Original subtitles

Greetings, ladies and gentlemen!

Welcome to my acting debut

in the hamlet known as Metropolis.

Thank you, thank you!

This is the first in my series of one-man shows

about iconic historical moments from the point of view

of someone who was not there.

Tonight's performance of Pearl Harbor

features Giovanni,

a salt of the earth cobbler in Napoli, Italy,

who died fully 20 years

before the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.

This shoe looks pretty good.

I love the way it shine.

Hey, I'mma wonder what's happening in Pearl Harbor

twenty years from now.

Oh, well, back to work.

I have been up all night,

awaiting the early edition of the Daily Planet

reviewing my one-man show!

Ah!

Magic time!

Hmm. Didn't make the front page, I see.

Well, no matter.

They probably saved the best for last.

"Mister Face's wildly problematic adaptation

of Pearl Harbor is as flawed

as his Italian hate crime of an accent."

Oh, wait, hold on. That is not right.

Ah, here we go, here we go.

"Mister Face is phenomenally talented...

at making you wish you had never been born."

Fret not, ol' chap. I know what you're thinking.

That we should've domesticated raccoons instead of cats?

No! That I must confront the topmost brass

at the Daily Planet!

This isn't over, Pamela.

Okay. It was just a dream.

It was just a dream. He's dead. He's--

It's over.

Morning, Ives. You sleep okay?

Uh...

I... I've definitely slept better.

- Oh, God. Thank you. - Mwah.

So, you remember last night, when I asked you

how your day was, and you said, "It was fine"?

Ye... Yeah?

Did you maybe forget to mention the tiny bit

where you met your toxic, abusive, ugly ex

and then murdered his ass?

What the fu-- They just called me a "freak accident."

You know, the media? They hate women.

I... I can explain.

So you killed Jason Woodrue

in the same exact way he killed you?

In the same exact way that he tried to kill me.

And yet I'm still here. And he's not.

Sweetie, I'm not done with that.

I... I just wasn't done.

- Swe-- - Oh, really? Really?

I didn't know because you didn't tell me!

Harls, okay, let me just clarify,

'cause me not telling you about Jason

has nothing to do with you. It's just--

It's just that you didn't share this huge moment of reckoning

with one of the most traumatic incidents in your past

with your partner, who loves you.

Sweetie? I didn't want you to worry.

I love worrying!

I worry about shit all the time.

Like, will there be a berry crisis in the future?

Can people see my mustache in the sun?

Will my girlfriend be honest with me

when she's going through something,

so I can help her process it?

It's not-- There's nothing to process.

How did you feel about killing him?

Did you get closure? Did you have a chance

to vent your anger and tell him he's a piece of shit?

Aw, shit.

Look, my presentation for the Green Initiative

is in an hour, and I gotta, you know,

take care of some stuff before, and, you know--

Yeah, you gotta take your morning shit.

- Yeah. Yeah. - See?

Isn't it easier when you just say things?

Harley, you can be mad at me if you want to,

but it still mean a lot to me

if you could just come to my presentation and support me.

Okay. But this Jason thing--

Honey, uh, we gotta go.

I gotta go. I... I actually have to go.

We gotta talk about this later.

This conversation isn't over!

Oh, wait, you just said that. Ugh!

Lois, enough with your claptrap.

I wanna hear more about this dead professor.

Police only found a pile of goo.

- Called it a freak accident. - I've been--

- In Metropolis? Ridiculous. - This is what--

This city is damn near perfect.

Something's fishy here.

That's exactly what I told you!

I walked in and I said, "Something's fishy here."

I think you got that from me.

I must speak to the editor-in-chief!

That's me. What do you want?

I demand a retraction.

Good luck with that. Bye.

This must be a mistake.

"The only thing worse than the acting

in Mister Face's one-man show

is the casting!"

Have you no taste?

This is an attack on the theater.

Nay, nay. This is an attack on art itself.

Fuck off, I heard the play was terrible.

Not worse than gout, but damn near.

Trust me, I know gout.

No, that cannot be your final word.

You must come to this evening's performance

and write me an unbiased review.

The only way that dog crap show gets a good review

is if you write it yourself.

That's brilliant!

Wow. Can't believe Professor Woodrue exploded.

Good news is I can probably get an extension

on my paleo-botany paper.

So, as you can see here,

by linking the soil beds

with the city's existing subterranean water supply,

we can intertwine greenery and chrome seamlessly,

giving new meaning to the term "urban jungle."

Hey, I'm here to unconditionally support you.

But we still need to talk.

Uh, thank you. Um, so anyway,

uh, Metropolis has a long way to go,

but as with everything, this green revolution

will start with the "seed" of an idea.

Seed.

Laugh, ya weenies!

I have a question.

- What the fuck? Stop it. - You heard her, stop laughing.

They won't do that again, continue.

Uh, excuse me. I just was a little nervous.

It's just public speaking, I guess.

- So, where were we? - Right here.

I'm coming for you.

Ah!

This is not real. This is not happening.

Uh, Ive?

Class dismissed, ya nerds.

Ive-- Ivy!

Hey, you're doing great.

Those weenies were writing down every word you said

and I didn't understand any of it,

which means it was real intellectual stuff.

I... I think I'm going out of my mind.

Yes, okay. See, I don't like

how we left things this morning either.

No. No, it's not that-- I mean, yes.

But, right now, I just--

I really need to get myself together.

You know what? You probably need to eat.

We should get lunch and talk it out.

No. I'm not hungry, really--

Ives, whatever is going on, you can tell me. Please.

Nothing is going on. I just feel like I'm going...

Going to need to go into The Green real quick. Okay?

I'm gonna need to meditate.

Fine. I guess I'll just go eat lunch by myself

like some kind of sad asshole.

- Thank you for understanding. - Ugh. Shit.

Oh.

Ew. What is that?

Ugh. Okay.

Jason is dead.

You are safe.

You just need to get some sleep.

Oh.

Well, hi to you, too, little fella.

Aw. Look at you.

Oh!

Is that what you wanted to show me?

That's a beautiful, beautiful white oak.

Yeah.

Huh?

What the fuck?

- Jason? - Oh, no, no.

Now I go by...

Floronic Man!

You look...

fucking terrible.

Oh. Would you feel more comfortable

if I did this?

Somehow that's much worse.

You're right, I'm way hotter now.

How... How are you here?

Because of you.

Your vines, combined with the toxic gases,

turned me into this.

You know, at first, I was a little pissed.

But I did a lot of thinking

since you left me to die yesterday,

and I realized why you did this to me.

You wanted me to be just like you.

You're nothing like me!

Huh?

You're right. I'm much, much, much,

much stronger than you.

Where do you think you're going?

Why are you doing this?

Well, I'd love to tell you that this was all

part of some master plan

to take over Metropolis and then the world.

But the truth is, I just really wanted to kill you.

Okay, Ivy. I gave you your time,

I gave you your space, but we gotta hash this out.

Nothing is more important than honesty in a relationship

and the honest truth is,

I am so freakin' verklempt right now--

Ives?

Ah!

Ives, wake up.

Ivy!

Now, to craft an unbiased review

of my own one-man show.

The terror of the blank page.

Mr. White, I now know why they pay you

the big bucks to do this.

I don't know what you're fucking playing at,

you son of a bitch.

I bit my tongue. Again.

Hmm.

It appears my subconscious is suggesting

I may need the help of a literary giant.

Jesus Christ.

Clayface, I had to take three trains,

a ferry, and a pedicab to get here.

Is this even part of Metropolis?

As you can see, Mr. White,

I settled for a literal giant

instead of a literary one.

That sucks.

I'm flattered, although I'm not sure

what you're hoping I can bring to the project.

Grammar!

I will supply the words, but you will put in

the requisite periods and commas.

Hmm. Or stack them for a semicolon.

I read your blog post entitled My Hemorrhoid Surgery.

Brilliant!

Your prose was so evocative,

sharp as the scalpel they used

to remove your swollen anal masses.

If you can do that for your rectum,

imagine what you can do for my Pearl Harbor extravaganza.

I specialize in 'stravaganzas.

Brilliant!

But don't spill your seed on the ground,

save it for the page.

And so we begin.

The year was...

not relevant,

for it was timeless in that black box theatre

upon which Clayface strode.

That's pretty good, maybe you should just write it.

- No. Make it your own. - Okay.

- But say exactly this. - Mmm.

"Not since the immortal bard of Stratford-upon-Avon

has the world witnessed a show the equal of Macbeth...

- Oh, hold on how do I get-- - Until now."

All the little bars are jammed on each other. Damn it!

Hmm. What is a synonym for "transcendent"?

Mmm.

What is an unpretentious word for "unrivaled"?

Oh, God. Kill me. Kill me!

Can we beat the word "unbeatable"?

No.

Ha-ha!

I think it's pretty good.

Should we proof it?

I don't need to proof it,

I lived it.

And I happen to know that...

Mr. White is ready to publish it as-is!

Terrible. I don't sound like that.

What the fuck is going on?

This isn't working.

I don't know anything about plant shit.

Ah!

I should've listened to your boring lecture this morning.

Help. Help. Hello?

Is anyone here?

God damn it. Who knows about this crap?

Hello-- Mmm.

Harley, goddamn. This better be some end-of-the-world shit

if you're pullin' me away from my lady.

I was just about to get my fertilize on.

Listen, Ivy's in trouble.

And how long you been sitting on that little nugget?

What the fuck is goin' on with Ivy?

She went into The Green and she's--

Oh, shit! Something in there is fucking her up bad.

Hold on, I'm gonna take a peek.

Ah!

Ha!

Holy fucking ravioli.

Ah!

I always knew you were a monster, Jason,

even before you looked like one.

I'm gonna kill you, for good this time.

Unlikely. You've really lost your touch, Pamela.

Okay, I found out a few things.

There's a guy who looks like a tree in there,

Jason-something, tryin' to kill Ivy.

And let me tell you something, this man is succeeding.

Jason?

Wait, that's Ivy's ex. She killed him last night.

Oh, yeah, he definitely ain't dead.

You need to go find his unconscious body

and torch his ass.

Wait a minute, wait a minute, the article in the Daily Planet

said they found his remains in the lab.

You think he might've gone back to the scene of the crime?

Shit. You know what? It's worth a shot.

I'm gonna go to The Green and stall him

so he doesn't kill Ivy before you find her.

Hurry, Harley. Let's go.

Ugh. Okay, hold on, Ives. I'll save you!

Listen up, Newspaper Folk.

I have in my hands perhaps the finest piece of writing

- I have ever writted-- read. - Well, that's pretty--

This "Bane" is the greatest investigative theater critic

- of our generation. - Wait, I don't--

He called Clayface's one-man show

- "A phantasmic triumph." - Oh--

Now that's just good writing.

This is the kinda content we need.

- Well, you gotta try to-- - Get to work!

All right, let me call you back.

Perry, there's something funny going on in this city.

Well, Pearl Harbor is more of a drama,

but it does have its share of chuckles.

Not that.

There have been several sightings

of an unidentified flying object

in Metropolis' air space.

Yeah, I almost got a photo of it,

but my lens cap was on. Sorry.

You had one job, Jimmy.

And on top of that, we're getting various reports

of people being plagued by nightmares about a skull.

There's a story here, Perry. I can smell it.

I just need the green-light from you.

Yes, but no.

It's not the job of a journalist to ask questions.

It's our job to spotlight local artistic brilliance!

Like this Clayface fella. He's simply blowing up.

But, Perry, I know this is just the tip of the iceberg.

I am not playing "just the tip" with you, Miss Lane.

I have some questions about this dental plan.

Does it, uh, cover adult braces?

No!

Miss Lane, let me introduce you to our new lead columnist

who, like Napoleon and Cher, Moby,

needs only one name, and that name is--

Bane? Bane is our lead columnist?

Pleased to meet you.

I understand we are going to share a cubicle?

You've got to be kidding me!

Ah!

Hey, broccoli man, over here!

Why don't you pick on a plant your own damn size?

Frank! No.

- Get outta here! - I got this, Ivy.

Frank?

Wait, wait, wait, wait. This is baby Frank?

Who you callin' baby? I'm a grown-ass plant.

Who the fuck are you?

I am--

Floronic Man. Can you believe that name?

What the fuck is a floronic man?

More like a moronic man. You heard that?

How dare--

You know what? I am not going to engage.

I am just going to do this.

Ah!

You know, when I first saw you,

you were just a little sapling in the lab,

so full of potential, a living marvel.

The perfect mesh of human and plant DNA.

And now, you've turned into this.

Pathetic.

Wha-- You listen here, you little birch,

no one talks to Frank like that.

Except for Rosie, and I pay her to do that shit.

God damn it, and that was my good tooth.

Ah!

What the--

Now where is that splinter dick's lab?

- Mmm-hmm. Oh. - Yup, yup.

Good, good, good, good.

- Ooh. - Hold it. Okay.

And cum.

All right, time to orgasm, 17.5 minutes.

Uh, wrong lab, but I do love whatever this is.

Ah! What is--

Oh, wait. Yep, that's helium.

Another sex experiment?

No, we're just having sex.

God! I miss grad school.

Ah!

There you are, you son of a bitch!

- I love you, Ivy! - I love you, too, Frank.

If I don't make it through this,

you know how you always lose your lipstick?

- Yeah. - I've been eatin' 'em.

All of them? Those are fucking expensive!

Enough with the goddamn lipstick.

Ah!

Goodbye, my Sweet Pamela.

Ah!

Wha--

Oh, my God. Are you good?

No.

I'm fuckin' great.

The fuck, Frank? They discontinued that one.

You!

You psychotic, clown, skank bitch!

Rude.

I liked you better when you were unconscious.

Timber!

I have always wanted to say that.

Why. Won't. You. Just. Die. Already?

Ew!

Are you dead?

Oh, you're dead.

Ives? Ivy?

Holy shit, Harls.

You saved me.

Well, of course, I did.

Listen, I'm so sorry I made this whole thing about me.

When you didn't tell me about Jason,

it just got to me, 'cause you shouldn't hide things

from the people you love.

No. You're right, Harls.

I should've told you everything.

And I realize that this...

This isn't something that I could just,

you know, sweep under the rug.

Well, good news is we have plenty of wood

for the bedroom fireplace.

It is actually electric.

Just 'cause of, um, the carbon footprint.

But, yes.

- Huh? - Whoa. Whoa.

Look, assholes, I don't know what you think you're doing,

but he was the bad guy.

Yeah, where were you ten minutes ago?

We did your job for you. You're welcome.

Are you guys gonna move or are you gonna-- Wha--

- What the shit? - Where the hell are we?

What are we going to do with them, Koko?

Indeed.