Original subtitles

(BELL TOLLING)

The plane! The plane!

Smiles, everyone. Smiles.

(PLAYING POLYNESIAN MUSIC)

TATTOO: Boss, I recognize her.

She's the centerfold Chick of the Year of Rooster magazine.

I see you know the publication.

Sure. I buy the magazine all the time. Uh, to read the articles.

If you had read at least the captions under some of the pictures,

you would know that the young lady is Miss Erica Clark,

and that she's just retired from her career as a centerfold model.

Which is what makes her fantasy so intriguing.

Boss, she don't need a fantasy. She is a fantasy.

To men, yes, she was precisely that.

A sex object to be pursued and possessed for her beauty.

Regardless of who or what she was as a human being.

That is why she now wants to reverse the procedure.

Reverse the procedure?

Yes. Miss Clark's fantasy is to be able to treat men as sex objects for a change.

Boss, every man would line up for her, for that fantasy.

No. Even on Fantasy Island,

sexual attraction is a mysterious and unpredictable commodity.

Fulfilling her fantasy may be far more difficult than it sounds, my friend.

That's Mr. Jason Smith, a rancher from Oregon.

TATTOO: What's his fantasy?

Mr. Smith has always romanticized being a war hero.

He wishes to lead a valiant group of men on a daring commando raid.

Boss, we are not going to start a war for him, are we?

No, Tattoo, I think we can manage without that.

But, um, his fantasy does pose certain tactical problems.

I know what you mean. Like getting killed.

There is always that danger, of course.

But there is also the risk of disillusionment.

You mean his fantasy won't turn out like he wishes?

There is that distinct possibility, my friend, yes.

And now, my dear guests, I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island.

Ah, Miss Clark.

Oh, Mr. Roarke, have a seat.

Thank you.

Well, I must admit you've aroused my curiosity.

Why did you ask me to meet you here before the beginning of your fantasy?

Because I'd like for you to understand why I asked for my fantasy, Mr. Roarke,

and why I need it so badly.

Oh?

Please watch.

(MAN WHISTLING)

(PEOPLE CHATTERING)

Hey!

Hey, babe, you remember me.

No.

Sure you do. Big Earl Sanderson.

I introduced myself at the, uh, Rooster mag's big business bash.

I'm still a little angry at you for not going to Acapulco with me, though.

I don't work for Rooster magazine anymore, Mr. Sanderson. Goodbye.

(LAUGHING) Oh, you've gotta be kidding.

I'm not gonna let you out of my sight.

I'm gonna have a little private party for the guys in my tire distributorship,

and I want you to stop by and uh, hit a few poses, you know what I mean?

Obviously, you weren't paying attention, Mr. Sanderson.

Miss Clark is no longer in that line of work.

Big Earl pays big bucks, sweetheart.

Think it over.

Well, if that gentleman is typical of the admirers you attracted as a centerfold,

your modeling career must have been quite an ordeal, huh?

Mr. Roarke, working for Rooster Magazine paid for my college education,

and most of what you call my admirers

are just plain ordinary guys that like to look at pretty girls.

Actually, it's kind of flattering, but...

But gentlemen like Mr. Sanderson are another matter.

They assume you are a stereotype.

Beautiful but dumb, cheap and available.

An impression they perhaps got from your centerfolds, huh?

Yes. Yes.

And I've made a promise to myself

that I'm never going to do this kind of work again, ever.

But I'm beginning to feel a little bit ashamed of myself, Mr. Roarke.

Am I being wrong or mean to want this fantasy?

I try not to make moralistic judgments of my clients' desires.

But I imagine your fantasy is harbored by many ladies.

Only you can determine if it's right or wrong.

Then we can get started right away?

Of course.

Since you are going to become what some would call a female chauvinist,

you will need some of the weapons employed by successful male chauvinists.

Money and an expensive automobile.

ERICA: Oh, fabulous.

I have also made a reservation for you at a very special club

on the other side of the island.

If you hurry, you can still make the matinee performance.

Good luck and, uh, I hope your fantasy doesn't prove unsatisfactory.

Oh, don't worry, Mr. Roarke, I expect to love every minute of this.

Every little minute.

ROARKE: Oh, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Smith.

Oh, no problem, Mr. Roarke.

Please have a seat, won't you? May we offer you something to drink? Tattoo...

Look, I... Thank you, but I'm...

I'm very anxious to get this thing moving.

Mr. Roarke, Fantasy Island is my last hope

of becoming the kind of soldier I always wanted to be.

And yet you served in the United States Marine Corps?

Oh, yeah. One full hitch.

Did you make it to the shores of Tripoli?

Make that Korea, Tattoo, but just after they signed the peace treaty.

I, uh... I never saw combat.

I see. Please, do sit down, won't you, Mr. Smith?

I understand you are a married man, huh?

Yeah.

Does your wife approve of this little adventure?

Well, she doesn't like it, but she knows that I have to do it.

Look, I'm...

I'm like an actor

who prepared for an opening night that never came.

I've gotta taste what it's like to be under fire.

I have to find out whether I can cut it. Can you understand that?

Once, just once,

I want to feel what it's like to be responsible for a mission,

responsible for its success.

Or its failure.

(PHONE RINGING)

Excuse me.

Yes?

Are there any hostages aboard?

Yes.

Yes, yes, of course. Keep me informed.

I have just permitted a hijacked aircraft

to land at a remote landing strip on the other side of the island.

Well, Mr. Smith, you wanted a fantasy

involving combat against a dangerous and determined enemy

for very high stakes.

I hope saving eight innocent lives fits that purpose,

because your fantasy has just begun.

Come on! Move it! Come on!

(HOSTAGES CHATTERING)

TERRORIST: Kick it in!

Come on, lady, move! Let's go!

Come on! Move it!

(BOOGIE WONDERLAND PLAYING)

(WOMEN CHEERING)

Shake it, shake it, shake it.

(WHOOPING)

Hello. Welcome to the Jack Rabbit Club.

I'm Jackie Flynn, the owner. Have you a reservation?

Oh, I think Mr. Roarke made one for me.

Oh, yes. Erica Clark.

Well, have I got a table for you.

Right this way, my dear.

Best spot in the house.

That's it, baby! Whoo! Show those muscles! Yeah!

All right!

Hi. I'm Marlene McQueen. This your first time at the club?

Uh-huh. I'm Erica Clark. How did you know this was new to me?

'Cause I've seen you sitting there trying to look ladylike, you know.

Only you don't have to worry about that here,

because here, we're number one.

Us. The women. You know?

Hey, baby, show me something!

(GIGGLING)

It's kind of a reversal of roles.

Mmm-hmm.

You know it. Back home, I'm a bartender in one of these hardhat bars.

And let me tell you something, under every

hard hat is a hard head full of crude remarks.

And turning the tables like this is heaven.

(WHOOPS) Higher, baby! You won't break nothing!

(WHISTLES)

How am I doing?

That was great!

Thank you.

ROARKE: This is the basic layout.

As you can see, extreme caution must be used.

There is no safe approach to the area.

Uh, this man that you sent for, Bouvier? What's his background?

Mr. Emile Bouvier has enviable credentials for your purpose.

Indeed, he is the kind of man a great many men would like to be.

Adventurer, French Foreign Legion,

commando, spy, agent provocateur.

All his adult life, a soldier of fortune.

In other words, a mercenary.

Yes. And a very successful one,

who, since World War II, has fought under many flags and banners.

Boss, if you need a volunteer for your raid, count on me.

Thank you, Tattoo, but...

Uh, if it's not too great an imposition,

you might make certain that our lady guests are having a good time.

Oh, I'll do my best, boss. Um, good luck, gentlemen.

Mr. Bouvier, this is Mr. Jason Smith,

the man who will be in charge of the operation.

Mr. Smith will fill you in on the details.

Mr. Smith, uh, in order to fulfill your mission,

you'll need a small but expert team of trained men.

SMITH: Tanner.

Captain Buck Tanner, one of the biggest heroes we had in Korea.

Demolition expert.

He now runs a salvage operation on the other side of the island.

Who's this one?

ROARKE: Mr. Harry Forbes, Army Intelligence,

CIA, specialist in surveillance techniques.

I know him. A dirty little man for dirty little jobs.

They call him Weasel.

Do we need him?

He and Tanner are all we got.

Right, Roarke?

I made arrangements for you to meet Mr. Forbes

and Mr. Tanner at the salvage yard.

Mr. Bouvier will supply you with whatever equipment you may need.

Let's get to it.

C'est la guerre.

(DISCO MUSIC PLAYING)

(WOMEN CHEERING)

MARLENE: Yeah, baby!

(WHOOPS)

Okay, honey, come on! Teach me how to boogie!

(WOMEN CHEERING)

Adorable!

Hello, ladies! Are you having a good time?

ALL: Yeah!

Well, there's more of the same, only better.

You know, here, the lady is king!

ALL: Yeah.

So come on, ladies, order up some more drinks

because we're gonna start the next show! Here we go!

(EXCLAIMS)

(POLICE SIREN BLARING)

(WOMEN CHEERING)

Oh, my gosh! Oh!

MARLENE: You're adorable!

That's it, honey!

Oh!

Give it to me! Whoo! All right!

(EXCLAIMS)

What would you ladies like?

Oh! You, baby. I'll treat you right.

Thank you, but that's for the dancers. I just serve drinks here.

What'll you have?

Oh, come on, honey bunch, don't play hard to get.

Look, we want you to have a good time here,

but take it easy, all right?

I'll get it for you. Thank you.

The show is just starting, so enjoy yourself, and, uh, don't touch.

Don't you think you ought to take it easy?

Look, sweetie, don't give me that. I think you're cute. And I want you.

Well, sweetie, it's not for sale.

I think your friend needs some fresh air.

Yeah, a straight jacket would be better.

Oh, may I have another screwdriver, please?

Okay. I'll be right back.

Hey! It is not okay with me.

Come on, Marlene, don't start a scene.

I can do anything I want!

I didn't come in here to get a turnoff.

Marlene, sit down!

What happened?

All right, everybody, now calm down! Relax! Take it easy!

Drinks on the house!

Now, the area's wide open.

As you can see, there's not too much cover.

We'll probably be outnumbered.

The only way any of us are gonna get in there close

is to create a diversionary tactic.

Captain Tanner, that's where you come in.

Everything depends on your blowing this fuel storage dump

to cover the action.

(STAMMERING) Yeah, okay, okay. I just want to know

how many terrorists are there gonna be?

Well, that's what Forbes is gonna tell us.

As soon as we get close enough to the site,

he and I will go in to take a close look,

get a head count, find out exactly what we're up against.

Mr. Forbes, you with us?

Oh, yeah. Sure.

All right, getting back to the raid

why not take a couple of armored cars and go in there and blast them out of there?

Mr. Bouvier, the idea is to save the hostages, not to kill them.

As soon as you set off this explosion, the two of you

get to the building as fast as you can, in order to back up Bouvier and me.

I don't like it.

Any other ideas?

Then get your stuff together.

Your hero captain has a big problem, Smith.

What makes you say that?

It's just a hunch, my friend. Just a hunch.

(DISCO MUSIC PLAYING)

No, no, no, I won't press charges. It's bad for business.

Look, just see that she gets back to her hotel

and, for goodness sakes, make sure she sobers up.

Geez, I just wanted to have a good time. Boy, oh, boy!

And now for you two.

You, my dear, just pay your bill and leave.

And you, Walter, you can go along with your girlfriend, because you're fired.

Girlfriend? She's not my girlfriend. I don't even know her.

I'm not his girlfriend. I didn't do anything.

Oh, come on, knock it off!

Look, only a girlfriend would mix it up with a bombed out broad

who was lousing up her sweetie, So save me the excuses, will you?

Now look, Walter, you knew my rules when you took this job.

No getting chummy with the customers, okay?

I wasn't getting chummy! I was getting grabbed by the other one!

Oh, and your girlfriend here didn't like it.

Couldn't you handle it without starting a brawl?

Look, Jackie, that other woman was way out of line.

Oh...

I do my job! My job isn't to get grabbed by a drunk broad!

Jackie, will you listen to me?

(DOOR CLOSING)

I heard about your altercation, Miss Clark.

I am sorry your fantasy has caused you distress.

My fantasy is not the problem. It's that hardnosed Jackie Flynn.

She thinks I'm some sort of a stage door Johnny, messing around with her waiters.

Have you ever heard of anything so ludicrous?

Oh, yes. But customarily a stage door Johnny is a Johnny, not a Jane.

And the waiter is a lady, who may not precisely be a lady all the time,

but she's certainly not a gentleman.

Do you find this confusing?

No. Yes! And irritating! I cost Walter his job, and I didn't mean to do it.

Oh, and I feel terrible about it. He's a nice guy.

Oh, Mr. Roarke, what can I do?

I really don't know.

However,

your fantasy was for a role-reversal situation.

And if this situation were reversed,

a gentleman who had gotten a lady fired

would certainly try to find her and apologize.

Certainly you don't expect me to chase him all over town!

He's a total stranger!

You don't want me to apologize for something

that wasn't my fault in the first place, do you?

In a sense, your fantasy was to compete in the battle of the sexes

as a member of the enemy camp.

How far you wish to carry this, only you can determine.

And I'm sure you will.

You can't drown your ghosts with that stuff, my brave captain.

All you'll accomplish in the end is blowing us all to hell.

Knock it off!

You hear me? I said knock it off!

Both of you! Both of you, knock it off!

Both of you better damn well save your energies for what's coming tomorrow!

Whatever you got going between you, you can settle it later.

You understand that?

Ain't this fun?

(SIGHS)

One, two guards out front.

Three, four, all with automatic weapons.

Six. There's six of them, including the two guards outside.

Oh, hey, one of them's a woman.

(LAUGHS) She's cute.

Linda! Well, you know one of them?

Linda. That's my wife inside there!

Miss Clark, this is Master Walter Wilde's apartment.

He's been in there since he's been fired.

Thanks, Tattoo. I couldn't have found it without you.

Thank you.

Daddy, it looks like another one of your admirers followed you home.

I didn't realize anyone might have done this before.

Sure. Pushy ladies aren't unique around here.

Dinah, I think that's enough, okay?

I don't think every visitor wants a chapter out of the Wilde family soap opera.

Why don't you go see how the spaghetti's doing, okay?

Okay, Pop.

Look, uh, I don't want to seem rude,

but, this is my home, and...

Well, I like spending time alone with my daughter,

and getting fired always kind of wipes me out. So I know you'll excuse me.

Please, I'm really sorry about what happened.

I mean, getting you fired and everything.

Why don't you forget it? It really wasn't your fault anyway.

Thanks for coming by, okay?

Look, I don't want to seem pushy or anything,

but I'm sure you must have to watch your budget,

I mean, with your daughter growing up and everything,

and I just happen to be temporarily loaded...

With money, not booze,

and, uh, I'd love to buy you both the best steak dinner in town.

I'm not very good at this.

(LAUGHS) No, you're not.

But, you know, I think I caught a glimmer of sincerity

under all those modifying phrases,

and well, I can respond to that.

Only a glimmer?

All right, maybe two glimmers.

If Daddy didn't throw you out by now, he's probably gonna ask you to stay for dinner.

And you were listening, weren't you?

No. But if we are going out to dinner, I'd like a big steak.

But I'd buy the wine, and it's got to be burgundy and it's gotta be cheap.

Deal.

I'll pick you up at 8:00, okay?

Sure. Okay. Bye.

Bye-bye.

Daddy, do you like her?

Beginning to.

MALE TERRORIST: Should have heard something by now.

FEMALE TERRORIST: They're not gonna make the trade.

So what do you suggest?

Get the hostages back in the plane. Land somewhere else and start new negotiations.

Things are too quiet here. They could have a whole army around this place by now.

Big deal. They just try one move and they got a room full of dead hostages.

If they haven't released our comrades by 6:00 a.m.,

we give them their first sacrifice.

Just like I promised.

This one. A beautiful example of a decadent society.

It's only right that she should die first.

Mr. Roarke, I want to call off my fantasy. Cancel the whole damn thing.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, but I can't oblige you.

Oh, yes, you can. My wife's a prisoner of those loonies.

That wasn't part of the deal.

But what you must understand, Mr. Smith,

is that the hijacking is very real, indeed.

I can't change the fact that your wife happened to be a passenger on that flight.

You mean that's not part of the fantasy?

In no way.

Oh, this whole thing stinks.

I don't like any of it, including those three misfits,

those nuts you got me hooked up with.

Nuts? Yeah.

Those guys are supposed to be commandos?

Two of them tried to kill each other,

the other one, a peeping Tom.

These are the hotshot raiders that are supposed to back me up

and go in against those terrorists?

Perhaps they will surprise you.

Well, I don't want any surprises, not with Linda's life on the line.

Look, Roarke, doing this ego trip for fun, that's one thing,

but with my wife inside there, that's something else.

Such unexpected obstacles are often the real test of a hero, Mr. Smith.

(SOFT MUSIC PLAYING)

That's the best meal I've had in months.

I'm gonna remember it during all the spaghetti to come.

Do you foresee a lot of spaghetti in your future?

Tons. Dad and I had things under control,

but now that he's out of work, we're really gonna have to cut back.

Tuition costs an arm and a leg.

Tuition?

For my last semester in medical school.

It's due tomorrow at registration.

I was gonna get a salary advance from Jackie at the club, but that's out now.

You mean you were working at the club to pay for your education?

Working my way through college. It sounds like a gag, doesn't it?

But it's true.

The pay was great, the hours were short,

so I could spend enough time with Dinah and the books.

But it's no big deal. It's been on and off again for 10 years.

I'll just drop out again and I'll get another job,

build up enough cash, and then I'll go back.

But it seems so unfair. I mean, there was absolutely no reason for you to be fired.

I feel like it's all my fault.

Look, it's nobody's fault. That's just the way things are.

I think Dinah's had it. All that steak pooped her out.

Look, I want to thank you, and I mean it.

Come on, darling.

Walter, I wish there was something I could do.

Well, just don't worry, okay? And, uh, finish your coffee.

Dinah and I are pretty tough cookies. It's an easy walk home.

Wait.

Thanks.

Mr. Roarke, unless Walter gets his job back,

he's going to have to drop out of medical school.

Can't you talk to Jackie Flynn for him?

Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Clark, but I have no influence with the lady.

And since fraternizing with the customers

is strictly against Jack Rabbit Club rules,

any chance there might have been for his reinstatement is over.

But you can't just stand back and let that happen to him.

Miss Clark, may I remind you that your fantasy was

to assume the role of a, shall we say,

dominant female in a situation where males were passive.

Well, you have done that, and what has happened as a result

is solely your responsibility. I'm sorry, I wish I could help you.

Will you excuse me?

Tattoo, can't you think of anything?

Well, uh, maybe, but I'm not too wild about it.

There is a man who has been asking to talk to you about a soft job.

He said that Big Earl pays big bucks.

But I swore I'd never get into that costume again.

Well, I'm sure your friend Walter will understand that.

Well, maybe just once more.

If I could just handle Big Earl right,

I could help Walter without getting myself into big trouble.

Maybe.

1745, Tanner.

We need that explosion. Don't lose your nerve, Captain.

Let's move.

BOUVIER: Two minutes to go.

We have less than two minutes.

Come on. Come on!

I can't move.

Wait a minute, I heard something.

You alert them inside. I'll check it out.

It's time. Where the hell is that explosion?

Win some, lose some.

Mr. Roarke.

Why'd you send for me?

I thought perhaps you should see this, Mr. Wilde.

I swore I'd never do this again.

If you don't want to go through with it,

I can always tell him that the deal is off.

But I'm not doing it for myself this time, Tattoo. That's the difference.

Erica, baby! And right on time, too. Let me look at you.

Mmm!

You won't be needing this, honey.

No, you won't be needing that at all!

You know what I mean, sweetheart?

(LAUGHING)

Here she is, guys.

What's she doing?

She is doing something she detests in order to help a friend.

You, Mr. Wilde.

I don't understand.

I'll be happy to explain.

(WHISPERING) Come on, let's get out of here.

Weasel and Tanner, where the hell are they?

They're not gonna make it, Smith. We're on our own.

(SIGHS) I'll give them a couple of more minutes.

And then what?

Then, my friend, we'll go in alone.

SMITH: I'll duck behind the jeep.

One minute. Cover me.

(TICKING)

(COCKING)

Now! Now!

(TICKING)

(HOSTAGES SCREAMING)

MAN: Get down! Everybody, get down over here! Get down!

Don't move! Drop your weapons!

(GUN FIRING)

LINDA: Jason!

No!

WOMAN: Get up!

Hold it!

(SCREAMING)

Put your hands over your head!

All right, we give up!

Look out, Smith!

Watch them.

Please! Please let me go!

Smith, out there!

(LINDA WHIMPERING)

Get down!

MALE TERRORIST: Stay away, man.

You're empty. I counted your shots.

(GRUNTS)

Drop it.

You'd better take up a different line of work, pal.

(BIG EARL WHOOPING)

All right! Hit it! Hit it!

All right!

(WHOOPING)

EARL: All right! Hit it! Hit it!

All right!

Now, uh, take it all off, honey.

This is all you get. A few pictures in the costume, and that was our deal.

Uh, look, fellows, uh, save some of your film for something really worthwhile.

Now you took my money, doll, and Big Earl always gets his money's worth.

Big Earl's liable to get a fat lip if he doesn't back off and fast.

No, Walter, it's all right.

Look, I'll handle it.

Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do.

This is not the way I want to finish medical school.

Oh, medical school, huh?

Well, that's just perfect, 'cause I'm gonna put you in the hospital.

(ALL LAUGHING)

Look, sex symbol, you and me ought to stick together, huh?

I mean, that is if you don't mind being treated

just like an ordinary woman by an ordinary man.

I thought you'd never ask.

Just take it easy.

Emile, you saved my life.

Good show, Jason.

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

(SPEAKING FRENCH) C'est la guerre.

(GROANING)

Who was he, Jason?

A hero.

A real one.

Thank you very, very much, Mr. Roarke.

You're welcome, Miss Clark.

Thank you. Bye.

Goodbye, Mr. Wilde. Bye, Tattoo.

Bye. Bye.

Thanks for making my fantasy come true, Mr. Roarke.

It's great to have a whole family again.

I was getting sick of eating Daddy's spaghetti.

A very satisfactory conclusion, my friend.

Miss Clark and Mr. Wilde have demonstrated

that no one can make a sex object of another

without becoming less of a person in the process.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

What do you think of my husband, Mr. Roarke?

Oh, a good man to have around in an emergency.

I'll say.

I'll admit, I've always made fun of that macho hero business, you know?

But boy, are they useful when you need them.

When those terrorists took over, I was scared to death.

How did you arrange the rescue?

How did you get it all together so fast?

And how did you know I was on that particular plane?

Uh, well, it wasn't easy.

Honey, why don't you go on ahead?

I want to talk to Mr. Roarke.

Thank you. Thank you.

What about Emile?

Mr. Bouvier was a warrior out of time and place,

dying slowly from an incurable disease.

To die in battle for a worthy cause, that was his fantasy.

Yeah.

Well, like he said...

(SPEAKING FRENCH) "C'est la guerre."

Mr. Roarke.

Smith.