Original subtitles

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.