All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S03E39.Little.White.Frock.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

Good evening.

I was just putting
weights in this box

of trash so it
will sink quickly.

I'm about to throw
it into the river.

Perhaps I should
explain why I'm here.

Mr. Hitchcock is
indisposed this evening.

As a matter of
fact we can't find him
anywhere. I'm quite worried.

I wouldn't want
anything to happen to him.

You see, I'm his
brother and sole heir.

Of course, we mustn't let
brother Alfred's absence

interfere with
the evening's entertainment.

I'm sure he would
want it that way.

I have his notes.

The second item on the agenda
is a drama entitled
"Little White Frock."

As for the first item,
he says...

I know my brother
thinks I'm a rather dull
and somewhat of a prude,

but this language is
much too frank for television.

I don't know about you
but I'm very curious

about anything that would
provoke such language.

Shall we have a go at it?

"We've been so
very wrong, Ella.

"Remember that old song,
the Rocking Chair Blues?

"Well,
that's been us, I'm afraid,

"rocking away these
last years of our lives.

"Expecting
the children to pay us

"the most
exacting of all tributes.

"Gratitude and more gratitude.

"For what?

"Because we gave them life?

"Because when they were young
we fed and sheltered them?

"No, Ella..."

That'll be all for today.
Thank you, Mr. Andrews.

Thank you.

We'll let you know.

Well, we still have
a week to cast the part.

Oh, sure.

After all,
it's only the second lead.

It's the best play
you've written, Adam,
but it isn't actor-proof.

We may have to postpone
the start of rehearsal.

Well, we still
have a week, don't we?

Look, I'm meeting
Koslow at the club.

You better come along.
He might have an idea.

You ask who is Strokirch?

I tell you,
he is only number one

dramatic actor on
the continent today.

But, Koslow,
Strokirch sounds like he ought

to be playing for
Notre Dame, not on a stage.

Left guard, I'd say.

You ask for ideas.
I give you ideas.

Left guard.

What do you think
of Gordon Daniels?

As little as possible.

Mr. Longsworth.

Colin Bragner.

You remember me?

I saw you play
Othello when I was a kid.
I'll never forget it.

I'm honored.

And may I say,
sir, I regard you

as the most
brilliant young playwright
of this new generation.

Oh, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Koslow.

Yes, I do know both gentlemen.

This is a stroke
of good fortune.
I've been trying to reach you.

I was hoping perhaps you would
dine with me.
I'd like to ask you...

Your last play
moved me so deeply

that I wanted you know
what I felt about it.

Shall we say,
tomorrow evening?

Well, I doubt it. You see,
we're right in
the middle of casting, and...

Oh, yeah, I see.

Well then,
what other night this week?

Well, actually, my wife
handles our social affairs.

I'd have to check with her.

Of course, yes.

Well, I bid you good
afternoon, gentlemen.

How about that for
pure unadulterated gall?

He's just lonely, that's all.

You can almost see the ghosts
trailing behind him.

Once a big Broadway star,

now an old man
who has to beg
for a dinner guest.

It's obvious why
he invited you.

He knows we're casting.
He wants in. How about that?

He hasn't done anything
since the Stanley Steamer.

What happens to
men like Bragner?

The worst thing
that can happen
to any of us.

Live longer than your talents.

Well,
see you tomorrow at 11:00.

Don't worry Adam.
We'll have a new
batch to read by then.

Greatest martini
recipe in the world.

Pour vodka lavishly
until Carol stops kissing you.

Better keep it
a secret though.

I wouldn't want
strangers using my formula.

Why do you think
your vodka bills
are so high?

Strangers?

Ready for vermouth?

I think we'll confine
the vermouth to the strangers,

I'll handle the vodka.

Oh, speaking of strangers,
we have a dinner
invitation tomorrow.

Oh.

A man named Colin Bragner.

You know,
he had such a beautiful voice
on the phone.

You didn't accept, I hope.

Why, yes.
He said that you told him

just to confirm it with me.
So I thought...

Oh, no!

This is going too far.

Who is he, dear?
I don't understand.

He's an actor.
He once was a great star.

But he hasn't done
anything recently.

I don't know how he
can buy his own dinner,
let alone invite anyone.

Well,
he seemed quite insistent.

He needs a job.
He probably figured

he could talk me
into giving him one.

Well,
if he's such a good actor,
I should think you'd want him.

Darling, the man is dated.
His style is passé.

You just can't
believe him anymore.

I mean,
audiences won't accept him.

Well then,
we won't go to his place

for dinner.
That's all there is to it.

His place?

Is that what he said?

Mmm-hmm. In the Village.

Oh, that'll be grim, I'll bet.

Scrapbooks, faded reviews,
brass spittoons.

I'll call him and tell
him we can't make it.

If you could have
heard his voice, Adam.
He begged.

Oh, not really, you know.
His voice was
actually quite reserved,

but I could hear
the begging in between.

It isn't our problem.

Darling,
don't be that kind of person.

Just three years ago,
don't you remember

how hungry we
were and how broke?

Don't let's ever
forget how a door looks

when somebody
slams it in your face.

You know, it isn't
true that it's better
to be a have than a have-not.

If you've got any
tender spots left

by the time you
finally make it,

being a have can be
rugged too, can't it?

Now that's the man I love.
The man who just said that.

Well, I warn you it could be
an extremely dull evening.

Or extremely interesting.

You were not born, my dear,
nor you, Mr. Longsworth,

when I embarked
upon a stage career.

Then, even I was young

and the names that were
so awesome to me, Maude Adams,

James K.
Hackett, Richard Mansfield,

William Gillette...
Oh, so many more,

must be totally
unknown to you now.

May I suggest a toast?

To all the forgotten actors
and actresses of the past.

To all those whose
only permanence lies
in the memories of those

who saw and loved them.

To their days and
nights in stuffy lodgings,

to their struggles,

their adversities,

and their successes.

Mmm, that's excellent.

It's quite a rare vintage,
but I have another bottle.
It's yours.

Thank you, Mr. Bragner.
My husband knows
very little about wine.

Oh, I don't know.

I used to have a chart.
You know,

showing the good
years and the bad,

all the fine vintages?

But Carol's quite right.

I could never remember
which year was which.

Anyway, I know I like this.

People are much like wine,
don't you think?
Good vintages and bad?

It isn't really
quite that simple, is it?

Now don't get my
husband started
on people, Mr. Bragner.

He has some rather
startling theories
about them.

I know. It's evident
in everything he writes.

He knows things
not here, but here.

He writes for the actor.

He even writes parts for
old and derelict actors.

Shall we take
our drinks inside?

Oh... No, I have a woman who
comes and
cleans now and again.

She'll be here
shortly to do these.

Please.

That shows how
recent our success is.

I still can't get up
from a table without

reaching for
a handful of dirty dishes.

Sit down.

Well,
I suppose you're wondering
why I imposed on you,

asking you to dine
here this evening.

My husband had
a sort of a theory, yes.

Carol!
Don't worry, dear.

I see.

You think, then, Mr.
Longsworth,
it had to do with your play?

I mean,
my getting a part in it?

Since we seem to be
getting terribly candid,

something in that
general area, yes.

That chair,
I had from Nazimova herself.

It was in her production
of A Doll's Housein 1907.

This fan

belonged to Ada Rehan.

And I've saved
the original script

from my first
lead on Broadway.

Not much, you think.
Not much to have left
after so many years.

Well, enough sentiment.

The reason why I
asked you here tonight...

I'm leaving the theater.

You're saying to yourself,
"The old boy's

been out of it for
so many years now,

"what difference does it make
whether he leaves or stays?"

But when you've
been a little longer

in the theater, Mr.
Longsworth,

you will discover
that being in it

does not only
mean working in it.

Being in it is to
live for nothing else,

as I have done.

Well,

I wanted to leave
you my little museum.

The chair,
the fan, the script.

But why me?

Because I thought you might be
the one person who
would appreciate them.

We would be
honored to accept them,
Mr. Bragner.

Thank you, my dear.

ADAM: Yes, of course.

BRAGNER:
I see you've noticed this.

Yes.
Is it from one of your plays?

No, no, no.

No, it's

something far more precious.

Every stitch was
put there by one of

the most beautiful
women I've ever known,

Lila Gordon.

But then that name means
nothing to you, I know.

Mr. Bragner,
simply because we haven't

lived quite as
many years as you have

doesn't mean
that we don't know
anything about the theater.

I happen to have heard
a lot about Lila Gordon.

I'm sure my wife has, too.

I'm sorry. I suppose I forget
how famous a star she became.

But you would not
remember the famous
Charles Carside Company

which toured
the country in 19l8.

We changed our
bill every night
and sometimes twice a day.

Yes, and sometimes
we changed our parts, too.

I remember my
friend Terry O'Bane and

I reversed the parts
of Othello and Iago

on alternate nights
for two weeks at a stretch.

I remember particularly

this one night in
Buffalo when I was Othello.

The night Lila
Gordon joined the company
and was my Desdemona.

She was beautiful,
fragile, adorable.

I think I loved her
from the first
moment I saw her.

But Terry loved her, too.

I looked at him
across the stage,

and instantly we
understood that

our friendship was at
last to find its test.

For two months Terry and I
never spoke of our feelings.

From city to city,
bad hotel to worse hotel,

drafty dressing
room to draftier stage,

we traveled, both of us
madly in love with Lila.

At last,
to resolve the matter, we did

what now seems
a frightfully romantic thing.

We drew
the petals from a rose.

If there were
an odd number of petals,

then I was to ask
Lila to marry me.

If an even number,
then it was to be
Terry's privilege.

There were 35 petals.

That night after
the performance

I poured out my
pent-up feelings to Lila.

She refused me.

Oh, she was sympathetic,
tender even.

But she confessed it
was Terry she loved.

I was still in my costume,
I remember,
as I left Lila's dressing room

and returned to
the one Terry and I shared.

Oh, Mr. Bragner?

Got a telegram here for Mr.
O'Bane.

Is he in his dressing room?

BRAGNER: Yes, he should be.

Thank you, sir.

Telegram, Mr. O'Bane.

Thank you, Bill.

Colin,
you'll never believe it.

She said no.

I'm sorry, Colin.

Anyway, there's one
bright side to it.
A surprise.

A wonderful surprise for you.

Forgive me for
bursting out like this,

particularly as I know
how you feel, but look!

How many million
is several million?

Two, three, four.
Who knows? Who cares?

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.
Nineteen dollars,
and I'm flush this week.

Can you imagine even
having one million dollars?

No, I can't imagine it.

But who has said it better
than our good friend Iago?

"Faith, he tonight hath
boarded a land carack.

"If it prove lawful prize,
he's made forever."

Well, first I shall
have to leave the show,

then go to New York
and see those lawyers.

Dear old Aunt Alice.

Though I'm sorry
she had to pass away
to make all this come true.

Colin.

My dear Colin,
I'll come back
and rejoin the show,

just as soon as I have signed
the necessary papers.

Lila's in love
with you, Terry.
She just told me.

This is too much.

Well,
too much all in one evening.

Would you... Would you
tell me what she said?

Before I go to her.

Please don't
expect me to repeat
more than I have already.

She's loved you
from the start, Terry.

And imagine the first night
she joined the company

you were playing Iago,
who betrayed her.

And next night Othello,
who strangled her.

(SIGHS)

How can one expect to learn
the reason for love?

Accept it,

be grateful,

but don't question it.

Thank you, Colin. Thank you.

May I offer you
some more wine,
Mrs. Longsworth?

Mr. Longsworth?

No. No, thank you.

That moment,
when Terry left me
to ask Lila to marry him,

that was the heaviest
moment of my life.

Or so I thought.

But I learned there
is no limit to sorrow.

Of course,
Lila accepted his
proposal at once.

Then he went off to New York
to claim his inheritance.

Lila was to
finish out the tour,
and he was to send for her.

I can say with perfect truth

that the fortune that
had been left to him

killed Terry O'Bane.

He took a penthouse
apartment in New York.

It became a hangout for
all sorts of loose characters.

One was a pretty creature
named Annabel Lane.

I was with Lila backstage
when she got
Terry's brief note,

telling her he was
going to marry Annabel.

Well,
they were married all right.

The following year
they had a child,
a little girl.

Jeannie.

Almost immediately after that
Terry was killed in
a street accident.

He was drunk at the time.

It was then I
experienced an entirely

novel aspect of
woman's character.

Lila,
who previously had refused
to mention Annabel's name,

developed
an affection for the child.

And as the years
went by, she became

more and more
absorbed by the little girl

more and more distressed
by the way she was
being brought up.

I'd left the company myself,
I'd gone to Broadway,

and achieved some
little reputation.

Meanwhile, Jeannie grew up
the image of her mother,

vain, fickle and spoiled.

By the time she was 10,
she thought of

nothing but her
looks and her clothes.

Between performances,

Lila would make
her little dresses.

She was very clever at it.

It was on the eve of
the child's 10th birthday
the tragedy came full circle.

I had just opened on Broadway
in The Slap.

You get a magic feeling
when an opening has gone well.

There's
an electricity in the air,

a sense of triumph
in your dressing room
after the curtain's rung down.

But it seemed
utterly unimportant
when I read the message.

It was from Lila.

I'd lost track of her
for more than a year.

She'd left the stage
and no one knew
where she'd gone.

But now, she urged
me to come to see her.

It was urgent,
terribly urgent, she wrote.

I left at once.

LILA: Come in.

Colin.

(COUGHING)

Lila,
you're ill, you ought to have
somebody looking after you.

You sound like my doctors.
Always viewing with alarm.

Tell me,
where have you been hiding?
What's been happening to you?

The Arkwrights are
having a dance tomorrow.
It's Jeannie's 10th birthday.

I didn't come here
to talk about Jeannie.

I'm trying to finish
this dress for her.

Your note said
something urgent.
What... Tell me what it is?

You haven't changed, have you?

Always the direct approach.

Remember when you
asked me to marry you?

I remember.

I want you to take this dress
to Jeannie for me.

Me?

Yes.

I'm so tired.

And it's such
an important event,

I didn't want to trust
it to a delivery service.

What do you think?

It's lovely.

(COUGHING)

Lila.

Please, hurry.

Then come back and tell me
what she thought of it.

Then we'll talk.

Very well.

But now that I've
found you again, I can

tell you I'll never
let you go a second time.

I took Jeannie the frock.

She was a pretty child.
But when she saw the dress,

her face lost
all its prettiness
and she became hard and ugly.

"It looks like a nightdress,"
she said.
"I don't want it."

Then she threw
it on the floor.

I believe at that moment
I could have struck her.

"Your Aunt Lila
worked all night
to finish this," I cried.

"You don't know
what you're doing!"

She tossed her
little head and actually

pressed the bell for
the butler to see me out!

Dazed and baffled,
I left, still holding this.

When I went back to Lila
wondering what lie
I could tell her,

I found there was
no need for lies,

no need for anything.

Lila was dead,

sitting there in her
chair where I'd left her.

Mr. Bragner? Mr. Bragner,
I finished
the dishes and tidied up.

Thank you, Marie.
You may go then.

Excuse me, sir,
but I've looked everywhere

for my niece's little dress,
and I can't find it.

I wondered if I left
it in here some place.

Oh, there it is.

I'm sorry to have
disturbed you, ma'am,

but she asked me to
have it ready for school.

Good night.

You were acting.

The whole thing.

I mean,
Terry O'Bane, Lila Gordon,

Annabel, Jeannie...
All an act?

Yes, except for
the fact that Terry and Lila

and I were in Othello
together one season.

But why? Why all this...

Your husband, Mrs. Longsworth,

together with
many contemporary
playwrights and producers,

seems to believe we old-timers
aren't very convincing.

Frankly, I want work.

I want it very badly.

So I thought I'd
audition for your husband
the only way I could.

Mr. Bragner,

I've always said that
it's almost impossible

to judge an actor's
ability from an audition.

I am now ready to
eat those words.

Can you be at the theater
at 11:00 tomorrow morning?

Now I believe it is
time for another of those

splendid little
commercial messages

which my uncouth
brother detests so,
but which I like very much.

I shall be back following,
as I was saying...

I shall be back in a moment.

Oh, good evening.

I don't believe
my brother will be
bothering you anymore.

Oh,
he was a nice enough fellow
if he just hadn't been

He was that way to the end.

The last thing I
heard him say was,
"Really, Alfred. With an ax?"

Next week we shall
have another story

and I promise to
be here on time.

Until then, good night.