All language subtitles for Night Gallery - 01x03 - The House - Certain Shadows On The Wall

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A most hearty welcome to those of you...

whose tastes in art
lean toward the bizarre.

Our first painting, submitted for your
approval. Is an item of real estate,

but you won't find it
advertised in the classifieds.

Oh, i�s light and comfortable
and altogether well-heated,

but there's a chill to the place.

So bundle up when you look at this one.

Our painting is called The House,

and this is the Night Gallery

[Woman] The dream is always the same.

Every detail the chronology, it
falls into place as if preordained

I'm drivingdownacountryroad

and lturn off the main
road onto a private one.

I drive through the shadows
and the fashes of sunlight.

I�s asummer afternoon.

And lmust tell you that there's
no apprehension in the dream.

No sense of fear or tension.

There is some vague awareness
that it has happened before.

I feel nothing but anticipation.

No disquiet at all

I drive past the pond

And then Ireach the
house, and i�s beautiful

There's a sense of peace, of serenity

A feeling of permanence
and roots in the earth:

And a changeless beauty

I find my self almost beckoned to.

So I walk on the drive
toward the front door

I'm aware... I'm altogether aware
of acting on this instinct:

Of knocking on the door:

But not really knowing what
I'll say if anyone answers.

Shal llsay for example, "'Cood
afternoon. I've dreamed about this place,

and I'm so very much taken with it that
I simply found myself driving here'"?

But I guess tha�s
part of the dream...

the subconscious knowledge
that the obligations of reality

the social amenities of fesh
and blood they don't apply here.

You simply let the dream
run its accustomed course.

And tha�s it. Tha�s the dream, Doctor.

It begins... With
myself driving:

I don't remember getting into the car,
though. I justfind myself seated at the wheel.

And it ends? Always the same way

I get back into the car, and then I start
to drive away just as the front door opens.

But I never know who it is who's
living there or who answered the door

Because you'd rather not know?

I'm not sure.

Well, i�s not a sense of fear I
experience if tha�s what you mean.

I�s... Well, i�s more
like a preference...

or a decision,

as if were I to linger, I
might lose the dream forever.

I�s interesting.

Do you know where the house is?

No. There's nothing familiar about the
countryside. It could be anywhere, I suppose.

But you don't recall ever
having seen the house before?

As a child perhaps?
No, I don't think so.

Does the dream disturb you?

No, it doesn't
disturb me. I�s...

I�s just that it...
i�s so persistent.

You've had it many times
then? Ch, many times.

I can remember as far back as perhaps
10 years ago, I had the same dream then.

I suppose tha�s why
the details are so clear

The white, fenced road,
the tall, white lampposts,

the road that loops around a
large pond in front of the house,

the neatly-trimmed lawn and shade
trees separating the house from the pond

The roof is high, and the windows
are set back into the roof. [Buzzing]

And the door is white with a
slender window panel flanking it.

There's a brass door knocker

I even remember
the fowers...

hanging fuchsias between
the stone columns.

Are dreams always that precise?

Very frequently.

Uh, you're leaving us tomorrow.

Yes. It appears so.

Well, you don't seem happy about it.

Ch, i�s just that...
I�s just that what?

[Sighs] I just hope
that I really am cured.

I'm not depressed anymore, and
I seem to function quite well

Oh, I like it here.
I don't want to leave.

Because you're looked after.

Because you have no decisions
to make of any consequence.

There are no anxieties for you here,

no problems to face.

And tomorrow morning I'll leave, and
there'll be decisions and problems...

and, yes, I guess some anxieties.

Mm-hmm. As its hould be.

Or at least as it must be.

A sanitarium can be a pleasant place,
but there's no reality here for you.

The reality comes outside.
Those very problems.

Those are what you must face, hmm?

As for the dream,

I wouldn't worry about it.

It would be my guess that this house is
a place you've seen sometime in your life.

It obviously made an impression.

It, uh... It represents
a kind of permanence...

that appeals to you, and tha�s
why you keep dreaming about it.

But I wouldn't worry about it
at all. As a matter of fact,

I wish my dreams were as
serene and as pleasant.

Well... Oh, thank you,
Doctor. My pleasure.

Thank you. Much good luck, Elaine.

Let us hear from you, hmm? Yeah, I will.

I hope everything goes
well for you, Miss Lattimer.

Thank you. So she's finally leaving us?

Miss Lattimer? Yes. We've seen
the last of her, I expect.

And good riddance too.

[Chuckles] Now, madam, why be unkind?

Not unkind... candid.
Never cared for the woman.

Dreamy Dreamy?

Never walked Just so
rtofwaftedalong; like a wood sprite.

Never put her two feet on the ground

I like a woman with
both feet on the ground.

[Man] May I help you?

May I help you, madam?

Oh, l-l-I was driving.
I just pulled in here.

Yes, so I observed. You
saw the advertisement then?

Advertisement?

Yes. The house is for sale.

I thought perhaps you came
to look at it. Forgive me.

My name is Peugot. The
house is listed with my firm.

We've only had this
listing for a few days.

You'd be the first to see it.
That is, if you're interested

I am.

How lovely and how convenient.

I was just looking at the grounds.

I�s a... I�s a
charming place, really.

The former owners were consul people.
They were English, as a matter of fact.

They've gone back to London.

They, uh, only owned it a few weeks.

Oh, they mus�ve hated to give it up.

In someways.

Now this is the front foyer of course,

and the living room is
off here to the left.

Now, straight ahead
through those doors...

There's a study. I�s walnut-paneled.

There's a large fire place
with a hunting picture up above.

You've been here?

No.

That is, not really.

Follow me, please.

[Peugot] Someone told
you about the place?

I don't know how to explain it.

I don't mean to pry.

I've dreamed about this house.

Dreamed of it? Many times.

But I never went inside.

In my dreams, that is. I only
wentas far as the front door.

And yet, I can't explain it.

I have no priorre collection of
it, but when you opened that door,

I suddenly seemed to know
just where all the rooms were,

what they were.

There are three bedrooms upstairs.

The master bedroom is
to the left, the bath,

then a blue bedroom.

And then farther down the
hall, there's a smaller room...

a guest room, perhaps,
or... a sewing room.

Tha�s quite right.

Uh, your-your name, madam?

Miss Lattimer. Elaine Lattimer.

And you're from...
San Francisco.

Oh. This is not San Francisco.

Things are quiet here. Very
little goes on. Oh, I like that.

You'd probably be
very content here then.

They're asking 60,000
for the house, furnished.

For this house? But tha�s ridiculous.

I�s worth five times that. They're,
uh... They're anxious to sell.

Why?

They're English. Now, who
can understand the English?

Is the house in need of repair?

Oh, please, look for yourself.
Does it appear to need repair?

Well, then wha�s wrong with it?

Do you see anything wrong withit?

- Mr. Peugot, please, be honest with me.
- By all means.

Why did the English family leave?

For the same reason the previous
owners left and the tenants before them.

- They all left for the exact same reason.
- What reason?

Miss Lattimer, uh, are you
given to excessive imagination?

- You're not superstitious, are you?
- Why?

The house is haunted.

Tha�s correct, Miss
Lattimer. The house is haunted.

By what? By whom?

By whom indeed. Let
me tell you something.

I've been buying and selling houses
for the better part of my life,

and I'm not unfamiliar
with haunted houses.

There's a pattern to them. There's
a bedroom that seems ice-cold.

A shadow is seen moving across the wall.

A spot of dripping blood
from an age-old murder.

This house has none of those things.

There was no violence
here, never a murder

There was never a crime of anykind.

Why, its history is as
bland as the countryside.

But they say haunted.

Oh, yes. They say. They say.

But who's to know? Now, I asked the
Englishman. I asked him directly.

I asked him to describe the apparition.

And do you know he was unable
to do so? And do you know why?

Because i�s purely psychological.
I'll tell you what I think happens.

Some overly-imaginative person has a
bad dream and recites it to someone else.

From that moment on, the seed
is planted. And from then on,

hysteria takes place.

Why uh, a creaking
floor becomes a ghost,

and a tap on the wall, some
manifestation from the other world.

But do you know what it is
really? I�s the house settling.

I�s the wood seasoning: May bei�s
the wind This house is not haunted

Look for yourself.

Why, i�s as bright and warm and
delightful as a house could be.

I'll take the house.

I'd like to move in today.
Excellent. And so you shall.

Now, my office is in the village.
I�s just five miles from here.

You can either follow met here,
or I'll be happy to drive you.

I'll follow you. Excellent.

You're different than most women. Am I?

Yes, most lady house buyers, they're
lookers, searchers, analyzers.

If they see a house
that appeals to them,

they'll come back a dozen
times just to look it over.

Even then, they're hard-pressed to
make a decision. But not you, miss.

You're a woman who knows her own mind.

If something appeals to you,
you follow your instincts.

Tha�s good. It shows resolve and will.

Resolve and will.

Not so?

Those aren't normally my attributes.

Resolve and will.

Would you care to see the upstairs?
I suppose I should, shouldn't I?

No, there's no need.

I know all about the upstairs.
Oh, i�s a beautiful house.

I�s just what I want.
In spite of the ghost?

In spite of the ghost.

Or, perhaps, because of it.

[Car Fngine Starting]

[Car Departing]

How are you today, Miss Lattimer?

Were you here before,
Mr Peugot? When before?

Well, there was a car.

I was taking a nap, and
I heard it drive away.

Was that you? No. As you can see, I
only just this very moment arrived.

Well, then you must have
passed it on the road.

The traffc in this
district is rather sparse.

Now, between here and the
village, I encountered...

one tractor, two cows and a sheepdog.

Possibly you're mistaken. The nap.

A fragment of a dream, perhaps.

Yes. Tha�s probably it.

One of your neighbors up the road is
thinking of selling a parcel of farmland.

Actually, I was on my way there.

Then I thought, well, I
have to pass right by here,

so I thought I'd look in and find
out how you were enjoying yourself...

and how you're finding the house.

I'm finding it charming and warm.

I coul�ve predicted it.

You see, some houses take
to ghosts. Not this one.

This house is eminently unhauntable.

Well, you seem to be all right,
so... I'll-I'll be on my way.

Mr. Peugot. It is haunted.

You've met the ghost?

Have you actually seen it? No,
don't ask me to explain it. I can't.

But i�s more than a
feeling. I know, Mr. Peugot.

I know, and so I wait.
For what, I don't know.

Still, tha�s really all
I can do, isn't it? Wait?

I shouldn't have mentioned it.

I've planted something in
your mind... a suspicion,

altogether unwarranted. Yes, I see.

Like the former owners, I
am susceptible. Is that it?

Miss Lattimer... If you'll excuse me, Mr.
Peugot, I have some phone calls I'd like to make.

But thank you for dropping by.

[Door Closes]

[Car Door Opens, Closes]

[Engine Starts]

[Car Departing]

Operator, I'd like to make a long-distance
call to Hidden Valley, please.

The telephone number is 458-2999,

and I'd like to speak
to Dr. Peter Mitchell.

Yes, thank you. [Car Approaching]

Dr. Mitchell? Elaine Lattimer.

Yes, i�s good to hear your voice too.

Oh, I wanted to bring you up to date.

I found my house.

Tha�s right.

The house, Doctor. The one in my dream.

L-I was driving, and
l... I just found it.

But i�s the house. I�s the same house.

There's no question about it.

And do you know something
very odd, Doctor?

I�s haunted. Yes, this house
is haunted. [Car Brakes Squeak]

No, I haven't seen the ghost.
No, I'd never see it at night.

[Car Door Opens, Closes]

No, i�s odd that I should know this, but
this ghost comes with the sunshine. [Footsteps]

This is a daytime ghost.
[Door Knocker Bangs]

Dr. Mitchell, would you please hold on
for just a minute? I'll be right back.

There's someone at my door. Please, wait.

[Elaine Casps]

Miss Lattimer, are you
there? Are you all right?

Miss Lattimer?

Doctor? Doctor, the person at the door,

the person I just saw, it was the ghost.

Tha�s right. I have
finally met my ghost.

I am the ghost, Doctor

Yes, tha�s right. I am the ghost.

[Car Door Closes]

[Engine Starts]

[Car Departing]

The least permanent,
the most fleeting...

of man's proof of
existence... his shadow.

It comes and goes with
light. Hours of the day,

point of the sun, angle of the moon.

It is a quickly daubed
and imperfect outline...

of a certain object at
a certain given moment.

This painting is called
Certain Shadows on the Wall

[Man] "Now it is even
awful stealing throughit,

"'to think of the life of people who
have slept in the solitary bedrooms:

"'To say nothing of the dead

"'Now is the time for shadow
when every corner is a cavern:

"'And every downward step a pit, .

"'When the stained glass is refected
in pale and faded hues upon the foors, .

"'When anything and everything can
be made of the heavy staircase beams:

"'Excepting their own proper shapes, .

"'When the armor has
dull lights upon it:

"'Not easily to be distinguished
from stealthy movement, .

"'And when barred helmets are
frightfully suggestive of heads inside.

"'But of all the shadows in Chesney Wold

"the shadow in the long drawing
room upon my lady's picture...

"is the first to come,
the last to be disturbed.

"At this hour and in
this light it changes...

"'into threatening hands raised up,

and menacing the handsome face
with every breath that stirs.'"

[Sighs]

Much pain tonight, Emma?

No more, no less.

Oh, i�s a bit irregular, but no weaker.

- Shall I have one of the girls bring up some tea?
- No, thank you.

Speak up, Emma. You say you'd like tea?

No tea, Stephen.

Warm milk, then?

No, I'm not up to anything.

[Groans, Pants]

I'll give you some powder.

This should ease the pain, Emma.

St... Stephen?

- How much time?
- How much time for what, Emma?

You know what I mean.
How much time do I have?

I'm a doctor, Emma, not a seer.

You have some i-idea, don't you?

Man proposes, God disposes.

Why?

Because there are plans. Arrangements.

I should like a small funeral, Stephen.

Only close and: Very dear friends.

And... very brief.

Not a long eulogy.

Just a... Just
a simple affair.

What ever you want, you will have.

Not quite.

What I really want, I can't have.

L... I want
life, Stephen.

Lord, but I want life.

Then stop talking about it.

I�s becoming an obsessive
preoccupation with you.

You want life, but you talk
about funerals all the time.

I can't help it. Of course you can.

When you find yourself thinking
morbid thoughts, choke them off.

Think of other things.
Think about us as children.

You and I, Rebecca and Ann...

in this very house playing and singing: :

And enjoying one another.

I'll look in on you later.

Stephen? Hmm?

Tomorrow night,

will you read to me
from Great Fxpectations?

Again, Emma? You know
I never tire of Dickens.

Yes, Emma. I know.

[Woman] How is she feeling;
Stephen? My dear Rebecca,

you are an inexhaustible
source for rhetorical questions.

"How is she feeling?" You know
perfectly well how she's feeling.

I'm sorry. She hasn't
eaten anything today.

Tha�s her decision.

Shouldn't she? Of course she should.

She's desperately in
need of nourishment.

She's so thin.

If one does not eat,
one grows thin, Rebecca.

Tha�s elementary. It doesn't require a
medical degree to arrive at that conclusion.

I'm sorry, Stephen. Stop
saying that, Rebecca.

Stop saying, "I'm sorry." There
is nothing to be sorry about.

And please bear in mind, Stephen,
that you area guest in this house.

A guest? I was brought up in this house.

If I'm a guest here, then
so are you and Rebecca.

It was, after all, to Emma
that Father left this property,

and weall live here by
her charitable sufferance.

None of which gives you the right
to treat us as incompetent help.

Oh, there's a distinction whether
you choose to recognize it or not.

See, you two have no place to go, whereas I
left a lucrative practice to return here...

just to look after Emma.

Tha�s a residual service, Stephen.

You gave up a lucrative practice because
you were flat broke and had no practice left.

I'm hard-pressed to determine
which you're more inept at...

gambling or the medical profession.

You're certainly not much at either.

But I'm here, aren't I?

And I'm up in that room eight
hours a day reading Dickens to her.

And tha�s life's full cycle.
I've been doing that for 25 years.

Just as begrudgingly as you do now.

Oh, Ann, dear, pl-please.

No harsh words. Le�s be... a family.

For as long as she's alive anyway

You thought otherwise, Rebecca?

We might as well face the fact.

We walk on tiptoe and with such agony
trying to keep it out of our conversation.

But, of course, it shouldn't
be kept out of our conversation.

Her death is a matter of days.

Perhaps even less.

[Chuckles]

I've always felt stifled in this house.

Emma the invalid, always sickly,

always in bed, demanding to be read to.

And darling, vapid Rebecca,

perpetually smiling... over nothing.

And sister Ann, the tyrant,

doomed even then to spinsterhood...

and determined that everyone else
should share her graceless state.

I can't for the life of me
figure out what keeps her alive.

Stephen...

what
if we...

What if we what, Rebecca?

What if we called in another doctor?

For what purpose?

Oh, just to get another
opinion. Another opinion?

My dear Rebecca, you
could get 100 opinions,

200 diverse choices of medication,

300 opposing views as to therapy...

and very likely 500 separate and distinct
medical terms to describe her ailment.

And you'll get the same prognosis, and
that prognosis is altogether negative.

Emma is dying, my dear sisters.

She makes this admission herself.

Now, if she has the courage
to face that reality,

I think the three of us should as well.

She made a will, didn't she?

Yes. The three of us share equally.

Dd[Striking Notes]

We oughta get this tuned. I�ll
fetch a much higher price, you know.

[Thud] [Class Shatters]

At last.

At long, long last.

Good-bye, Mr. Dickens,

and good riddance.

[Gasps, Sobs]

This is Dr. Brigham. My
sister Emma just passed on.

Would you tell Mr. Peterson he can begin
the funeral arrangements we discussed.

Tha�s right. The body can
be picked up here at anytime.

[Gasps]

Ann, what is it? Wha�s the matter?

[Rebecca] But it... it was
a lovely service, really

Simple and nice.

[Thumping] Just what
she would have wanted.

She never cared much for
frills or fancy things.

Poor dear. [Thumping Continues]

The flowers were so lovely. Really.

So many remembrances.

Oh, I wish he'd stop
that. What is the point?

Ann, Rebecca, come in here.

Rebecca, you stand
there. Ann, stand here.

What is it? In heaven's name, what is it?

- A shadow.
- Nonsense. How could it be a shadow?

A shadow is of something.
This... This isn't of anything.

I�s... I�s a...
I�s a sort of stain.

Some sort of discoloration or
something. But i�s not a shadow!

[Ann] Then let it be.

Rearranging the furniture
obviously doesn't stop it.

You'd best come and eat.
Your dinner's getting cold.

All right, I'll...
I'll have my dinner.

I�s just that I hate for anything
not to have an explanation.

And of course, there...
there is an explanation.

Probably a simple one.

Probably so simple,
tha�s why it eludes me.

[Telephone Ringing]

Yes? Oh, yes, he's here.

Oh, tha�s perfectly all right. Stephen?

Stephen, i�s Mr. Peterson
at the funeral home.

Yes? Yes, of course.

I told you already. Cause of death:
Acute dyspepsia with complications.

Absolutely. Tha�s on the
certificate. Tha�s what I signed.

No, there's no need
for any verification.

All right, then.

What is this muck?

Ann tried to keep it
warm for you, Stephen.

Warm or cold, i�s offensive.

Several of the neighbors
sent over some baked goods.

There's a cake in the
kitchen, and some pies.

What are you doing?

What does it look like I'm doing?

I'm contemplating the
shadow. I�s not a shadow!

Of course it is.

And we both of us know, Stephen.
We both of us know who it is.

I�s an illusion. Tha�s what it is.

It has something to do with
the refraction of light in here,

or the furniture...
the way i�s positioned

Tha�s what it is. I�s an
allusion. [Glass Shatters]

I'll get some paint tomorrow,
or some new wallpaper.

I'll cover it up.

You'll try, but you won't be able to.

I doubt if you'll ever
be able to cover it up.

What was the cause of
Emma's death? Dyspepsia?

That was my diagnosis.

Your diagnosis, or your alibi?

[Knocking] What is it?

[Rebecca] I�s Becky Stephen.
Well, come in. I�s not locked.

[Door Opens]

I brough tyou some hot tea. What?

I thought it might relax you.

Oh, how altogether thoughtful of you.

Stephen, look at your coat.

I�s paint. I�s almost
impossible to get out.

I'll take it for you
and soak it tonight.

There's some turpentine with
the paint in the sewing room.

It didn't work, did
it? The paint, I mean.

The... The thing is
still on the wall.

Well, i�s, um... I�s
obviously optical.

I�s something to do with the light.
The wall needs painting anyway.

Wha�s this you're doing?

I don't understand.

I�s quite simple. I'm cataloging
the contents of this house...

and estimating together with the house and the
property on which it sits their current market value.

And believe me, i�s quite a
considerable sum. Quite considerable.

But, Stephen, why would
you wish to do that?

Surely you're not thinking
of selling anything?

I am thinking, my dear Rebecca,

of selling everything.

But you can't! Can't?

Allow me to remind you that
under the terms of Emma's will,

the three of us share equally.

We shall, of course, divide equally.

I'm not sure Emma would like this.

Emma's dead. She has
no voice in the matter.

Dear, departed Emma.

Have you never wondered why Father left virtually
everything to Fmma and precious little to the three of us?

Because he favored her?

Because she was the eldest?

Because she was a semi-invalid?
No. Because he feared her.

Stephen!

She smothered him, devoured him alive,

clinging on to Father the way
she tried tooling on to me.

Her inheritance wasn't a legacy.

It was a bribe,

purchasing Emma's permission to die!

Stephen, tha�s cruel.

Cruel?

Is it any more cruel
than what she did to us?

Turning this house
into a... into a muzeum?

No, a mausoleum!

With us as caretakers?

But... where would we go?

Huh? Ann and I?

Oh, tha�s entirely up to you.

Now, please, Rebecca, leave me be.
I'd like to finish this up tonight.

Stephen?

- Where did you get that?
- You mus�ve dropped it.

I found it on the stairs. They're
the... the sedatives, aren't they?

Yes, tha�s what they are. Yes.

They're just to relax you, aren't they?

And to help you sleep.

Let me know if you want any.

Oh, I'm sleeping very
well, thank you, Stephen.

Drinky our tea, dear.

You'll feel ever so much better.

I�s still there, Ann. Heaven knows he
tried, but he couldn't paint it out.

I�s Emma.

Was there ever any doubt?

Why, Ann? Why? I don't know.

I
suppose...

I suppose I should feel frightened.

I�s like having a ghost
hanging from the wall.

But I could never feel
frightened of Emma.

Dead or alive, I couldn't
do anything but love her.

I�s cold in here.

We'd best get to bed, Becky.

I'm ready. We'll all get a
good nigh�s sleep tonight.

Stephen too.

Why Stephen?

"Physician heal thyself."

Isn't that the phrase?

He doesn't know it, but
he's taking his own medicine.

Becky, what do you mean?

I found the pills.

Stephen assured me they'd
simply bring on relaxation:

And sleep.

So I ground some of them
up and put them in his tea.

He's been so nervous, so irritable.

He'll sleep tonight.

Ann, dear you didn't wind the clock.

We shall miss Emma.

Indeed we shall.

But we have each other.

But not Stephen.

I'm afraid we shan't have Stephen, Ann.

No, Becky. We'll not have Stephen.

[Both Chuckle]

Dd[Vocalizing]

DThe years are so longd

dl want you onlyd

dYou and your songd

d Darkie life's shore, loved

d Night is so deepd

d Leave me no more, loved

dd[Vocalizing]

[Stops]

Ann, do you suppose...

Stephen knew that...
that it was an accident?

I'm sure he did.

I've told you, Becky, he was giving
it to Emma a few grains at a time...

for a long period.

What was put in his tea...

was lethal and almost immediate.

I'm truly sorry.

But honestly, Ann, dear,
i�s as if they'd never left.

I'm so glad.

We're a familya gain.

Dd[Resumes]

The years are so long

I want you only

You and your song

[Continues] [Stephen] A Tale
of Two Cities. Chapter one.

"'It was the best of times.
It was the worst of times.

"'It was the age of wisdom.
It was the age of foolishness.

"'It was the epoch of belief
It was the epoch of incredulity

"'It was the season of light.
It was the season of darkness.

"'It was the spring of hope.
It was the winter of despair

We had everything before us.
We had nothing before us.'"

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