All language subtitles for forbidden letters.engghghghghgh

[margin bell]

[typewriter slide]

[typing]

[margin bell]

[typewriter slide]

So Larry,

it's foolish for you to
worry this late in the game.

Richard's got his parole.

It's only a matter of
time before he's back,

a free man.

It wasn't a very easy case.

Assault,

robbery,

not very popular crimes.

After all, no one wants to get mugged.

Of course, Richard wasn't thinking,

using his head at the time.

The jury understood that.

And now, the parole has come through.

And the worst

IS over.

I remember Richard,

sitting right where you are

telling me about the two of you,

how you met,

how much he loved you,

your lives together,

how much he was going to miss you.

And Iris Rogers,

she sat there too,

offering to testify,

to give evidence, a character witness.

Well, considering her profession,

it was a nice gesture, anyway.

Frankly,

if I were in jail

like Richard,

a homosexual,

you know, in his place,

I'd be glad you didn't send me any

incriminating letters.

Segregated quarters,

no prison job,

less chance for a quick parole.

You were wise not to write anything

that might have given him away.

Not that I believe all that

talk about electroshock aversion therapy.

But it's always best

to be on the safe side.

Larry,

you're foolish to worry about Richard.

He's got his parole.

He's coming back

a free man.

It hasn't been easy

for you,

for Richard.

Assault,

mugging.

Richard was crazy.

You knew it,

I knew it,

the jury knew it.

But now, it's over.

He's coming back.

You'll be together,

the two of you,

alone

at night

to touch,

to love.

Of course,

if they had known that

Richard was a pervert,

it might have been different.

He might have changed.

But you can tell him why you didn't write.

He'll understand.

Larry,

you're a fool.

It's late,

Richard's free,

free to do anything he wants,

anything.

He's capable of anything.

You're capable of anything,

two of you

alone

together.

Richard, isolated,

solitary,

no words from you,

no real words from you,

only silence.

He's back,

it's late,

and the worst

IS over.

[discordant instrumental music]

[heavy breathing]

[breathing rapidly]

[breathing deeply]

[telephone ringing]

Yes?

What?

Yes, you did.

I was dreaming.

What? What dream?

Oh, your usual nightmare.
Well, get it out of

your head, baby. Today is the day.

May 27th, the big day.

Baby, you've been sitting down
on your hands for almost a year

waiting for him. Tonight,
you're going to see him.

Jesus, you sound

totally freaked.

All right, all right. You're not freaked,
it's just a little

nervous. You got a right to be.

I'd be hysterical, too.

Yeah, you sound quietly hysterical.

Right.

What did you do last night?

Where did you go?

[ Last Night's Man by Paul DuBois ]

My eyes can't cry

and I know I wouldn't even try

to let it out and so I just

go through the motions

Pretending it is just another

night like all the rest I wish it were.

I'm glad it's not,

I hold in my emotions

A year ago, I lost my love

Yet, he remains a part of me

inside my soul though far away

my love’s still living

I've walked this street a hundred times

to find a smile,
to hear the laughter, it's not easy

when it ain't all of you you're giving

Tonight, might be to lead
me on to some stranger and then

beyond his easy way

and I will try to say I'm lonely

The evening light is grey

I see a friendly face
who'll maybe understand

the need I have to break
the spell that holds me

Who is this man?

What's in his eyes?

I see but I don't

realize what's happening

because I'm not

sure of my feelings

Should I smile back and play along?

Should I say yes?

Should I be strong?

I just don't know

if I can give

him any feeling.

Something that's soft

within his voice

his whispered breath

gives me no choice.

I'm feeling warm..

I kind of like this

man to hold me

My body's here,

my mind is there.

I'm trying hard to share

a part of me.

My lonely skin

cannot deny

its sadness.

- Iris,

what am I going to do today?

Look, Larry, sweet, lovable,
schizo that you are.

Get out.

Cruise, go to a movie,
do something a little kinky.

See a porno flick,

get hot, take a Quaalude,

sleaze around.

Not the bars,

the streets.

Meet someone, talk,

blow them, fuck.

Do anything,

but don't walk around rehashing

Richard's letters in your head.

You know how freaky you get

when you start thinking about
everything that's happened.

Yeah, well, I know there's not
much you can do on that,

uh, welfare check

they send you. But this
is San Francisco, homo heaven.

So get out, and I'll meet
you for dinner at 7

at the Powell Coffee Shop.

You know, where they have
those rare steaks that you

dig and the cashier that's
always making eyes at you?

Maybe he'll pick up
the tab if you play it right.

So, get your

gorgeous ass out of bed
and out of the house fast.

Meet you at 7.

Bye.

[When Your Lover Goes
Away by Dan Turner]

When your lover goes away

and you wait for his return.

How long is the day

until he comes back?

And then in time and not to run.

When your lover says goodbye,

and you wait

for his hello.

No words can describe of
the embrace or will he return.

Days met upon

may break the bond.

Though you reach out, you won't respond.

After you, he might recall

the way he kissed you once

and that is all.

When your lover's far away,

and you write him once again.

An answer you say.

Is it still love or will he
sign my letter friend?

Once you have loved, you can't regret.

Feelings for him you can't forget.

And find another man to take you home.

When your lover goes away

and you wait for his return.

How long is the day

when he comes back?

Has there been time and not to run?

[sleazy funk music]

[romantic classical music]

[beach sounds]

[sleazy funk music]

[wind blowing]

[somber instrumental music]

[wistful instrumental music]

[Pass It on to the
Stranger by Ron Dunham]

Pass it on to the stranger.
Everyday feelings coming on.

You're afraid to show your love,
so afraid to go along.

Share your love with the
stranger. Gently, he calls you to say,

is the love still inside your
heart? Keep your heart satisfied.

Share your dream with the
stranger. Let him take you away.

Leave your fears far
behind. Nothing's left to say.

[whistling]

Pass it on to the stranger.
Every day feeling's coming on.

You're afraid to show your love.

So afraid to go along.

[romantic classical music]

[discordant instrumental music]

[typing]

- July 26th. Dear Larry,
it's late afternoon. I'm sitting

I'm sitting in the recreation
yard watching the sky.

I'm feeling sorry for myself.
I've been here one month and two days.

I think I'm used to it now.
Thanks for the letter.

I wish I had more to say to you.
I miss you.

I really don't know what to write.

Nothing about nothing.

I won't try and answer all
the questions you sent me.

I can't because I don't have too
many answers these days.

Larry, I really don't know what I'm feeling.

I'm feeling something.
But I don't know what it is.

Nothing I could explain on paper.

If that's a hassle for you,
I'm sorry. But that's how it is.

I'm just turned off by
the scene here. It's like being asleep.

My eyes are open,
but I don't see anything.

I walk and I move.
Answer questions.

But it's not really me.
How I am...

...or used to be.

[typing]

- November 12th. Dear Larry,
I'm in my bunk today.

I got the flu. Too sick to work,
not sick enough for the

hospital. Anyway,
I get a chance to just lie here and think.

I hope you can understand
me not answering all your letters.

It's not that I don't like
getting them. Most guys here

are crazy for mail. Anything,
magazines, books, even bills.

I must be totally fucked up
'cuz I don't look forward to

getting letters. They remind
me of the outside and everything

I'm missing. I know,
I start thinking about that. I'll

freak out, knock some guard's head off. So,
I try not to think

that or think at all. I wish
I could stop thinking. Turn

my mind off. I have to stop
the memory trips I get into.

Thinking about people, places,
streets, parks, the beach.

I'd like to just cut it all out
of my brain. Lose it. Drop

it somewhere.

[typing]

- May 2nd. Dear Larry,
I'm being set loose from this cage

real soon. Seems I've been a model zombie.

No problems, very cooperative.

[typing]

I can't wait to see you.

I'm very excited and that's bad,
dangerous. Having any feelings

here means trouble. I just
pop and blow the whole setup.

I'm holding my breath.
Maybe I won't breathe it all.

I can hardly keep it together.
I feel like I'm going over

the line. The two weeks to go
has suddenly very scary. I can

hardly sleep. I feel like I'm
going to scream. I'm going

to get out. Two weeks,
14 days. And then, air. And sun.

And no one to ask where I've
been and where I'm going. And

food, real food. And seeing you. Love,
Richard.

[somber classical music]

[instrumental music]

[instrumental music]

[instrumental music]

- Dear Richard,
these are the letters I'll never mail

to you in prison - the
feelings I know would get you in

trouble if they found out what
you are and what you mean

to me. I'm writing in this
book everything I would have

sent to you if I were free
and not frightened. Everything

you saw in my eyes when I
visited you and then had to hold

back so no one could tell
that we're lovers. Some friends

told me to type these letters
and sign a woman's name. They

meant well, but they don't
understand how it's been between

us. So here's this book. I
don't know whether I'll ever

let you read these words. When you get out,
they won't fit.

They'll seem out of place,
dumb and stupid. But right now,

it's the only way I can talk to you,
to myself too. In a fucked

up sense, writing it all down
is the only intimate thing

I can do with you,
'til they let you out. I remember the

first time I saw you,
Richard. You didn't see me, but I

saw you, in a tuxedo, a white tie,
with studs on your shirt

and glitter in your beard. It
was Halloween night and you

were with an outrageous
drag queen. I wondered if the

two of you were lovers and
I knew right then and there

that I wanted you,
that I liked you. It was outside a club

called Cabaret. It was a crowd,
the streets were packed.

It was my first San Francisco
Halloween and I wasn't prepared

for all the people, the costumes,
the lights, the faces.

So, I wandered.

Just walking, like cruising,
only there were too many people

passing by to really catch
anyone's eyes. You looked happy

and stoned. There was a
lot going on for me that night,

a lot of firsts. But you stood
out. I wanted to come over

and say 'Hello'. I should have done I,
but I was scared

and excited. So I watched
you make your way into the club

and I wondered about you.
What you were like to be with,

to talk to, how you'd be in bed,
what it would be like to

spend the night with you,
wake up next to you. It cost

me a few bucks cover
charge just to get into the club.

But I made my way through
the mob and followed you inside.

I watched you dancing and
got into the music and your date.

She was incredible. Thinking back,
I guess I was pretty

wide-eyed and unsure. It
seems crazy now to have watched

you from the sidelines
thinking you wouldn't like me.

I still feel that way in bars,
a little nervous. Just not

on top of it all. That night,
I saw more than just the Cabaret.

I saw myself as maybe being
part of everything around me,

connecting instead of just
watching. I know I wanted you

from that first night. I can admit it here.

I'd have given anything to be with you.

[Harlequin Eyes by Tommy Talley]

Images and faces,
all my senses are careening

the evening holds a mystery,
somehow a sense of meaning

a symphony of black and white,
a gentleman's touch

But is it just the mask I admire so much?

Your hair is streaked with silver
and your smile streaked with pain.

Your eyes are streaked with anger,
like I never want to see again

Your heart is streaked with
feeling like the depths of the sea

I see through the mask.

I see me

Mirroring lies of a
similar path intertwined

and I feel sure

but somehow inside
there's a nagging suspicion

like a premonition

It makes me slightly sad
and somewhat insecure

The glimmer from your face form
arms that wrap themselves around me

They taunt me, tease me, pull me
towards you yet they form a boundary

They give me glimpses of a glance

I know it's no disguise

I've seen that look before

you've got got harlequin eyes

Harlequin eyes

- I don't remember too much
of the rest of the night. It's sort

of a blur. I went back to the YMCA,
to my room alone. And

that was the first time I let
my mind play with you, imagine

you in a place, somewhere,
alone like me, but out free.

It became my favorite fantasy
of you. One that would come

back into my head over and over again,
even after I knew

you.

[vocal classical music]

- After we met and became
lovers. I tried to forget that

Halloween night when I
didn't say 'Hello'. It's always

been a part of me that's
been afraid to reach out, make

the first move. You knew that
even when we got our place

together. But you never
brought it up. You just held me

close and showed me your
world. I miss that about you.

Sometimes even more than your
body. I missed how you looked

at things. I saw so many
places with you for the first

time, like Land's End. I knew
there were lots of people around

but I didn't see them when I
was with you. It's funny because

it's just a place,
rocks and trees and the ocean. I know

there's nothing magical
about it. It's sitting on that

cliff of you. Looking at you.
Touching you. It was like

being in a dream,
like the trips in my head. When I was

a boy.

[romantic classical music]

- I miss just being out with you,
Richard. When I was with

you, I had the feeling that
nothing could go wrong or seem

out of place, that I could do
whatever I wanted. And I didn't

have to worry that somebody
would come along and make fun

of me or call me names or
push me around. Being together

was like that. It was easy. It
was the way I always imagined

it in my mind. You see,
Richard. I always wanted a big

affair with music and a perfect lover,
you know, like in

the movies, except it'd be boy meets boy,
and zap, a great

romance. Love with a capital 'L',
crashing waves and colored

sunsets. I played it cool on the outside,
pretended to

be very together, above it all,
you know, casual. But on

the inside,
I wanted to be in love. Then you came along

and turned me inside out. I got
my crashing waves and colored

sunsets but no hassles. We
just did it. And more than love,

I got laughter too,
and a feeling that I wasn't alone. I

don't know for sure,
it's what I wanted was what you wanted,

but you were so much fun.
You seem to how to get me off,

not just in my mind. I hope
all these feelings are still

there, that you'll still want me,
desire me. That you'll

still play with me,
as well as love me. I can't imagine

you changing. But I get
freaked out that you'll come back

hurt. That you'll return without
your smile, or your tenderness.

I miss that about you,
Richard. Your tenderness, especially

at night.

[disco music]

- It's late. My body, my eyes,
and ears, my cock have been

out cruising the bars and
baths again. But my mind. My

mind keeps coming back to you,
your face, your hands, what

it was like to kiss you,
to feel you inside me. There were

times Richard,
times when I wanted to hold back something

a part of myself from you.
Maybe you felt it sometimes

a fear. A fear that that you
love me more than I loved

you. I guess it's never
perfectly even. But there were

nights when, there were
nights when I thought that I could

have been a better lover. I
never told you how it was to

touch you, to be next to you,
under you. I don't know. I

think I was scared of letting
every thought go, of turning

myself over to you. Not
just sucking you off or getting

fucked but more like blending
into you. In a way, I felt

like I was becoming you.
I'd been in love before, but I

always kept my balance about
it. Kept it cool. And I thought

I was smart by holding out.
I lost my balance with you

Richard, and blew my cool
and got into you more than I ever

thought I could. There were
times when I forgot everything

who I was and where I was,
just tumbled and got lost in

you.

[romantic instrumental music]

- It's morning. I miss you,
Richard. Miss your smile, your

laugh, just being with you. Right now,
I want to walk into

this room and turn and see you,
hear your voice. Look into

your eyes. I know. now
that I took it all for granted.

You and me together,
the whole setup. I got used to being

your lover. Iris knew that
about me. She read my beads

from the start. For a while,
I felt a little worried around

her. She was your friend,
Richard. When you first introduced

me to her, I was shocked,
put off that she was a hooker.

When we all went down to
Aquatic Park for that Tarot reading,

I was convinced she was a
phony. I didn't trust her. I thought

that since she fucked for money,
she had to be a total

ripoff. As we walked along,
I thought the whole thing is

pretty dumb. Cards and questions,
seem like a bunch of bullshit.

Iris made me mad. You see,
I liked her in spite of myself.

I had this picture,
this image of someone who sold sex

as being hard and cold. But
she was so open to us and she

liked me, accepted me from
the very first. I don't remember

the reading what she actually said,
you know, about the

cards. I wasn't paying that much attention,
really. I was

into you and wondering what
people might think about the

three of us. Just sitting out
there looking at that Tarot

deck. I've always been like that,
worried about what people

might think if they knew me,
the real me, what was going

on inside. Being gay was
the same 'til we met. I used

to feel that anybody could
tell what I was just by looking

at me. So, even when I was outside walking,
I felt a little

like hiding, felt like I was different,
strange. You and

Iris, you took care of all that. You know,
Richard, I never

really played when I was a
kid. I grew up fast and acted

like a little man. It was like
like I'd never been a boy,

you gave me back the time I'd
wasted. And now, there's time,

but it's locked up,
stopped like a broken clock that won't

turn or move, frozen,
stuck and it's weird. But now, all

I want with you is time.

[playful instrumental music]

- I can't believe I didn't tell
you these things when you

were next to me, Richard,
said the words in your ears. Whispered

them to you so that you'd
know for sure that I loved you.

I'm freaked out today,
scared that when you come back

I may have changed. Nothing
much else has. The place looks

like it did when we finally
got it fixed up. It's hard

to picture you in a cell, Richard.
Indoors all the time.

Your day is laid out in advance,
what you're allowed to

do, what you're not allowed,
all set up. Where you can go,

and who you'll see. Richard,
loving at a distance is no way

to love. It makes no sense.
It's a charade and my hands

are tied. And still,
I feel close to you. I haven't touched

you in a year and still have you in me,
how you move, your

back, and hair, your mouth and
breath mixed in mine. The way

you undress, your sweat and cum,
your spit. I can recall

almost everything about you,
where we used to get it on

what we did. But I draw a
blank on trying to remember your

touch. I don't know how to
remember that. Words and sounds

are easy,
at least there's an echo. But how to recall

your body on mine,
in mine? I don't know. It's not something

I can do with my brain. My cock
remembers. My arms and legs

too. But without you next to me,
leaning up against me.

It's a lot of mind games. I miss you,
Richard. There's

no way I can write that down.
No way to say it. How can

I describe a hole in my life? Like,
a section of feelings

has been removed,
and I'm left with a space inside me.

A space that's filled with waiting.

[wistful instrumental music]

- It's last entry time in this book,
Richard. And I've got

nothing left to say or write,
I think. I've gone over the whole

thing in my head, a hundred
times. And I still don't understand

at all. Maybe some parts,
but certainly not all the feelings.

And now you're just about
home and I don't know what's

gonna happen. I'm scared by that. In a way,
time stopped

for me when you got arrested. And tonight,
I want it to

start again. How it'll go? I have no idea.

[birds chirping]

[romantic classical music]

- Iris, I'm sorry, I'm late. I overslept.
- That's okay, hon.

I ordered for you. Steak,
rare, and a Caesar salad.

The house specialty. Money's
no object. It's been a good day.

Jesus, you look terrible. Don't talk. Eat,
food's what you need.

Who knows,
Richard may want to fuck non-stop for three

weeks, so eat. You know,
it's weird. I've been thinking

about you two all day. On the streets,
up in the hotel room,

thinking about how much you
and Richard are in love. Hey,

here I am at O'Farrell waiting
for my John and keeping an

eye out for Vice and I'm
thinking about you two. Suddenly,

it hit me. You two are the
most mismatched pair I've ever

met. I tried to come up with
a more unlikely combination

and I couldn't. There he is,
a 31-year old mugger. Not some number

picked up blowing a high
school sophomore in a restroom or

some queen picked up in
full drag in Fresno or Kansas

City. Nope, Richard,
your everyday average, hoodlum. Six

foot four, big chest, strong legs,
huge hands, 200 pounds

of hostility. Just who you
wouldn't want to meet in a dark

alley and certainly no
defense attorney's dream client.

Then there's you. All
starry-eyed full of music writing us

letters you can't even
mail. It's fucked. Yeah, yeah,

I know. If they found out Richard was gay,
goodbye prison

job and early parole. Jesus,
I'll never figure out how he

wrangled that parole. Straight
act is pretty good when he

butches it up. Jesus, they must have
been dumb, huh? On the other hand,

maybe it was my letters
to him that they opened.

I put perfume on the paper

and wrote some of the
hottest lines I've ever read.

They might've labeled him Stud of
the Age. But you, you're a sucker.

You know, you're in love with a
time bomb. Granted, Richard's

not your average time bomb,
but he's got a fuse. A short fuse.

Then there are times he
acts like a big baby and you

come on like Father Time. Bizarre,
you and Richard, weird.

- Fuck you, Iris.

- Don't get me wrong,
baby. I think it's beautiful.

You know, I do. I don't know what
makes people mug other people,

but it sure has saved Richard
the usual faggot riffs in jail.

Nobody'd mess with him,
he'd embalm anyone who crossed him.

It's not like some gorgeous
young thing like you gets

dropped in the tank,
with those hungry wolves.

You'd get gangbanged

before they got a chance
to get into the gay section.

But not Richard. He's tough. No
Friday night mass rape with him

as the mattress. It's funny,
isn't it? The trip that sent him up the

river probably saved his
ass in the big house. But that's

passed. Right now,
he's on a bus on Route 5. And you, judging

from our phone conversation this morning,
you're wondering

whether he's just the same. Well,
he ain't. No way. Doesn't

take a crystal ball to figure
out the guy's changed. Maybe

for the worse. Maybe our big
baby's grown up. If he has, you know,

we're in for trouble. That
was the part that always saved

Richard. Sure raised him above
the usual jock types you ran

around with. I mean,
no one ever gave me a Japanese silk kite

for Christmas until Richard.
Or saved a complete

set of patient number tags
from the VD Clinic, 1 to 69. I gotta

love a guy who runs an ad
in the Berkeley Barb and puts

my phone number. Do you have
any idea how many people, men

and women, called up asking
for a quote "wild, tender, loving,

boyish but forceful, hung,
animalistic stud?" Well, I don't know

how many calls there
were but there were a lot.

[piano background music]

- What am I gonna do?

- Other than going to the terminal,
nothing. Play it by ear.

He may get off the bus and zero,
nothing. Go ahead feels

to touch him, to kiss him.
If there's any fire left in him.

You'll know it then. Don't
plan it. He may want to go

to a cheap motel for a quickie fuck.

Do it. He may want to get
raving drunk. Do that too.

Just keep him away from the
cops. Richard's all front, like most

people. It's one way on the
outside and on the inside you

figure. But Richard likes
everyone to think he's fine all

the time. Bullshit. No one's
fine all the time. So don't

go by that surface. Get to his feelings,
his heart. That's

where he hides passion.
But if ever there was a person

and a time for it, it's you. Tonight.

- San Joaquin Valley. Local
Bus. At gate number 22.

All aboard, please.

- Gate number 10,
Castroville and Watsonville,

gate number 10.

[classical music]

- Passengers for Sparks, Nevada, gate 30.

Sparks, Nevada, gate 30.

- Greyhound through
service to Washington, DC

Is now available for
loading at gate number 30.

For Oakland, Richmond, Sacramento,
Northeast Sacramento, Reno...

[instrumental music]

[instrumental music]

[instrumental music]

- Forbidden Letters was recorded
and mixed at Blossom Studios

in San Francisco. Jeffrey
Olmsted wrote the original

score, Frederick R. Schminke
arranged and performed it

on the ARP synthesizer. Paul
DuBois sang his song "Last

Night's Man", engineered by
Tommy Tadlock with Steven Brown

on the Moog synthesizer. Sean
Michael Latham, countertenor,

sang Dan Turner's "When Your
Lover Goes Away". Ron Dunham

wrote and performed "Pass It
on to the Stranger" accompanied

by the Conan Band. Tommy Talley did piano,
guitar and vocals

for his song "Harlequin Eyes".
Art direction and set decoration

by David Pasko. Assistant Direction,
second camera, and

special visual effects by
Douglas Dickinson. The interior

color scenes were lighted
by John Frazer. Locations and

transportation by Thommy Padgett
and Joe Cicio. Cinematographers

for the Halloween sequence,
William Smart, James Block

and Douglas Dickinson. Still
Photography by Steve McMillin.

Victoria Young played Iris,
with Douglas Dickinson, Willie

Boren, Ralph Osborne,
David Del Cambio, Francisco Guevara,

Thommy Padgett, John Gustavson,
Jerry D. Kuroda, Richard

Locke, and Robert Adams.
My name is Arthur J. Bressan, Jr.

and I made this motion picture.