Original subtitles

All the shadows in the city

Used to love you, what a pity

I miss the questions you used to ask me

Bored to death, cut, mad and lonely

Bored to death, cut, mad and lonely...

Bored to death

Cut, mad and lonely.

You know, I blame myself for this prostate cancer.

If you have a character flaw,

you're susceptible to disease in that area.

What do you mean? I don't understand.

It's a new theory of mine. For example,

I had a great aunt who lived up in Newport.

She used her beauty selfishly--

got married four times, always for money.

And then she had sinus cancer

and her nose had to be removed.

- Oh my God, the nose. - I know, very disfiguring.

Now there's me. You know,

I've been sexually out of control for 40 years.

I mean, I've torn through people's lives.

So my punishment is prostate cancer.

George, you're being way too hard on yourself.

It's not good for your immune system.

No, I'm not being too hard, Jonathan.

I've been selfish. I've been living like a demented god.

Well, I wish I could live like a demented god.

I've been living like a demented loser.

No, this is about me.

Look, I'm the only one who's allowed to be negative here.

But I suck at everything. I was broken up with again.

I'm a lousy detective. My parents had to bail me out.

Name one private detective who goes to his parents when he's in trouble.

And I'm failing as a writer.

I disagree with everything you've said.

There's nothing to disagree with. These are statements of fact.

I should probably just quit everything and go to law school.

Oh God no, that's horrible. No, listen to me--

Jonathan, everything you do is fun--

being a detective, being a writer.

Pay attention to a dying man.

Keep doing what you're doing. It's not boring.

And that's all that counts in life.

George, you're not dying.

You're gonna be okay.

You're dating your doctor. She cares about your prostate.

But I may not be okay.

You know, I was reading Joan Didion,

where she describes how her husband died-- just like that.

It just seems so unfair that we can be turned off

like a-- like a switch,

like we never lived, like we never mattered.

I don't want to be turned off.

Okay.

We both need to do a lot better with our positive thinking.

Mmm.

What's something positive we can think about?

Uh...

oh-- no,

that last bag of pot you got me?

Very dreamy. Now that's positive.

In my mind, I saw a dandelion

turn into a tiger's paw.

It was beautiful.

Right.

You're not what I had in mind for a dick.

I was expecting a piece of beef-- shoulders.

Well, if you don't like my dimensions, I thank you for the whiskey

- and I'll be on my way. - No no. No no no.

I'm sorry. You got expressive hands.

That's a sign of intelligence and I need somebody with brains.

I'll take the compliment. I'm short on them these days.

So what's the nature of your problem, Professor?

Do you break into places for clients?

I've been known to. What do you need done?

Oh, I screwed up... bad.

Look, I'll be frank with you-- I'm a tenured professor,

But I'm also a junkie--

functional.

But I got in hock to my dealers.

I was desperate and I gave them something valuable.

- What did you give them? - A signed first edition of "On The Road."

I convinced them it was worth $1,000 on eBay.

Wow. I love Jack Kerouac.

What Capote said about him was completely unfair.

Yeah, but I went online after I gave it to them

and I found out the book is worth much more than I thought.

I'm an idiot. It could fetch as much as 75 grand.

Holy shit. That's a lot of money.

That's right. I could retire on that cash.

And I need a new chair.

You know, when you're chairbound,

hemorrhoids are very cruel.

So where's the book now?

I don't know. But here's what I had in mind--

tomorrow their runner drops off my bag of dope.

You follow 'em back to their base.

When they're out, you get the book.

- Will you do it? - Okay, I'll take the case.

Ah, good. You come in a queer package, but you got guts.

- I had guts once. - If you don't mind me asking,

what kind of professor are you, Professor?

I'm a novelist.

I teach fiction writing in the MFA program.

Really? I'm a--

I'm sorry, I haven't heard of you. What books have you written?

Just one. It came out in '70.

It was called "The Music That Kills,"

about a homicidal concert pianist, goes nuts from too much practicing.

Why didn't you write a second novel?

Because I was afraid to.

Shit.

- There's Ray. - Oh my God, it's Ray.

Ma, look, there's Ray.

Ray! Ray!

- Hey, hi. - Hi Ray!

Okay, girls. Why don't you go with Molly and Lydia?

- Little ladies. - The girls wanted to,

well, you know. It's funny bumping into you.

- Ha. Only in Brooklyn. - Yep.

What happened to your forehead?

Oh that? George shot me with a rubber-bullet gun.

- What? - It doesn't matter.

I'm sorry about that night with Irwin--

you know, your lover with the orange pubes?

Yeah, I know who you're talking about.

But it's all right. I haven't heard from him since.

Oh, good good. I mean...

so did you-- did you read my comic book?

Uh, I haven't had the chance. I'm sorry.

Did you listen to the mix CD I made for you?

I put Chet Baker on it because I know that you like the shape of his nose.

- Did you listen to that? - Not yet, but I will.

You should listen to it. I mean, it tells the story

of our relationship in 18 songs.

I kind of put them in chronological order

from when we first met to the end part.

- Ray, I've got to go. - Me too. Yeah, okay.

- Okay, come on, guys. - Bye, Ray!

- Hey, is that Leah? - Yeah, you're late.

That would have never happened had you been here 10 minutes ago.

Sorry. I had insomnia.

I masturbated like four times to pass out,

but I couldn't fall asleep till 6:00 in the morning

and then I slept late. I'm sorry.

So was it okay to see Leah?

No. That's the horrible miracle of break-ups--

three years together and then you act like you don't even know each other.

I'm sorry, Ray.

Super Ray. Thanks for coming in, man.

- Bob, this is my friend Jonathan. - Hi.

Hey, I didn't want to give it away in my e-mail,

but your comic book is selling like crazy.

- What? - Yeah. It's a hit, man.

You might want to think about getting a legit publisher for this thing.

I mean, look, self-publishing is cool,

but I think the demand's gonna be too great.

Oh, yo, let me get your money.

Yeah okay. Yeah, good.

Ray, this is wonderful.

- Are-- are you the creator of "Super Ray"? - Uh, yes I am.

- Could you sign my copy of your comic? - Sure, sure.

We think it's so cool that Super Ray gets his powers

from his penis hitting the third rail.

Where do you get your ideas?

- I smoke pot, then I draw. - That's cool.

Um, could you sign this page? It's my favorite.

- Sure. - It's so romantic.

Super Ray really loves Leah.

Yes he does.

Okay, here you go.

Are you a Vulcan or an elf?

Oh please, I'm an elf.

Right, okay. Sorry.

I can't believe you did that.

- I know! - Holy shit.

You're on a roll. What's going on?

I don't know. But something is happening.

Ever since I finished the comic book, it's like I am Super Ray.

I mean, aside from Leah crushing my balls,

I'm feeling pretty good.

It's cool. It's like you're having

some kind of a psychic transference with your own character.

Yes. Also...

my mom gave me some advice from a self-help pamphlet that she reads.

She's always doing that because of my dad's OTB addiction

and because of her diabetes foot.

- I forgot she has diabetes. - Yes.

She told me to visualize impossible things happening,

which I did. You know what I visualized?

- Making money. - I need to get that pamphlet.

Super Ray! There's your money, Ray.

- Bang. - Let's go have a drink

Right now and get drunk

16 gin and tonics.

It's not even noon. I can't anyways.

I've got to go to Midwood College for a case.

- Do you want to come? - Are you kidding?

Last time I tried to help you, George shot me in the head.

What would a police duck

say to a suicidal bear?

"You can bear it."

Oh God, that's terrible.

I'm never gonna win this thing.

- What are you doing? - Ah.

Um, I was just studying "The New Yorker."

I had an idea too.

Instead of the caption contest, which is stupid,

why don't we let readers send in cartoons every week

and we'll publish the best one?

You know, I think people will love that. That's not a bad idea.

I have a friend, actually, who's a cartoonist.

No, I don't like cartoons.

All right.

So I just came by to let you know

that all "Edition" employees are subject

to a mandatory random drug test this afternoon.

A drug test? Oh no. No, listen--

that is not in the spirit of things

that I have cultivated here at "Edition."

I'm sorry. But it's protocol for all subsidiaries

of Wellstone Media. They require it.

All right. I'll inform the troops,

but they're not gonna like it.

Well, the troops already know, George. I'm just here to inform you.

I have to take a drug test?

As soon as he leaves, I'll go out on this balcony.

Now you wait outside.

When I spot him, I'll give you this sign.

I like that signal. I've used it before.

All right.

I want to confess something, Professor Hawkins.

Yeah?

You see, I'm also a writer like you.

I've published one novel.

Oh no, I need a detective-- a man of action--

not some effete scribbler.

You've got to get that book for me. I need that 75 grand.

- This chair is killing me. - Don't worry.

I'm both-- writer and detective.

Uh, okay. I get it.

Yeah. That's good-- a writer needs to get his hands dirty,

be steeped in vice.

- I knew you had guts! - Thank you.

You know, you should write about your cases like Dashiell Hammett did.

Oh shit! He'll be here any minute.

Go on, get downstairs.

...I'm definitely gonna go to the meeting.

Hello, Professor.

- Jonathan? - Oh. Hello, Louis. This is odd.

What are you doing here at Midwood College?

Let me guess-- you're taking a basic writing class.

No, Louis, I'm not in school. I'm on a case.

Oh yes, I forgot about your mental troubles in that area.

Tell me, you weren't a forceps baby, were you?

Your skull seems pinched on top.

Shut up, Louis. What are you doing here?

I'm adjuncting in the English department this semester.

- You-- really? - Yes, of course.

God, I would love to teach here someday.

I mean, this campus is so romantic.

And I'm already very partial to sport coats,

which is great for being a professor.

Don't be ridiculous, Jonathan. You're not cut out for academia.

What are you going to do-- teach students how to write without flair or talent?

Greene, what exactly is your problem with me?

Quite simply, you offend me aesthetically.

And I regret not thrashing you more thoroughly in the boxing ring.

But I won.

I feel, in retrospect, that I performed in the more dominating fashion.

What? Do I have something?

But-- where are you going?

I'm sorry you're so bitter, Greene.

Must be difficult to have never known the touch of a woman

because you have the bloated head of a pumpkin and breath like cat food.

Well, at least I don't advertise myself on craigslist

like some kind of whore.

Calling yourself a private detective! Ha!

Humph-- I suppose it's better than calling yourself a writer.

- Here you go. - Thank you, maestro.

Can I get a couple of shots of a nice whiskey for me and the lady, please?

Sure.

Ahem--

Ah-hh. Two more, please. Ahem.

So what's the big occasion?

I came into a little bit of money today.

Hmm. So I guess you can buy me another drink.

Sure.

Sorry about that.

So what's your name?

- Trouble. - "Trouble."

That was my mom's name.

Oh, that's good. That's smoky.

- Two more? - Sure.

You could grow on a person.

I have.

So what's your middle name?

Carol.

Carol. That's my father's name.

Oh hey. Walter, right? How you doing?

I'm fine, but my name is Steven, Mr. Christopher.

Right right, sorry. I was just wondering, Steven--

see, I took this anti-diuretic

and I am-- I'm very very dry.

Any chance that you could fill up my urine cup for me?

I mean, it would be embarrassing if all I had

was a few meager droplets, right?

I don't understand.

All I'm saying is a young fellow like yourself

probably has enough urine for two people.

Now is that too much to ask?

Excuse me, Mr. Christopher,

I-- I have to go look at something on my computer.

Ha! Ha. All right.

Shit.

Hey. Bobby, right? How old are you?

- George, listen-- - Hey, Jonathan, Jonathan,

how long does marijuana stay in a person's system?

- Is it more than 24 hours? - I'm not sure. Listen--

Well, shit, you're supposed to know these things.

Why? I'm not an expert.

I did hear something about marijuana staying in our fatty tissues--

- Oh oh. - What the fuck are you doing?

- George, I have to go. - No no!

I need help. Oh--!

I was just inspecting the sealing of your window here

and you're definitely at risk for leakage.

You a fuckin' cop? You look like a cop.

I do?

Oh no, that's...

I swear I'm not a cop.

I was just walking by and I was drawn to your window.

I admit it--

I'm a voyeur.

What the fuck is a voyeur?

You know, like a peeping Tom.

- Who the fuck is Tom? - And who the fuck is that?

How'd you get that band-aid?

Police work with friends.

Mmm. That's sexy.

Mm-hmm.

Mmm. My God, look at this thing.

Mm-hmm.

- It's so beardy. - Mm-hmm.

I want to go down on it.

I don't like that.

- My dad had a beard. - Mmm.

He died when I was 16 of esophageal hemorrhages...

from drinking.

- I'm gonna be a dad. - Mmm?

These two lesbians in Ditmas Park got ahold of my sperm

and they're six months' pregnant.

I don't know if I'm ever gonna be allowed to see the child, but--

I don't want to hear about your other women.

Yeah, sorry.

Boop boop.

You should let me go and hurt him.

I'm just a writer. I'm doing a piece on him for "The New Yorker."

- You are? - I was thinking about a "Talk of the Town" piece.

You know, they're always about marginal crackpots living on the edge of reality--

your whole Walter Mitty delusion about being a detective.

See, these motherfuckers are detectives.

- No no no! - Listen, guys, guys!

We are not undercover cops. I swear.

I'll buy pot from you. Would a cop buy pot?

I have a friend-- he has cancer.

He needs marijuana. Now my own dealer disappeared recently.

That's probably because you put him away.

Yeah, don't try that entrapment bullshit, assholes.

There's only one way to know whether a cop is a cop.

Here you go.

Snort this, "Five-0," and show us you ain't a cop.

I refuse. That house key is very dirty

and I've never done anything stronger than a vodka gimlet.

- So... - Snort it.

- I just couldn't-- - Snort it.

I have terrible nasal polyps.

Run!

- It says "Don't Walk." - Just run!

You know, I still can't believe you thought for a moment

that you could teach at Midwood College.

Would you just shut up? I could teach there.

I'm teaching at Metropolitan Writers Workshop.

Ha! That rip-off night school?

The only students there are ex-cons and subnormals.

Ah! Fuckety!

Oh shit. Come on. Come on.

Come on.

Ah!

I can't. I can't go on. Oh, listen to me.

You bastard. You've reduced my life to a B movie.

You know, go get help, you idiot.

I'll hide behind these logs.

Okay. I'll be back.

I just want you to know that even though

you're the most horrible person I've ever met, I won't leave you here to die.

Go, you idiot! Oh, sentimental claptrap.

- Follow these footprints! - Turn right.

- All right, all right. - I don't see him!

Oh, come on, man.

Help, Jonathan! Help!

What are you looking for, man? What you lookin' for?

Let me help him.

Oh, you didn't. Ugh-hh!

Get away from me.

Come here. Come on.

Let's go.

- Ah! - This way.

Gotta get my bag of pot and the book.

My ankle will never be the same because of you.

Shut up, Louis. I just saved your life.

George, we need to talk.

Sure, come on in.

I'm working on my column, but it can wait for you.

I'm going to speak very slowly

because you're probably stoned right now.

Your urine tested off the charts

for THC.

What? You already got the results?

On-site lab, George-- very high-tech.

And adding soap to your specimen wasn't very clever.

Soap? Oh no. There must be a mistake.

I mean, it happens all the time at the Olympics--

Somebody's sample gets confused with somebody else's.

You know, I've noticed that Walter has--

Steven has sometimes very red beady eyes. Have you--

George, you're going to have to go to rehab.

Company policy.

We usually send people to a very nice place in Arizona.

- Ariz-- oh Jesus. - The dry air is good for sobriety.

Katherine?

I haven't wanted to tell anyone

because I didn't want to frighten anyone here at the office,

- but I have prostate cancer. - What?

I can get you a doctor's note and everything.

I admit I've been smoking marijuana,

but for medicinal purposes.

It's why I failed the drug test.

Oh, George, I'm very sorry about your cancer.

It's okay. It's-- I'm sure everything will turn out all right.

My doctor is wonderful. We started dating, actually.

You're dating your doctor? Did you get a second opinion?

No no, but you know, she has very good taste.

So no no, I trust her opinion.

All right. Well, you'll let me know

if there's anything I can do to help.

Of course, Katherine.

Okay.

I don't have to go to rehab.

I have cancer.

So Greene is down on the ground

like Piggy in "Lord of the Flies" and I just can't leave him there.

So I swoop in-- huh-hunh!

Hah hah! Bam!

I mean, it was like I was having an out-of-body experience.

I took them all out, George. It was incredible.

I am so proud of you, dear boy.

I think it's because of this pamphlet that Ray's mom read.

It's all about visualizing delusional things

- and then believing in them. - But isn't that like schizophrenia?

You have a point. Anyway, maybe just as an exercise,

you should visualize that your prostate is cancer-free.

Well, you know I have an open mind to all these things. I'll try anything.

Good. I'm gonna try.

I'm gonna visualize three delusional things for myself--

that I'm a successful writer, detective and college professor.

I like all those professions for you.

Yeah. And what's good about all these jobs

is you wear basically the same outfit-- sport coats--

So you save money. And I look good in them.

- Can I show you again how I took them all out? - Of course.

Okay. So here I am standing in the trees, right?

Now Greene is down on the ground here and he's looking for his glasses.

That's my favorite part.

Now I am here. I go down...

Where am I?

Who are you?

I'll tell you later.

Whatever you do, do not flush the toilet.

Well, I'm the friendly stranger in the black sedan

Won't you hop inside my car?

I got pictures, candy, I'm a loveable man

And I could take you to the nearest star

I'm your vehicle, babe

I'll take you anywhere you want to go

I'm your vehicle, woman

By now I'm sure you know

- That I love ya

- Love ya

- I need ya

- Need ya

I want ya, I got to have ya

Great God in heaven, you know I love you

And I'm your vehicle, babe

All right

- You know I love ya

- Love ya

- I need ya

- Need ya

I want ya, got to have ya, child

Great God in heaven

You know I love you.

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