All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S04E13.Six.People.No.Music.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

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Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

In the television business,
it's extremely difficult

to keep both feet
on the ground.

I'd be happy if I had
just one foot down there.

If you think this is easy,
you should see me

trying to get
through a doorway.

And yesterday, I accidentally
stepped through a window.

If my arm hadn't
caught in the sash,

I might still be going.

And that's not all.

Twice, I've been mistaken
for a dirigible.

They keep trying
to deflate me.

I'm certain by now you have
guessed that tonight's play

is about gravity

and people who resist
the Earth's pull.

You are wrong.

It's about
an undertaker

and one of the
persons he undertakes.

And it begins
in just a moment.

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That you, Arthur?

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Be five, six minutes.

Leg of lamb.

Boy, oh, boy, oh, boy,
oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy.

Those Hollywood dames,
just kills me.

Six, seven husbands
before they're 30.

What are you doing?

What does it look like?

How many did you have
before you got home?

A man takes one drink--

Who are you kidding?

You smell like
a distillery.

Maybe if you knew what
happened to me today,

you wouldn't begrudge me.

I don't even think that
I should tell you.

The lamb's ready.

Rhoda, I got a
terrible problem!

Maybe it was all
those extra slugs.

Slug, not slugs.

I'm telling you,
this is a crisis.

Why don't you wash up
here and save time?

The movie goes on at 7:10

and I like to be
there for the beginning.

I'm not hungry.

If you'd had told
me that in time,

I could've saved three
hours in the kitchen.

Far as I'm
personally concerned,

delicatessen suits
me soon as lamb.

Rhoda.

How about tomorrow
you cook a leg of lamb,

and I'll get crocked
and not eat?

You're not listening!

All right,
I'm listening.

So what's the
big crisis?

You see this?

Oh, no.

The whole thing.

It's impossible.

Stanton C. Barryvale.

The department store?

If you'd read anything
but those gossip columns,

you'd know that
he died last night.

Arthur, maybe you'd better
begin at the beginning?

All right, I will.

Only no interruptions.

Because this thing
is too complicated

to complicate further.

Who's interrupting?

I got to the
office this morning,

as usual,
about 9:00.

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I didn't know
whose car it was,

but I did know
it meant business.

Big business.

Morning.

Someone to see me?

Since quarter of.

Hmm.

*

Motherwell?

Yes.

Fulton Agnew of
Agnew and Agnew.

Oh.

The law firm.

Reason I stopped by,
I felt a phone call

wouldn't tell me enough.

About what, sir?

Character of the place.

Oh, well, the same as it's
been these last 23 years, sir.

Exactly what interested me.

You see, we represent the
late Stanton C. Barryvale.

He was a fine man, sir.

An important man, Motherwell.

To be perfectly frank, most of
the heirs took it for granted

that Schwabacher
would handle the funeral.

But Mrs. Barryvale asked me

to look into some
of the older parlors.

She thought her husband might
have preferred it that way.

I did go to school
with him, sir.

Through sixth grade.

And it would be
a real honor--

Do you think you
can handle it?

Certainly.

I mean, prestige-wise.

The size of an
operation is one thing,

taste can be
quite another.

You can depend
upon it, sir.

I run a very
personal business.

In that case, I'll relay my
recommendation to the family.

And please, include
my condolences.

You can expect to
hear from me by noon.

*

Good morning.

Nothing new, eh?

No-- oh, just
Mrs. Sotarsky.

Were you expecting
anyone else, sir?

No, but I am now.

Just had a very
encouraging meeting

with Stanton C. Barryvale's
attorney.

Do you mean there's
a chance I might

get to work on
Mr. Barryvale?

Keeping my fingers crossed.

He was one of
Poughkeepsie's

most distinguished citizens.

Sir.

You know, things seem to
be looking up around here,

so I thought this
might be a good time

to discuss my
own situation again.

I have high hopes for
you, Thor, high hopes.

Do you mean that, sir?

Soon as you quit
calling me "sir."

Bad habit to get into,
bad for the profession.

We're not flunkies, my boy.

It's an essential
service we perform

and don't you forget it.

You know, it's just like I
told my old lady last night.

How'd it be, I asked her, if
nobody went into this game?

What'd she say?

You know mothers.

Makes her nervous, the
kind of work I'm doing.

You have a real future.

Can I tell her that, sir?

About the future?

About my getting a
piece of the business,

like you promised me?

When was that?

When I started.

Five years ago, come
next month, remember?

You said if I could stick it out
long enough to learn the trade,

there was a piece of the
business in it for me.

Well, if I said it,
I'll live with it.

But it certainly
doesn't sound

like anything
I'd normally promise.

Well, our situation
wasn't normal.

You couldn't
get any help.

Yes, well.

Well, we'll see about it.

When?

Before the week's out,
I'll have a lawyer draw up

a memorandum of agreement.

Which lawyer?

I don't know.

Perhaps--

Perhaps even Agnew
of Agnew and Agnew.

Is that good
enough for you?

Plenty good enough,
but remember,

weekend's on Saturday,
Mr. Motherwell.

*

All right, bring
it right in here.

That's right.

Right over there.

I thought you'd
never get here.

You held up
my whole lunch.

Easy, easy.

(whistling)

Did you get him
started, yet?

No, they just
this second left.

Oh, that's him,
all right.

Sure is and
about time.

I waited right through
my lunch hour.

Then take it now.

I'll get him started.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't care.

About lunch, that is.

But I slammed out
with no breakfast--

Take a full hour.

No, I'll just grab
a bite at the drugstore.

Before you go, better
ring the musician's local.

Put a hold on their
best string quartet.

Hey, sounds like
Stanton Barryvale's

really going out in style.

Naturally.

(phone rings)

Hello?

Speaking.

Oh, yes, Mr. Agnew.

Just a few minutes ago.

Fine.

Now, I've a detailed list
of instructions for you.

My girl will send you
a carbon by messenger.

But I just want to alert
you on the major items.

Thirty limousines.

A string quartet to
back up the choir.

Right.

Minimum of 300 guests.

Organist, canopy and chairs.

Yes, of course we can handle
the memorial reception.

Yes, Mr. Agnew.

And I'm sure you'll
be very pleased.

Boy, oh, boy, oh, boy,
oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy.

(humming)

And how does that thing go?

(clearing throat)

Sounds like somebody
clearing his throat.

Precisely.

(humming)

*

What are you
saying, Arthur?

I'm saying that
Stanton C. Barryvale

was sitting up,
looking terrible sick.

Why wouldn't he
if he was dead?

Arthur, are you
telling the truth?

Of course, I'm telling
you the truth.

In 23 years, it's
happened to me twice only.

The first time,
you remember,

was that Winkleman boy.

He came to
in the shop,

and he's still
around, I believe.

Since 1935.

He's still around.

And a very mean job
he turned out.

But I don't see
the crisis.

Unless Barryvale's
still around?

Please.

No interruptions,
remember?

Let me finish.

Now, you
can understand

that this
sort of thing

doesn't happen
every day in the week.

So, when
Stanton C. Barryvale

sat up...

and asked me--

Who are you?

Well, I'm--I'm
Arthur Motherwell.

(chuckles)

Who'd you expect?

I'll ask the questions.

(clears throat)

Or don't you know
whom you're addressing?

Why, yes, sir, you're--
you're Stanton C. Barryvale

and you run the finest
department store in Poughkeepsie

and it's a pleasure
to talk to you, sir.

-Only--
-Only what?

Only, well...

-Nothing.
-Come off it, man.

Why the devil are
you converging on me

with all those weapons?

Weapons?

Oh, no, no, no.

No weapons, sir.

Just the tools of the
trade, so to speak.

What trade?

Well, speak up, man.

I'm accustomed to
a direct answer.

Embalming, sir.

You see, I run this parlor.

Oh.

That Motherwell.

One and the same, sir.

And the fact is,
sir, you...

Well, like I
say, you...

died last night.

10:53 PM.

Huh?

I knew it must be
something like that.

I feel light as a feather.

Yes, sir.

Peculiar sensation.

And cold, too.

I must have a temperature
of below zero.

Just you relax, sir,

and I'll get Summit
General Hospital

on the phone.

No, no, don't do that.

It'll just cause talk.

And I'm going out again
in a minute anyway.

Maybe a couple
of pick-up pills?

Too late for
that, Motherwell.

Never push goods on
people that they can't use.

Secret of the department
store business.

But what they can use,

load them up
to the gills.

Good psychology.

It's a big thought.

What was it?

What was it?

"It," sir?

The thing that made
me come back.

While you were
talking a minute ago,

I almost had it.

And then it went away.

While I was talking?

Of course, it's you!

You're why I came back.

Maybe you should reconsider
that pill, sir.

My funeral was
never settled.

Or perhaps a
sip of brandy?

I remember now.

I never arranged the
details of my funeral.

Not uncommon, sir.

Most folks leave that
sort of thing to their,

if you'll pardon the
expression, their heirs.

At a moment like this,
my wife and kids feel bad.

They're bound to spend
more than is necessary

and what's the
sense to that?

Yes, I see your
point, Mr. Barryvale.

I don't want the
estate to be drained

of a solitary nickel
that's unnecessary.

Too many important things,
investments, foundations.

Don't you see
it, Motherwell?

That's what revived me.

Whatever it was, it
certainly shows a strong will.

Some kind of leftover power
in my brain brought me back.

But what can
you do about it?

Mr. Agnew is
the executor.

Mr. Agnew is a
horse's backside.

Are you sure you won't join
me in a drink, Mr. Barryvale?

I have some good
ten year old stuff.

Stop diverting me.

All I want from you
is a pen and paper.

Get them.

Now, what's the cheapest
way you can do it?

And I mean, rock bottom.

Well, it all depends
on number of people,

cars, music or not,

type of casket, et cetera.

That's what I figured.

Big leeway there.

And I was fool enough

to let Agnew draw up
that blasted will to read,

"After all funeral expenses
have been paid,

blah, blah, blah."

Well, we'll take
care of it, Motherwell.

Give me that paper.

I'll specify cheapest
funeral possible.

"Six people, no music.

One car and an
unpainted pine box."

The pine market still low?

Very.

You have any trouble,
you show them this.

Can I use the phone?

No.

Just give me your word,
as a gentleman,

you'll handle it my way.

But this paper's
no good, sir.

You're legally dead
as of 10:53 PM.

Last night.

That's why
I'm dating it

the day
before yesterday,

and it's in
my handwriting.

No mistake about that.

What's the time now?

12:28 PM.

Well, let's make
it 12:30...

officially.

September 5th, 1958.

And now, I'll sign it.

Thank you, Motherwell.

And it was nice
talking to you.

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Six people, no music.

(door opens)

I caught the messenger service
guy out front, Mr. Motherwell.

Good, that must
be the confirmation

of Mr. Agnew's order.

I bet it calls
for 100 guests.

Minimum of 300.

You don't say!

Do you mind
if I read it?

I mean, since I'm almost
a member of the firm.

Oh, sure.

Go ahead and open it.

"Limousines, 30."

(whistles)

Hey, that's 3-0!

"Floral arrangement,
pre-preponderance

of white orchids
and American beauties.

Use your discretion.

Price no object."

You all right,
Mr. Motherwell?

Of course, I am.

You don't look too good.

Everything go all
right in there?

I didn't have a chance
to get started.

But why shouldn't it?

I've only been
laying people out

for the last 23 years.

No offense, sir, you
just don't look too good,

-and I thought--
-I'm fine.

Good.

Hey, good thing I contacted
the musicians' local.

They do want a
string quartet.

You just put a hold
on it, didn't you?

Yeah, but now we can
make it an order, right?

What's that?

An order, the music.

Now, that it's official.

You want me
to call them?

I'll be very
happy to call them.

No, I'll take
care of that.

-You just handle--
-Oh, yeah.

Sure thing.

*

So you didn't tell him?

Tell him what?

That the big
funeral was out.

I didn't tell him because
I didn't have the heart.

After all, that kid's been
building his hopes for years.

What about the florist?

And the musicians' union?

And the car rental.

Oh, I'll phone them
in the morning.

I mean, those fellows, they
don't require too much notice

one way or the other.

Well, just one
of those things.

You can say that again.

But, like you said,
there's no doubt

about what's the
right thing to do.

Picture goes on
in 15 minutes.

That's right.

Well, there's only
one thing to do.

*

Careful, darling.

You'll burn your hands.

I won't, dear.

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It's not like he
couldn't afford it.

Anyways, why cheat
family and friends

from paying
proper respect?

Crossed my mind, too.

What's more, he had no
right to do what he did.

None whatsoever.

A man legally dead,
after all.

*

Do you know where
we're gonna sit tonight?

Loges.

That's right.

Costly, but smoking.

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That, I'm certain,
is the only example

we have of a man
dying posthumously.

Mr. Barryvale's funeral turned
out to be a very gala occasion.

Especially for Mr. Motherwell.

It produced quite a
business boom for him.

You see, someone
accidentally

put embalming fluid in the
coffee that was served.

But so much for
life's lighter side.

I hope you rejoin me
after this next number.

Personally, I think
I shall sit it out.

That was short and sweet.

Toot sweet.

Well, that's
a hopeful sign.

Next week, I shall
return with another story.

Perhaps by then I
shall have settled down.

Good night.

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