Original subtitles

Come on, you blithering idiot.

There's only 26 letters in the damned alphabet.

All you've got to do is put them in the right bloody order.

Write something.

Anything.

Right.

Music.

Charles!

Think!

Charles!

Darling!

Charles, they can hear you in Timbuktu!

Much obliged.

If you insist on living like a nocturnal animal,

at least be civil enough to hide your tracks.

- Morning, Edith- - Good morning, ma'am.

He's finally gone through with it.

Yes. Scandalous, isn't it?

On the contrary-I think giving up the throne for love is awfully romantic.

I'll have a grilled grapefruit and a strong coffee, please.

Mr. Condomine's asked for his eggs to be brought over to his study again.

Given his mood, I hope they're being served sunny side up.

Here we go.

Two soft-boiled eggs for William Shakespeare.

What does Her Majesty want this morning?

- She's sticking to the Hollywood diet. - Hollywood diet!

It'll take a lot more than an exotic fruit

to turn her into Greta Garbo.

Don't dilly-dally in the garden, Edith.

He'll only send it back if the toast is cold-

I'm not a bad man.

I mean, yes, I like to flirt a bit.

And the occasional flutter.

Excuse me, sir. Your breakfast.

Edith.

Yes, sir?

Would you remind Edna

that the word "toast" is derived from the Latin "tostare",

meaning to scorch or to roast.

Whereas this...

is a cold, hard piece of bread.

Apologies, sir.

Do you need anything else?

Divine intervention.

It's wonderfully patriotic, Harold. You've really excelled yourself.

And I'm certain the judges will agree.

How was it so easy for you, my Manhattan muse?

Charles, you really should be praying to Cadmus and not decapitating him.

I'm sorry!

You've been commissioned to write a 90-page screenplay,

not War and Peace.

I'm at my wits' end.

I don't understand how it could be so problematic

to adapt a story you've already written.

I'm sorry, Charles. I just don't know how long I can go on like this

With you stuck in an imaginary world and me alone in the real one.

I miss you.

I miss us.

So do I.

Look at that.

I just found it amongst some papers.

Sweet of you to try and spare my feelings.

- And a little naive. - Why?

Because you imagine I mind you thinking of Elvira.

Well, don't you?

No, I'm not in the least bit jealous of her-

I just wonder, if I died,

whether you'd continue to look at photographs of me.

Darling.

You're not the dying type.

He's simply incorrigible, Violet.

I found him mooning over pictures of Elvira yesterday.

Elvira?

He's been shirking work and pining for the ex-wife.

Game, set and match.

There's really nothing to feel insecure about.

Elvira may have been very attractive, but the poor woman's gone.

As has the spark in our relationship.

Charles is a man.

You can't expect him to juggle more than one thing at a time.

My advice, leave him to worry about the words,

and find someone else to shake your sheets-

Come on. Don't be a prude.

One must be practical for a marriage to run the course.

Do you remember what you learnt in our last lesson, Mrs. Bradman?

Strong, firm grip. How could I forget?

So, what seems to be the trouble, old chap?

Things don't seem to be flowing as they used to.

Name me a wordsmith who hasn't wrestled

with a bout of writer's block once in a while, hey?

The truth is, it's not just the words that have dried up-

Big Ben's stopped chiming.

Mr. Peasebody's got stage fright.

You poor fellow.

It's like playing billiards with a rope.

Try a couple of these- Should put some fuel back in your tank.

- What are they? - Benzedrine sulphate.

Amphetamine. Enhances cheerfulness.

Alertness.

And as Violet will testify, it does wonders for your libido.

Sounds too good to be true. Is it habit-forming?

Not at all. Been using them for years.

Slow down! Charles, you'll give us both a coronary!

I've never felt more alive!

Why? What's happened?

I decided to take your advice and look on the positives.

Surely it's better to be up than down?

I don't want you to exhaust yourself

before the medium show at the theatre tonight.

Nobody in their right mind would waste a perfectly pleasant evening

pretending to be fascinated by someone holding a one-way conversation-

Ladies and gentlemen, take your seats.

This evening's performance will commence in two minutes.

Isn't that your cook? And your maid.

Yes, so it is. Poor Edith. She's been very taken with this sort of thing

since she lost her brother, fighting the Fascists in Spain.

Primitive superstition can be very persuasive,

especially with the emotionally susceptible.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to an evening

that will change your perceptions of the world we inhabit-

That will answer irrefutably

the question that has confounded mankind since the dawn of time-

Is there life after death?

No.

There she is.

Mesdames et messieurs,

bonsoir.

From the Great Pyramid of Cholula in the west

to Mount Taishan in the east.

From Whanganui-a-Tara in the south to Uppsala in the north,

I have traveled the globe,

communing with gurus, swamis and shamans.

These wise sages have guided me to a deeper dimension,

where finally I experienced an epiphany

and broke through to the other side.

I am certain that everyone here

has sensed the spirits of their departed loved ones,

and I am certain we all wish we could communicate with them again,

to say the things we never got to say.

- I've got it! - Shh!

- Tonight... - Sorry-

I will use a precious mystical gift

to make that possible.

Ooh! Bugger!

Madame Arcati.

- It's a conjuring trick. - How dare you?

Here, I told you, she's a fraud.

That's an outrageous accusation!

I merely lost contact.

Charles was right. It was all a put-up job.

Where'd he go?

Please, please.

Madame Arcati has just been through a very traumatic experience-

Please just...

Please, I would ask you to respect her privacy at this difficult time!

My giddy aunt!

I've told you, Mandeep, I don't want to see a living soul-

My name is Charles Condomine. I'm an award-winning writer.

And especially not the gutter press.

No, I'm not a reporter. I write crime novels and screenplays.

Well, I can't abide fiction or fantasy.

Get out!

Madame Arcati?

I'm not here to question your integrity.

Faking an exotic accent doesn't mean your gift isn't real.

I fully understand that, like me,

you occasionally have to employ a certain artistic license

to entertain the masses.

They expect me to deliver a spectacle,

a transcendental miracle night after night-

Of course. There's no need to justify yourself.

I'm a believer.

I'm simply here to invite you to conduct a private seance at my home.

Well, I'm not a traveling banjo player, Mr. Condomine. I don't do requests.

Well, there might be some influential guests attending.

Could be the perfect opportunity to fend off any bad publicity

from tonight's unfortunate events.

When were you wishing this to take place?

Well, as soon as possible.

Then I suggest this Thursday, Midsummer Night.

The solstice.

The sacred turning point of the seasons.

Perfect.

I told her how profoundly interested I was in anything to do with the occult

and she blossomed like a rose.

Hosting an evening with a professional charlatan

- sounds like a scream. - Doesn't it?

But will it get you closer to finishing your screenplay?

I need the old girl to show me tricks of the trade.

That's what'll make my new hero unique.

What's so unique about him?

- He's dead. - Dead?

As a doornail. He's the victim of a vicious unsolved murder

and communicates with the living through a medium

who helps bring people back from beyond the grave.

Maybe she could resurrect your career at the same time.

Daddy's on the warpath.

He's threatened to find another writer if you don't deliver soon.

Is anybody there?

Is anybody there?

One rap for yes, two raps for no.

- Is that you, Maia? - Who's Maia?

My spirit guide.

She was Tutankhamun's wet-nurse.

I do hope she's not still lactating.

I would ask you not to be flippant, Dr-Bradman-

She may be in Shambhala, but the woman still has feelings.

Please forgive me, Madame Arcati. I didn't mean to cause offence-

Now we're getting somewhere.

Is it me you wish to speak to?

Is it Dr. Bradman? Or perhaps one of his less-fortunate patients?

Mrs. Bradman?

Mrs. Condomine?

Behave yourself, Maia.

Mr. Condomine?

It appears there's someone who wishes to speak to you, Mr-Condomine-

Do you know anyone who has recently passed over to the other side?

Only my old literary agent, but it's unlikely he'd make contact.

He owed me a fortune in royalties.

Are you Mr. Condomine's literary agent?

No. I'm afraid we've drawn a blank.

Is there anyone on the other side you think of often?

No. Well, there's nothing for it. I shall have to go into a trance.

This is the moment I hate.

Are you nervous or...?

When I was a child, I used to be sick.

Let's see. What have we here?

Brahms. No, that's too dark and depressing.

Rachmaninov? No, too florid.

No, this is better. Always.

Does it have to be that song?

Well, Maia likes a tune she can hum along to.

♪ Always

♪ I'll be loving you always

♪ With a love that's true

♪ Always

♪ When the things you've planned

♪ Need a helping hand

♪ I will understand

♪ Always...

No!

Crikey!

- What the devil's going on? - Must be a power cut.

Madame Arcati? Madame Arcati, can you hear me?

- Is she breathing? - She's having some sort of fit.

Please do something, Dr. Bradman.

- Thank goodness. - What happened?

Apart from French windows blowing open, nothing supernatural.

Well, something substantial took place.

- I can feel it in my base chakra. - Probably trapped wind.

No poltergeists at any rate.

Erm, any apparitions?

Er, not that we saw.

- What about ectoplasm? - I'm not quite sure what that is.

A supernatural viscous substance

that exudes from the body of one in a spiritualistic trance

and forms the material for the manifestation of spirits.

No, I definitely would have remembered that.

I suppose should get going before the storm rolls in.

Would you care for refreshments before you return to your hotel?

No, thank you, Mrs. Condomine. I like to travel light.

Congratulations, Madame Arcati. It was a thrilling evening.

I'm well aware of the irony in your voice, Dr. Bradman.

May I be so bold as to remind you

that modern medicine is a recent phenomena

and that physicians have found value in scientifically inexplicable practices

since the beginning of civilization.

Quite so.

Well, good night, everyone.

I'm sorry so little eventuated. Probably something to do with the cosmic flux.

Thank you so much for agreeing to do this, Madame Arcati.

It's been an education on so many levels.

Merci, Monsieur Condomine.

Et au revoir.

Shh! She might hear us.

I can't. Really, I can't.

I can't quite put my finger on it, Donald.

I've never experienced anything like it in my life.

It genuinely felt as if...

something tremendous had happened.

Well.

Maybe next time.

Good night, my love.

Did you get everything you need for your screenplay?

Everything and more.

Not thinking of turning in for the night?

What?

Wouldn't it be prudent to get down the ideas whilst they're still fresh?

Yes, no. Absolutely.

I shall, er, fix myself a drink and dig in.

Carpe diem, darling.

Carpe diem.

Jesus Christ!

Charles.

What on earth have you done?

The room looks like a giant peach melba!

And where's my Italian chandelier gone?

What?

God!

Hello?

Please tell me you haven't ruined the rest of the house.

No.

My Moroccan mosaics!

Charles!

One weekend away

and the whole place has had the life and soul sucked out of it.

This can't be happening. I must be hallucinating.

Well, judging from the decor,

I would say that's the understatement of the century.

I should've known this wasn't down to you.

Who is she?

It's not what you think.

Please, do not humiliate either one of us any further.

If you've got something to tell me, be a man and spit it out!

Elvira...

- You're dead. - How dare you?

The last thing I remember is competing in the South Downs Point-to-Point.

That's right, and the conditions were treacherous.

As with most things, you refused to listen to reason.

Well, I couldn't miss the most prestigious meet of the season.

You paid the ultimate price for your folly

and fell at the final fence, instantly breaking your neck.

The whole episode was very distressing for everyone involved.

Well, presumably not as distressing as it was for me.

They did rename the jump in your honor.

How thoughtful.

Well, I don't understand. If I'm dead, then how and why am I here?

I have absolutely no idea.

- Maybe you're a ghost. - What?

No!

- Please, don't get hysterical. - Hysterical?

Concerned, more like.

Procrastination is the thief of time, Charles, and yours is running out.

- Who's she? - My wife, Ruth.

Yes? Are you all right?

- I'm your wife. - Not anymore.

Why? What's the matter?

I'm not speaking to you. I'm talking to Elvira.

Elvira?

Surely you can see her. She's standing right next to you.

What are you playing at? Elvira's dead.

Why does everyone have to keep saying that?

Elvira, darling, this is Ruth. Ruth, darling, this is Elvira.

Are you drunk?

Ruth, Elvira is here with us in the room.

Madame Arcati must have summoned her up during the seance.

Madame Arcati's a fraud. You said so yourself.

I'm going to bed and I suggest that you retire too.

Finally, some time to ourselves, so we can get reacquainted.

That's a thoroughly immoral suggestion.

I wasn't for a moment insinuating we share a bed.

- No... - I've come to terms

with your recent inability to perform in that department.

I can't imagine you ever did with that sourpuss.

Be quiet! You're behaving like a guttersnipe!

It is your behavior, Charles, that is unpardonable! Good night.

Hooray.

What a frightful woman. I can only assume it was a marriage of convenience.

I've gone mad. That's what it is. Stark raving mad.

It'll ruin your life if you allow it to get hold of you.

Once and for all, Ruth, last night had nothing to do with alcohol.

I wasn't in the least drunk. Something very peculiar happened to me.

A one-off psychic delusion, likely brought on by work pressure.

A deadline doesn't explain why, when I suggested you return to bed,

you said with a disgusting leer that it was an immoral suggestion.

I thought I was talking to Elvira.

If you were, it conjures up a fragrant picture of your first marriage.

My first marriage was perfectly charming.

It's in the worst taste for you to sneer at it.

I'm not nearly so interested in your first marriage as you think I am.

It's your second marriage that's absorbing me at the moment.

It's headed for the rocks!

Well, it's 155 over 99. It is quite high.

I'm not surprised, given the intensity of the hallucination.

I genuinely believed Elvira was in the room, talking to me.

She was as real as you or I.

Probably best you stop taking the tablets, old chap.

Darling.

I hate to see you so upset.

Please accept my heartfelt apology

for anything untoward I might have said last night... or this morning.

Apology accepted. Let's never mention it again.

How are you feeling?

Yeah, I believe Dr. Bradman might have solved the riddle.

Well, thank goodness.

Now, let's go and see your father.

I want to check he likes my new idea before committing it to the page.

I do not want to be late.

Charles?

So, you see, Henry, it's only through the medium

that the killer can be brought to justice

based on new evidence that he gathers from beyond the grave.

I like the premise, but not enough to wait another six months to see a script.

Charles will deliver in a few weeks, Daddy. You have my word.

And mine.

Cut!

Right, come on. Let's watch the next scene.

I think Hitch will be the perfect director for our film.

Just don't get under his feet.

Come on, darling.

Googie, how lovely to see you.

- Charles Condomine. - I'm a big fan of your books.

When can we expect Detective Flowers to crack his next case?

Charles has actually made the leap into screenwriting with Daddy's help.

How exciting! I'd die to play one of your strong-willed female characters.

Where do you draw your inspiration from?

- Where do you think? - How romantic, to marry your muse.

Not so romantic to replace her.

Why don't you tell her the truth?

- That you're an astral bigamist. - Be quiet. Stop behaving like a harlot.

I beg your pardon?

Admit it, Charles. All of your female characters are based on me.

You always were vain and self-obsessed.

How dare you speak to my leading lady like that?

No, no, no, no.

Get a grip, Charles. What on earth is going on?

Elvira is here.

I can see her. She's right there.

I insist you go home immediately and lie down.

I have no desire to go to bed in the afternoon.

My, how things have changed.

I remember a time when we could barely drag ourselves out of our double divan.

Stop being indecent. Get out of my sight.

How dare you speak to my daughter like that?

- I wasn't speaking to her. - Get off my set.

- You're in trouble. - Don't be so infantile.

I'll give you infantile!

Ooh!

Does it hurt?

- Only if I breathe. - Let me see it, darling.

- What about now? - God!

I suggest you take yourself to your study.

The only way my father will forgive you

is if you deliver an Oscar-worthy script.

How am I supposed to write in this state?

You'd better try. Either start typing and prove you're not barking mad,

or I'll be forced to call Dr. Bradman

and have you referred to a nerve specialist.

Ruth, I'm not in the least neurotic and never have been.

Well, a psychoanalyst, then.

I refuse to endure months of expensive humiliation,

only to be told that at the age of four, I was in love with my rocking horse.

Don't take that flippant tone with me.

- I'm not the one who's seeing things. - You do believe me then.

Of course I don't. There's no such thing as ghosts or ghouls.

I call upon Donald Keeling,

second lieutenant in the 92nd Regiment of Gordon Highlanders,

who died on February 27th, 1881,

at the Battle of Majuba Hill.

Come forth and make yourself known to me...

Cecily, your ever-devoted wife.

Donald!

Is that you?

It's housekeeping. Do you need fresh towels?

What are you doing here?

Despite removing every trace of me, this is still my home.

Besides, I have no idea how to get back, even if I wanted to.

Are you saying you're staying indefinitely?

Why? Would you hate it so much if I did?

Honestly, Charles, I really am a little hurt.

You're the only one who could have called me back.

I most emphatically did not send for you, Elvira.

Ruth and I are about to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary together.

Five? What is that, leather?

- Wood. - Watch out for the splinters.

Mrs. Condomine!

I'll call Dr. Bradman, see if he'll accompany us to the sanatorium.

Ruth, please listen to me. I haven't gone mad.

The ghost of my first wife. Elvira, has crossed over from the other side

- and is in the room with us right now. - Yes, dear.

I know, I see her perfectly well,

along with the zebras and chimpanzees hiding under the piano.

Ruth, I have always looked upon you

as a woman of perception and understanding.

I am, but if you say you're not drinking,

there must be something pressing on your brain.

Elvira, do something to reveal that you really are here. Please!

She's going to have me committed.

Do you remember when we first heard our song, Charles?

♪ I'll be loving you

♪ Always, ooh

See? What did I tell you?

It's a cruel trick, using some sort of autosuggestion or hypnotism to scare me.

It isn't. I swear it isn't. Darling!

Darling! Elvira, do something else, for God's sake.

Anything to oblige.

Look.

What?

Adios, interloper.

Oops.

I'm afraid we need the room back.

I've told you, I'll be packed and ready to go within an hour.

Thank God I caught you.

You are my only hope. Something terrible has taken place.

You heard strange noises in the night?

Boards creaking, doors slamming? A subdued moaning in the passages?

Er, no, none of those.

But it appears that after the seance,

my husband's first wife, Elvira, who died seven years ago,

is back among us.

At last!

A genuine materialization.

I knew something stupendous had happened to me that night.

I felt it in my spinal cortex.

After all these years of... of spiritual devotion,

I've finally been rewarded.

I appreciate the pride in your achievement,

but I would like to point out,

it's making my position in my home untenable,

and I hold you entirely responsible.

Forgive me, Mrs. Condomine.

I'm being abominably selfish.

Just to let me get this clear in my mind,

you yourself have not seen this manifestation?

No, but Charles claims he can see and talk to her.

Well, if the emotional connection is strong, that is sometimes possible.

What?

It can sometimes develop into a level ten,

something I've never even dared dream of.

Can he, by any chance, touch her?

I sincerely hope not.

Why? Can that happen?

Well, if the returning spirit feels welcome,

it can gradually

become physically substantial.

Thank you, Mrs. Bradman.

Please do let me know if you hear from her.

She's not there either.

I remember when you couldn't wait to spend an afternoon alone with me.

Please refrain from playing with my affections. I feel strange enough.

- So, you do still find me attractive? - Elvira, please.

This is inappropriate.

Look into my eyes...

and tell me you don't love me anymore.

I shall always love the memory of you.

Memories are about the past, Charles,

but I'm here, and this is the present.

Why don't we take the boat out like we used to and get some air?

I can't, I'm on a deadline.

What are you writing, checks?

I'll have you know,

I've been commissioned to adapt my first novel for the screen.

Your first novel?

Nearly wore my fingers to the bone committing this story to the page.

Let's face it, darling,

it's not a coincidence that you haven't published a word since my demise.

I won't deny you did have a flair for plot.

And character.

And?

- And dialogue. - Right.

The biggest problem you have is the twist into the third act.

It isn't dramatic enough, which is why you don't have a satisfying climax.

Tell me something I don't know.

Wouldn't it be smarter to flip the whole thing on its head

and reveal the husband as the killer?

That's good.

Or what would be more interesting is if it's the wife who set him up.

Why would the wife send her husband to the gallows?

It's obvious, darling. Susan Rutherford becomes the prime suspect

when her alibi fails to materialize.

We naturally assume that she's trying to protect

the reputation of the foreign secretary

whose aspirations of becoming the prime minister

would be severely compromised if it was revealed that he was having an affair.

But, in reality, nothing could be further from the truth,

which is what we learn from the victim himself.

And it's only through the medium that they can work it out.

Work what out?

That she's pregnant with the dead foreign secretary's child.

That's good.

Even I didn't see that one coming.

Of course you didn't, darling. You're just the writer.

I'm afraid, Mrs. Condomine,

that the time has come for me to admit quite frankly

I haven't the foggiest idea how to send her back.

I have my own personal reasons

for wishing to communicate with the departed,

but I never for a moment

considered the possibility of having to send someone back.

Well, I suggest that you find a way.

I refuse to share my husband with anyone,

especially his dead ex-wife.

If I had thought for a moment

that your husband wished to get in touch with the spirit of his dead ex-wife,

I would have of course consulted you first.

After all, noblesse oblige.

He had no intention of getting in touch with her, I can assure you.

The whole thing was planned in order for him to get material for his new project.

Am I to understand I was invited in a spirit of mockery?

He merely wanted to make some notes of the tricks of the trade.

Tricks of the trade? I've never been so insulted in my life.

I'm sorry if that all came out wrong.

I'm rather overwrought with the whole affair.

Please, I implore you to help us.

I will go to the Spiritual Alliance on my way back to Sussex

and ask them for guidance.

Sussex? You can't abandon us in our hour of need.

Well, due to my recent circumstances, I can no longer afford to stay here,

but you can contact me.

I can cover your hotel bill and any expenses

till this terrifying ordeal has been resolved.

"Susan Rutherford leans over the foreign secretary."

Don't stop.

"'The Soviet Union can wait, ' says the foreign secretary.

He turns and looks at Susan longingly.

'This can't..."'

"he whispers urgently.

And then..."

"he starts to slowly...

unbutton her silk blouse,

as they start to passionately kiss."

OK, that takes us up to the first-act turn.

You can't just stop mid-flow!

I'm tired. And I'm thirsty.

And I want to go into town and drink negronis like we used to.

But it's getting late.

You really have got a little too comfortable in your slippers, Charles.

What do you want, Elvira?

Want?

I don't know what you mean.

I remember whenever you got overwhelmingly demure,

it usually meant that you wanted something.

It's horrid of you to be so suspicious.

All I want is to be alone with you.

I can't deny, I do feel rather peculiar seeing you again.

I've missed you more than life itself.

I've missed you too.

My American dream.

I was utterly heartbroken after the accident.

The truth is, I don't believe I ever really got over losing you.

Do you love Ruth?

Of course I do.

As much as you loved me?

Don't be silly.

It's entirely different.

I'm so glad.

Nothing could've ever been quite the same, could it?

Let's go to Soho.

Swap those slippers for some dancing shoes.

Slow down!

- I think I'm going to be sick! - Charles!

I love being back behind the wheel of a car!

I can't say the feeling's mutual.

Charles? Where on earth have you been? I've been worried sick.

It's too bad it's not terminal.

I wanted to clear my head, so I took a long drive.

In the passenger seat?

Let's not quarrel when we should be celebrating.

I finished the first act of my screenplay, and it's rather good.

My screenplay, more like.

How did you manage that in a day?

- Elvira helped me. - Do you mean to tell me

that not only has she bullied her way back over the threshold,

she's trying to work with you now as well?

What do you mean, trying? I've written 15 books in your name.

Elvira, this is neither the time nor the place.

This is intolerable.

- Elvira, now, you listen to me. - Darling...

- I... Yes? - She's over there.

Right.

Now, listen here, Elvira,

I've been to see Madame Arcati, and she's going to send you back

to wherever it is she regrettably dragged you from.

Charles? Charles?

Don't.

Darling, please don't be upset.

Upset? You've just spent the night with your ex-wife.

How do you expect me to feel?

Ecstatic.

Our dream of going to Hollywood is finally within our grasp.

As soon as I deliver the screenplay,

we'll be crossing the Atlantic quicker than you can say Sunset Boulevard.

Think of the glitz, the glamour,

the good times we're going to share.

You won't be reading about other people's lives anymore.

They'll be reading about ours.

And you can't do it without her?

Of course I can. It will just be a lot quicker this way.

There's really no need for you to be jealous.

You're the one I love.

Forgive me that I don't tell you enough.

Now that the words are flowing, I feel unblocked in other areas too.

Promise me you can't touch her.

Darling... she's a ghost.

And, besides, the only woman I want to touch is you.

Listen here, lady.

You may have summoned me into this world,

but there's no way I'm going to let you send me back again.

I'm here to stay. Is that clear?

How dare you ignore me, you meddling old crone?

Either you leave me in peace to live my life,

or I'll haunt you until the day you die.

The tower. Symbol of chaos,

destruction and devastation.

Wakey-wakey.

Rise and shine.

What was I, Charles?

The warm-up act?

If I was you, I'd keep it there.

Good afternoon, ma'am.

I'm going to have to correct you, Edith.

It's not a good afternoon, it's a glorious one.

- Should I prepare lunch? - Yes, please. You read my mind.

I'm absolutely famished.

I'll have a cheese and pickle platter, with extra pickle.

Yes, ma'am.

- What happened to your leg? - I slipped down the staircase.

You really must refrain from doing everything at the double.

You're not in the navy, you know.

I wasn't hurrying, ma'am. There was axle grease smeared all over the top step.

Yes, her agent loves the pitch.

Thinks it would be a perfect vehicle for her.

- Seriously? Greta Garbo? - Yes.

Mata Hari speaking my words would be a dream come true.

- Charles, are you still on track? - Yes, absolutely still on track.

I'll send the next ream of pages over as soon as I reach the second-act turn.

- Don't let me down. - Thank you, Henry.

And I appreciate your continued patience and belief.

- Splendid. - Goodbye.

- Elvira, what are you doing? - "Greta Garbo speaking my words"?

Darling, what am I supposed to say? That I've got a ghost writer?

Stop it. Elvira, that's one of our wedding gifts.

Not ours, Charles. Hers!

You care more about breaking china than you do about breaking my heart.

Elvira, I was unwaveringly loyal and faithful to you

in all our years of marriage.

What was I supposed to do after you died?

Become a recluse and wear a black armband for the rest of my life?

- Ma'am, the garden judges are here. - Thank you, Edith.

We've been sabotaged.

That is an outrageous suggestion.

As the national director of the Spiritual Alliance,

my job is to protect the reputation of genuine psychic practitioners,

not undermine them.

And I vow, along with my friend, Harry Houdini,

to investigate and expose every fraudulent spiritualist

operating in this country.

Come in.

- Madame Arcati here to see you. - Thank you for your time.

Yes. Well, no, thank you. Always a pleasure to talk to the press.

Goodbye.

You've got a cheek, showing your face while you're suspended.

I'm sorry to turn up unannounced, but I urgently need your guidance.

I have pulled off a level-ten manifestation.

And was this before or after you conned 800 people

into paying to see you levitate?

No, really, you must believe me, Harry.

And it is possible this presence has a physical form.

- Margot, where are the scissors? - Drawer.

So, you're telling me

that the first level-ten manifestation reported in over three centuries

was the result of an ordinary common-or-garden seance?

Yes, that is correct.

- What did you use as a guide? - Erm, this.

The Art of the Seance.

- Can you help me? - Yes, Madame Arcati, I think I can.

Do you have your membership card?

Membership card? Er...

Yes.

I'll start by terminating your membership with immediate effect.

This is no place for fantasists or frauds.

Margot.

Madame Arcati is leaving now.

Meet me in Temple Square in an hour.

Chapter four, page nine, paragraph six.

A banishing spell. Margot. Thank you.

We don't have long. I need to replace it in the safe

- before Mr. Price returns from lunch. - It's recorded in ancient Druidic text.

I'm a little rusty but I'll do my best.

Wait.

"Take Ceridwen's brew of devil's claw."

Devil's claw.

- "Poisoned root of aconite." - Yes.

"Elixir of vervain flowers."

Yes, of course. That's the enchanter's plant.

"The sacrificial offering is at its strongest with a waning moon."

A waning moon.

"Sprinkle black salt on a stone altar."

Black salt.

"Then lay the freshly torn bladder of a carnivore..."

The bla... Bladder?

No.

"Freshly torn bladderwort..."

"of the carnivorous aquatic Utricularia plant family."

Thank heavens.

I thought I was going to have to get my hands dirty.

Au revoir, Madame Arcati.

Good luck.

Will you excuse me?

What about Clark Gable? He'd make a dashing Detective Frank Flowers.

Good actor, terrible breath.

Very tricky for the leading ladies.

- I was thinking Cary Grant. - Now we're talking.

I look forward to making his acquaintance at the premier.

Well, I'm afraid you're getting ahead of yourself there, Mrs. Bradman.

Even I can't make a film without a script.

It's rather like trying to perform surgery without a patient.

The typewriter can be a cruel and demanding mistress.

Well, let's hope that's the only affair Charles is having.

Yes.

Hello, Daddy.

Time for a speech.

Ladies and gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen.

A-ha! As a writer,

people are always expecting me to come up with lots of words.

Well, today, I'm sure you'll all be relieved to hear

that I'm going to keep things short and sweet, just like my wife.

If I were to create a character as beautiful, as poised,

as perfect as Ruth,

my fans would accuse me

of straying into fantasy.

Thankfully we are all here today to celebrate the fact

that Ruth is my reality

and has been for five fabulous years.

So, let us be upstanding upstandingly, and raise our glasses to true love.

- Yeah. - True love!

- True love. - True love.

Never dies.

- Lord Almighty! - What on earth are you doing?

Cooling off. All that dancing got me hot and sticky.

Everybody's looking!

I didn't know it was going to be one of those parties.

You're as wet as an otter's pocket.

- What happened to your dress? - What happened to yours, Daddy?

Everybody!

Lovely, darling. I'm not sure the fish are enjoying this.

Why don't you come upstairs and have a little lie-down?

Only if you're going to join me.

Make love to me like it was the first time.

Whee! Does Mr. Peasebody want to come out and play?

Well, I'm not surprised she doesn't like to do it with the lights on.

- Don't be so vulgar, Elvira. - She's in here?

Now, you listen to me, you low-rent hussy.

This is my party, my bedroom, my house and Charles is my husband!

What did she say?

She apologized unreservedly and has taken herself back downstairs.

You should've been an actor, Charles. You really are rather good.

Darling. I'm sorry, Charles. I'm just...

I'm not in the mood anymore.

I am.

Morning, darling.

You look shattered.

Yes, had a bit of a restless night.

Yes. Yes, I thought you were thrashing around a bit.

I had Edna prepare Norfolk kippers, your favorite.

That's very sweet. I could do with something hearty.

I fear I rather overdid it on the bubbles yesterday.

Party went by in a bit of a blur.

What are you stuck on?

Twenty-two down, Greek god of retribution.

Seven letters, third letter M, seventh letter S.

Nemesis.

- What on earth has happened? - She said the place is cursed.

It's not safe! It's not safe at all!

Edna? You can't leave us!

You can keep your job! No, I'm getting out of here. Go away!

I'm having nothing to do with you. Go away!

You can stick your bleedin' job up your bum!

There you are.

There you are.

Now, to work.

Yes.

Where are you?

Detective, I don't see how you can blame a girl

for falling in love with the right guy for the wrong reasons.

What about that poor sap of a husband of yours?

Guys like him are a dime a dozen. What was he?

The right guy in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Detective, just being close to you,

I feel as if I am completely naked.

How do you always manage to see right through me?

I see things just the way they are.

The rest of the world needs bifocals.

I'm not sure about that last line. It feels too florid.

It needs something simple and to the point like...

That's my job, sweetie. I just do it.

Whatever you prefer. It's your name on the script.

And, "Fade to black."

Ooh!

Well, dare I say it? I think the film's going to be even better than the book.

We've finished ahead of the deadline.

Just wait till I tell Ruth.

Let's not tell her just yet.

For heaven's sake!

Ooh! Fiddlesticks!

- Damn and blast! - Are you all right, darling?

Knowing you work your fingers to the bone

makes it easier for me to endure a few blisters and burns.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls, my dear.

I've nothing to serve for lunch.

Please don't worry about it. I'm not in the least hungry.

Dare I ask how it's going over there?

- The finishing line is almost in sight. - Thank goodness.

I don't like you alone with her one iota,

but if it means you're going to be able to deliver the damned script,

then I can just about tolerate it.

You and I do make a good team, darling.

I'd like us to move our beds back together.

Permanently.

I think if we're going to be separated during the days,

the least we can do is spend our nights together as man and wife.

Yes, I should like nothing more.

I'm going to take a walk, try to clear my head.

Remember when we used to play hide-and-seek along here,

and your reward when you found me?

Look, isn't he handsome?

He's magnificent.

He can sense me.

How wonderful not to be frightened of the unknown.

You're not frightened, are you, Charles?

- Of what? - Falling back in love.

How is that possible when we're existing on two different planes?

- I'm alive and you're... - Don't... Don't say it.

I'm so sorry, Elvira. There's no easy way to say this.

But I'm struggling to see a future in us.

You know, Charles, when you give someone an eternity ring,

it's supposed to be a love that lasts forever.

Charles?

Charles, watch out!

Damn!

She's dangerous, Charles.

Edna was almost scalped. Look what happened to Edith.

What are you suggesting?

It's blindingly obvious that Elvira came here

for one purpose and one purpose only.

She came here to have you to herself forever.

How?

- By killing you off, of course. - That's absurd.

Do you really think the cabinet climbed up onto the roof

and jumped off of its own accord?

Elvira may be prone to temper tantrums, but she still loves me.

She'd never wish me any harm.

If you were dead, it would be her final triumph over me.

She'd have you all to herself on her beastly astral plane

and I'd be left high and dry.

She's probably planning some sort of spiritual remarriage.

What are we going to do?

Yes, the guest's name is Madame Arcati. Room 14.

One moment. I'm sorry but she left yesterday.

- I see. Did she leave any messages? - I'm afraid not.

Thank you.

She checked out yesterday.

There's nothing for it. I shall have to get myself arrested,

spend the night locked up in the cells.

No, we just have to create our own safe place for the night.

Right.

Now, gently does it.

Precious.

Herba veneris, nature's divine protector.

What are you doing with that?

I've just removed all the heavy and sharp objects for a reason.

I thought you could keep going with your script

- while we're holed up in here. - Erm...

I've already finished it.

I thought you said you were struggling.

On reflection, I think I was overthinking the whole thing.

I'll give the manuscript a quick read

and drive it to the studio in the morning.

Charles. What wonderful news.

Daddy's going to be over the moon.

- As am I. - Thank you, darling.

Now we can both focus on banishing Elvira into oblivion once and for all.

Not a moment too soon. Two's company.

Three's a nightmare.

Nearly there.

Vervain and dill hinder witches from their will.

Charles.

Charles!

Hello?

Mrs. Condomine, I have news.

Doors are opening and change is in the air.

This is no time for riddles.

We've been urgently trying to contact you.

Charles's life is in grave danger. Elvira is trying to murder him.

I feared she might become a malevolent spirit.

That's putting it mildly. Where are you?

In Sussex. I've gathered everything together and now I'm ready.

- For what? - Well, to send her back, of course.

Stay put, Madame Arcati. I'll come and collect you.

The telephone woke me. Apologies if I scared you.

Er, when Mr. Condomine wakes up,

tell him I've gone to fetch Madame Arcati

and I shall be back before lunch.

Don't hurt me, I beg you!

- Are you all right in there? - I've never stopped loving you.

I don't know what to say, sir.

You have a funny way of showing it, Charles.

I was going to put your name on the manuscript

before I delivered it, I promise.

That won't be necessary, sir.

I'm a woman. We're used to not getting the credit we deserve.

No, I insist. I'll get changed and leave straight away.

Mrs. Condomine left in the car a while ago.

She said she'd be back by lunchtime.

Elvira, what have you done?

Whoops.

Mr. Condomine, I would just like to say that I reproach myself bitterly.

You are not to blame, Madame Arcati. The fault lies squarely on my shoulders.

It was my ambition and ego that dragged us into this unbearable mess.

That's something I shall have to live with for the rest of my life.

The last time I spoke with Mrs. Condomine, your life was in danger.

I urge you to come and see me at your earliest possible convenience.

Here is my card. I'll be waiting.

You're not going to stay for refreshments?

No, please, don't think me rude, but I...

I prefer to contemplate the passing of a spirit in my own private way.

My sincerest condolences, Mr. Condomine.

Shouldn't that be "Congratulations"?

What the hell are you doing here? Have you no shame?

It was an accident, Charles. I was trying to kill you.

- How can you be so heartless? - Death does that to you.

You know, you can always tell how well regarded someone is

- by the attendance at their funeral. - What's that supposed to mean?

Bit of a poor turnout today, if you ask me.

I barely counted 40 people.

That does it.

Come here!

Just like old times, Charles!

With you chasing me round the garden.

Today there's going to be a different outcome.

- Will you excuse me? - Of course.

I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Mackintosh.

Ruth was a fine woman and a good friend.

I'm going to miss her deeply.

Thank you, Mrs. Bradman. I know she was fond of you too.

I can't quite believe she's gone.

My mother always said that time is a physician that heals every grief.

You never were much of an opponent on the croquet lawn, Charles.

You repulse me.

I'm going to kill you!

Don't be an imbecile. I'm already dead.

You better fetch your medicinal bag before someone else gets killed.

Edna was right. This place is cursed.

- I can't bear to see you ever again. - The feeling's mutual, Charles.

With age and disappointment, you've become a pompous ass.

Charles! Charles!

- Everything's going to be splendid. - Not while she's here, it won't.

- Not while who's here? - Elvira!

- Where am I? - In the loony bin.

What?

There's no point in struggling, Charles.

The more you thrash around, the longer they'll keep you in.

Why am I here?

You've been sectioned under the Mental Treatment Act

and held under mandatory observation for the next 28 days.

I hope you rot in hell.

It's not wise to be bad-tempered with the only person who can help you.

I'd rather eat my tongue than ask you for help!

Ooh. You might get to do that.

Dr. McEwan is planning on taking you down the corridor in 15 minutes

for electric-shock treatment.

What?

No! No, come back. Wait.

There's usually a way around these things.

What do you want from me?

I know you're never going to forgive me, Charles,

and being stuck in purgatory with you grieving over another woman

is a fate worse than death.

I couldn't agree more.

Which is why I want a divorce.

With pleasure.

And I know just the person who can execute that.

Good.

Move over. There's no way I'm putting my life in your hands again.

Don't flatter yourself. When I think of what might've happened

if I'd succeeded in getting you to the other side, it makes me shudder.

Nothing but bickering and squabbling for eternity.

Drive.

Looking back on our married years,

I can see now, with horrid clarity, they were nothing but a mockery.

You were feckless, irresponsible, morally unstable.

I realized that before we left Budleigh Salterton.

Nobody but a monumental bore

would've thought of going to Budleigh Salterton for a honeymoon.

What's the matter with Budleigh Salterton?

Seven hours a day on a damp golf course

and a three-piece orchestra playing Merrie England.

I'm surprised you didn't complain at the time.

I remember you being quite good at that.

I did complain, but you wouldn't listen.

That's why I took a romantic stroll on the moors with Captain Bracegirdle.

What a blind fool I was.

- Did he make love to you? - Only very discreetly.

Mr. Condomine, I'm so relieved you've arrived safely.

Follow me. Tonight the moon is full and we must harness its power.

We're both ready to perform the banishment ceremony immediately.

- She's here? - Yes.

Are you sure she's amenable to the process?

Yes.

With this magic smoke, I invoke the spirit of moonfire.

Dancer of time, mistress of endings and beginnings...

to return our sacred sister

to her rightful sphere.

- Still here? - Yes.

To you, the spirit of earth.

To you, the element of air.

To you, the force of water.

To you, the power of fire

and the gift of enchanter's dew.

- She still here? - Yes.

Yes!

Ghostly specter, ghoul and fiend,

never more be thou convened.

Wolf's bane and holy rite,

banish thee into the night.

Bladderwort, bladderwort! Bladderwort.

Yes. Come.

Yes. And... bladderwort.

- Ruth! - Ruth?

I'm so happy to see you again.

Blast! How could I have been such a duffer?

Something must have gone hideously wrong.

Yes, not for the first time.

- You hussy! - Darling?

Save yourself the effort. I'm already dead.

And more to the point, so are you.

- You popped your clogs last Tuesday. - Don't be so insensitive.

Darling, are you in any pain?

Charles, what happened to me?

There was a car accident.

Which, I have to admit, I had a hand in.

I'm sorry, Ruth.

I'm afraid "sorry" doesn't quite cut it.

Well, even so. In the spirit of complete openness, I'd also like to apologize

for conducting an affair with Charles right under your nose.

Technically, we are still married, so...

Stop it, Elvira.

- Ruth has been through quite enough. - What are they saying, Mr. Condomine?

Not now, Madame Arcati. Things are becoming quite strained.

I should have squeezed malum citrea at the crucial point.

That's lemon juice.

The only reason he was able to through that screenplay

in five days flat is because I wrote it.

- Yes... - Charles, is that true?

Not exactly.

Charles didn't want to tell you we'd finished

because he wanted to spend more time alone with me.

Charles...

- Let's not fight, darling. - Which darling are you referring to?

After everything I put up with, how could you do that to me?

It's not that straightforward, darlings.

I mean, really, Charles, you never loved Elvira or me.

The only person that you love is yourself!

No...

Finally, something we do agree on.

If you wrote the script,

- did he write any of those books? - No, not a word.

- He took all the glory? - Won't you stay for the second act?

I think it's best I leave.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Try two of them.

Good luck with the lemons.

Where did he go?

- He can run. - But he can't hide.

Ghostly specter, ghoul or fiend,

never more be thou convened.

Bladderwort, wolf's bane and holy rite,

banish thee into the night.

Donald?

All right, I'm gonna start with this medium shot.

Then I'm gonna come in a little closer. Let's have some passion!

All right, roll the camera.

- Quiet, please! - Sound running!

Scene 84, take one.

And action.

Just being close to you, Frank, I feel as if I'm completely naked.

How do you always manage to see right through me?

That's my job, sweetie. I just do it.

Cut!

Reset.

I'm not feeling the last line. Boy Wonder, what else you got?

Er... Well, er...

What about, "I see things just the way they are.

The rest of the world needs bifocals"?

I love it. OK, reset. Makeup.

I want to move in closer.

You're a genius, Charles.

Audiences are going to devour the whole spiritualist angle.

Yeah.

It's just a shame Ruth isn't here to enjoy it.

Mr. Condomine? Hedda Hopper, Los Angeles Times.

Hello.

How does it feel to be the talk of the town?

That's awfully sweet of you,

but I'm not sure anybody's interested in the lowly writer.

I have a hunch that my 35 million readers will be enthralled

- by the story of a serial plagiarist. - Plagiarist?

I know you revel in gossip and scandal, Miss Hopper,

but that's a completely outrageous and unfounded accusation.

There is nothing unfounded about the writ Señor Morales is serving.

Would you care to comment on the fact

that your 15 Detective Frank Flowers whodunnits

are based word for word on the Inspector Francisco Flores crime novels

which are bestsellers across all of Mexico?

Say "Cheese," Mr. Condomine.

You!

Don't look so shocked, Charles.

You and I both know there's no such thing as an original story.

- How could you? - Can't you just be quiet?

- I'm trying to make a picture here! - You scheming little witch.

So much for the famous British charm.

♪ I'll be loving you always

- ♪ With a love that's true, always - No. Stop it. No!

- Stop it! No! - Your first novel?

- Greta Garbo speaking my words. - Stop it!

You and I both know there's no such thing as an original story.

Promise you can't touch her.

I'm a woman. We're used to not getting the credit we deserve.

The only person that you love is yourself.

Ooh!

What the hell do you think you're doing?

- You could've killed me! - I just did.

Nobody will ever forget you, Charles.

They'll remember what a fraud you were. Always.

Farewell, Mr. Peasebody!

- You can't just leave me here. - Whoo!

Read all about it! Read all about it!

Murdered British crime writer revealed to be serial plagiarist!

Poor Charles. How dreadful.

It's like a plot from one of his novels.

Or perhaps from someone else's.

Is anybody there? Is anybody there?

One knock for yes, two knocks for no.

Yes, I'm here.

Whatever happened to leaving someone to rest in peace?

Mr. Condomine, I simply wanted to apologize

for any part I may have played in your untimely demise.

You weren't behind the wheel, Madame Arcati.

No, but I fear I may have put fuel in the tank.

Well, c'est la vie.

I also wanted to express my gratitude.

Without you, I would still be searching.

Well, at least one of us is enjoying a happy ending.

May I be so bold as to ask

what it's like on the other side?

- Charles? - Charles?

Complicated!