All language subtitles for American.Horror.Story.S05E07.Flicker.1080p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

(elevator bell dings)

So we're really
gonna stay.

Well, you know
what Paris does to me.

Dior, Lagerfeld.

You should see
their ateliers.

I want mine
to be right here.

This place inspires me.

Is that okay
with you?

Yeah.

I made some friends.

What would you think
if I told you

that me and my blonde
lady friend are gonna

be together forever?

I thought you liked men?

(chuckles nervously)

Well, adults are complicated.

Then I approve.

Mr. Drake.

I think we've got a problem.

It's one-inch steel.

It runs the whole length
of this section.

It's not in any
of the plans.

Tear it out.

I'm on a schedule.

MAN:
It smells like shit in there.

MAN 2:
No, it smells like death.

(scoffs)

I don't think we
should go down there.

(mimicking):
"Eh, it smells like death."

(laughs)

Come on, you pussy.

This place has been
sealed up for years.

(shouts)

(screams)

¶ ¶

¶ ¶

WOMAN:
Do you know where you are?

JOHN:
California.

Which hospital?

Mr. Lowe, you're at the West
Los Angeles Health Center.

I'd like to ask
you some questions

to determine your
state of mind.

Could you start by counting
backwards from 100 by sevens?

Uh, 93...

86...

seventy... seventy-nine....

Uh, what was
the last one I said?

Tell me which statement
most accurately describes

what you're feeling.

"I am not discouraged
about my future."

Are you sure you want
to stay here?

I mean, there are
more comfortable places, John.

I could get you
into Resnick.

This is perfect for me.

In your own words,
can you tell me why you're here?

I, um, feel like everything's
closing in on me.

Some setbacks
at work.

Separation from my wife.

Because of a misunderstanding,

my daughter is afraid of me.

I need professional help.

I think that's a very
important statement.

The fact that you recognized
your own fragility

and took positive action.

Was there
a specific incident

that prompted
this latest episode?

JOHN: I've been working
on a very frustrating case.

There's a killer out there,
murdering with impunity,

using the Ten Commandments
as justification.

Hey, dickhead, you're
on administrative leave.

Captain sees you here, you won't
even get your old job back.

Who's the suspect?

I'm not covering
for you anymore.

JOHN:
I want to talk to him.

Where is he?

JOHN: I attacked
the only friend I had.

The one person who was
trying to help me.

And that's when you finally
realized you needed help.

Get some fresh air.

You better be
out of here, asshole!

Okay, I'm going.

I knew it was time
I checked into a hospital.

We'll get a handle
on this, John.

This is a good first step.

I feel I'm exactly
where I need to be.

¶ ¶

Does Mr. Drake
know about this?

Um, I don't think so.

He's, um, he's in the middle

of getting his anus
waxed and bleached.

Is that a
thing now?

I mean, how would
someone even know

their anus needs
bleaching?

I couldn't pick my butthole
out of a lineup.

Who did this?

Not the new governess.

No.

I mean, look at 'em.

Whoever did this was starving.

What was in here?

I don't know.

What?

I've just never seen
you scared before.

I convinced him I got him
a fantastic deal,

so he threw a free weekend
on top of my commission.

(chuckles)

Don't tell him that
I fudged the paperwork

to make it look like
he had multiple offers.

Oh, honey.

I'd rather be alone.

You know, ever since
I had to put Hallie down,

I go through
these spasms of grief.

(knocking)
Oh, there's the room service.

Bye, Margaret.

I hate that bitch.

(knocking)

All right!

I'm coming.
For God's sake...

Aah!

(grunting, slurping)

(gasping)

An eye for an eye.

A tooth for a tooth!

That is the law of my father!
(gasps)

You belong to the sheik!

And cut. Good,
let's do one more.

(bell rings)
(indistinct conversations)

My God, he is

so beautiful.

WOMAN:
My boyfriend says he's queer.

Gibby. He's married

to Natacha Rambova,

one of the most exotic
women in the whole world.

They're getting a divorce.
Don't you read Picture Play?

And her name's not Rambova.

It's Winifred Hudnut.

And she's from Utah.

So what?
That just

makes me admire her
more. She

transformed herself.
The only thing
she transformed is his career.

She ruined it.

Okay, people.
Slavers and harem concubines--

you're up.

This is for you.
From him.

Bellissima. Mm.

You came.

Please.

I am so pleased
you agreed to join me.
(Italian song playing)

You see, I...

I often must
dine alone.

You?
Mm.

That's hard to believe.

Well, it's not simple
for me, you know?

Fame is its own kind

of, uh, prison.

Please.

(speaks Italian)

It's a wonderful face.

(gasps)
You speak Italian!

Well, I understand it, anyway.

I'm from Bensonhurst.

Italian's
all my folks talked

when I was growing up.
Pop's from Sicily.

He's a plumber.
Mm.

And you have come to Hollywood

with dreams of becoming
an actress.

That is unfortunate.

I think I see
greater things in you.

Greater than being immortal?

'Cause that's what it means
to be up on that screen.

Shadows only.

A hundred years and no one

will remember what we did.

No, I don't agree.

I don't
agree at all.

I think the flickers
are the future.

A true American art form.

(soft laugh)

You are a true
American art form.

Are you making fun of me?

No, no, no, little one.

I am, uh... admiring you.

I'm sorry. If it
seems otherwise,

it is only because...

my English is not so good, huh?
(chuckles)

(song ends)

(tango playing)
I do better

without words.

¶ ¶

(gasps)
Mm.

(tango continues)

(soft gasp)

¶ ¶

(soft gasp)

¶ ¶

So...

this is the mouse.

Oh, my God, you're...

The cat...

little mouse.

VALENTINO: This is
my wife, Natacha.

Rambova.

(music stops)

I am... so sorry, I thought...

That I was divorcing
my husband.

And so I am.

I sh...

should go.

No, no, no.
Please, not yet, huh?

Stay.

Natacha...

you must be gentle
with our guest, huh?

The divorce is for show.

The studio has
been trying to...

tear us apart
for years.

We have decided
the only way

we can really be
together is if...

the world thinks
we are not.

I don't understand.

Why am I here?

Because, little mouse...

(tango resumes loudly)
...gods have appetites.

¶ ¶

¶ ¶

¶ ¶

(tango continues)

(women's distorted,
echoed moaning)

¶ ¶

I hear he's not only
rich, but single

(lively 1920s jazz playing)
and handsome,
so far as that goes.

How'd you meet
this guy, anyway?
I haven't met him yet.

There isn't a flapper in this
city who hasn't been invited

to one of his private wingdings.
You'd know that

if you hadn't been
out of circulation all summer.

I've been around.

Uh-huh.

(giggles)

(lively 1920s jazz continues)

Okay, I can't
take it anymore.

So spill-- who have
you been seeing?

Nobody.

Lies. You can't
fool me.

You're in love,
aren't you?

I'd like to welcome you all
to the opening week

(clapping)
of the Hotel Cortez!

A shame we
can't all

enjoy these libations

in my new
Blue Parrot Lounge, but...

until someone with some sense
repeals that nasty

Volstead Act,

both I and Mr. Capone

will have to make due.

Ah!

MAN:
He's dead!

Valentino's dead.

He died in New York
this morning.

And his movie
just came out.

Bet the box office goes
through the roof.

¶ ¶

(wind whooshing)

¶ ¶

(sobbing)

(gasping breaths)

Your heart's beating
like a hummingbird.

Let me go!

(breathing quiets)

No. I don't suppose I will.

(soft, gasping breaths)

Shh...

In fact...

I may never let you go.

¶ ¶

(bird cawing in distance)

It's just so...
tragic.

I guess
we missed her.

Who?

The Lady in Black.

She's been coming here
for months every day

and leaving a single red rose.

I thought that was a myth.

No, it's true.

It says so right here.

"Rumors have sprung up
of a mysterious figure

"visiting Valentino's tomb.

"The Lady In Black
has left a single red rose

"next to the Great Lover's
final resting place

"each day
since his death last August.

"Some say the veiled figure
is movie actress Pola Negri,

who famously collapsed
at Valentino's funeral."

Harlot.
She never loved him.

"Others believed the wordless
visitor is something else...

something not of this Earth."
(laughs softly)

Well, they'll print
anything to sell magazines.

Uh... ladies?

(footsteps echoing)

(pants)

Maybe we should give
her her privacy.

Uh-huh.

¶ ¶

(bird cawing in distance)

(sobbing quietly)

RAMBOVA:
Why do you weep so,

little mouse?
(gasps)

Natacha.
Where have you been?

Here and there.

I wrote to you, so many times--
I never heard back.

You didn't even come
to his funeral.

Why would I go to the funeral
of a man who isn't dead?

(Countess gasps)

Bellisima.

(gasping breaths)

It can't be true.

You died.

And am...

reborn.

The body in that crypt
isn't Rudy.

It's my stunt double,
George Fiske.

(kiss)
Always so loyal.
Even in death.

Though to be clear,
I did do most of my own stunts.

Just not this one.

You faked your death?!

I loved you both.

And you just let me
think the worst?

I almost didn't
survive it.

But you did
survive.

And in some style.

Congratulations
on the nuptials,
by the way.

(whispers):
That was quick.

What did you expect?

I was all alone in the world.

¶ ¶
I decided that

if I was to live in grief,

I might as well...

be surrounded by...

beautiful things.

¶ ¶

Even if it was with a man

(Countess grunting)
for whom I felt... nothing.

I was drawn to the darkness
I felt within him,

(March grunting)
(coughs, pants)

I ached...

(Countess grunts)
to be...

(March grunts)
consumed by it.

(pants):
Darling...

you are a revelation.

¶ ¶

He uncovered in me

things I never thought
possible.

Uh...

Who is he?

Just a hobo.

You disapprove?

I do.

Why waste your time killing
some destitute beggar?

What's to
be gained?

Select a victim with
money or jewels.

Then your little hobby
can benefit us both.

And next time...

(whispers):
...I want to watch.

You have suffered
too much.

(bird cawing in distance)

I don't suffer.

Not anymore.
Your tears
tell me otherwise.

I feel nothing.

We never meant to leave you
this way, little one.

Then why did you?

VALENTINO:
Fate intervened.

I was travelling the country,

promoting Son of the Sheik.

Booked
on the 20th Century Limited,

the tour would take me
from San Francisco to New York,

with press stops
all along the way.

At each stop, I began
to notice a man. At first,

I thought he was a member
of the press,

but he never asked
any questions,

never wrote anything down.
He just watched me,

his eyes never leaving me.

This was not unusual,
of course.

But something in those eyes...

mesmerizing.

¶ ¶

Again on the train,
I began to feel a presence

which raised the hairs
on the back of my neck.

I imagined I was seeing him

all throughout the train.

I began to doubt my senses.

A feeling of dread hung over me
like a shroud.

And somewhere,

along an endless expanse
of Midwest plains,

I woke from a dreamless sleep
into a dream itself.

It was a seduction, but
mere carnality was not his aim.

I was repelled and drawn in
all at once.

When he spoke,
it was in Italian

but with a thick German accent.

He revealed to me his name,
F.W. Murnau,

the great German director.

What did he want from you?

I thought he meant
to kill me.

But instead he wished
to preserve me.

I don't
understand.

Neither did I, at first.

The great director
had uncovered many secrets

in the making
of his masterpiece, Nosferatu.

To make his picture,
he travelled deep

into the Carpathian Mountains.

He demanded authenticity,

and that is what he found
in that Old World.

Creatures like the one
he was depicting onscreen,

though not hideous
like his star, Max Schreck,

but beautiful beyond compare.

Infected
with an ancient blood virus,

the consequence of which
was eternal life,

endless youth.

But also a terrible thirst.

He was telling me all this,
he said, as a prelude,

a prelude to a warning
and the offer of a gift.

Murnau lamented to me
what he foresees,

the coming of talking pictures.

And with that,
the death of the gods.

Within a year, no more,
our world would be gone.

He couldn't save the world,
he said, but he could save me,

preserve my beauty
for all eternity,

but only if I was ready
to leave the screen.

Forever.

And so, with a cool touch,

and a warm kiss,
I was truly free.

Immortal.
No longer just a shadow.

When I arrived
in New York,

the press reported
that I had fallen ill.

I let them believe it,
knowing the reports

were all I would need to have
Natacha fly to my side.

When she
came to me,

I shared with her the dark gift
Murnau had given to me.

And now we want
to share it with you.

Come away
with us.

There's a train that leaves
tomorrow night to New York.

From there, to Europe. Anywhere.

Everywhere.

(panting)

Yes.

Yes...

and forever.

(moaning)

I missed you.

(panting, moaning)

MAN:
You hear the one
about the tongue?

Cut out of the victim's head
with a hacksaw,

then nailed to the floor
with a hammer.

While she was alive.

You're freaking me out.

That monster is here,
right behind that door?

What kind of psycho thinks
of that shit?

Much less do it.

And they only have
one guard at the door?

I'm plenty enough
for anything.
(chuckles)

You better pay
attention to that door,

make sure nothing
bad comes out.

(crickets chirping)

(moans)

(clattering)

Hey, man, you okay?

(beeping)

(muffled crying, shouting)

(muffled crying, shouting)

Who are you?

I'm Wren.

You didn't eat your dinner.

WREN:
I'm not hungry for that.

They can get you something else.

I don't want to feed anymore.

Why did they put
you in here, Wren?

Because I wouldn't talk to them.

The police officer?

Detective Hahn.

They found you
at the TV station.

You saw what
happened.

I helped.

You must have been terrified.

The man
you saw

has done a lot of bad things.

Ugly, scary things.

But you don't have to be afraid
of him anymore.

Do you
believe that?

I do.

But nobody forced me
to do anything.

(grunting)

Oh, sweet Jesus.

WREN:
Don't.

(grunts)

Wren.

You killed the security guard.

He was going to catch him.

I want to know
we can trust each other, Wren.

I won't lie to you.

Can you promise the same to me?

I was there the other times.

When he nailed their tongues
to the table.

When he hung the brothers
from the beds.

He cut open their stomachs.

It stunk.

Now do you believe me?

You were there.

But whatever he made you do,

whatever you think you did...

he's responsible.

It's not your fault.

It is my fault.

Everything that happened.

Please,

don't say that.

You sound exactly
like my daughter Scarlett.

She's around your age, but she's
the oldest little girl I know.

I think deep down
she blames herself

for everything
that's wrong with me.

But it's me,

not her.

And it's him,

not you.

I like you.

You're nothing like my father.

When I was young,

my daddy told me he couldn't
wait for me to grow up.

He told me I was gonna be
his little lady.

The way he said it,

it made my stomach hurt.

It got so I didn't want
to sleep,

'cause every time I woke up
I was a day closer.

One day he left me in a car

while he went drinking
at the Cortez.

It was so crazy hot.

I was like a pizza in the oven.

But I didn't open the window,
and I didn't say a word,

because I thought

maybe there was a way
I didn't have to grow up.

(screams, panting)

But I found another way.

Now I think maybe growing up
wouldn't have been so bad.

It can't be worse than this.

Wren, I don't understand.

Are you telling me
it's your father?

He's the killer?

No. He died a long time ago.

I'm just... I'm so sick
of this whole thing.

I don't want it anymore.

Then let it go.

Tell me who he is.
I can't.

Why are you protecting someone

who doesn't deserve anything
from you?

You wouldn't believe me.

He's going to keep

killing people unless
you help me stop him.

Get me out of here, and
I'll show you where he lives.

We're not playing
a game here, Wren.

Maybe it's time
he got caught.

(loud panting)

I'm finally beginning

to feel the life
return to me.

(loud, wheezy breathing)

(loud breathing)

How do I look?

Terrible.

(breathing loudly)

You're being dramatic.

VALENTINO:
That was little better
than the rats.

We need more.

(gasps)
Oh.

A hundred times more.

(swallows loudly)

This thirst--

it's unslakable.

Oh.

Son of a bitch!

How long have we been
trapped in this place?

Aah. Too long.

I am going...
to rip that man's head off.

I imagine that
he is long dead.

And in truth, you are as much
to blame for our predicament.

You and your little mouse.

She had no part in this.

We didn't need her.

We had money.
We had the world.

Life everlasting.

But you craved your pet.

Was she worth it?!

Look at us!

"The Great Lover,"

that magnificent face
that women lusted after,

killed themselves over, reduced
to a grotesque monstrosity.

Our lives stolen!

Everything gone.

You are right.

Forgive me, amore.

I was foolish.

I promise, we will reclaim
all that we have lost.

You are dreaming.
You will see.

Our life will be
far more glorious

than it ever was before.

(doorknob clicks, rattles)

MAN (with Australian accent):
Wrong room, asshole!

Dude, those book club
ladies were all over me.

Did you see that
redhead lick my balls?

You're so full of shit.

The hell?
There's only one bed.

I'm not sharing a room
with one of you cumsicles.

Ah...
You're sleeping
on the floor.

Strippers always get
the shittiest rooms, huh?

What curious creatures.

Like the Colossus
come to life.

The gush of their
blood is deafening.

Who are we to deny a gift
from the gods?

(panting)

Oh.

MS. EVERS:
Surely the Wellington

is getting cold, Mr. March.

Hardly a concern, Ms. Evers.

(rhythmic squeaking)

(piano plays intro
to "Isn't It Romantic?")

(fingers snap)
Perhaps your guest
should be mindful

of the time she's expected.

I don't believe

I care for your tone, Ms. Evers.

The lady of the house
deserves more respect.

Yes, Mr. March.

(knocking)

You should be elsewhere.

(band plays instrumental version
of "Isn't It Romantic?")

Dearest!

Thank you for seeing me tonight,
James.

I know it's a week early.

Mm. Nonsense.

I'd be delighted to host our
meal on any night you choose.

We could have it nightly
instead of monthly.

Just say the word.

Once a month, James.

That's our arrangement.

I'm far too busy
for anything more.

Of course.

Would you like
an Armagnac?

I'm having one.
No, thank you.

Yes?

I wanted to tell you in person.

I plan to marry again.

Splendid!

Why, I couldn't be
more pleased.

Let's have a toast, shall we?

Who's the lucky fellow?

I'd like
to send him some steaks.

Will Drake.

Ah, yes.

That light-in-the-loafers

fellow that bought my hotel.

Very good, darling.
Very good.

Might I suggest
that when you murder him,

you do so off the property?

It'd be damned awkward

to keep running into him
for all eternity.

And what makes you think
I mean to do him harm?

I'm dead, dear. Not stupid.

And how do you know
I haven't found love?

True love maybe
for the very first time.

Surely not for the first time,

Mrs. March.

I've always been scrupulously
honest with you, James.

I never pretended
more than I felt.

And I never claimed to love you.

Yes.

(sighing):
Oh.

But then, I wasn't
referring to myself now,

was I?

What do you mean?

I thought I could
make you love me.

I thought if I
gave you everything

your little heart desired--

riches, comfort...

this hotel--

but none of it moved you.

I could never compete
with the shadow of a god

on a screen, 20 feet tall!

(man grunting, woman screams)

(coughing)
No, let him go!

Let her go!
Let him go!

(grunting)

I have a sneaking suspicion

you're going to miss your train.

(grunt)

(train bell clanging,
train chugging)

(inhales and exhales deeply)

(breathing loudly)

Oh.

Oh.

Rudy?

Where are we?

(groans)

(hitting walls)

(yelling)
(screaming)

(distant yelling)

(tool tapping bricks)

Oh, my God.

Yes.

Your god.

Trapped within the walls
of the palace I built

for my queen.

(yelling):
That's what was back there?!

Not... anymore.

All right.

Go.

(grunts)

All right, I got you out.

Now you take me to him.

Wren...

Then we need to go home.

Where?

The Cortez.

All right, don't be afraid.

When I find him,
I'm gonna bury him

in a hole so deep, he'll
never see the light of day.

It's time to
make him stop.

Will you kill him?

If I have to.

I really like you.

I hate to see it end.

Good-bye, John.

Wren!

(tires screech)
No!