All language subtitles for The Man from U.N.C.L.E. - S03E06 - The Pop Art Affair.en

Any sign of him?

Not yet.

Nice putt, sir.

Caddy.

My putter.

Mr. Kuryakin, you're
right in Mr. Solo's line.

He said the seventh green.
Maybe he's not coming?

Oh, let's be patient.

It isn't every day that a Thrush
agent makes an appointment to see us.

Ha, ha. Oh, sorry.

Eleven.

Now, what would a
Thrush man want from us?

Bread, man.

Lots of it.

- You Waverly?
- Yes. And you're...?

The cat that called.

The cat? Oh, yes.

Yes, you said you
had something for us.

Yeah, baby. But let's talk
about the bread first, huh?

- Money, sir.
- I understand.

That depends, of course, a good
deal upon what you have to offer us.

I've been on this
development gig for Thrush...

but I'm up to here
with those guys.

They're slow pay.

Did you come up
with something good?

It's a gas, man.

Two years for this.

Now, they're ready to start
mass-producing the stuff...

and I still haven't
got my green.

Some people will never learn
to shout "fore" when they tee off.

That's no golf ball. Move out.

Cover me.

- Was he hit?
- I don't think so, but the can was.

It looks like hiccups.

He's dead.

"A severe attack interfered
with the deceased's breathing...

and caused him to expire
due to cardiac arrest," unquote.

Oh, it's neat. Very neat.

The gas in that can,
whatever it was...

irritated the phrenic nerve and
triggered hiccupping at a lethal rate.

What findings has the lab made?
- None.

There was no formula
for them to analyze.

The contents of the can
had completely evaporated.

- Mm.
- Looks simple enough.

Yes, that's what makes
it all the more terrifying.

Anything on the dead man?

No labels, no laundry marks...

and the standard Thrush
fingerprint obliteration.

Not much to go on, is it?

Research traced his call to a
pay phone at the Golden Spike.

It's a coffee house
in the Village.

That accounts for all those
Thrush agents with long hair.

Thrush beatniks.

All right, gentlemen...

Greenwich Village seems to
be the logical jumping-off place.

You'll fit in there very
nicely, Mr. Kuryakin.

Mr. Solo will
coordinate from here.

Well, I think I'll wear
this, whatever it is.

It will make me look
like one of the boys.

It'll go very nice
with, uh, basic black.

Espresso.

They'll serve you at the table.

The girls are all
busy, I'll take it myself.

- Those guys are too much, man.
- A new group from the coast.

A little square for my money
but the tourists lap it up.

You look like you
know what's shaking.

I'm after this cat. He
chopped me on a deal.

You on a trip?

You might say that.

No, I've never seen him.

Are you fuzz?

Do I look it?

Fuzz comes in all
sizes and colors.

He laid this on me for a down.

Ever seen one like it?

Uh-uh. No, it's not my bag.

Thanks.

Come on, baby, shake it up.

- Hi. Would you care for a portrait?
- No, thank you. I have one.

I'm very good. And
I'm cheap, only $2.

Can I finance it? I'm
rather short this week.

Hey, you've really
got an interesting face.

One dollar?

Oh, if you put it like
that, how can I refuse?

That's why I put it like that.

My face is in your hands.

Fine. Fine.

If you say so.

Before I commit charcoal to
paper, I have to get the feel of you.

- You do?
- Uh-huh.

Everyone's on a
wavelength, you know.

First, I capture the
inner you, then I go. Dig?

Dug.

How long have you
been cuffing the canvas?

Since birth. But I really didn't
get cooking until last month.

I was too hung up with
parents and stuff, you know?

Yes, I've been hung
up a few times myself.

Figures. Most people who make
it here are uptight over something.

You know the Village quite well.

Are you putting me on?
I practically invented it.

You have really
got brooding eyes...

almost like a
Dostoyevsky character.

You don't say.

Hey, you, uh...
You ever see him?

I don't know.

He looks like somebody
I've seen around...

but, no, I can't place him. Why?

I did a painting for him and
he cut out. All he left was this.

Hey, that's mean.

I'd like to cop one for myself.

Done.

- You're something else.
- Thanks.

I'll finish it, you
can pick it up later.

I only do this for
three hots and a cot.

My real serious work is across
the street, at Olé's Gallery.

I have got an opus there
that you just wouldn't believe.

- Hey, you wanna see it?
- I'd love to, but I have to split.

Oh, uh, if you remember that
man, give me a yell at this number.

Cool.

Uh... Cool.

Your three minutes
are up, doll. Fade.

Mark Olé speaking,
may I help you?

Oh, yes, Fred.

Oh?

Looking for Coplin?

A pendant?

Yeah.

Well, good. Good work, Fred.

Somebody's nosing around.

- You want me to go to work on it?
- No, you keep your mind on the big thing.

Well, we can't make the
gas without the catalyzer.

Coplin took the key part,
the thing that makes it deadly.

You worked on it with
him, design another one.

It's not just the design.
It's the components.

Only Coplin knew how to
put the catalyzer together.

I'm surrounded by incompetents.

Practically.

Brilliant, isn't it?

My sentiments entirely.

Are you looking for something specific
or merely passing the time of night?

I'm Mark Olé, proprietor.

Illya Kuryakin, artist.

I like your stuff.
Its, uh... It's there.

We like to feel
we're au courant.

And then some.

This one here, uh...

This one really has it.

Ah. You demonstrate
good taste, Mr., uh, Akin?

- Kuryakin.
- Ah.

A masterpiece of Pop Art.

The commonplace made
all the more significant...

by its utter lack
of significance.

I'd go even further.

I'd say it captures, in
one bold conception...

the immediacy, the phantasmagoria,
the todayness of pop culture.

Hm.

Who's the artist?

A creative genius who has not yet received
the recognition he so richly deserves.

One of the true pioneers
of the Pop movement.

And who's that?

The artist wishes to
remain anonymous.

That pendant, it's most
interesting. Your work?

It was just
something I picked up.

Do you think it has any value?

It's hard to say offhand. It
certainly appears to be unique.

Ah, Mari, my dear. This is Mr. Kuryakin,
a very perceptive young painter.

Would you show
him around, please?

A very busy night.
Excuse me, won't you?

Of course.

Mari Brooks. Would
you like to paint me?

Everyone else does.

I'd love to.

Have you, um,
ever sold anything?

Not yet.

If you will excuse me a
moment, I have to, uh, think.

I'll be here.

And we'll have a drink at
Nardis and dinner at Chamford...

and then we'll stop by my
place for a little nightcap.

Channel D is open.

Hm. It must be Illya.
His timing is uncanny.

Napoleon, what am I
interrupting this time?

Well, I hope you're
doing better than I am.

I want a quick check
run on Mark Olé.

He owns a gallery
in the Village.

How do you spell that?

Blond, medium height.

That's the one all right, Fred.

Down to the pendant.

Right.

It seems our friend in there
is a wolf in beat's clothing.

He must have gotten
the pendant from Coplin.

Hm. Coplin never wore a pendant.

Exactly.

This pendant must
be the catalyzer.

"Whither Mankind
by Sylvia Harrison."

Very interesting.

And deeply significant.

May I have the pendant?

- Are you talking to me?
- Please.

I think you're making a mistake.

Au contraire, Mr. Kuryakin.

- Hi, Illya. Got a minute?
- Uh, later, baby.

Tragedy, my friends.

Hearts burst when the, uh...

The great ape climbed
the tower of the tallest...

He only wanted love, but...

But 6,000 Spads attacked him...

and a million gray people
screamed, "Kill! Kill!"

But one sane voice
meekly squeaked:

"Let him live. Let him live.
The great ape knows what am."

And the gorilla fell at the
feet of the blond goddess.

This is too freaky.

And...

The hard-hearted policeman
snarled as he wrote out a ticket:

"Is this your ape?"

Is this a happening or is it?

Come in, Illya,
wherever you are.

How about this one?

He's in some kind of
trouble. I can't raise him.

Tell Mr. Waverly I've
gone to the Village.

Extension seven.

Yes. One moment.

- Hello?
- Hello, Illya. This is Sylvia.

- Sylvia?
- Hey. You're not Illya.

- Hardly. How did you get this number?
- Illya gave me his card. Is he there?

No, I was just
trying to reach him.

Well, he told me to call him.

I guess it's not
important. Goodbye.

Wait a minute.
Uh, it is important.

- When did you see him?
- Tonight, twice.

I'd like to talk to you.
Where can I find you?

At the Golden
Spike in the Village.

I know where it is. You
stay there, I'll be right over.

You stay here.
I'll be right back.

We're going to
find it eventually.

You're playing the wrong note,
daddy. I don't know where it is.

I must have lost it
in the happening.

Now, there is no
sense in struggling.

It's the artist in me.

And there wouldn't be any point
in yelling either, Mr. Kuryakin.

This room is
completely soundproof.

Now, once more, what did
you do with the pendant?

Are we back to that again?

I knew he looked familiar.

Right after Illya left, I remembered
that I've seen him around the Olé Gallery.

All men look alike
with their eyes closed.

That's why I couldn't
place him right away.

Did you know where
Illya was going?

Negative. The last I saw him was
right in the middle of the happening.

Uh, happening?

You wouldn't have believed
that battle. It was out of sight.

Oh, that Illya is
really going places.

Yes, I'm sure he is. Uh, did you
know any of the others in the battle?

Uh-huh. Some of the
new wave cats from Olé's.

They really pounded
him. It was classic.

You know a lot of people
from the Olé Gallery?

Sure. Olé's makes it.

My best think piece
is over there now.

Hey, do you dig symbolism?

I appreciate art, yes.

Then you would
just love my piece.

It's an opus one, with meaning.

Well, I'll get a look at it
when I have a chance.

Uh...

Oh, how do I find
the Olé Gallery?

Oh, it's right across
the street, on the corner.

Okay, thanks. You've
been very helpful.

- Nice meeting you, Mr...?
- Uh, Napoleon.

Okay, Nap, if I see Illya...

I'll tell him you were around
making like the private-eye.

Yeah.

That'll be all for
tonight, Harry.

Good evening.

You're working late.

Oh, that. A fashion magazine.

It's easier to shoot after hours.
When the tourists aren't around.

Are comic books part of the
fashion scene these days?

Comic books are camp,
and camp is the last word.

Mm. Mm-hm.

Well, I'm sure it would
make any difference.

When you're in the picture, I'm
certain no one notices the props.

Are you looking for
something in particular?

Yeah, something very special.

The work of a relatively unknown
young artist, Illya Kuryakin.

You've heard of him?

Hi.

Miss Harrison, you know the
rules about disturbing the displays.

Well, it's mine.

How would you like to
exhibit it out in the street?

Now, don't touch it again.

About Kuryakin.

I have never heard of him.

But perhaps
Mr. Olé has. I'll see.

You have your choice.

Either her opus or mine.

What are you doing here?

Just checking up on you.

I wanted to find out if you
were really a friend of Illya's.

Take my word for it.

And Illya wouldn't want you to
stick around here any more than I do.

- How come?
- Let's just say...

I know more about the
Olé Gallery than you do.

- They bad guys?
- Yeah.

See you around.

- I didn't get your name.
- Solo. Napoleon Solo.

This is Mr. Olé.

I'm sorry, I'm not
familiar with Kuryakin.

- What's he done?
- Nothing of acclaim.

But we at the, uh, Thaler
Foundation believe in him.

In his future, particularly.

Oh, you're with the
Thaler Foundation?

Yes, you know of us, of course.

Certainly, and I thought I knew
every Thaler representative.

- Have you recently joined them?
- Very recently.

Formerly with the Felton Museum.

Ah. Well, possibly we have
something here which may interest you.

Did Miss Brooks
show you anything?

That's an understatement. You
have a very attractive associate.

Well, thank you.

Mari's the world's
number one fashion model.

Hm. Now, I can see why
number two has to try harder.

Napoleon.

- Sure I couldn't
interest you in this piece?

It's a novel and
daring new concept.

Napoleon!

No, actually, it's a
Kuryakin we're after.

Napoleon! Napo...

Napoleon, I'm in... I'm in here.

Napoleon!

Mari, will you ask Dominic to
check up on the outdoor display?

Tell him it's the one
we just discussed.

Ooh.

Napoleon.

If we can be of any service
to you, please come back.

Oh, I plan to.

Sylvia. What's the matter?

I'm taking this out of here,
I've decided to change galleries.

Ha, ha. Suit yourself.

Allow me.

I'm so glad you
tipped me about Olé.

Besides, they stuck my
baby in the darkest corner...

where nobody could
really appreciate it.

That, uh, pendant.
Where did you get it?

Illya gave it to me.
I'm gonna copy it.

I know it's commercial,
but I can use the cash.

Duck.

It's a good thing to have around,
if a fellow runs out of razor blades.

The world's top model, and you
still can't do your eyes correctly.

Careful with that.

You still don't know what
happened to the pendant, huh?

Right. And you still
don't believe me.

Incidentally, you never did tell me why
you were so anxious to get ahold of it.

Because, Mr. Kuryakin, it happens
to be the catalyzer we need...

to produce the hiccup gas.

You know all about the
hiccup gas, don't you?

Yes.

All I can say is that I
hope you never find it.

But we have found
it, Mr. Kuryakin.

It's around Sylvia's lovely little
neck, but it won't be there much longer.

And now, my good man, I must
leave before your guests arrive.

A party? For me?

A bon voyage affair,
without the champagne.

Napoleon!

Napoleon!

Napoleon!

Napoleon.

Aargh! Napoleon.

I hope you scrubbed
behind your ears.

Isn't it a little early for
your Saturday night bath?

Ugh. That pendant is a catalyst.
They need it to make the gas.

Olé has gone for it.

- Where?
- From Sylvia.

It's almost dawn.

If they haven't gotten to her
yet, she's probably still asleep.

Do you know where she lives?

I took her home.

You would.

- Hi.
- Who are you?

Heidi. Sylvia and
I share this pad.

What happened?

Some hard guys fell
by, looking for Sylvia.

They find her?

- She split just before the crack of.
- Oh.

Was she wearing the pendant?

I guess so.

You're Illya.

How did you know?

Sylvia told me about
your Dostoyevsky eyes.

She and I always
did agree about eyes.

You weren't gagged and
you didn't shout out. Why?

I wasn't in any hurry to be rescued.
I've never been tied up before.

I think everyone should experience
everything at least once, n'est pas?

Where's Sylvia's opus?

I can't understand
that. That's all they took.

You might have thought they'd
at least something valuable.

Like one of my ceramic pieces.

Oh. When did she get up?

She never got down.

She rolled in while
I was sacked out...

and went to work with my firing
oven, making something or other.

Did she say where she
was going before she cut?

I was zonked when she came in, I
only heard her out of the corner of my ear.

And?

She mentioned going to her
parent's house for her meal.

But she was also going up
to Harmonica Lake for the day.

Well, Sylvia didn't strike
me as the woodsy type at all.

Once in a while some of us like
to shoot up there and smell grass.

It's nice.

A lot of real trees and
everything, you know?

Where do her parents live?

On the island, in Great
Neck. Doesn't it figure?

1567 South Laurelton Drive.

I'll take the parents. You
take the lake, all right?

Well, hey, fellas, can't I fix
you breakfast or something?

Uh, we'll graze in your
pasture later, huh? Ha, ha.

Did your daughter say where
she was going, Mrs. Harrison?

No, Sylvia never
tells us anything.

She just comes and eats.

Oh, yes. Well, I'm...
I'm sorry I missed her.

It's certainly a pleasure to see a nice,
clean young man like you calling on Sylvia.

Why don't you stay and have
some coffee? It's no trouble.

Let me make you some nice eggs.

No, thank you. It's kind
of you, but I must be going.

How come you got a haircut?

- I beg your pardon?
- Ralph.

Some of the young men
that Sylvia has been seeing...

they're, uh, well,
ha, ha, you know.

Believe me, I know. Well, thank
you again. That's very kind...

Uh, I didn't know your
daughter was a musician.

Oh, mercy, no.

Mr. Harrison was a
French horn player, though.

My, it was an exciting life we
led in those days, wasn't it, dear?

Yeah.

Then he went into
plumbing supplies.

- People have to make a living, you know.
- Of course.

That's the trouble with
the younger generation.

Never had to meet a payroll.

If I'm not being too
personal, Mr. Solo...

uh, would you mind telling
me what line of work you're in?

Oh, you don't have to
answer if you don't want to.

If there's one thing I hate,
it's a prying mother-in-law.

Law. Actually, yes, that's what I'm in.
International health and welfare and law.

Oh, your mother must be proud,
government jobs are so very secure.

The pay's rotten.

Oh, well, uh, thank you very
much. Now, I really must be going.

- Do come back.
- Say hello to Sylvia for us.

Uh, goodbye.

The other car, Mr. Solo.

- Where'd you get this?
- From a chick.

- What chick?
- Sylvia.

- What is Sylvia?
- She's a little blond.

I dug the one she had on, so
she sold me this copy for 3 bucks.

- What's the beef, fella?
- No beef.

Uh, sorry I had to do that.

Man, there's a lot of freaky
people running around loose.

The thought of a nation
hiccupping itself to death...

is at once macabre and
amusing, is it not, Mr. Solo?

Hm? Uh, well, depends
on your point of view.

It'll be my personal revenge.

A vendetta against
the know-nothings.

Vendetta?

When I was young,
I was the first artist...

to paint magnificent
pictures with no meaning.

Neo-Non-Objectivism.

They were actively ignored.

All geniuses are ahead
of their contemporaries.

It's just a matter of time before
the world catches up to you.

You understand.
And so did Thrush.

They gave me an opportunity to
unleash the full gamut of my creativity.

The hiccup plan was mine. Conceived,
carried, born and nurtured by me.

My finest hour.

- What's that?
- Hm? What's what?

You're being paged.

Ahem. Yes?

I'm at Harmonica Lake
and I haven't found her yet.

Mm, uh... Keep looking.

Incidentally, she has a new
business. Costume jewelry.

She's had a few copies
of the pendant made...

and she's selling
them at $3 a piece.

What have you found at your end?

Uh, as a matter...

She made copies.

- You mean, it's...?
- We'll soon find out.

Napoleon?

You dumb statue.
You got the wrong one.

- How was I to know? It fooled you too.
- Shut up.

Women like you should
be seen and not heard.

Harmonica Lake, huh?

I'll take care of that end.

You get rid of him
like a good girl.

That's not a
wrinkle, is it, Mari?

I hope not.

Remember, I keep only
flawless works of art.

That was merely a prologue.

- Shut up.
- A line, a wrinkle. A crow's foot.

Pretty soon, he'll trade
you in for next year's model.

That's enough.

Olé never regarded
you as a woman, anyway.

Only as an object of art.

That's a lie. Every man
who looks at me, wants me.

Except Olé.

He made you look desirable.

When was the last time
he made you feel desirable?

He never regarded you as anything
more than a life-size kewpie doll.

Did he ever take
you in his arms...

and muss up that glossy perfection
you paint on every morning?

You're both fakes.

He's a window dresser and
you're a mannequin. Look.

You're lying.

Uh, do either of you
two know Sylvia?

Hey, everybody, the
wheat germ's ready!

Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo, Illya!

What are you doing here?

Don't move. I'll be right over.

Sylvia, Sylvia. Somebody is lifting
that, uh, whatever it is you call...

Hey, you! Hey,
where'd you get that?

Hey, let it alone.

Sylvia, don't. It's a trap!

Are you sure you
know what you're doing?

Well, the controls on this are
similar to those used in a zeppelin.

Here, hold this
and hold it tight.

What's this for?

I don't know. I've never
been in a zeppelin.

My father should see me now.

Floating over the Hudson in a balloon,
wearing goose bumps and a bikini.

I thought you
were pretty far out.

Man, nobody's this far out.

I told you not to look.

It's not so bad, once
you get used to it.

It's so... So free, like
swimming with no clothes on.

- Illya, what are those?
- Somebody down there doesn't like us.

Illya, those are bullets.

Well, that's what they
usually use on clay pigeons.

I don't understand
it. Where are they?

Ground to balloon, come in.

Ground to balloon, come
in. What's going on up there?

It's Olé.

Hold this.

Olé, it's Kuryakin here.
I've got the pendant.

Unless you tell your boys to stop
shooting, I'll throw it in the river.

All right, it's a deal.

- Aah!
- Illya!

You murderer, you tried to kill him.
- Shh.

We Kuryakins have an
amazing aptitude for recovery.

Nice seeing you
again, Mr. Kuryakin.

The pleasure is all yours.

At last.

So that's how you make it.

And we'll test the new batch on
you and Sylvia. Isn't that exciting?

- Take them upstairs.
- That way.

Congratulations, darling.

Now, you can realize your dream.
You destroy anything you wish.

Yes.

Where should we begin, Mari?

New York? Washington?

Perhaps my home town. I
never did like my home town.

Wherever it is, I want to be there
by your side so I can see it happen.

- If you're happy, darling, then I'm happy.
- We'll see.

You're looking at me
so strangely, Mark.

It's nothing. I thought I detected
the hint of a crow's foot near your eye.

I have no crow's feet.

Of course not,
darling, of course not.

You mussed my hair.

Why don't you go freshen up a
bit? It'll make you feel much better.

Then I have a wonderful
surprise for you.

You always know what's
best for me, don't you, Mark?

Of course, I do, my dear.

This is some finish to a picnic.

Your friend Napoleon
was right. He warned me.

No, I wonder what
happened to my opus.

I worked on that for two years.

Illya, can Olé really
do what he says?

I'm afraid he can.

That's a bad scene.

How come you jumped
in the balloon with me?

You had the pendant.

Was that the only reason?

Not really.

What wrinkles? Ha, ha.

Admiring yourself, my dear?

Only trying to make
you proud of me.

But I am, Mari.

Very proud.

Sorry about the delay.

But being an artist yourself...

you know a masterpiece
is worth waiting for.

This is living art.

Depends which side you're on.

All right. Let's call it functional
art. Is that acceptable to you?

I question whether
it's any kind of art,

It's a little too
avant-garde for my tastes.

So you prefer the
traditional, then.

Very well, it might
interest you to know

that as a fringe benefit
of this operation...

Thrush has promised to award
me the world's greatest examples...

of the traditional school.

Da Vincis,
Michelangelos, Rodins.

What for? You could
never appreciate them.

I have no intention
of appreciating them.

I'm going to destroy them.

- Lose something, daddy?
- Hm? Oh.

Lose, yeah. My kite.

Get the masks.

All right, you can cancel that
order. Your guests won't be staying.

You spray and I spray and
we all go to hiccup heaven.

They're caught in there.

But how could you do it?

You work on that thing for two
years. Then you sell it for $49?

49.95. I needed rent money.

Besides, how was I to know you guys
would come up with a buyer for 200?

- How far is this place?
- I sure hope we get it back.

Are you sure your
buyer's gonna show?

Oh, yeah. He's usually
very dependable.

A cigar store?

He couldn't afford
a wooden Indian.

Miss Harrison, this is Mr. Waverly,
one of our leading collectors.

Two hundred dollars?

And a bargain at the price.

It's a steal.

Sir. Ahem.