All language subtitles for f5r5r

? If I should write ?

? A book for you ?

? That brought me fame ?

? And fortune, too ?

? That book would be... ?

You can't be here.

Lois, please come sit.

Please.

Redd, would you come
out and sit as well?

She's making her famous,
uh, Cincinnati chili

and lavender lemonade.

We-we weren't sure where
you were with your sobriety, but...

so we have options.

Cincinnati what?

Chili. It's, um...

the secret is cinnamon and
unsweetened chocolate, yes?

- And Worcestershire sauce.
- Oh.

And of course, mild cheddar.

- The sharp doesn't melt right.
- Mmm.

- Good?
- That's good.

- Mmm. Mmm.
- Great!

What the fuck is this freak show?

Come. Come, come. Come sit.

I'll make you something.

Now, please, just hear me out.

Admittedly, we have screwed a lot up.

We haven't been guardians
of our good fortune,

such as the miracle of your recovery.

There's so much good,

so much worth holding on to.

Like?

Cheers, honey.

A structure. A foundation. A history.

Merritt may well be finding
happiness of, uh, of some sort,

but I think she still needs us.

She needs a united front.

Let's follow the example

of the young.

Let's all live together.

Marshall, are you insane?

We've served each
other divorce papers...

Nothing is final yet.

You said you hated me!

So what? Me, you,

and the gourmet madam,

we all gonna share the same bed or what?

Oh, well, no, uh, no.
That's, that's not exactly it.

- And not, not that I'm not fluid...
- No, no, no.

That part of us...

That part of us... you and I...

- is over.
- Marshall thinks

that he and I should
move into the guest room

and you should stay where you are.

And you're all right with this?

Well, I did live in a commune...

for a couple of months in the 1980s.

And... well, none of us
are getting any younger,

no spring chickens here.

And I do like cooking for a crowd.

The old ways don't work anymore.
Th-There must be new paradigms.

I love you.

I do not hate you.

One says things in life, but... family.

Ed, your affair with Ed,

everything we've done to each other...

Fuck.

Don't tell me I am still in a coma

and I'm dreaming?

- Am I?
- No.

You gaslit me for years.

Let me be clear, Marshall.

I intend to move
forward with this divorce

smoothly and efficiently.

I don't want to love or hate you.

I just want to be at
peace with what you are.

But, Lois, we have an opportunity

to do something deep,

something-something better.

Marshall, I told you
she wouldn't go for this.

You know, women our age, we
can't forgive these things.

Please, Lois.

I need both of you so badly.

Accountability is everything.

Please.

Just...

Jesus. Go.

Just go.

How the fuck did I end up
in this terrible desert town?

- But...
- It offers nothing.

Nothing!

I mean, there's no, there's
no decent proper movie theatre,

there's... If you want
a bagel, good luck.

And th-there's not
even a decent florist.

I thought you liked silence.

I hate it!

What's that about?

And I think I hate
you, too, a little bit,

you know, just to be perfectly frank.

Yeah. God.

Yeah, I suppose this is the moment

that I-I-I tell you, yeah.

Tell me?

I know. I know.

I know it now

because I suspected and I found out.

Why did you seduce me if
you didn't really want me?

What are you talking about?

Oh, oh, stop.

Oh, what are you talking about?

One of the women came to see me.

And she'd spoken to
several other faculty wives.

Yeah, I do hope you find some way

of, you know, addressing
this compulsion.

- Fucking in...
- Y-You should know. I fight it.

For many, many years, I-I
believed in a moral code.

No, but we now know

that such a thing does not matter.

Wh-What? So-so now you
just take whatever you want?

But hear me. Hear me here.

This plan that you
just presented to Lois,

I only went along
with it for one reason.

Which is?

I knew she'd turn you down.

And I wanted to be present

for your final humiliation.

Oh, geez, I've got to get to the club.

I've got to get those girls in shape.

Their pasties keep falling off

and I don't think it's an accident.

I have so much love
to share. I love you.

- I love my wife.
- I know.

But...

I'll give you till the end of the week,

and then I want you gone.

It will be like you never happened.

Kind of a bad dream.

Which is meant to be forgotten.

- Synced and corrected by naFraC -
- www.addic7ed.com -

But maybe the
management of our terror has been

unequal to the task? Like
during the end of days

of the Roman empire, we too
face insurmountable obstacles,

internal decay and external pressure.

And economically,

economically growing
inequality and instability.

Rome used slave labor.

Well, we do too, really.

Does that sound familiar?

Because they too had
environmental collapse.

Rome's moral decline
is just like today's.

We-we-we see it all around
us. We see it all around us.

No moral coherence or consequences.

Add to that cyber warfare

and a cascade of global conflicts

we insist on meddling in,
and ladies and gentlemen,

welcome to Ancient Rome!

And, uh...

just like Rome...

we still cling to our...

outmoded modes of how to be.

Our small gods,

our prayers...

the very ways we manage our terror...

they did no good in Ancient Rome

and they do no good here today.

It's every...

every man for themselves.

Thank you, class. That...
that's it for today.

I-I need this space, I need to talk

to these fine officers
that are coming here today.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Professor.

Hi.

Hello, Chief. W-What can I do for you?

Professor, a student
of yours, Mary Colsby,

has made a very serious
charge against you.

Against me?

Sexual assault.

Is this Ms. Colsby?

Y-Yes. Yes.

Uh... Gale, look,

Ms. Colsby and I had a relationship,

but it was as consenting adults.

Uh... there was no assault,

much less a rape.

And we even parted on-on good terms.

Uh... this is not true.

She has a very different account.

And we have to ask you
to come downtown with us.

A-Am... am I under arrest?

Marshall, I am not cuffing
you and not making a spectacle,

but you are in custody, yes.

Wh... What...

W-What about my work? My-my teaching?

My-my-my job?

W-What's gonna happen to me?

I think if the past is any
indication, you'll be fired.

What about my word? W-What, my...

D-Don't I have a say in t-th...

- I-I'm gonna fight this.
- You will have the chance to.

I-I will. This is, this
is just another instance

of a Black man being strung
up on the word of a woman.

Th... Uh, no, no. Look, look. Look.

My texts.

The texts. Look. Look.

Listen: "Marshall, I'm
glad we can remain friends,

you did the right thing,
and you were gracious

and kind in doing it.

It makes me love you more."

Does-does that sound like something

y-you'd send to a rapist?
But look, here's... look:

"Marshall, I'm free between classes.

Do you want to meet for coffee?"

Does that? Or-or "Marshall,
I need your advice

on which modern history
professor you like.

- Is Hartley okay?"
- And yet, we have her account

and the D.A. decided to go ahead.

- And I tend to believe women in these matters.
- Megan.

I am sorry.

Megan...

It's addiction, isn't it?

Addiction? S-Stop. Wait.

Y-You have these-these, uh, pathologies

that you don't have the
slightest understanding

of what you're saying.

T-The, the... Everyone's an
amateur shrink these days.

You cannot continue to destroy
people's lives in this manner.

Megan, is there something you can do?

How many times have you
dined at our house? Uh...

Meg-Megan.

Marshall, call your lawyer.

We're gonna print you

and we're gonna take a picture

and you'll be home by dinner.

You're being released
on your own recognizance.

I suggest you find some sort of help.

You need it.

It makes no sense to pretend

to be some ancient stoic
enduring what comes,

when all my choices have
led me to this dark wood.

It makes no sense to try and salvage

the marriage, the career.

The stain of my mistakes
cannot be expunged,

like the woman in the play
who said, "Out, damn spot."

When a man of my
generation, color, is marked,

the expulsion from
the world of the living

is all that is left.

I might be remembered

for some small bit of good, I hope.

I love so many people, so much.

How it hurts to disappoint them.

I suppose this is the last
proof that I am indeed, still,

for a few minutes at least,

still a member of the human race.

Am I dead?

Well, let's see.

No.

Trazodone and Ambien can,
of course, do the trick,

but in a man your size,
with a full stomach...

And, luckily, you were
low on your prescriptions.

I found you.

They pumped your stomach, and...

yeah, here we are.

Was it a cry for help?

Or a real attempt?

Nothing has changed
between us, Marshall.

I know about the arrest.

How?

This is not a large city.

Your daughter's here. I called her.

I don't want to see her.

Oh, what you want is beside the point.

You've made your position clear.

Sometimes I think it's brave to leave.

It's no achievement to
stay if you hate this party.

But it's also, it's terribly
cowardly at the same time.

My understanding of philosophy

made me accept the
nothingness that is to come.

Which you would have poured
all over your daughter,

drenched her in it, you selfish man.

And now, you've taken
away everyone's choice.

We can only be angry and grateful

and angry and grateful until we are not.

I'll give you a few days to
get your things and get out.

I don't have anything left to say...

other than...

I apologize...

for what's left of my self.

The so-called self.

Dad, listen to me.

Just listen.

You are the only father that I have.

But you make it really hard

for me to still want to know you.

But I-I do.

I don't know how to turn off loving you.

I don't want to see a
world without you in it.

I have so much life to come.

Like, so much.

Children.

Pain, love.

Fear.

A crazy mother.

Please.

Please try to think of a time

that's gonna be better than this moment.

It's possible.

It's possible. Maybe better.

I...

I don't... I don't know if...

I don't know if I can.

Maybe this moment is
the best I can hope for.

Well, then so be it.

That has to be enough.

I love you so much.

_

_

What is this, Ed?

Just come with me, Marshall.

I joined a group.

A men's group that helped me.

What, uh...

what happened to the mullet?

I had to face some hard truths.

I cut it.

All part of...

cleaning up my act.

What kind of group is this, exactly?

Is it religious?

No.

Support and brotherhood.

'Cause we all got one thing in common.

And that is?

Let me ask you a question.

Are you an angry man?

Have I sensed that before?

My anger...

it is my salvation.

Gentlemen,

tonight is special.

A new friend is among us.

One who is lost.

It is our duty to show him the way.

We cannot be afraid of offending people.

That is the price of honesty.

And tonight we will
invite our new friend

to have an honest conversation.

Hello, Ed.

And hello, Professor.

You get used to the
mustiness of the space.

I am Dr. Milton Smythe.

Ed has spoken often of you.

We've chosen to interview you

so we all can get to know you.

Sit, gentlemen,

so we can complete the circle of truths.

Welcome to the Mexicali Men's Club.

Professor, the, uh...

the new pronouns...

how do you feel about them?

Yes.

Your question about the new pronouns.

I-I have many students who are trying

to define and explore their identities.

Um...

We have discussions,

and I do ask them what
pronouns they'd like to use.

But, you know, I-I-I will admit,

I-I'm getting confused,

trying to keep up with the variants,

such as xe...

xe-xem...

xyr. I, you know...

I-I... But I get it, you know...

- Boo. Boo.
- Hey, shut the fuck up.

How 'bout we have some decency?

It is confusing,

but it costs absolutely nothing

to respect those who
don't follow your norms.

So, if you can't get on board with that,

then just shut it.

Now, Marshall, how do you see

the role of men in the
culture, um, shifting?

There's a revolution.

A correction.

And-and some of these
are too drastic. Uh...

Witch hunts. Men being accused of

and convicted without evidence.

Like you?

Men and boys being marginalized.

And-and now, men who point them out

are perceived as predatory

and-and dangerous.

As a result of all these accusations,

we're becoming the defensive gender.

Second-guessing our nature to
the degree that is cancerous,

as though strong men are frightening.

But I think...

I think weak men are
much more dangerous.

Yes. Yes.

Yes. Yes.

Strength is everything.

I mean, I remember working at that mall

wearing that damn Cinnabon outfit

all up and down those halls.

I couldn't even take it off on my break.

You guys have no idea. My lowest moment,

even though I was the night manager,

was when I would walk by women

and they would laugh in my
face, like I was nothing.

I was just trying to make a living.

That crushed me.

I had to learn not to
just be angry, you know?

Because the stronger path...

and I learned this with
the men in this room...

was to find success and rigor.

And that is hard.

It is.

It is.

Marshall, you were recently

"Me Too'd" and cancelled,

and-and I believe,

and I know the founders
of this group believe,

that you can't just erase people

who make mistakes.

So how do we move forward?

I am...

frankly struggling with this.

I am angry that

a consensual affair

between adults was used to hurt me.

And I'm...

I'm now sullied,

- and my name is...
- Has been destroyed,

and that sucks.

Damaged, at the very least.

But it's now up to me
to reclaim it somehow

and not shy away from the fight

to seek truth and
insist on what is right.

We're folding.

Did you know that men

die of suicide in far
greater numbers than women?

And I'm going to admit right now

that I recently attempted suicide.

W-W-Where does it end?

Perhaps the issue is that

we need to return to a...

a much more traditional
model for society.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Uh, yes, sir, you have something to add?

A return to individual responsibility,

the importance of hierarchy

and order,

correct?

Yes.

Yes, I believe that a way
to return to those principles

is through consequences.

Many of the men in
this room have said...

given everything that's
going on around us,

the crime, the lawlessness,

- the divisive culture...
- Mm.

... that it feels like we're living

in a goddamn horror movie.

- Am I right?
- Yeah.

Have you ever felt that?

Perhaps it is time to find the boogeyman

and slaughter it,

so that it never again
rises out of the lake

or out of the fog

or never again tries
to take what is ours.

I think I speak for all of us...

Welcome to the Mexicali
Men's Club, Professor.

We would love for you to join us

as we seek a way out of this nightmare.

Please stand and be acknowledged.

Maybe she heard about my dad

and decided to do it to herself, too.

But she called me on her way here.

She checked herself in.
She said she was scared.

Yes, that's what Admissions said.

Yeah, well, I tried to see her,

but she doesn't want to
see me or anyone. Just you.

Merritt, how are you?

Both parents in extreme crisis...

this is a lot to handle.

Dr. Witticomb, I'm okay.

I just need you to figure
out what's happening to her.

Please.

I think I'm dead.

Really dead.

Literally dead?

You're the only person
I trust to confirm it.

The nurses let me see my blood pressure

and my pulse, but...
I didn't believe it.

What happened, Lois?

It all came together, a shock.

The world is not real.

And I've crossed over.

I thought about

cutting my carotid with
a pair of poultry shears.

But you didn't.

So, that's good.

What started it?

I realized I never really woke up

from that coma, did I?

I am in some otherworld.

The otherworld.

And you think I'm not real either?

I've accompanied you here?

Maybe to take you back?

You are very much alive. Listen to me.

There's a neuropsychiatric condition,

Cotard's syndrome,

and what it is, is you just
simply think you're dead,

or your organs are putrefying,

or the world is an illusion,

but mostly you're dead.

It is a reaction to going
through too much to bear.

Now, s-stay with me.

What triggered it?

First thing?

It was... I couldn't believe it.

Marshall asked me to be a
part of some sort of m�nage

with him and his girlfriend.

Utterly surreal.

- Mm.
- I'm very fluid.

But it's the new paradigm.

The man I knew would
have never done that,

nor would Redd.

It's the otherworld.

A kind of hell, made up

of sick jokes so elaborate...

nothing living could construct them.

And what else? What else
made you think you were dead?

My doctor.

Dr. Charles Mayhew.

He was having orgies in my room.

I could hear it. I even

saw some of it

through the curtains around my bed.

Like flashes of a nightmare.

My doctor, a supposed man of virtue,

was also an agent of chaos.

So I confronted him.

Having sex parties?

These are exactly the kinds
of tricks that our mind

plays on us when we emerge
from these coma states.

There are many different hallucinatory

electrical storms that can occur.

I mean, certainly you
don't actually believe

that I'm having orgies in here?

Yes, I fucking do.

I do believe it. Mm-hmm.

You know why?

Because you are not who
or what you say you are.

It's some sort of

- demonic rite...
- I really wish

that you understood how even
the suggestion of impropriety

would not be good for
me in this day and age,

even if nobody believed you,

which, for the record,
they won't. Nobody will.

They simply won't. I
fucking saved your life.

I know what I heard.

I heard it.

Mm. I also recall,

in my coma state,

a story about a young
girl who got impregnated

against her will

while she was unconscious.

You did that, didn't you?

- Uh... So, fuck you.
- You did it.

Uh, and I never did any
of those vile things.

In fact, I'm the one who
saved your life. Um...

God, I feel so fucking
sorry for your husband.

You're an impossible woman.

You're insufferable, and you're so

judgmental of him and me
and, I'm assuming, all men.

You are corrosive to
your fucking core, Lois.

Multiple times, your
husband came up to me and...

he said something to the effect of,

"Hey, you know, just between you and me,

couldn't you just
accidentally bump the switch?

Turn off the machine
that's keeping her alive

and send the old
vegetable on up to heaven?"

And I always thought that
the guy was fucking with me,

but now I realize that
he was so insistent

on wanting you to fucking die

because you are such a
massive fucking bitch.

I see now, very clearly, that you

would not have ascended into heaven,

but rather descended into hell.

Because it is a place that you
create for yourself, every day

and every hour with your arrogance

and your confident false superiority.

It is a hell of your own making
in which you burn yourself

and everyone else

who you come into contact with.

This is not the real world.

This is the otherworld,

and I... I am dead.

And he's right.

I...

created this hell I am in somehow.

Lois, I promise you, this is

temporary. Please, trust me.

Tell me,

what else convinced you
you were in the otherworld?

The only reason I can confess...

is 'cause I'm dead.

I killed someone.

A terrible man beating women. Megan,

the one who has my job, her man.

Cold blood.

An execution, really.

Where's the body, Lois?

Did you... dispose of it?

See? S-S-S-See,
this is what I'm saying.

This is where it gets strange

and odd, okay? I left the scene.

I told Megan I would take care of it

'cause I needed to get my head together.

- I needed to get supplies and stuff, you know?
- Supplies?

Y-Yes. Um, shovel, trash bag, lime.

I wasn't in my right mind.

I was so stunned I lost track of time.

I don't even know how
long I had been driving.

And then I got my shit together,

and I said, "No. No, no, no.

You are not going to
cover this up because

this was self-defense."

This was a bad man,

another bad man.

I said, "Let me get my shit together

and go back and face what I have done."

And?

Megan was gone. The body was gone.

The entire room was scrubbed clean.

No body, no crime.

And I'm thinking,

"The cleaners have been here,

and they covered all this up."

- The cleaners?
- People

who specialize in the
art of the cover-up.

Erasing traces of blood,

viscera, brain smear,

- what have you.
- Such as?

The best one I know in the vicinity

is Glorious McKall.

I mean, she's... she
was an acquaintance.

So what did you do?

I went silent.

I went deep.

I followed Megan in my car.

And guess what I found?

- Hmm?
- Proof.

And I confronted her ass.

What are you looking at?

I got you, you sneaky bitch.

- Oh, yes.
- Lois?

- What's going on? You seem...
- Unhinged?

Ding, ding, ding.

I killed him

to help you out.

And then you move the
body, you clean up my mess,

and you don't say anything?

Glorious McKall would do that.

She would take her
victims and grind them up

and feed them to her hogs.

Is that what you had her do?

Lois...

sit down.

I don't know what you're talking about.

- I saw you with her.
- With who?

Glorious McKall.

I saw you talking to her.

Getting her to clean up my mess.

What I want to know is why
you didn't say anything.

- Why?
- Lois...

I did meet with Glorious

to help her.

A member of her crew was
having a fentanyl moment,

she was very emotional about it.

This man was like her son.

I've known her for several
cases, so I met with her.

I offered resources.

That's what you saw.

Where's the body?

Where's your man?

- My man?
- Justin.

I haven't seen him in weeks.

I don't know.

Lois, listen to me.

You're messed up.

You need help.

Let me help you.

She said I needed sleep.

Care.

As if I could accept that anymore.

In that moment...

the chaos and the madness,

it all flashed together,

and I realized...

I have crossed over.

I... I'm in the place...

that you go to in the afterlife,

and I'm being forced
to live in my sorrow,

my misdeeds...

and my wreckage.

This.

This is...

my hell I am forced to live in.

And you...

you are just a clever demon,

who's sent to torture me with comfort.

Lois, that's not true.

I care about you, your well-being.

And I think you know that to be true.

And then there's the final reason

that I have a hard time accepting

that I'm back in any
kind of literal reality.

It's the last piece

of the jigsaw puzzle.

The piece right in the center,

connected to everything else?

That's the middle piece.

Goes in the center.

It connects everything.

You don't miss a detail, do you?

There was a quintuple homicide,

all under one roof.

A whole family.

The mother, the father,

the baby,

the damn pot on stove.

Just like my dream, it happened.

Where did it happen? Was it local?

I didn't read about it
in the news or online.

Media blackout.

- Procedure.
- Lois, what are you getting at?

A copycat killer,

who copied my dreams.

And the only person

who could have done that...

has access to my files.

You know what the fuck I'm getting at.

Lois, you are a singular

and unique case.

The interviews we did
following your emergence

from the coma state, these recordings,

they are immensely valuable resources

to those in neuroscience,

neurocognition, philosophy.

I told you this when we began.

You signed, your entire
family signed waivers,

giving us permission to record
and document this process

and share them internally for
scientific research purposes.

How many people,

Doctor,

have access to my file?

- Who?
- Hundreds.

- How many people?
- Your daughter,

for one, a medical professional

with access to the medi-platform.

Anybody who has access to your
computer or your passwords.

Your husband could be a suspect.

We could write an exhaustive list, but

there's another, more
likely suspect, no?

Someone...

somebody who knows these grotesqueries

better than anyone.

You.

You just said moments ago
that you murdered a man

"in cold blood, execution style."

We are talking about a person

that killed a baby.

You think I'm capable of that?

Well, let's examine
this like a detective:

Rationally, scientifically, logically.

You recount losing time,

disassociating, seeing
things that aren't there.

You spent years denying

how sick your job made you.

I've seen your cases.

A woman in a world of crime and killers

trying, almost by herself,
to manifest justice?

All alone?

Is not that the motive of Grotesquerie?

Is he not a machination
of your own mind?

Didn't you murder that...

Stop.

I am still in it.

I am still in a coma.

Stuck in an endless circle.

There is established wisdom in my field.

Do not tell a delusional person
they are living in a delusion.

But I'm gonna level with you, Lois.

I don't think you murdered that family.

I don't think there
was a quintuple murder.

You are awake.

The world is real.

But you are hearing and
seeing things that are not...

If it's all in my head,

why all the religious imagery?

Because you convinced yourself
you were the last good person

in the world: A cross
between a saint, a crusader,

a holy warrior, a prophet.

When all you are, all you were,

in reality, is a small-town detective

in a very, very dark time.

I'm gonna go to my room now.

Thank you.

Again, I need to apologize.

For falling apart back there
where you were getting care.

And I hate myself for coming
to you and asking for help

when you're clearly in the
middle of a mental health crisis.

Then why did you?

When they called me
to this crime scene...

Sorry, it's a lot.
It's-it's worse for me,

even than the recent family murder

with remains in a boiling pot.

Worse how?

- It's...
- I-I've been here before.

It's bigger.

It's... more calculated.

It's immense...

in its scope. Beyond me, I think.

And because I know some of
these people slaughtered.

Lois...

you-you-y...

you know some of them, too.

I'm done.

- I'm done.
- Lois. Lois.

Please. We need you.

- I need you.
- None of this is real anyway.

Lois, it is real.

It is real.

I promise.

What's here... is... is evil.

Do I believe in the devil? No, I do not.

What I believe is here today, these...

these astounding
murders by Grotesquerie,

have been created by
someone who understands

that fear

is what the devils who walk amongst us,

the mortal devils we all know, created

so we could stay in line.

You are not dead.

You are not dead.

You, here, right now...

promise you, I promise,
I promise, this is real.

You did shoot my boyfriend.

I did call Glorious McCall
to get rid of the body.

That happened.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Why...

did you lie to me?

'Cause I had to protect
you from my mistake.

Please.

Show me.

The Jesus figure. He...

He touched me.

My heart.

He moved you?

He literally touched my heart.

With defibrillator paddles.

Shocked me back to life from a very...

dark sleep.

Or so I thought.

Who are the rest of
these people, though?

- Homeless?
- Unhoused.

I was only able to identify

one other person.
Someone I knew vaguely.

Mary Colsby.

Who is she?

She was many things.

Most recently, the woman

who accused your husband
Marshall of assault.

My God.

All right, people!

Bag every piece of evidence!

Print every surface!

Do your jobs and do them well.

Meet me in my old office in one hour.

- You're gonna help us?
- Who else is gonna solve

this case, Jack? Her?

Lois, that's unkind
and fucking unnecessary.

And it's also the goddamn truth.

And we need to start
telling each other the truth.

Huh?

Jack, I know who did this.

One hour.

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