All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S07E37.The.Big.Kick.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

Good evening,
ladies and gentlemen.

I’m sure you antique addicts
recognize this

as an early American
television set,

the stereoscope.

Naturally, this was long
before the invention

of flop over,
linear distortion
and the hard sell.

There are some
19th century authorities

who claim to know of instances
of distortion and flop over.

But these only occurred when
the stereoscope was used

in conjunction
with hard cider.

The stereoscope was followed
by an improvement called

Paid Stereoscope.
You know it
as the Penny Arcade.

So much for the days
when a man was satisfied

with one spinning wheel
and didn’t need four

and a spare.

Now let us turn
to more modern times,

but to ease the transition,
this timeless admonition.

[progressive jazz music
playing]

Hey!

Hey, you in there! Pipe down!

Hey, hey, hey...
Something bugging you, lady?

-Huh?
-Where’s Miss Baker?

Judy? She’s out.

-You a friend of hers?
-Yeah.

Like we’re studying
music together, you dig?

Music? Well, I don’t want
that racket around here.

Solid, lady.

You sure she’s out?

You take my word for it,
lady.

That chick is way, way out.

-[scoffs]
-[giggling]

Well, I hope she’s looking
for a job.

I’m giving her till Saturday
to pay up the back rent

she owes me.

-I’ll clue her in.
-Hmm.

And remember, no more noise.

I dig, lady.

[man] Hey, Hagsville.

It’ll be quiet
as Mouseville.

[sighs]

Crazy.

Hey, honey.

Honey, you can fall out now.

-She gone?
-Gone?

[grumbling]

That old hag is nowhere.

Ah, don’t make funnies.

You heard what she said
about the rent.

Hey, that’s Saturday.
Something will break by then.

Yeah, it’s gonna be me
if I don’t get some food.

[groaning]
Food.

I’ll take a look
in the refrigerator.

Ah, Milksville.

[groans]

-[sighs]
-Hmm, and it’s empty.

Oh, that’s a drag.

Yeah.

Haven’t we got anything else?

Yeah.

Here. Have some peanuts.

Peanuts?

What do you think I am?
A pigeon?

A pigeon?

[chuckling]

Oh, no, baby.
You’re not a pigeon.

-You’re a chick, huh?
-Hm.

-My chick, huh, baby?
-Mitch, I’m hungry.

So am I, baby,
whenever I’m around you.

-I mean it.
-Ah.

OK.

Go put your face on
and we’ll scarf.

-Scarf?
-Eat?

Hey, you haven’t been studying
your lessons.

Now, how do you expect to make
the scene with the natives

if you don’t know
the language, huh?

And how do you expect to eat
if you don’t have any money?

Ah... true.

But I forgot to clue you in.

Bruce is having a bash
down at his pad.

Plenty of food and plenty
of action, dig?

Oh, baby, do I dig,

-dig.
-So put your teeth in, mother.

Tonight we eat.

Mm.

[strums guitar]

[slaps guitar]

I call this one...
Diagnosis.

"You say your name is Society,
and you think you’re sick?

Sit down, patient.
And I’ll examine you."

-[strums chord]
-Uh-huh.

"Just what I thought.
That complexion of yours.

Grey as a flophouse bed sheet.

Your breath, reeking of smog
and sewer-gas.

Headaches? What do you expect
with nothing but cash-registers

clanging inside
your empty skull?"

"Of course your stomach hurts.

You’ve swallowed
too many dreams,
too many hopes,

and turned them into
one gigantic ulcer."

-[strums chord]
-"Look out.

You’re hands are trembling.

Any minute now,
and you may drop a bomb.

I’ve got news for you, Society.
You’re not sick, you’re dead.

And I’m going to bury you,
and dance the Twist

on your grave."

Yeah, solid, baby.

You hungry, man?

Take me to your feeder.

-[groaning]
-[jazz music playing]

Oh, man.
Is this all you have?

Relax.
We have a catering service.

-Looks like it’s arrived.
-[door closes]

[Mitch] Hey, Kong.

-How are you, babe?
-Here we are.

-Juice.
-Hey, man,

is that all you bought?

Yeah, but that’s not
all I got.

-Help yourself.
-[Judy] Foodsville.

And look at this,
Cole-slaw.

-Hmm.
-Hey. Pickles.

-[Judy] Pickles.
-[Bruce] Pickles.

More pickles. Oh, hey, man.
You forgot the mustard.

-Inside.
-[Bruce] Oh, yeah.

Hey, look at this...
Breadsville.

-[Mitch] Ah.
-Now, Meatsville.

-Where is it?
-Back here.

-[Mitch] Solid.
-[Bruce] Crazy.

Hey, man. Help me open up
some of this jazz, huh?

-Ah...
-Hey, I’ll do it.

-I’ll do it.
-OK, out.

Give the chick room to fly.

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh...

So it’s not a federal case.
I’m starving.

Hey, for later.

Oh, honey, that’s what I call
a good provider.

So what do you want?
Squaresville?

The study-and-work-hard pitch.

Married, settle down,
buy on easy terms.

Yeah.

And end up at 50,
doing the coronary bit.

Not me, baby.

-All right, I get the message.
-[Mitch] Solid.

But a girl has
to think about things.

I don’t have any money.
You don’t have a job.

Hey, baby.
You want some loot?

Find yourself
a live one, huh.

Yeah, like, uh,

some fat old character
with a wife and six kids?

Who needs it?

-Hey, come here.
-What for?

You’ll see. Come here.

Hey, man.
You just get here?

Yeah, that’s right.

Hey, Kenny.
Do you know this chick?

I don’t believe I’ve had
the pleasure.

-I’m Kenneth Redmon.
-Judy Baker.

Uh, Kenny here’s
an Assistant Prof.
over at Thinksville.

Oh, the university.

-Oh, do you attend?
-No, man.

We have our own study course.
Majoring in kicks.

Hey, is this
my favorite perfume?

Yeah, and there’s more
down in the car.

Solid.

Uh, hey, honey.
Would you open the sauce?

Hmm?

So what’s happening?

Oh, not much.

That’s cool, huh.
I’ll pick up on you later.
Huh, baby?

Yeah.

[clink]

Who’s that creep?

He’s what we call
a society type.

Square as a box,
but loaded.

Drives one of those big,
long heaps.

What’s he doing here?

He likes to make the scene.

You know, too scared
for fun and games,

but dying to play.

So, we let him hang around.

He pays his dues.

A loner, huh?

Yeah.

But he’s got eyes for you.

Yeah?

Why don’t you give him
a little time, baby?

Oh, man. Be serious.

Like I am serious.

[pouring wine]
Look, uh...

you’re kind of like
the hostess here, you dig?

So...

do me a favor, huh?

Be nice to poor old Kenny.

That’s my baby-doll.

Be nice?

Yeah, nice.

Some party last night, huh?

Boy, you sure came on strong
with old Kenny.

[laughing]

Yeah, he popped
for three bottles.

-Wild, baby. Really wild.
-Yeah, wild.

Hey.

Hey, pretty.

Something hacking you, huh?

-Yeah, he asked me for a date.
-Kenny?

Yeah.

That’s nice.

No, man. You don’t dig.
He’s gonna be calling me,

and I gotta tell him
something.

So go out with him.

Look, honey. Why should
I give you the jealousy bit?

Right now,
a square like Kenny

can do us both
a lot of good.

And you don’t even have
to worry.

He’s too scared
to make a pass.

You just play it cool,
and he’ll come through.

Come through?

-Oh, baby.
-Look.

The rent’s due Saturday.
Right?

Yeah, right.
And if you think

that I’m going out with him,
you--

So you’re doing him a favor.

He wants your company,
let him pay for it.

Baby.

Squares
like Kenny wanna be taken.

That’s how he gets his kicks.

Don’t you forget.

We got something
this guy’ll never know.

The big kick.

The big kick. Huh, baby?

And you just handle this bit
like I say,

and we’ll have it made.

When your Kenny calls,

you’ll be real sweet to him,
huh, baby?

[giggling]

Solid.

Solid, baby.

To you.

Hmm, thanks.

-Enjoying your dinner?
-Yeah.

-How bout some more wine?
-Oh, no, thanks.

I’m not used to this stuff.
Turns me on.

I’m not used to such charming
and intoxicating company.

Well, I can see
you don’t know me very well.

I think I do.

You’re a pretty girl, Judy.

I’m sure you’ve been told that
all your life.

So I really can’t blame you
for taking advantage of it.

Besides, it was Mitch’s idea,
wasn’t it?

Mitch?

Those sad stories you told me
on all our dates

about the rent and
the back payments on the car.

Mitch suggested what to say,
didn’t he?

Oh, Kenny, I...

But don’t you think I know?

The only reason Mitch
and his friends tolerate me

is because I-- I pick up
their tabs, buy the liquor.

Well, if you know, then
why do you do such things?

I guess you could call it
an admission fee.

Maybe I enjoy
watching the show.

Don’t you see? 30 years ago,
people like Mitch,

they called themselves
the Lost Generation.

Twenty years ago,
they pretended to be
Communists.

Lately, they talk
of existentialism.

But people like Mitch,
they’ll always look
for excuses.

Their beat philosophy,
silly catchphrases,

they just dramatize
irresponsibility.

I-- I guess I’m making
a speech, huh?

Yeah, and I don’t agree.
We aren’t bums.

Mitch is a musician,
Bruce is an artist,

and Monk writes poetry.

Judy, grow up.

You’re too smart a girl
to fall

for something like this.

Don’t you see that blowing
an instrument off-key,

splashing blobs of paint
on a canvas,

that doesn’t justify
free-loading as a way of life.

Yeah, well, uh...

Will you just skip
the sermon?

’Cause I know what I’m doing.

All right.

Maybe someday
you’ll understand.

You see,

the difference between
Mitch and myself is

that I know what I want.

I’m mature enough to wait
until I get it.

[chuckling]

Well, you’re gonna wait
a long, long time.

I think I’d like
to leave now.

I really goofed, didn’t I?

Don’t worry. He’ll be back.

I told you, I dig the type.
A real sicknik.

What he needs is a couple
of sessions with

a good spider-chaser
to straighten him out.

Two to one he calls you
for another date before noon.

You know, you might be right.

But I’m not going out
with him.

Sure, you will.

We’re gonna need some loot

when we split
to the Coast next week.

-Huh?
-The Coast?

Yeah.

A cat I know out
in San Francisco,

he’ll give me a gig
with his combo.

Baby, we’re really have
ourselves a ball out there.

Oh, baby. Are we?

All we gotta do is get
old Kenny to pay the freight.

Old Kenny?

Oh, man, you can’t--
you can’t ask him for money

-to pay our fare.
-Of course not, baby.

You don’t ask him
to lay on any loot.

You just pitch him
a straight story

about you and me
going away together.

How’s that gonna help?

Believe me, I know the type.

The more you lean on him,
the more he loves it.

He’ll pop with a real fancy
going-away present.

You think that’d be right?

Come on, baby.

Right, wrong, all that jazz.

It’s nowhere.

It’s just kicks.

Now, you wanna make the scene
on the Coast with me, huh?

You know I do.

-[Mitch] Oh, baby.
-[knocking on the door]

[woman] Telephone for you.

[Judy moans]

-Play it cool, huh.
-OK.

[door opens]

Oh, man.

[Judy] Hello?

Hi, ya Kenny.

Old Kenny really came through,
didn’t he?

I can hardly believe
it’s real.

It’s real, all right.

From Orfitt’s?

They don’t come out with
any phony ice, not that joint.

I’ll bet it’s worth five,
maybe even ten grand.

-How do you know?
-I don’t.

But we’ll find out
in the morning.

I’ll fall up to Orfitt’s.

They won’t go for any jazz
about returning it.

But maybe they’ll come up
with the right numbers

on what it cost.

Then I’ll fall uptown
and hock it. You dig?

Hmm. I dig it, Mitch.
It’s so lovely.

[chuckles]
OK. You keep the bracelet.

And Kenny. Me?

Me, I’m off to the Coast
for some kicks.

No, Mitch. Take me with you.

Any time, baby.

Thank you.

Yes, sir. May I help you?

Yes, I... wonder
if you could appraise

-something for me.
-Certainly.

Well, what do you think?

Looks pretty good,
doesn’t it?

I mean, all those diamonds.

I recognize this piece.
George.

Come on. Come on, man.
Cool it. This is a mistake.

Here.

Let me help you.

You don’t seem very surprised
to see me.

You think you’re pretty smart,
don’t you?

Take it you figured out
my little joke.

Oh, a joke?

You, uh-- you were the one
who stole the bracelet.

And you knew
Mitch would take it back
and they’d recognize it.

Congratulations. At least
you’re wiser than Mitch.

I imagine he’ll get
several years in which

to meditate
upon his stupidity.

But how do you know
I won’t go to the cops and, uh,

tell them the whole story?

I doubt
if they’ll believe you.

Besides, the sort of friends
you keep will hardly

serve as character witnesses.

That’s the trouble with you
beat types. You lack roots.

You come, you go.
Nobody cares.

You know, here today,
gone tomorrow.

Yeah. Would you just skip
the sermon?

Don’t you think I know
why you planned all this?

Uh...

Yeah, well, if...

I’m nice to you,

you get Mitch off the hook.

Please. I didn’t go to all
this trouble to force you

to be nice to me
as you insist on putting it.

I’m not interested
in that sort of thing.

Any more than I’m interested
in the fate of a...

stupid animal like Mitch.

An animal?

You know...

You know what you are?

You are a weak fool.

What do you mean by that?

You know what I mean.

Mitch told me what you are.

Like now, you’re afraid.

You’re afraid to touch me,
aren’t you?

This, uh-- well, this isn’t
how you get your kicks.

But I am touching you.

It’s true, I--

I don’t get my kicks like this,
as Mitch would put it.

But I do get kicks.

Big kicks...

my way.

The biggest kick of all.

[screaming]

[body thuds]

Yes, we all get our kicks
in different ways.

And Kenny learned that
the district attorney

was no exception.

I shall continue
my examination

of Americana in a moment.

The early Americans who used
this butter churn,

were indeed a hardy lot.

Hmm. A recipe of some sort.

"Serves 12, put in
several scoops of ice.

Add three cups of vermouth,
and four gallons of gin."

Yes, a hardy lot.
That’s all for tonight.

Quite enough in fact.
We shall return next week

with more of the same.
Until then, goodnight.