thank you.

Three p.m. Temperature: 76 degrees. Humidity: 81 percent.

High today 79 degrees, low 71.

Barometer at 29.85 and falling.

There is a 90 percent probability of thundershowers...

... commencing in late afternoon and continuing through the night...

... with little prospect of clearing by morning.

The weekend forecast is for intermittent showers...

... with an expected drop in temperature.

Sammy...

...run.

What's happened?

- Was that his wife? - You've got to get out of here. Run.

You guys ought to be ashamed. You know, you got dirty minds.

- I was just asking the guy for a match. - Oh, shut up, will you?

Some job for grown men.

Compared to you, I'm a shining example.

It's him. Stop! Pull up!

- I can't till we get to the other end. - Call the other side.

Keep your grubby hands off.

My book. They took it. My book.

Hey, you. Stop.

- Where's Rhoda? - She's busy.

One American on a kaiser.

- Rhoda. - Samson.

They took my book. I gotta get it back.

- Did you hear? - I heard you.

It's only 30 miles. You can get there and back in a couple hours.

- I'll draw you a map. - Hey.

I'm not going anywhere.

- Come on, Samson, she's busy. - You gotta go.

You walk out once more, you're through.

Don't worry, don't worry.

You gotta go!

- I've got to finish that poem. - Well, then you go get it yourself.

Come in here... You haven't even seen me since you threw me down the stairs.

- I didn't throw you! - My ankle was like a grapefruit!

Did you care? Did you wonder if I was hurt?

Did you even bother to call me?

- We haven't got a telephone. - Or send a postcard?

- No, not a word. - A postcard?

Then you come marching in here and you start drawing me maps?

You ignorant, ungrateful lump!

- I'm asking you to save my poem. - I don't give a damn about your poem!

Samson.

- Rhoda. - Samson.

Samson.

Well, it's mine.

You see, Arnold, I told you he'd come back for this.

- Who is it? - Your dear Freddy.

- Oh. Hello. - Morning.

He isn't here. He left about half an hour ago.

- Dr. Menken picked him up. - Really?

- Aren't you going to Para Park? - I have better things to do.

Oh, Lydia.

Even in the morning you...

- You look so lovely. - Freddy.

Don't be silly. The maid.

It's her day off, and your children are at school, and Oliver is at Para Park.

Let go.

All right, all right.

Let's talk a little first.

I have to get dressed. I'm late for an appointment.

Suddenly you are afraid of a little talk.

It wasn't so long ago you were begging me to analyze you.

I was just trying to make Oliver jealous.

Oh, I understand.

An American making love is like a Hungarian playing baseball.

- Lydia, is this any good? - Get out of here.

No more acting aloof with me.

- Stop it. Freddy. - Darling.

- Stop it. - Stop struggling.

- Stop it. - I love you.

- You're hurting me. - Stop struggling.

- Stop it. - Lydia, l...

What are you afraid of?

We're only two nervous systems reacting to each other.

Stop struggling. Lydia, darling...

Oh, Freddy.

Don't laugh at me.

If you don't leave now, I'll tell Oliver.

You wouldn't do that.

- Oh, wouldn't I? - No.

No.

You don't want he should have Menken cut me up too.

- Is that why they went to Para Park? - I thought you knew. I mean...

Lydia, he saw you in the ripple bath.

I mean, what went on didn't influence Oliver's decision.

- Where is he? - Who?

- Dr. West. - Dr. West is in the examination room.

Let me in! Let me in!

Lydia.

I thought there was going to be an operation.

Oh, Mrs. West.

If I knew you were interested in psychosurgery, I would have invited you.

Dr. Menken, Mr. Shillitoe is coming out of anesthetic.

Good. Good.

Perhaps the next time.

Murderer.

Butcher.

I hate you.

I always find this an intensely moving moment.

Science walking hand-in-hand with humanity...

...to have changed a destructive, antisocial creature...

...into a responsible citizen.

Now he'll be able to make a living...

...to provide for his loved ones...

...to take his rightful place in the community.

Mr. Shillitoe.

Mr. Shillitoe.

Do you feel better?

Do you feel more relaxed?

Gimme back my poem!

- Thieves! - Orderly. Orderly, quickly.

- Assassins! - I need your help.

You filthy parasites, dirty thieves, assassins.

Gimme my poem.

Give me my poem!

I don't understand.

It works on most people.

Okay, I'll tell her.

- Two goulash, hold the corn. - Two C.B. Platters, coming up.

Bologna on kaiser.

- Bananas and berries. - One BLT.

- Two burgers. - Hey, where's the ketchup?

- What does that look like? Marmalade? - One American on a kaiser.

- Rhoda. - What?

You better take the afternoon off.

What for? What did I do?

Nothing. But your neighbor just called. Your husband's home.

Where are those C.B. Platters?

Don't. Don't throw it! I warned you!

- Orderly. Orderly. - Bloodsucking legal hyena.

Stop your courts, your subpoenas, your decrees, your judges.

Let me go. Let me go.

There. Now you have to be in court at 10:00 tomorrow morning.

And if you don't have the alimony, you're going to prison for six months.

- Let me go. Let me get my... All right. - That mirror: 50 bucks.

How much does he owe you? How much?

Five hundred and twenty-five dollars.

- Who do I make it out to? - Beverly Shillitoe.

- Who's that? - Shut up.

There.

- This won't bounce? - No, no.

Don't forget: There's another 75 due next week.

- Hey, what was that check for? - Rhoda, Lydia.

What was it for?

She's a patron of the arts and she believes in my poetry.

- Well, so do I. - You?

You said you didn't care about it anymore.

- She doesn't understand my work. - I do too.

- Yeah? - Yeah, I understand a lot of your stuff.

- Are you all right? - Never better.

You just got me out of jail. Now I'm gonna finish this damn poem.

- Please, I have to talk to you. - Well, go ahead.

- Alone. - Nothing doing.

Keep out of this.

- I'm leaving my husband. - Good.

- What are you gonna do? - Join Apollo?

Hear that, Knocker? The only hope is for everybody to move in with me.

- What? - Don't make fun of me.

I'm not. Where's your luggage?

- Wait a minute. - She can have the couch.

- No. - Then you can have it.

There's no room. We're stepping on each other.

You're out all day. She can clean, cook.

- I don't want any help. - Try it.

- What are you talking about? - You want to join Apollo.

You're out of your mind.

The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.

- Samson, I want to talk to you. - Come on.

Samson.

Samson.

Samson. Hey, Samson.

You didn't mean that about her moving in with us, did you?

- I mean everything. - Samson. Samson.

I think your poetry is the most important thing in the world, sure.

But, you know, now with the alimony and everything...

...I think you ought to get a job. - Not until I finish the poem.

Well, sure, I know you gotta finish it, but...

Samson, there's something else I gotta tell you.

Samson.

Remember when you asked me if I was pregnant?

I was afraid to tell you before, but it's been more than four months now.

Well, I gotta stop work soon.

Samson, say something.

- Samson, say you ain't mad at me. - I'm not mad at you.

Come on.

- Samson, are you sorry? - No.

- Well, show me you're not sorry. - Later.

No, now. Come on, Samson.

Come on, Samson, how long does it take to throw one?

I missed.

Here, hold this.

Shut up.

Out!

Out!