All language subtitles for Naked.Lunch.1991.REMASTERED.1080p.BluRay.x

Exterminator.

Mm-hmm.

You want I should
spit right in your face?

You want, hmm?
You want? You want?

I ran out.

You ran out? Oh, that's nice.

You ran out.
It's impossible you run out!

What'd you do, eat the stuff?

The chink shortchanged me.

No "glot." Come “fliday.”

It's funny.
It's actual very funny what you just said.

Ran out.

They can either paint it,
or draw it, or write it down,

right, and then pass
it on to somebody.

They read what you're saying,
and then they re-experience

and that's the only connection
you have with that, man.

See, you can't rewrite

cause to rewrite is
to deceive and lie

and you betray
your own thoughts.

To rethink the flow and the rhythm
and the tumbling out of the words

is a betrayal.

And it's a sin, Martin.
It's a sin.

I don't accept your,

catholic interpretation
of my compulsive,

necessity to rewrite every
single word at least 100 times.

Guilt is-thanks.
Guilt is the key, not sin.

Guilt re not writing
the best that I can.

Guilt re not considering
everything from every possible angle.

Balancing everything.

Well, how about guilt re
censoring your best thoughts?

Your most honest,
primitive, real thoughts

because that's what your laborious
rewriting amounts to, Martin.

Is rewriting really
censorship, bill?

Because I'm
completely fucked if it is.

Exterminate all
rational thought.

That is the conclusion
I have come to.

What is the man talking about?
I'm being serious.

So is he.

So how is the extermination
business going there, bill?

Somebody's stealing my roach powder.
Somebody's got it in for me.

Hmm. Well, bill, maybe
you should take it as a sign.

Maybe you ought to try your
hand at writing pornography.

Yeah, a novel a week at 120 bucks.
It's serious money.

I can connect you with the guy.

We're thinking of
collaborating on one ourselves.

I gave up writing when I was 10.

- Too dangerous.
- Only if someone reads what you write.

So far we haven't
had that problem.

I've found my profession.
I'm an exterminator.

Of course, bill. That's just what the
world needs, more literate exterminators.

Give me a cigarette.

Of course, then, you know

you're gonna have trouble if you
can't keep track of your roach powder.

Wait a minute.
Do you boys know something about this?

We don't exactly know anything.

No, but we suspect
it's a domestic problem.

- My god, what are you doing?
- You weren't supposed to see this.

Well, now that I'm seeing it,
what is it?

I'm shooting up your bug powder.

You might like
to try it yourself.

Or you might not.

I ran out in the
middle of a job.

You gotta stop
using the stuff, Joan.

They ration it out
like snakebite serum.

Well, just do what
everybody else does,

cut it with baby laxative.

The roaches will shit
themselves to death.

It's the best job I ever had.

If I run out again,
I'm finished.

Hmm.

It's, um-

it's a very literary high.

Very literary.

Is that why Hank and
Martin know all about it?

No, we just,

we all just tried it together,
spur of the moment thing.

They didn't like it, I did.

What do you mean,
it's a literary high?

It's a kafka high.

You feel like a bug.

Try some.

Well, I don't know.

I don't know.

I think our metabolisms
are very different.

Whose? Yours and kafka's?

I thought you were finished
with doing weird stuff.

I thought I was, too,
but I guess I'm not.

Personally,

I prefer a pyrethrum
job to a fluoride.

With the pyrethrum

you kill the roaches right there
in front of god and the client

whereas this
starch and fluoride-

leave it around,
the roaches eat it,

come back a few days later,
they're running around fat as hogs.

And there it is, bill.
You want to put on some weight,

you gotta switch from that
yellow powder diet of yours

to some of this good
fluoride stuff right here.

Sure works for the chink.
He's healthy enough.

You see him scarf
that poison down?

He doesn't really eat it.

It's sleight of hand.

The hell he doesn't. Been breathing in the
powder so long, it just makes him laugh.

Just like them roaches.

William Lee.

- What is this?
- He's hauser. I'm o'brien.

City narcotics.
We're gonna take you downtown, bill.

Little matter of possession
of a dangerous substance.

You've got quite a record, bill.

A lot of drugs poured
down the old vein.

I was a troubled person then.
I'm married now.

Straight. Got a good job.

That's good, bill. That's nice.

What's this, then?

That's my job.
I use it to kill bugs.

- He says it kills bugs.
- He could be right.

- I'd like to see it.
- Me, too.

- I'd like to see it, too.
- Well, gee.

I'd like to demonstrate, but I already
got rid of that last case of crabs I had.

Very funny, bill.

But, you know...

I think we got a bug
around here somewhere.

You're right.

Let's see if that
yellow stuff will kill it.

We'll be back later to see
how it worked out, kiddo.

Yeah.

Break a leg.

William Lee?

I have arranged all thisjust to
have a moment alone with you.

I am your case officer.

- My what?
- Case officer.

You are my agent.

I, in turn, report
to your controller.

Come, come, Mr. Lee.
You don't have to play dumb with me.

Oh. No. Well...

That would be
foolish, wouldn't it?

It would. Say, bill,

do you think you could rub
some of this powder on my lips?

Uh, yeah.

Sure.

Well, now.

As you might have expected

I have instructions
for you from control.

It's about the little woman.

- The what?
- The little woman.

Your little woman.

- Your wife.
- Tell me.

Your wife is not
really your wife.

She is an agent of
interzone incorporated.

You must kill her.

Kill Joan Lee.

It must be done soon. This week.

And it must be done real tasty.

Interzone incorporated?

An organization
based in interzone,

a notorious free port on
the north African coast.

A haven for the mongrel
scum of the earth,

an engorged parasite on
the underbelly of the west.

Ah, I can't see it.

Why would a classy
American woman like Joan

ever want to work for a two-bit
outfit like interzone incorporated?

But who says Joan
Lee is really a woman?

In fact, who says
she's human at all?

- What do you mean by that?
- I can say no more.

Hey, where you going?

Don't do it. Don't do it.
There'll be hell to pay.

We've been made.
We gotta get out of town.

Wait a minute.

- What's going on?
- I got busted for bug powder.

I started hallucinating
behind the stuff.

God knows what I really
said to those two flatfeet.

I'm not even sure
how I got out of there.

Did you bring back
tomorrow's bug powder?

Did you, bill? Did you?

My god, Joan.
You're acting like a full-fledged junkie.

And it's bug powder,
for Christ's sake!

I do have a little bit
of a habit, yes, hon.

You ought to at least give
me a few marks for originality.

How did you know it
just wouldn't kill you?

I don't know, bill.

I felt drawn to it.

You know?

Like you feel drawn
to an old lover.

Say, bill,

could you rub some of
this powder on my lips?

Could you, bill?

Please?

Bill.

Hey, where were
you this morning?

We missed you at the automat.

I got in a bit of ajam.

I misplaced the gear,
in a manner of speaking.

Yeah. We heard about it.

We saw you go off
with the heat, in fact.

They won't give
it back to Cohen.

It's evidence, they say.

Yeah.
It's an embarrassment, yes.

Is that why you
tried to lift mine?

That's unkind, Edward.

"Lift" is unkind.

I'm doing a job for a friend.

The centipedes, Edward. The
centipedes are getting downright arrogant.

They're starting to
attack his children.

Take it from me, bill.

You're not the first one to
develop a bug powder problem.

See this man.

He'll help ya.

Dr. A. Benway

general practitioner.

Bug powder?

- You mean pyrethrum?
- Yes.

Hmm. I get a lot of you folks
in the extermination trade.

You better help this friend of
yours get off the yellow stuff.

It'll kill him.

How do I get him to kick?

- Kick?
- How do I get him off it?

Mix it with this.

Gradually increase the percentage
of black without telling your friend

and he'll lose his taste for
the bug powder soon enough.

What is it? What does it do?

Oh, it's all natural.
It's made from,

aquatic Brazilian centipede
or some such outlandish thing.

It shuts down the brain's response
to the bug powder. That's all.

The powder becomes
irrelevant to the addict

and the addict then
ceases to be addicted.

Side effects?

Nothing that will
surprise the addict.

But before i-
before I do your cure

I've gotta score
some bug powder.

Score?

You're not trying to pull a fast
one on the old doctor, are you?

I came here for help.

Of course you did.

Phew!

My god.

It smells like a tainted cheese.

You'll see how
elegantly this works.

The black will
disappear completely.

And there'll be no smell,
no discoloration.

It's like an agent-

an agent who's come to
believe his own cover story,

but who's in there, hiding

in a larval state

just waiting for the proper
moment to hatch out.

Extra, extra! Read all about it!

Thirty-nine cents, just for today!
Special.

Thirty-nine cents.
Fresh cabbage.

Centipedes.

Followers of obsolete,
unthinkable trades

doodling in etruscan

addicts of drugs
not yet synthesized

black marketeers
of world war III

excisors of
telepathic sensitivity

osteopaths of the spirit..

Investigators

of infractions denounced

"by bland, paranoid
chess players

servers of fragmentary
warrants taken down

in hebephrenic shorthand

charging unspeakable
mutilations of the spirit

officials of unconstituted
police states, broke-

hi, bill.

Say, why don't
you and ijoin them?

Hank and I were just bored.
It wasn't serious.

I didn't take it seriously.

Where is Hank?

He got embarrassed and left.

Not before he came, I hope.

Hank's on junk. He doesn't come.

Not before you came, I hope.

I'm on bug powder.
I don't need to come.

Officials of unconstituted
police states,

brokers of exquisite
dreams and nostalgias

tested on the sensitized
cells ofjunk sickness

and bartered for raw
materials of the will.

Drinkers of the heavy fluid

sealed in translucent
Amber of dreams,

I guess it's about time
for our William tell routine.

God.

Oh, god.

Joan.

Joan.

Oh, Joan.

You a faggot?

Not by nature, no.

I'm not.

I wouldn't say faggot.

However, circumstances have forced
me to consider the possibility that-

I'd like you to meet
a friend of mine.

He specializes in
sexual ambivalence.

Sexual ambulance, did you say?

My god.

He's called mugwump.

No point in feigning surprise.

You knew we would be
getting in touch with you.

Why else would you come
to a waterfront dive like this?

Why else?

I suggest a Clark-nova portable.

It has mythic resonance.

Clark-nova. A typewriter?
You suggest it for what?

For your report from interzone,
of course.

Handwriting is not
considered professional.

Interzone.

My report.

And don't leave out
any of the tasty details-

the small red hole
in the forehead or

the look of
astonishment on her face.

Listen to me.
You're just gonna have to leave town

and interzone is the only place

that'll have a shady character
like you at such short notice.

Take this.

Take what? What is that?

Your ticket to interzone.

Tourist class, I'm afraid,

but what can you
expect these days?

We'll contact you there.

Hmm. It's commie trash.

And it's been
fired very recently.

You use it in a holdup?

I want that typewriter in the window.
I want the portable.

This plus...

$8.00.

You got any ammo to go with it?

These'll cover the state tax.

- Bill.
- Martin.

Listen, bill, I told the police it was
a drunken accident, that I saw it.

So at least that's on the record.
They're after you though.

They're saying that-
that you escaped from custody

and murdered your wife,
and they want you.

I'd better...
I'd better lie low till my ship sails.

- You booked passage somewhere already?
- Sure. Look.

Got my ticket.

Put this away, for
god's sake, bill.

- I'll send you a report.
- You'll send me a report?

Well, I'll send you
a copy of the report.

Are you gonna be all right?

I hear interzone's really
nice this time of year.

He woke up in bed

to find himself wedged

between a Dutch transvestite

and six arab men.

Clark-nova.

Very nice for writing reports.

I use a krups dominator myself.

Company policy.

You're American, correct?

You know Dr. Benway?

I am interested in selling

a large stash of the black meat.

Verstehen sie?

The sun-dried,
powdered black meat

of the giant aquatic
Brazilian centipede.

And

for some reason,

I am certain that you are
working for herr Dr. Benway.

I'm... I'm sorry.

I apparently mistook
you for somebody else.

But as it happens, Mr. Lee,
I am, among other things

a provider of rare
services to the arts

and in my experience as a
provider of rare services to the arts

I have found that writers
are a particularly needy group.

Is there nothing I
can provide for you,

Mr. Lee?

A very professional

operation

as you can see, Mr. Lee.

You like a taste?

I'd be happy to join you in a taste,
if you're planning to have one.

You can understand
that if you were

a purchasing agent
for a foreign power

how it would be to my advantage

to impress you with
the cleanliness

and the sincerity

of our operation.

- You mentioned a Dr.- - benway.

- Benway.
- Benway. Correct.

Yes.

Does he qualify
as a foreign power?

Oh, but yes! He's very foreign.

May I?

Yes.

Lee, wake up.

This is no time to doze off

like a freckled-face
boy on a fishing raft.

What's up?

Now, now, bill.
No need for that.

You didn't think we'd
abandon you, did ya?

No, no.
The thought never occurred to me.

Good.
We like confidence in an agent.

But don't let it
make you careless.

I was-

I was just in the...

Process of
configuring my report.

That's good, Lee. Admirable.

But there have
been some changes.

- Changes at the top.
- Oh? Yeah?

Good changes, bill.
Fresh blood. Sparkling insights.

Uh, bill,

could you do me a favor?

What?

I want you to type
a few words into me-

words that I'll dictate to ya.

Yeah.

Sure. What the hell.

Okay.
Now, the first sentence is,

homosexuality is the best
all-around cover an agent ever had.

Aw, come on, bill.

Don't be such a pansy!
Be forceful. Hurt me.

I love it.

That is a great sentence.

These are words
to live by, bill.

I'm glad these words
are going into your report.

Our new management
will be so pleased

that you see our point of view.

What point of view?

Well, just that we appreciate

that you might find the thought of
engaging in homosexual acts

morally and possibly even

physically repulsive

and we are encouraged

that you are able to overcome
these personal barriers

to better serve the cause to
which we are all so devoted.

You have left the
Clark-nova at home?

It's doing all right without me.

And

you have contacted Dr. Benway?

I told you before
I never met the man.

Bill, I can smell him on you.

Benway marks out all those
whom he has met like a lemur

pissing on a iiana vine
to Mark his territory.

You're a marked man, bill.

Joanie.

Joanie, shall we go?

Yes. Yes.

Hans. Hans,

that couple.

Who are they?

They are Tom and Joan frost.

Americans who have
lived here a very long time.

They're both writers.

Writers of fiction, like you.

They live in a nice flat

in the new building at
the foot of the mountain.

They're visited constantly

by many handsome,
young interzone men.

Sometimes

two or three at a time.

Can you introduce me?

I do not think it would
be to your advantage.

For some reason

that woman has taken
a serious dislike to me.

Kiki.

Come sit with us.

Kiki, this is Mr. Lee.

Hello.

Mr. Lee is curious
about the frost couple.

He would like to meet them.

I think the woman would
have sex with you, Mr. Lee.

The man, he only
likes interzone boys.

I don't want to fuck 'em.
I just want to talk to em.

You know how
Americans are, kiki.

They love to travel

and then they only want
to meet other Americans

and talk about how hard it
is to get a decent hamburger.

There's a party tonight
at the O'Leary place.

Frost will be meeting
a group of us here

and then walking
through the casbah.

My friends and I would be
happy to take you with us.

You're the new writer, aren't you?
You've just arrived.

A few days ago. I write reports.

Oh? And did you come
to interzone for the boys?

- No, I didn't.
- Tom and I did.

That's quite a hot
threesome you arrived with.

They're very cheap,
and they're really a lot of fun.

Yoo-hoo!

You use a Clark-nova, don't you?

To write with. Typewriter.

Oh, I do. Yes.

I wouldn't use a
Clark-nova myself.

- Too demanding.
- Demanding?

Oh, come on. We're both writers.
We know what we're talking about.

Well, I'm new to this game,
to tell you the truth.

If I get blocked again,
I'll let you try my Martinelli.

Her inventiveness
will surprise you.

I can't wait.

They say you murdered your wife.

- Is that true?
- Who told you that?

Word gets around.

It wasn't murder.
It was an accident.

There are no accidents.

For example...

I've been killing my own wife slowly,
over a period of years.

- What?
- Well, not intentionally.

I mean, on the level of conscious
intention, it's insane, monstrous.

But you do consciously know it.
You just said it. We're discussing it.

Not consciously.

This is all happening
telepathically.

- Nonconsciously.
- What do you mean?

If you look carefully at my lips

you'll realize that I'm actually
saying something else.

I'm not actually telling
you about the several ways

I'm gradually murdering Joan.

About the housekeeper fadela,
whom I've hired

to make Joan
deathly "I by witchcraft.

About the medicines
and drugs I've given her.

About the constant nibbling
away at her self-esteem and sanity

that I've managed without
being at all obvious about it.

Whereas joanie
finds that she simply

cannot be as obsessively
precise as she wants to be

unless she writes
everything in longhand.

Look, I'm afraid, um,

I'm not gonna be very
good company tonight.

Thanks for the invite anyway.
I think I'll have to take a rain check.

Enjoying the beach?

I would never have expected
to see you up and out so early.

You certainly were in rough
shape at the O'Leary party last night.

Was I?

You were very raw-
emotionally, I mean.

You seemed to
be in a lot of pain.

Pain.

I don't remember... pain.

And, in fact I don't
remember the O'Leary party.

In fact, I don't remember you.

Well, it was a very intense
performance in any case.

My name's cloquet.

Yves cloquet.

Can I buy you breakfast?

I've seen you around, but I
had no idea you were queer.

Queer.

I saw you arrive with
those three interzone boys.

What an entrance.

You all looked very

familiar with each other.

Queer.

A curse.
Been in our family for generations.

The lees have
always been perverts.

I shall never forget
the unspeakable horror

that froze the
lymph in my glands

when the baneful word
seared my reeling brain-

was a homosexual.

I thought of the painted,
simpering female impersonators

I had seen in a
Baltimore nightclub.

Could it be possible I was
one of those subhuman things?

I walked the streets in a daze

like a man with a
light concussion.

I would have destroyed myself-

but a wise old queen-

bobo, we called her,

taught me that I had a duty

to live and to bear my
burden proudly for all to see.

Poor bobo came to a sticky end.

He was riding in the
duc de ventre's hispano-suiza

when his falling hemorrhoids
blew out of the car

and wrapped around
the rear wheel.

He was completely gutted,
leaving an empty shell

sitting there on the
giraffe-skin upholstery.

Even the eyes and the brain went

with a horrible "schlupping" sound.

The Duke says he will carry that
ghastly schlup with him to his mausoleum.

You sound as if you
could use a drink.

My place?

A drink.

A drink?

No, I can't. I gotta go home.

I have a... I have a-

I have a report to write.
Excuse me.

Hmm.

You made a big hit with
our young friend yves.

- Yves?
- Cloquet.

Yves said you were
wonderfully funny.

Said you did a little routine that
made him chuckle to himself all day.

Yes, you could, um-

you could probably get him
into bed if you worked at it a bit.

Deadly aphrodisiac, humor.

I'm not-

I don't really-

have you seen hans around?

Oh, you mean you haven't heard?

No. I haven't heard.

Hans was arrested and
deported two weeks ago.

- Deported.
- Mm-hmm.

They let him take his
clothes and his passport.

That was it. Everything else,
nationalized, as they say.

Why?

He neglected to pay
the right officials, I think.

You knew he ran a drug
factory in the Medina?

What, um-

what drug did he manufacture?

Nothing too exotic.

Majoun, I think.
It's a local hash resin-almond paste.

You'd spread it on
a muffin like jam.

Try it.

While you're at it,
why don't you try my Martinelli?

Take her now.

Try her out.

Holy shit. That machine doesn't
belong to me. It's Tom frost's.

My god, Lee...

Surely you know better than to bring
an enemy agent into your own home.

You gave me no choice. You were giving her
access to your innermost vulnerabilities

forcing them on her,
for god's sake!

But what am I gonna tell him?

What's your assessment
of the situation?

Did frost know that his
machine was an interzonal agent?

He and his wife appear
to have a close connection

with the indigenous
population here.

His wife. Yeah, yeah!

Of course!
The key is Joan frost.

You will seduce her, and you will
discover the substance of her report

and deliver it directly to me.

Seduce her? But what about-

what about kiki and the interzone boys?
My cover.

It'll work beautifully, bill.

The opposition will be
thrown into total confusion.

- Tom's gone out with the boys.
- I came to see you.

There's a great restaurant in
New York looks just like this.

Oh, really?

- You write in longhand.
- Yes.

I'm not good with machines.
They intimidate me.

I think I broke
Tom's typewriter.

The Martinelli?
He'll be furious.

- Does he have another one?
- He has that one, the mujahideen.

- It's arabic.
- Does he use it much?

Not much.

What happened to the Martinelli?

I probably just threw it on
the floor and smashed it.

Probably? You don't know?

I suffer from, um,

sporadic hallucinations.

Join the club.

Do you intend to kill
Tom's mujahideen?

Only in self-defense.

I understood writing
could be dangerous.

I didn't realize the danger
came from the machinery.

- What are you talking about?
- I'll show you.

- Are you gonna write something in arabic?
- No.

You are.

I don't like using Tom's things.

We don't trespass on each other.

Do you have any objection
to trying some of this?

I can't read it. Is it erotic?

It's, um, fairly erotic.

- Kind of uncivilized.
- More erotic.

- Filthier.
- Filthier? Okay. Filthier.

All you think about.

Followers of obsolete,
unthinkable trades...

Getting really...

- Pretty good here.
- Doodling in etruscan...

- Addicts of drugs not yet synthesized...
- I'm surpassing myself here.

Black marketeers
of world war III...

Excisors of
telepathic sensitivity...

Followers of obsolete,
unthinkable trades.

Oh, this is very good.

- Addicts of drugs not yet synthesized-
- very, very dirty.

World war III...

Excisors of
telepathic sensitivity...

Osteopaths of the spirit...

Investigators of infractions...

Denounced by bland,
paranoid chess players.

Joan.

Oh, Joan.

Mrs. Frost!

This is an evil and insane
thing that you are doing.

You must stop it at once!

Pull up your hair.

Who's that?

Oh, my housekeeper.

It's my mujahideen.

For god's sake!

Itjumped of its own accord.

You did see that, didn't you?

Joan, are you all right?
What happened?

Fadela stormed in here, and she
threw your typewriter out the window.

That's it. The woman has to go.

She certainly
seemed deadly to me.

Oh, I knew it.

Look, Tom.

Look.

This is how fadela's
been controlling you, Joan.

Your blood, your pubic hair,
your fingernails.

Fadela controls nobody,
and you know it.

We have forced control upon her.

Poor woman's probably desperate
to get out of our household.

No, missus.
She's making you say everything,

even that.

You must find all of these in your house.
You must destroy them.

Bill,

I'm going to need my Martinelli.

I feel desperately insecure
without a typewriter in the house.

Yes, well, I haven't had a chance to
try it out yet, Tom. I was kind of hoping-

I'll leave hafid here with you,
joanie, in case fadela comes back.

Bill and I will go to his place
and pick up the Martinelli now.

I'll go with bill.
You two stay here.

I need to get out.

Fadela's within 30 feet of us.
See if you can find her.

There.

She's right there.

That thing she's cutting up...

Have you ever seen that before?

Looks like some kind
of sea creature, I think.

All those women

they work for her?

In a sense.
They're all fadela's lovers.

I'm going to have to-

I'm gonna have to
stay here with fadela-

do penance.

I've been instructed
to reveal to you

that you were programmed
to shoot your wife, Joan Lee.

It was not an act of
free will on your part.

Who the fuck asked ya?

You worry me, bill.

You cause me many
anxious moments.

Oh, gee, I hope you're
not losing any sleep.

No need to be nasty, bill.

There was some thought that you might
actually want to hear this information,

that it might
assuage your guilt.

Save the psychoanalysis
for your grasshopper friends.

You have to admit, it was
a pretty tasty setup, bill.

Joan marries you as
part of her agent's cover

not realizing that you were the
very enemy agent assigned to kill her.

As elegant as it is brilliant.

Wait a minute.

You're saying that Joan was sent by
interzone incorporated to marry me?

Yeah. In fact, she was sent to you
by fadela, who was her controller.

We did a lot of groundwork
to set you up in their files

as the prime
candidate for marriage.

And it didn't matter that
I didn't know anything about it?

An unconscious agent
is an effective agent, bill.

The situation does generate
some ethical paradoxes at times.

I'm the first to admit that.

When you bugs
first approached me

one of your associates suggested

that Joan was
possibly not human.

What did he mean by that?

Women aren't human, bill.

Or perhaps more precisely

they're a different
species from men

with different wills and
different purposes on earth.

You know this
instinctively, bill,

and it's your instincts that
make you such a good operative.

I'm talking about Joan.

If Joan Lee wasn't human...

What was she?

Well, Joan was a special case.

Joan was an
elite-corps centipede.

Joan was a centipede.

Where's my Martinelli?

Jesus, Tom, are you nuts?

Don't fuck with me, Lee.
I want my typewriter.

A lot of people have
tried to silence me.

All have failed.

Tom,

she's here

in pieces.

I fear it's hopeless.

All right.

We're taking your Clark-nova.

Hafid, the bag.

What's going on here?

Wait, wait, wait!
This is a heinous mistake you're making.

Lee, do something. Stop them.

Well, he's got a gun,
Clark-nova.

You don't want to lose
your best agent, do ya?

You're gonna have to write
a full report, Lee. And I mean full.

How am I gonna
write it, in longhand?

Will you take this sack off!

This is insubordination!

You're all gonna pay for this!
Heads are gonna roll!

Your days in interzone
are numbered, Lee.

I suggest you give
up the writing game.

Make tracks for
another part of the world.

You guys are gonna-

Fuck 'em all.
Squares on both sides.

I am the only complete
man in the industry.

Bill.

Bill?

I must be hallucinating.

What are you cats doing here?

We're here to see you, bill.

- Come on.
- Yeah, man.

It's probably the first time you haven't
been hallucinating in a long time.

What are you talking about?

What are you saying?
Naturally, I've had a few odd moments.

Everybody blacks
out in interzone.

Wouldn't you?

- Definitely.
- Sure.

What's in the pillowcase, bill?

These are the remains
of my last writing machine.

It's been a big problem for me.

- Mind if I take a look?
- Go ahead.

Wait a minute.
Where are we going?

Oh, man.

- How about back to your place?
- Nope.

Why not?

I'm not safe there.
I'm a dead duck there.

We'll protect you.

You boys are kidding yourselves.

You're babes in the woods here.

Well, what do you suggest?

We thought it was important for us
to help you get your book together.

Yeah, I've sent sections of it to
my publisher, and they're interested.

- All you gotta do is finish it, man.
- You've already done the hard part.

Book. My book?

Yeah, the one you've
been calling "naked lunch".

Where did you put that
Bradley the buyer routine?

Did you find it all?

Yeah. It's on the sofa right next
to the Hassan's rumpus room riff.

- It's all right there.
- I'm telling you, boys,

I never saw those pages before.

I truly do suspect some
sort of colossal con.

Oh, someone's planted these
pages in your room, right?

Somebody sent all those letters to me
and signed them with your name, right?

A well-orchestrated
cabal could easily manage

all of these simple things,
children.

When will you learn?

They've done you a favor, 'cause this
stuffs gonna get published under your name

and you'll have a career.

Yeah, you'll probably get
into print before we will.

For god's sake, bill,
play ball with this conspiracy.

You're patronizing me, boys,

but I don't mind,
cause you're so sweet to me, too.

Hey, Martin, listen to this.

"So we start for New Orleans past
iridescent lakes and orange gas flares

"and swamps and garbage heaps,

"alligators crawling around
in broken bottles and tin cans

"neon arabesques of motels,

"marooned pimps scream obscenities
at passing cars from islands of rubbish.

New Orleans is a dead museum."

So nice.

Sound familiar, bill?

First time I ever heard it.
Read on.

I think it's time to discuss your,

philosophy of drug use as it
relates to artistic endeavor.

I think it's time to bring
this meeting to order.

I think it's time for you
boys to share my last taste

of the true black meat.

The flesh of the giant
aquatic Brazilian centipede.

So we're still here in
interzone with bill, right?

That's right, Hank.

And now we're gonna
travel back to the city, right?

That's right, Hank.

I think bill's on top of
things here, don't you?

He has a grip on a certain,
unique reality principle, yes.

I think you both should consider
staying here for a few months.

Everything you could want is
cheap and-and plentiful here.

That reality principle thing
could work for you, too.

Well, my mother's all alone,
and she's kind of sick, bill.

And besides, my book's
as all-American as football.

- Couldn't finish it here.
- America is not a young land.

It is old

and dirty and evil.

Before the settlers,
before the Indians.

The evil is there waiting.

What about you, Martin?

Maybe you can,
move into my place.

What do you think?

Stay until you finish the book,

but then come back to us.

You'll be okay?

Yeah. Don't worry about me.

The zone is full of surprises.

The zone takes care of its own.

William?

You look terrible.

What are you doing here?

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

| just-

my only fr-

my only friends in the...
In the world.

I'm afraid I'll never
see 'em again.

I feel... feel so...

Oh. Severed.

Come with me.

- Take me home.
- I can't go home.

I can't go home.

Is that your typing
machine there?

Foutu.

Broken... beyond repair.

If we fix the typing machine

we also fix the life.

There. You see?

There's no cause for despair.

In this shop,
anything can be fixed that is broken.

I don't know, kiki.

They don't seem to be
capable of delicate work here.

You must have faith, William.

Look.

We have your new
writing machine.

Not bad. Not bad.
Not bad. Not bad.

I feel very comfortable
working with you.

I like that sense of
camaraderie in an agent.

You must be progressing.

My predecessor felt you had an
ambivalent relationship with him.

- You mean Clark-nova.
- Yes.

How is he?

He's still in the
hands of our enemies.

Such are the
hazards of our trade.

A hazardous trade, yes.

Your report on the subversive activities
of Joan frost was a model of its type.

If you continue to develop
your skills as an operative

I think a top position with
the c.I.A. Is not out of reach.

The CIA? You really think so?

You have the demeanor.
That's something you can't buy.

The c.I.A.

The c.I.A.

Now, that's a career you
can really sink your teeth into.

It has...

Resonance.

But giving yourself
over to being a writer-

ah, well.

This stuff is very potent.

The two are
very closely related.

So you boys keep telling me.

Well,

what's my next assignment?

I'm hungry for adventure.

Excellent.
You know the Swiss dandy cloquet?

- Yes.
- And?

I think he's a faggito
and won't admit it.

That ought to
make it all easier.

You will seduce or othennise
compromise cloquet.

We have it on good authority
that he's our conduit to benway.

Dr. Benway, md, Ph.D.?

Self-styled. He never actually
made it through medical school.

He runs an interesting little show
here which he calls interzone, inc.

Pretentious, if you ask me.

Benway's behind interzone, inc.?

The base of his pyramid is
a drug called the black meat.

- The pyramid's tip... is?

Ah. Well, we'd like to know.

Dr. Benway.

- Of course.
- Yes.

- Yes.
- And he's obviously got sensational cover.

He's floated in and
out of the zone for years

without anybody
actually ever seeing him.

But now the pressure's on to
place an agent close to him.

Assessments are being made.

- You're working away, William?
- Yes, kiki.

The machine turns out
to be a very good one.

Muy simpatico.

And I have you to thank for it

and so I will.

Thank you.

I'm very proud to be
your friend, you know.

I'm very proud that I can
help you to be a writer.

You have done that, kiki.
You really have.

Would you like some tea?

That would be lovely, William.

Kiki?

Do you know cloquet?

The Swiss man with the big
house on the old valley road?

Cloquet?

Oh, yes, yes.
Yves with the wonderful car.

He has a wonderful car?

The most wonderful car.

Enjoying the ride?

I'm wild about it, yes.
Thank you.

It's good to be wild sometimes.

You know, I have often thought
of that funny story you told me

the first time we
met on the beach.

The one about the duc de ventre.

At first I didn't
know how to take it.

I thought you were
making a pass at me.

Did I ever tell you about the man
who taught his asshole to talk?

His whole abdomen would move up
and down, you dig, farting out the words.

It was unlike
anything I ever heard,

bubbly, thick, stagnant sound.

A sound you could smell.

This man worked for
the carnival, you dig?

And to start with it was like
a novelty ventriloquist act.

After a while, the ass
started talking on its own.

He would go in without
anything prepared

and his ass would ad-lib and toss
the gags back at him every time.

Then it developed sort of teeth like little
raspy incurving hooks and started eating.

He thought this was cute at
first and built an act around it,

but the asshole would eat its way through
his pants and start talking on the street

shouting out it
wanted equal rights.

It would get drunk, too,
and have crying jags. Nobody loved it.

And it wanted to be kissed,
same as any other mouth.

Finally, it talked all
the time, day and night.

You could hear him for blocks,
screaming at it to shut up

beating at it with his fists

and sticking candles up it, but

nothing did any good,
and the asshole said to him,

it is you who will shut
up in the end, not me

because we don't need
you around here anymore.

I can talk and eat and shit.

After that, he began waking up in
the morning with transparent jelly

like a tadpoles tail
all over his mouth.

He would tear it off his mouth and
the pieces would stick to his hands

like burning gasoline
jelly and grow there.

So, finally, his
mouth sealed over

and the whole head would have amputated
spontaneously except for the eyes, you dig?

That's the one thing that the
asshole couldn't do was see.

It needed the eyes.

Nerve connections were blocked

and infiltrated and atrophied.

So, the brain couldn't
give orders anymore.

It was trapped inside the skull,

sealed off.

For a while, you could see

the silent, helpless suffering
of the brain behind the eyes.

And then finally the brain must
have died because the eyes went out.

And there was no more feeling in them
than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk.

You seem to like my little friend.
I'm so glad.

I'm writing a business piece
on corporate life in north Africa.

Oh, my, my.

We are fragile today, aren't we?

He has to get to know you first.

Oh, does he?
Well let's see what we can do, then.

Kiki, will you come and
see the parrots with me?

There are cages in
the master bedroom.

I, um, don't think
I can, Mr. Cloquet.

That is, I don't really want to.

I'd particularly like to
interview a certain Dr. Benway.

Kiki doesn't seem to find my parrots
attractive anymore. Isn't that sad?

Kiki would love to play
with your parrots, yves,

but kiki is as anxious to contact
this benway character as I am.

Fadela, the witch who
works for the frosts,

she and benway are

intimates.

You didn't hear it from me.

Kiki?

Go see the fucking parrots, will you, kiki?
I gotta take a piss.

Then I'll come and get
you, and we'll go home.

Pissoir's at the
end of the great hall.

Kiki.

Kiki.

Kiki.

Hello, bill. What's up?

Something the matter?

You seem distracted.

I wish you'd say something.

I don't like this mood, bill.

- Are we going out?
- You're going out.

Why don't you just write
something and calm yourself down?

You're obviously not in a
professional state of mind.

Maybe I should write
about your little double cross.

You expected me to end up in that
parrot cage with cloquet, didn't you?

Bill, are you thinking
of getting rid of me?

I think an exchange of hostages
is the only viable scenario.

No, really, bill, if you get rid of
me you sever ties with reality.

For instance, take the case of-

oh! Careful!

Of the female agent who forgot her real
identity and merged with her cover story.

She is still a
fricoteuse in annexia.

And incidentally, you can make
a square, heterosex citizen queer

with this angle using drugs...

Tom.

I've brought
you a new typewriter

which conveniently dispenses
two types of intoxicating fluids

when it likes what
you've written.

Are you proposing to trade
back for your Clark-nova?

Thinking of it.

Has it written anything
good for you lately?

No, it's too damned
all-American for my taste.

Guess I've gone
foreign or something.

Well, my mugwriter here is
so foreign, it's almost alien.

You're gonna do your best work on her.
Guaranteed.

Hafid,

bring the machine in
question for bill, will you?

And how are you enjoying
your affair with Joan?

Literate, complex and
neurotic, I would imagine.

I haven't seen her for weeks.

She ran off with
fadela and her coven.

Oh, that's too bad.

Yes, she does that when
she feels attracted to a man.

Don't give up though.
It's a good sign.

With joanie

the courtship period can involve
years of passionate ambivalence.

Tom, I think we should take a
close look at his machine first.

Test it thoroughly.

Don't you, Tom?

You both have
different writing styles.

Bill Lee has always been a
man of powerful instinct, hafid.

If he says I'll do my
best work on his machine,

well, I'm sure that's prophecy.

Take the gun, too, bill.

No American should find himself
in a foreign land without a pistol.

You wouldn't be trying to set me
up again, now, would you, Tom?

Well, you've set
yourself up already, bill.

I'm just trying to give you
a fighting chance. That's all.

Clark-nova.

Clark-nova, it's me.

It's... it's bill Lee.

Clark-nova, speak to me.
You're safe with me now.

They tortured me,

did unspeakable things to me.

I'm on my last legs.
The bastards.

Clark-nova, where is Joan?
Where's Joan?

Hans's old drug
factory in the Medina.

Fadela is there.

Fadela is your point of
penetration into interzone, inc.

Fadela.

What do I do when I find her?

You'll know what to do
when the time comes.

Just remember this...

All agents defect

and all resisters sell out.

That's the sad truth, bill.

And a writer... a writer lives
the sad truth like anyone else.

The only difference is...

He files a report on it.

Leave me now

before it's too late.

But wait. What about Joan?
What about Joan?

Go now! Vaya con dios.

Clark-nova. Clark-nova-

Hurry. Hurry.

Come on.

Your notes must be much more
carefully detailed to be of any use to us.

You must write very clearly.

The effects of the drugs must be
cataloged with painstaking accuracy.

- Joan.
- Hmm?

- Joan.
- Bill.

Oh, bill.

What is that?
What are you writing?

I'm writing,

"all is lost.

All is lost."

- It's all I've ever written.
- No.

Oh, Joan.

We have to see fadela.

Take me to fadela.

Lee, you're here.

Oh, thank god. Thank god.

You see, my misdemeanor
has borne sweet fruit.

Now you are with us.

I was right to approach
you so brazenly.

And now Dr. Benway
will have no choice, but-

- benway.
- Benway.

- No choice but to send me back-
- benway.

You'll see.

Benway.

- Where I belong.
- Benway.

Well, well,

if it isn't William Lee.

I got to say I'm
proud of you, sir.

It took you a while,
but you got us red-handed.

Full marks, boy. Full marks.

I expected to see an operation
all out for the black meat here.

What's with all the
mugwump jism?

The black meat
concession turns out to have

some unfortunate
political strings attached.

We've just cut those strings.

From now on, interzone is
strictly mugwump territory.

As you can see, we've made a flying
start here with our modest dispensary.

I can feel the heat
closing in on you, fadela.

Feel them out there
making their moves, you dig?

Oh, really?

Fadela. Huh.

Huh.

You mean this old thing.

- Benway!
- Benway!

Benway!

We met once before, remember?
Stateside.

You don't remember.
You had that look, boy.

The look of a sheep-killing dog.

Decided to recruit
you right on the spot.

I'm afraid I was forced
by the tenor of the times

to prescribe that wretched black
meat powder to start you off on,

but the hole-in-the-wall
operation, limited resources-

you understand the problems.

But I understand from cloquet that,
you're on to our good stuff now.

Mugwump jism can't be beat.

And as you can see, we've got
ourselves a few more friends now.

And a few more dollars, too.

This little fadela number
is something I developed

during my tenure as chief physician
to the prime minister of annexia.

"Ei primo" liked to walk the streets
amongst his people in drag, and, well-

well,

one thing led to another.

It is an elegant way to strike
terror into the hearts of the enemy,

wouldn't you say?

Old fadela must be on the rag.

She's been acting
subversive lately.

Speaking of new
uses for old technology...

I think the new order could find
a place for a man of your caliber.

A .32, wasn't it?

That is what you're
here for, isn't it?

Hell,

I could use a reliable
man to send to annexia.

We're expanding, boy.
I need a spearhead.

Just tell me what you want.

I want her.

Her?

That purulent little cunt?
What for?

I can't write without her.

Bill,

I feel confident that you
and I can work something out.

Papers, please.

What is the
purpose of your visit

and what is your profession?

I write reports. I'm a writer

and I intend to write reports on life in
annexia for the citizens of the usa.

Do you have any
proof of what you say?

How do we know
you are really a writer?

Well, I have a writing device.

That's not good enough.

Show us.

- Show you.
- Write something.

- Write something.
- Yes.

Write something.

Joan.

Joan.

What is it, bill?
Are we there yet?

Almost, Joan.

But I guess it's about time
for our William tell routine.

Sure, bill.

Welcome... to annexia.

Yes. Welcome to annexia.

Subtitles: Christopher coco
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