Original subtitles

The Feds are now on the case.

They don't want me involved. The least I can do

is feed you idiots some useful information.

A single casing was found in apartment 14F

belonging to a tenant by the name of M. Dudenoff.

Look, there's a footprint on the radiator.

Come here! Come here!

Ben Glenroy?

I'm Glenn Stubbins, Ben's stunt double.

I'm begging ya. Can you help me get a job on your film?

I present to you the Brothers!

And when these gals read the fabulous script that Marshall P. Pope wrote...

I-I just tried to get you all down in the right way, you know?

At least how I pictured you.

I'm not telling you to sell your life rights, but if you do,

ask them for a shit-ton of money.

Notice this intruder. A male arm.

And I don't trust its intentions!

Sazz sacrificed everything for me,

and by the time I realized it, it was too late to make it up to her.

Someday, I won't be able to take the hits anymore.

I'm gonna open up a trampoline park.

What is this place? A hideout?

Don't move or I'll blow your fucking brains out.

What makes a writer a real writer?

It starts with the look.

A look that says, I'm smart, confident, worldly,

important, but not self-important.

I can quote David Foster Wallace and Ace Ventura.

"Alrighty then."

It's about convincing the world, and,

honestly, yourself, that you have the goods.

But the look only gets you so far.

It comes down to what's on the page.

And the page has to dazzle,

bright enough that it catches the right person's eye.

And then, you get the call.

They're making your movie.

You're a real writer now.

You're convinced the voice in your head,

the one that says you are a fraud,

is finally gonna go away.

Except, it doesn't.

And you start to wonder if it ever will.

Don't move or I'll blow your fucking brains out.

The tragedy of it all!

Death comes for Oliver Putnam in the prime of his life.

Fine, do it!

Extinguish my roaring flame, but spare my friends!

Oh, my God, it's you?

Oh, I'm so sorry.

I've just been a little on edge.

I really do not like being this far east of Brentwood.

Do you mind putting the gun down?

Oh, this? It's not loaded.

Okay, so I'll be taking that... away...

from you.

Bev, what are you doing here?

And whose gun is that?

It's your dead friend Sazz's, I assume. I found it here in this...

I-I don't know what you call this place.

A sad... shack. A poverty cottage?

Stop deflecting. Did you kill Sazz?

Ooh, I really like what I'm seeing over here.

Mabel the investigator,

stomping around in your patchwork trench coat,

solving crimes like a millennial Nancy Drew.

- I'm really excited for our movie, guys! - Bev.

Did you kill her?

No, I did not.

But I think someone on the movie may have.

Bev, where were you the night she was killed?

Ooh, I was hoping you would ask!

Well, here's me that night, in LA,

at Variety's Power Women Party

for the 100 Most Powerful Women Under 100.

It was, of course, at the Power Room. I'm on top of the world.

I'm dressed head to toe in Chanel.

Ain't no one gonna fuck with this bitch, you know what I'm saying?

Anyway, Sazz called me.

I didn't pick up 'cause it was a random number,

but she left me a voicemail, which I thought was interesting.

Name's Sazz Pataki, and I'm told you're the one to talk to.

Look, I can't get into this in a message, but you need to call me, okay?

There's a problem with your Only Murders movie.

A big problem, and I can't say more than that.

11:07.

That's right after she left to get the wine.

And you didn't call her back?

- I know you're all new to Hollywood, but... - New?!

I'll have you know that I directed Singing in the Rain 2 for VH1 in '88.

Town's still talking about it.

Gary Busey was in it, and he stole all the cameras.

Listen, what I'm saying is no one wants to get that call.

It's really hard to get a movie made these days,

and I just wasn't in the mood to hear about a problem.

So I took my good old time getting back to her.

Then, the next thing I heard, she was dead.

So you're haunted by guilt.

But you think everything would be different

if you'd just called her back.

Oh, I'm haunted...

by the fear that this movie falls apart.

The stakes are through the roof for me right now.

I passed on Barbie.

I need to find and fix this problem

before it takes down the whole production.

So, I came here, and I turned this place inside out,

but all I found were a couple of sketches of trampolines and that gun.

Can't believe I did that.

Guns are destroying our entire society.

Can I have it back?

What? No!

Please! It kinda turned me on. I don't know.

I just felt so powerful holding it. And I really think my notes

to writers would land better with a gun.

It's "Tighten up act two, guys,"

or "Tighten up act two." I mean, which one are you gonna listen to?

Yeah, I think I'm gonna hold on to this.

Fine.

Well, I'm really glad I bumped into you guys.

Investigating murders is exhausting.

But you all seem to enjoy this killer-finding thing,

so you find the killer, I save the movie.

How's that for a deal?

Get ready to be dazzled!

What do you think?

I think the next time you ask me to rush over here

for a break in the case,

you need to gimme something better than

20-fucking-thousand murder boards, okay?

It's only three!

That's three too fuckin' many, man. What is this? Amateur hour?

May I remind you that these amateurs have thrice bested

the NYPD homicide department.

Now, I think there's something here.

Sazz called Bev Melon

and said that there was a problem on the movie.

And right after that, she was shot.

Ergo, someone on the movie killed Sazz

to keep this problem a secret!

Okay, so if this is such a hot theory,

then where's the rest of your crew to vouch for it?

We're here! We're here!

Well, the good people of Page Six have solved it.

The bicep on Loretta's Instagram has been identified.

Wow.

It belongs to one Jack Jonk.

He has a four-episode arc on Norfbun as Loretta's love interest.

Go ahead, Loretta. You know Jack Jonk, right?

- The former Olympic swimmer? - Yeah, I do.

So you know what that means, right?

Big-ass arms.

Big-ass legs.

- Big-ass... - Oh, no, no. I think,

to me, he has a perfectly normal physique.

In fact, he reminds me of me

when I was doing the elliptical two times a week.

- Mm-hmm. - Sorry, not listening.

Guys, have you seen these checks?

Oh, our life rights checks have landed.

I sent mine to my accountant in Belize.

- Where? - Where, uh,

my accountant is hiking the Xunantunich Mountains,

and who will return with the check and deposit here,

so I can pay the appropriate American taxes.

I just can't believe they're actually paying us. It's so official.

That's because we're professionals now.

Yeah, we're professionals. I'm a professional...

Wait, what do I do?

You do... this.

Well, what is "this" exactly?

God only knows.

Well, you... you know, w-we have a podcast,

s-so you are a pod-smith.

- A crime-fluencer. - How about podcast producer?

I'm a podcast producer.

I am a podcast producer.

No, but it's more like...

I'm a podcast producer!

Yeah, you don't have to overdo it. You could just say...

"Oh, I'm a podcast producer."

I'm a podcast producer.

But why is that so scary to say out loud?

Maybe it's 'cause you're a producer on a podcast

about a crime that has 40,000 fuckin' suspects.

Not for long. We are headed up to the production office.

We are gonna poke around and knock a few more names off these boards.

Okay, great. Sounds good. So, while you guys do that,

I'm gonna get some more information on this gun. In the meantime,

tighten it up. You hear me?

Fuckin' amateur... Take this shit off the board!

Think she was impressed.

Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.

Oh God. I have an idea.

These three should be in the photo shoot, too.

Why aren't you writing this down?

Oh, well, Oliver Putnam does love a photo shoot.

My hair guy is in a home now,

so there's a bit of paperwork involved in getting him out, but...

Well, what... What is this photo shoot?

It's marketing for the movie. Ready for the concept?

Full frontal nudity.

Two bodies ravaged by time.

And one dewy with promise.

Nobody's doing a naked photo shoot.

Wait, yes! It should be the opposite.

You drowning in your season one outfits.

- Oh... - Did you get that?

Season one outfits.

And the actors in identical looks?

Doubles, illusions.

So cliché.

Don't be late.

Hey, Oliver!

I saw Page Six today. Oh, my God.

Sounds like your girlfriend's about to get Jonked.

I'd prefer if you didn't put it that way.

Well, you gotta tell her though,

'cause it's best to line up a good orthopedic surgeon now.

'Cause she's gonna need a big hip replacement

after he drops that Jonk on her.

I'm sorry, you've used "Jonk"

as both a noun and a verb in the span of 10 seconds.

Well, it can be both. "The Jonk jonked my jonk till I jonked,"

is a valid sentence.

Well, he and I don't sound that different.

Both body guys.

- You know, love protein. - Mm.

In fact, a lotta people don't know this, but I-I myself

- went through a steroids phase. - Hm.

Prednisone for my sinus infections.

Hm...

That's so interesting.

It's funny 'cause you don't strike me as someone who would, like,

"care for their body."

Excuse me. I need to go find someone.

Actually, uh, uh, uh, I-I-I'm known

as a bit of a Herculean figure in the, uh, theater community.

Usually picked second for softball,

right after the lesbian stage manager.

And I don't wanna brag, but, uh,

I've been asked to be a pallbearer. Many times.

Ooh.

What is this I'm standing on? It feels like fly paper.

It's a tacky mat. Production thing.

I work here now, know all the words.

"Comtex." "Gobo tweeny up and over."

"Grip." I can continue.

- I can't. - It gets the dust off your shoes

so you don't track anything into the sisters' nest.

It's a kick-off gift from Eva.

She has a full line of sticky products.

Boob tape, wound glue. She's huge in adhesives.

Anyway, that's a wrap on me!

I gotta go martini two-shot that best boy.

This is a lot of suspects.

What'd Detective Williams call us? Amateurs?

Ama... If that's even the word she used. I can't remember.

- It was amateurs. - Yeah?

Well, would an amateur pretend to be making a call

while secretly taking photos for our murder board?

Oh, yes! Uh...

yes, I can hold. Yes, I'll wait. Oh!

Yes, it's me, Martha! Hi! How are...

I just wanna order those nachos. Uh, na...

Do you want nachos? You don't? You don't want them?

Can you put some, uh, papa de gallo...

- Pico de gallo. - Paca de... Pico de gallo on that for me?

Oh, look at this. That's so interesting.

Good work. Good work, everyone.

Yeah, that's fantastic.

I really hope the camera's pointing the right way.

Oh, shoot.

Okay, here we go.

Yeah. Uh-huh?

Well, that's interesting! Yes!

Yes, I can hold, Martha.

How are we supposed to tell if one of these people is the murderer?

I guess we look for someone who gets nervous

when they see us poking around.

Like him.

Marshall, right?

We need to talk with you.

Oh shit, it's the whole trio.

Uh, fine. L-L-Let's do it.

We have a few questions about Sazz Pataki. Did you happen to see...

Wait, I'm a suspect?

Oh, thank God.

Sorry, I-I thought you wanted to give me more notes on the script.

It's just you're producers... co-associate producers...

and everyone's been hounding me about rewrites, and I figured you...

But no, I'm...

I'm just a suspect.

Um, okay, great. So,

ask me where I was the night Sazz got murdered.

Not here.

Let's talk at my place.

- Mabel! Hey! Hi! - Hey, hi, hi.

I just went down to the lobby to look for you.

Can you hang back and talk with me for a second?

Come sit down with me. Let's see if we can pass the Bechdel test.

Oh, by the way, the checks landed. What are we gonna splurge on?

Oh, I'm probably gonna sink mine into my business.

I'm... a... podcast producer.

Yeah. And I oversee a few...

a bunch of projects.

I'm sure you have a million irons in the fire,

but I do happen to be looking for

a hot new podcast to adapt for my next movie. So what have you got?

Oh! Um, I have lots of ideas.

You know, they're just not fully baked.

Mabel, nobody needs fully baked.

All you need is a hook.

So what's your next podcast? Go on. Hook me.

- Like, now? - Yeah, now. Why not?

Uh... Um... The...

The first one is about...

people.

Tall people, short people,

all different-sized people.

Hm.

And, uh, there's, uh,

another one about buttons...

being pushed... because of... trauma.

Ooh, I like that.

You know what? Forget it. None of these are really anything.

Mabel, do you want the advice of a senior VP?

These ideas are fantastic!

They're relatable.

I mean, come on. Who hasn't dealt with

people and buttons?

You know what? I saw it in the shed.

I said, "The gal under 80,

she's the one you wanna bet on long-term."

So, you know what? I'm calling Billy Billberg.

He heads up the podcast division of our corporation.

I can already see the potential!

Building brands, spreading trends

make that Gen Z get off their asses and listen.

Okay, so here's the plan.

You're gonna flesh out these ideas,

and I'm gonna set you up on a meeting ASAP.

Oh, uh, uh, no, I'm not sure about my schedule.

I don't wanna hear it.

Shh. I don't wanna hear anything. Mabel, listen to me.

They're not buying the idea as much as they're buying you,

so don't stress. Case closed. We're doing it.

Uh...

Ah-ha! It's me favorite trio!

- Ah, when'd you grow the beard, lassie? - That's not Mabel.

Oh, well, um... I's just leaving you dis gift.

- Oh. Mm. - There you go, Chuck.

It's me old gran's soda bread.

Dropped your name. Got meself a gig on the film.

Just odd jobs for now,

but I'll be, uh, doublin' for you at the photo shoot later.

Oh, Dublin. That's... Doub... Oh, Glen!

Um, you're a stunt guy.

Would you say I'm physically fit?

Oh, sure. You're a right Conor McGregor.

I'll scrap ya! Motherf...

I can't believe I'm getting grilled by the actual trio.

I've spent months picturing how you would do an interrogation scene,

and now I'm inside one! Wild.

Y-Yeah, you're really living the dream.

Um, can you tell us where you were the night Sazz died?

It's funny you ask...

Marshall, this script is amazing.

You like it?

I love it! I've never seen myself portrayed so accurately before.

"Charles peers shrewdly at the evidence,

his keen analytical brain thumping with thought."

Does a brain thump?

Well, apparently, this one does.

"Oliver flits around the room,

a septuagenarian Peter Pan or a male Tinkerbell"?

Okay, that's just bad writing, Marshall.

- Pick a metaphor. - Aren't you supposed to be

printing out the photos we took in the production offices?

Fine, fine.

B-But Marshall, take a look at how you wrote me in the script

because I do not walk like that.

It's classic trio bickering.

It's my favorite part of the podcast.

God, I love you guys!

But to get back to your question on where I was

the night Sazz died, the truth is...

I've been trying my hand at standup. Observational stuff.

I-I'm more of a storyteller than a punchline guy.

Think Jonathan Winters meets Ali Wong.

That night, I was in West Hollywood, doing a set at the Laugh-eteria.

Oh, I can show you on YouTube!

Actually, that would be useful. It's my first time doing this hour and...

- Uh, that's okay. - Wow. An hour.

Uh, Mabel, we oughta let this kid get back to work.

The only thing he's guilty of is great character writing.

I'm sorry, Marshall,

before you go, is your beard fake?

Oh God, is it that obvious?

Th-This is supposed to be costume-grade human hair!

I-It's a great beard, it's just...

can you tell me why you have it?

Uh... Yeah, this is so embarrassing,

but I-I can't really grow facial hair.

I-It's my first time on set,

and I wanted to sell myself as a "real writer,"

and this is the look, right?

Oh, these aren't... these aren't real either. I have 20/10 vision.

How could a writer of your talent have imposter syndrome?

Actually, I get it.

Really? You're not an imposter.

Sometimes, I feel like one.

That's crazy. You're my inspiration.

It's what drew me to your podcast.

You never pretend to be anything other than what you are.

Amateurs.

- Hey, hey. Whoa. - I was gonna say amateurs,

flailing their way to success.

You haven't missed.

I-I mean, look at these murder boards!

They're a little homemade, and yet you're...

You're probably on the verge of a breakthrough.

Finally, someone who sees it.

You want me to walk you through it? It could be helpful with the script.

That would be incredible.

You'll notice how this is organized around the theme of questions.

The who, the how, the why, and the why now?

You know, we really should contact the MasterClass people about this.

Wow. So, you don't know who the target was?

Oh, no. Th... Don't look at that. That's not ready for prime time.

That "Why" section has a lotta different motives...

No, no, th-th-that's not, yeah... But this.

This is my magnum opus. The "How" board.

Note the timeline.

- This baby's airtight. - It's beautiful.

Although the... Ah, forget it.

- No, what? - Nothing. It...

It's just th-the timing.

Sazz left a voicemail at 11:07,

but her body hit the incinerator at 11:19.

That would mean someone shot from the West Tower,

came all the way over here, cleaned up the crime scene,

and disposed of the body, all in 12 minutes?

It could totally happen. You just haven't thought about it the way I have.

In fact, that might be the secret to my crime-solving ability.

I'm able to channel the mind of a killer.

You might wanna put that in the script.

Uh...

You're still not getting it? All good.

Let me pitch the murder to you.

Picture this.

Our killer takes his place...

or her place,

and waits for the target to come into view.

Minute one, our killer takes his shot.

Can I just commit to male pronouns? It'll be easier. Anyway...

Boom.

Minute two, he takes the stairs

so as not to run into anyone on the elevator,

but he's gotta be quick!

Minutes three to six,

our killer exits the West Tower

and traverses the half-block to the Arconia main entrance.

Oh! Brazzos!

Just another face in a New York crowd.

Minute seven,

our killer enters the lobby

and expertly distracts the doorman on duty.

Why, that sounds exactly like a black-capped chickadee.

What's a forest songbird doing in my lobby?

Minutes 9 through 11, he enters my apartment

and removes any trace of the crime,

a task made easier by the high-quality cleaning products

I have neatly organized

in my high-quality cleaning product cabinet.

And finally, using what I assume

is one of my missing suit bags,

our killer hoists the body over his shoulder,

and disposes of it...

causing the power to surge at exactly minute 12.

Stylishly done.

Huh. I-I'm just saying, in order for it to happen in 12 minutes,

the person who did this would have to be extremely fit.

A gifted athlete in the best shape of their life.

You're describing our killer exactly.

No, you're describing me.

- I'll do it. - Do what?

The murder. I can reenact it in 12 minutes.

I don't think that's a great idea.

Mabel, Mabel, Mabel.

You have no idea what this body of mine can do.

In 1981, I participated

in a 24-hour kick line fundraiser.

- Like a Rockette? - Exactly like a Rockette.

It was called "Let's Kick Rickets to the Curb

and If We Have Extra Send It to AIDS."

We only had enough for rickets.

Um, I-I'll test the theory.

Or Marshall can.

You don't have anything you need to prove.

Who's proving anything? I'm simply a man in his prime,

looking to use his rock-hard bod to prove a murder timeline.

Oliver, just the same, you have a lot of things

that Jack Jonk doesn't.

You're sweet, for one. Your...

scarves and...

Yes! And even if only 10% of your stories are true,

you've had an interesting life.

Thank you, but this has nothing to do with Jack Jonk.

Now, here are your photos. I have to locate my athletic wear

and fly through this killer's obstacle course.

Bang!

Are you just gonna leave me up here?

Do you want me to stop the clock?

No, just help me down. I sunk 20 grand into these knees.

See you punks at the finish line.

Okay.

Oh!

Move it! Kids on leashes should be illegal!

I'm trying to do something here!

Get back!

Hey, hey! Nice outfit, jackass!

Yelling at children? Are you serious?

You cannot be serious!

How am I doing?

It's been 38 minutes.

- What?! - What happened to you, Oliver?

Well, I got off to a good start.

- No, you didn't. - No, I did not.

I've been on a journey.

I saw things.

I did things.

I failed.

I failed as an athlete,

as a... movie character,

as a fashion icon...

as a guardian of the city's wildlife.

I'd rather not elaborate on that.

- Did you punch a bird? - I said I'm not elaborating!

It's not your fault, Oliver.

Nobody could have done that in 12 minutes unless they were superhuman.

The only thing holding this murder board together is my timeline,

and it's all wrong!

What are you doing? Oh, my God, you're rewriting my character!

Don't take away my thumping brain!

No, I-I mean...

Oh, thank God. I'll get it!

One little mistake, and suddenly I'm thump less!

Oh, good. You're all here.

I got your wardrobe.

Gee, photo shoot.

Reminds me of the time I modeled for the, uh,

great Robert Mapplethorpe.

Uh, just Google, "Robert Mapplethorpe, Lester Doorman."

Of course, you won't recognize me behind the gimp mask,

but, uh, it's me in there. Anyway, have fun.

I never thought I'd say this,

but Oliver Putnam is not up for a photo shoot.

Me neither.

Guys, we have to go to that photo shoot.

Wow, Mabel, money has really changed you.

One check and it's, "Hey, check me out."

No, look!

It's the pictures you took in the production office.

This shoe print on that tacky mat

matches the one from Dudenoff's apartment.

The killer was up at the production offices,

which means they're probably at the photo shoot.

Shit...

It's like I'm already watching the sequel to my movie.

Oh, you're here.

- This could be triggering. - Shoot.

Just wait.

It's an honor to be your stand-in, Putnam.

You, too, Mr. Anaphylaxis.

Yay! You made it! I'm so happy.

Don't you love this concept?

We have all of you multiplied.

Then, we add mirrors.

It's so confusing,

just like your podcast. Check it out!

Look at this.

Charlie's Angels.

Aah!

Ron, Harry, Hermione.

Harry Potter.

Hm? Oh yeah.

Godfather 1, 2, 3.

- Are you sure this plan is going to work? - Absolutely not,

but I didn't have a better idea on such short notice.

Let's take five. Charles, go to makeup.

Tell them we need you to look a little less...

They'll know what that means.

This way, sir.

Howard!

Howard! Ah.

Why is this box of Eva Longoria Tacky Mats

not unloaded and laid out?

You think I want dust particles in my nose all day?

What are we making, Dune?

Ms. Longoria, I will lay out the Ms. Longoria Tacky Mats,

but I will not be spoken to like a common PA!

I am an on-set documentarian slash talent liaison.

Great. Well, why don't you liaise these mats?

PA, lay out the mats. Are you kidding me?

Eva, thanks so much for playing the crazy celebrity card.

Oh, honey, I've asked for crazier things.

In season eight of Desperate Housewives, I told them I wouldn't return

unless they legalized gay marriage.

And guess what? They did.

You're welcome, gays!

Oh, I get the plan now.

See, I'm a visual learner.

Do I have all my Olivers?

Oh.

Oliver.

Oliver.

I'm Glen Stubbins!

Stubbins, out!

Zack and Oliver, get on your marks.

Wait! Conference.

♪ Eye contact ♪

♪ Ooh, baby, makin' eye contact ♪

Okay.

Have you read the new changes to the script? They're awful.

What changes?

For some reason, and don't ask me why,

it seems as Marshall has done a insecurity pass on your character.

"Oliver stares at the murder board,

"insecurely wondering who the killer is.

"He flits around the room,

an insecure Peter Pan or an insecure Tinkerbell."

Okay, you know, this is all about Jonk.

Jack Jonk?

- Mm-hmm. - Hey! Hey!

- That dude fucks. - Aah! Bastards!

Hard.

We did a gender-bent take on Snow White,

and he jonked all seven of the dwarves.

You could hear them hi-ho-ing from his trailer.

He's playing my girlfriend's new love interest on her show.

Ah, sorry.

Well, you know,

maybe he didn't jonk all seven. It could've been...

could've been five.

Try one back-to-back.

You share a vertebrae and a shameful secret.

Shame... A shameful secret. Okay.

Now, turn around.

Wiener-to-wiener.

- W... - Stubbins! Show 'em.

Penis...

♪ Just by makin'... ♪

♪ Eye contact ♪

♪ Makin' eye contact... ♪

Thank you.

- Charles... Oh, I'm sorry. - Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse me.

My bad, I'm sorry.

What, are we dancing?

Two people.

That's it.

My brain is back to thumping.

Okay...

The only thing that gets you over imposter syndrome

is actually doing the thing you wanna be better at.

Mabel, I figured out the how.

It wasn't one person who did the murder. It was two.

One to shoot and one to clean up.

Now, which two people could a done it?

Putting ideas together till they make some kind of sense.

Until you've got something that you did,

something you figured out.

Or it all makes less sense,

and then it's time for another rewrite.

Oh, Trina, he's off his mark. Can you move him?

Thank you.

Oh, my God, you're totally right.

They could've done this.

Where's the other Brothers sister?

- Gun! - Oh, my God, they've been shot!