Original subtitles

You choose your fruit carefully.

You're a big fruit lover, huh?

I'm shopping for a friend.

Oh!

Well then, perhaps you'd like to give her a nice firm banana?

What is your hesitation?

You're worried about being out of wedlock, huh? I could marry you.

I'm a deity in the Hindu religion.

Do you have a name for me? Oh, yes.

And I'm delighted to say that he too is a purveyor of fine foods.

A grocer? Oh, no. Not a lowly grocer.

A chef.

The finest chef in the world.

In fact, some people say his cooking is so good, it's almost supernatural.

He's had an excellent run of good luck, but nothing's free in this world.

And you will be the errand boy sent by a grocery clerk to collect the bill.

What's his name?

Maxwell Gunn.

You asked to see me.

I'm here about your deal. When does it start?

I'm going to lose everything, right?

How do you know that? Why else would you be here two days early?

I'm not here to collect. I'm here to offer you a chance at salvation.

Salvation?

I've been terrified, waiting for the end to come.

I'll do anything.

Anything.

Actually, you're not my first chef. A long time ago,

I collected from a man named Vatel.

The Vatel?

But that was... He died in 1671.

I never met anyone who cared more about one thing

than Battelle cared about making the perfect meal.

But wait, he committed suicide.

His last 48 hours started just as the king arrived to eat his food.

Battelle kept trying to hold on to the devil's gifts right to the very end.

Don't make his mistake.

There's one thing that doesn't make sense to me, though.

Why here? I mean, why not Paris?

North America's the new frontier.

I knew no one could compare to me here.

The devil promised me secrets.

Recipes for delicacies that no one has seen in 2,000 years.

Once news of my abilities began to spread,

people began to fly in from all over the world just for a single meal.

My deal has brought joy into people's lives.

We need to focus on who could have been hurt by your deal.

Someone who got enough bad luck to balance your good luck.

There isn't a chef in the world that doesn't hate me for my success.

Is there someone in particular in Vancouver?

There's one man, Reggie Brooks.

I never thought of it, but he's taken a big fall in the last several years.

I don't even know where he is. Max, Brad has a question about the venison.

Is everything okay?

Fine.

I'm Darla. And you are?

Morgan Pym.

What's your business with Max?

It's a private matter, but I'll call you.

Well, Max's private business is my business, too. I'm his wife.

It's okay, honey. Morgan's an old friend. We were just getting caught up.

Oh, well, if he's an old friend,

then he'll have to come to dinner tonight so we can get to know each other.

We eat at 1 a.m. after the restaurant closes.

Thanks, I don't eat after midnight.

Friends make exceptions.

I can't make it.

Look, Mr. Pym, my husband's been looking over his shoulder for a year now,

and he won't tell me what he's afraid of.

If it's you, I will find out who you are and what you're up to.

And in the meantime, I won't let you get within a mile of Max.

Or you can come to dinner tonight, and we can talk about old times.

Sure.

I'd love to.

Good.

And since this has nothing to do with business, you'll bring a date?

Someone who knows you personally?

As soon as you can.

What was I supposed to do? Tell her you're a messenger from the devil?

I'm gonna find out what I can about Reggie Brooks.

See you at dinner.

Gabe, dinner's ready.

It's Chinese.

Wash your hands.

Actually, I was reading kids are better off eating a little dirt.

It builds up their immune systems,

which makes me feel a lot better about my housekeeping.

You haven't been invited to dinner for centuries. Will you be dressing up? Get out.

I was only bringing you a little something to take to dinner.

It's always good to bring a gift.

I'll skip the poison apples, thanks.

It's not poisoned.

It's my own special variety, plucked, you might say,

from the tree of knowledge you'd rather not have.

Care for a bite?

I have some work to do.

So, have you decided?

Decided what? Whether the possibility of saving

one soul is worth endangering another.

Morgan?

You gonna bring your bike in?

Oh yeah, right.

So how's work?

It's okay.

I took tonight off to study.

For what?

My GED.

Just me, 500 high school dropouts, and a number two pencil.

Oh, right.

So are you any good at algebra?

Want to show me some equations?

Mm-hmm.

I have some work to do.

But I got invited to a dinner tonight by an old friend,

and I'm supposed to bring a date.

Why don't you lay back, buddy?

You think it's something you did at school? I know you didn't touch your dinner.

I was only in Paris once, a family trip when I was 14.

Traveling didn't really bring out the best in us,

but we sort of kept it together until I met a French guy in the hotel lobby.

He was only 16, but he was smoking a Goulasse,

and I thought he was so sophisticated.

I was only gone for a few hours, but my dad had a total meltdown.

So what were we eating? It was delicious.

Thank you. It's not very fancy. It's fried trout.

We had turtle soup and cream chicken for starters.

Does that mean the entree is going to be roast pheasant?

I told you we knew his history.

What history?

This was the menu for the last meal Vatel cooked for Louis XIV.

So, how long have you two been together?

Oh, I'm surprised Morgan didn't fill you in. After all,

he and Max have known each other, what is it?

Ten years.

But we've been out of touch.

Morgan never tells me anything.

Well, I started working for Max about five years ago as a sous chef.

We fell in love on the job and got married a couple years later.

How long have you two been together?

I'm not sure I could put an exact date on it.

Did you meet at your restaurant?

No.

Morgan got me the job there, though.

We actually met.

She saved my life.

I was lost, and she made me feel human again.

Oh, cool.

Looks delicious.

You did yourself again, darling. This looks fantastic.

Thank you.

Please, bon appetit.

Look, I'm sorry about tonight.

It's not your fault your friend's out of his freaking mind.

Or was he really a friend?

I figured he might be one of your hobbies, you know?

Like the ones you seem to pick up all the time.

Like you picked me up.

Don't worry about it. It was nice to spend the evening with you.

Even if I was just providing social cover.

Good night.

Wow.

This is nice.

I know, it's a work in progress,

but change the inside and you'll change the outside. That's what my sponsor says.

Maybe it's the other way around. God, I'd like a drink right now, you know?

When you come home after a weird night,

you just want to relax with a friend or whatever.

Then again, there are other ways to relax.

Such as?

Such as a warm bath.

Maybe you care to join me?

I, uh... I have to get up early tomorrow.

I'll be there as soon as I can. No, it's not Gabe again. Okay, yes it is,

but what do I do? He's sick.

Come on, Gabe. It's just a little of it. What do you want me to do?

Lock him in the closet while I'm gone?

He's a kid.

No, I know it's not your fault. Look, how about I bring

him in with me? He's quiet, he's really neat.

He'd probably just line up everything on the shelves.

But you let Sally bring her daughter in on the weekend.

Why should I...

You say that?

How can you say that about him? Fine.

I'll solve this right now.

I quit.

Okay.

Now if I can give up eating too, we'll be fine.

It was fresh when we put it away last night.

Everything was fresh.

Yeah? Then how did all this fresh food rot overnight?

Well, obviously it didn't.

Someone must have brought it in.

Someone broke into your restaurant, stole nothing, but left bad food.

Look, it's obvious we're being framed.

Anyone can see that. Why else would you just

happen to show up on this particular morning?

Because we had three reports of suspected food poisoning

from people who ate in your restaurant last night.

I have to go for a while.

What? Max, you can't leave now. They're trying to shut us down.

I'm not trying. I'm doing it.

I'm sorry, but I have to go.

Max, for God's sakes, tell me what's going on.

I can't.

Reggie?

Sorry, closed.

What are you doing here? You're one of the best chefs in North America.

Yeah.

Best dog in town, fresh horse meat with a ketchup

mustard glaze and a relish reduction.

Just get the hell out of my way. Look, Mr. Brooks,

we've worked very hard to find you.

We want to help you if you'll let us. Yeah? And who the hell are you?

I know you're not a sous chef.

You're not pretty enough.

I'm an advisor.

Please, Reggie, I need you to tell me, how did you get here? You should know.

My place went out of business because of you.

I had all the high-end customers as regulars,

but they said my food just didn't compare to yours.

So after that, I worked for some other people, but I...

I had some accidents.

Maybe it was the antidepressants. Maybe it was the booze I was mixing them with.

After a while, I couldn't even get arrested.

Or actually, I could a couple of times.

So I didn't have a lot of career options.

I know this cart is crap, I know I'm crazy, but at least I'm cooking, you know?

What am I supposed to do? You have to make him an offer.

Like what, money?

No, it's too easy.

You have to help Reggie get back what he's lost.

You have to help him become a chef again.

How the hell am I supposed to do that in the time I've got left?

I can't offer him a job at my restaurant. The devil just shut it down.

You know other restaurateurs? Other chefs?

Look, it doesn't work like that.

No one that owns a fine restaurant is going to

hire a derelict just because I ask him to.

Well, there must be something you can do. How do you know?

Because.

It's the only rule the devil can't break.

Amends are always possible.

The devil makes his own rules. I think you would have learned that by now.

If there's anything that we can do to help, call me.

I don't know why I did it. It was an okay job,

and I actually had it for three weeks. That's

a record for me. You'll find another job.

Do I complain a lot?

Compared to who?

Well, you, for instance. You're always so upbeat.

Come on, you gotta have something you want to complain about. Pass.

How about Morgan?

What about him?

Well, you're in love with him, right?

Who told you that?

The death laser that you aimed at me when you thought we were dating?

So how's that going?

It isn't.

Why?

Is he gay or something?

I think I can safely say he's into women. So what's the problem?

I don't know.

Sometimes he wants me so bad I can feel it coming off him like heat.

And then he'll turn around and just walk away.

I know it isn't going anywhere,

and that I should blow him off and find someone else, but I don't.

I just keep trying and trying,

because there's this voice in my head that tells me that we're meant for each other,

and I don't even believe in soulmates or destiny or whatever.

And every time I put my heart out there and he steps on it,

I just feel like sticking a needle in my arm,

just stepping off the edge and calling, quit now that I'm straight.

I can't even do that.

Some good complaining.

My boss called him a freak.

That's why I quit.

I think about it, and yeah, it makes sense.

And the only reason I have any meaning in my life is him.

I'm the freak.

Fiddling my apples door to door is proving an excellent way to get new clients.

As I showed Mrs. Highbush the awful truth about herself,

it made her much more open to self-improvement. Stay out of my building.

It's a little late to get territorial, dear boy.

I'm afraid the sanctity of your homestead has already been violated.

They're lowering us to one star.

Do you know what it means for any chef to lose his Michelin rating?

Bernard Loisac committed suicide over it.

Max is the only rated chef in North America. How do you think it makes him feel?

Why are you here, darling?

I want to know who you are.

I want to know why someone powerful enough,

rich enough to control the health department, to control Michelin,

would live in this outhouse.

What makes you think I have anything to do with this?

It started when you came.

What do you have against Max? Why are you destroying him?

I'm not doing it.

You don't think I'm capable of pulling this trigger?

You are wrong. I have done it before.

I will do it again, anything, to save my Max.

Max has to save himself.

Shooting me will only make his situation worse.

He's never kept a secret from me.

I want to know what's going on.

She shot at you?

She thinks she missed, but she meant to kill me.

She seemed to be saying that she's killed before. No, that's impossible. Well,

maybe it would have been impossible without your deal. You think this is my fault?

Reggie Brooks lost his career, but apparently your wife has lost her mind.

Or at least her conscience.

I'm betting that's the bad luck from the deal.

Do you know where she is?

No, I haven't seen her all day.

How did you meet her?

I was visiting the Culinary Institute here. She was a student, a brilliant one.

Said she wanted to be my sous chef one day.

But she already had a sous chef, Marie LaChapelle.

I did some research. LaChapelle died about five years ago.

I couldn't have been.

The police said it was a gang shooting outside of a club. Wrong place, wrong time.

I think it was Darla. No.

The devil can influence people to make choices if they're vulnerable.

She obviously idolizes you. He played on that. It wasn't her fault.

What can I do?

Find her.

Then we can talk about amends.

I just wanted to be close to you.

Yeah. I want to talk to you about last night.

Some other time.

Look.

I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have taken you to that dinner.

I don't care about the dinner.

God, I have spent a lot of time thinking about what a bastard you are,

but if you knew the things I'd done, you wouldn't be knocking on my door.

You hate me.

Nothing you can do could make me hate you.

I don't know if I ever told you,

but I used to get strung out first thing in the morning when I was on the streets.

It didn't affect me like it did my friends. It put me in this kind of dream world.

I mean, I could tell what was really happening,

but at the same time, I was somewhere else.

Let me do what I needed to do to stay alive,

and later I'd forget about what I let people do to me.

But today, I remembered something.

I was with that guy I told you about, Lucas Milford, the one that got me hooked.

One day, we didn't have any money to buy, you know, so the dealer, big surprise,

wouldn't give it to us on credit.

So Lucas jumped him.

He stomped him.

His head. There was blood everywhere. And I just let him do it.

We left him there in the streets. He was dying.

But I didn't call 911.

Didn't tell anybody.

I shot up and forgot.

What kind of person could do that?

Come on, Gabe.

You love this stuff. There's enough fat and cholesterol

on this table to kill an elephant.

Gabe, you haven't eaten anything in a whole day. You're gonna get sick.

Then you're gonna faint during P.E., and your principal's gonna give me detention.

Enough already.

It's not poison, see?

Mmm, mmm.

Yeah, tastes good.

Gabe, you can't do this.

Things are screwed up enough as it is.

We gotta keep the basics together. We gotta sleep, we gotta get dressed.

And we gotta eat. Now, eat something.

Gabe. Gabe, please.

Care for some crudités?

Try the carrots. Very good for the eyes.

I don't know why you're bothering with all this research.

I don't think your client wants to talk to you.

He'll call.

Surely, it must have occurred to you that he may be willing to go to hell

rather than risk exposing his beloved wife to a police investigation.

Is that what you're planning? You're going to expose her murder?

By Jove, no, not a bit of it. Unlike you, I'm very considerate of women.

Yeah, that's why I gave Maya the black apple.

I didn't give it to her. She paid 35 cents a pound on special.

And dredging up the past is part of that 12-step mumbo-jumbo she's up to.

I'm just pitching in.

You're rigging the game.

Punishing her by trying to distract me from saving my clients. You see?

This is exactly your problem.

You've lost all sense of perspectives on these mortals.

Maya leaves a man to die in an alley, and you blame me for bringing it up.

Some people are just evil, you know?

Doing evil things doesn't make a person evil.

You'd like to believe that, wouldn't you?

Yeah.

Morgan Pym, Reggie Brooks.

Mr. Brooks, what can I do for you?

You can tell me the real reason you and Maxwell Gunn came to see me.

I told you, Maxwell wants to help you. Oh, that's a lie.

Everything about this guy is a lie. Like he tells

everybody he's from here, but he's not.

I don't know what you mean.

Every article about him talks about how he was born and raised here.

The media just bought into his lies.

I didn't start thinking about it until he came to see me,

but I've always known it was just a load of BS.

So where did he come from?

Where else do chefs like him come from? Paris.

And how long ago was this?

I don't know, years. I was still on top then. Maybe nine, ten years ago.

What else do you know about him?

Oh yeah, I bet you'd like to know, wouldn't you?

Exactly what kind of an advisor are you? Is this some kind of mob thing?

I told you, I'm just trying to help. Yeah, well, you know what?

I'm going to help myself.

Maxwell Gunn drove me out of business,

and now I am going to expose that prick for the fraud he is. Mr. Brooklyn.

Hello.

You don't have much time left, Mr. Gunn.

We'd have a better shot at saving your soul if you'd start telling me the truth.

I already know you moved here at the start of your deal and the devil covered it up.

What else should I know? Yes, it's best if you know the truth.

I'm at the restaurant.

Darling, I love.

No problem is so big that it can't be solved with a good glass of champagne.

Anchovies Savina.

That's the appetizer Vitello was planning to serve the day he died.

I was a good chef, you know, before I made my deal.

Not a great chef, but a good one. Where's Darla?

She killed someone to work with me.

When she confessed, you know what she was ashamed of?

She was ashamed that she couldn't cook as well as me, even when she used my recipes.

She was ashamed she'd let me down. We still have some time.

We can save her, and you too. How?

I turned my wife into a murderer. How do I make up for that?

Let's talk to her.

We'll figure something out.

Where is she, Max?

Tarla isn't my first wife, you know?

I had another.

Colette.

I met her in cooking school.

She was a pastry chef. So talented.

How could we create paintings to the smallest

detail out of the most delicate frosting?

I loved her so much.

But I wanted to be a great chef more than anything.

So I made my meal.

My first deal.

Your first?

No one remembers now.

The devil covered it all up.

But I was the greatest chef in Paris.

I cooked for kings. No one could even touch me.

Till the last two days.

It all started to come apart.

It was horrible.

The terror of knowing the end was coming.

I prayed to God, and he didn't answer. I said I'd

do anything to save my soul, anything he asked.

But in the end, it wasn't God that made me an offer.

The devil offered to renew your deal.

At what price?

He said I had to kill Colette.

And I did.

I did.

Where is Darla, Max?

You said you wanted to know the truth.

Max?

Max, what the hell are you doing?

Max, open the door.

The truth is, the truth is he offered to renew again a few hours ago. No.

He can't do this, Max. Come on.

I'm sorry.

He said that you did the same thing.

That you sacrificed the woman that you love to stay out of hell. I didn't kill her.

He did.

Judge me if you want.

But it's what I have to do.

You can't win, Mac.

If you kill Darla today, you'll still go to hell. I'm your only chance.

There is no chance.

Not for me.

Max?

Max? Max!

Max, open the door!

Whoa!

It's colder than January in Delhi in here.

Another hour, and you'll be a collector sickle.

There have to be rules.

Rules are for children's games.

This is impossible.

You can't just condemn innocent people to death.

Well, Darla's hardly innocent.

She killed that poor sous-chef in the prime of her sauce-making ability.

So I thought it only fair to make cooking her a condition of Maxwell's new deal.

I actually got the idea from your Christian deity.

Body of Christ, body of Christ, body of Christ.

Personally, I always thought transubstantiation smacked of cannibalism.

So how long does he plan to have me locked up?

Another 30 years. What?

Well, he's rather fond of Darla. I had to sweeten the deal with a triple renewal.

Of course, he'll have to offer me another sacrifice every 10 years.

I had the same arrangement with the Phoenicians.

Well, actually, he made me promise that I'd keep anyone

from stumbling over you as long as he's alive.

It drives a very hard bargain.

Wouldn't it be easier for you?

A 30-year vacation from all your regrets?

All those thoughts of Katrina that plague you every night?

Sorry, no pun intended.

Because I have nothing else.

I promised no one would find you by accident.

I didn't promise to keep away people who know you're here.

Morgan, we have to talk to the police. He tried to kill you.

Look, I can't explain it.

Thank you for saving my life again.

When I, uh...

When I killed Colette, I had to boil her head to get the flash off.

One of her eyes floated to the surface like she was looking at me, pleading with me.

But it was too late.

Too late. I said to myself that it was okay, because she was innocent.

Because she was going to go to heaven.

I've been thinking, what if that wasn't right?

What if she had secrets like darling?

Goodbye, my love.

Thanks.

Grape?