All language subtitles for Equus.1977.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC

Afterwards, he says,

they always embrace.

The animal digs his sweaty brow
into his cheek,

and they stand in the dark for an hour,

like a necking couple.

And of all nonsensical things,

I keep thinking about the horse,

not the boy,

the horse,

and what he might be trying to do.

I keep seeing the huge head,

kissing him with its chained mouth,

nudging, through the metal,

some desire absolutely irrelevant

to filling its belly
or propagating its own kind.

What desire could this be?

Not to stay a horse any longer?

Not to remain reined up forever,

in those particular genetic strings?

Is it possible, at certain moments
we cannot imagine,

a horse can add its sufferings together,

the non-stop jerks and jabs

that are its daily life...

And turn them

into grief?

What use is grief...

To a horse?

You see...

I'm lost.

What use, I should be asking,
are questions like these

to an overworked psychiatrist
in a provincial hospital?

They're worse than useless.

They are, in fact,

subversive.

The thing is...

I'm wearing that horse's head myself,

all reined up in old language
and old assumptions,

straining to jump, clean-hooved,

onto a whole new track of being

I only suspect is there.

I can't see it, because my educated,

average head is being held
at the wrong angle.

I can't jump, because the bit forbids it,
and my own basic force,

my...

Horsepower, if you like...

Is too little.

The only thing I know for sure, is this.

A horse's head is finally unknowable to me.

Yet I handle children's heads,

which I must presume to
be more complicated,

at least in the area of my chief concern.

In a way, it has nothing to do with this boy.

The doubts have been there for years,

piling up steadily in this dreary place.

It's only the extremity of this case
that's made them active.

I know that the extremity is the point.

All the same, whatever the reasons,

these doubts are now
not just vaguely worrying,

but... but intolerable!

Forgive me.

I'm not making much sense.

Let me start properly, in order.

All right.

Come on. Break it up. Come on!

...Through this gate, into another field.
I couldn't see it,

but I knew I had to get through that gate.
If I could get through it,

then that was it, I could see everything.

All right. All right.

Take one, Mary Ann.

I don't want one.

Mary Ann, come on.

Don't bother me.

You don't have to listen to them
all the time.

Oh, I know, but, uh...

- Why not?
- You want one, take one.

Stop being so ignorant!

All right. All right, now. Settle down.

...Sucking it up?

That's no good. Shall we smash it?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

No.

No?

Come on, we'll smash it.

No.

All right, now. Now pick up your right leg.

No.

Pick up your right leg, man.

Why?

Because you'd please me
a great deal if you did.

I said, "No"!

Come on. Up.

Now scream! Jab it! Louder. Go on!

Scream! Scream!

That's it.

It began one Monday,
some months ago,

with Hesther's visit.

Martin, I'm sorry.
I should have called first, I know.

Not at all. You're a welcome relief.

Have a filthy coffee?

No, please, no.

It's really rather urgent.

Take a couch.

Martin, I've just come from
the most shocking case I ever tried.

My fellow magistrates wanted to send him
to prison on the spot.

I mean, luckily,
I got him remanded for a report.

Who's he?

A teenager. The name's Strang.

Ah.

What's he done? Dosed some
little girl's Pepsi with Spanish fly?

What could possibly have thrown your court
into such tory convulsions?

He...

Blinded 6 horses with a metal spike.

- Blinded?
- Yes.

All at once, or over a period?

All at once, the night before last.

Where?

In a stable over at Chalk Ford.
He worked there on weekends.

What did he say in court?

Nothing. He just sang.

Sang?

Martin, you've simply got to take him here.

You think this hospital is suitable?
How dangerous is he?

No, I mean, you, personally.

Now look, Hesther,
before you say anything else,

I can take no more patients at the moment.

I can't even cope with the ones I have.

- You must.
- Why?

Thank you. Oh, for... damn!

Hello, Pat?

Yes. Now, my advice is,
cancel her leave for a month.

See what difference that makes to her dad.
Yes, exactly.

Now, why?

Because there's no one else
within 100 miles of that desk

who can handle him,
and perhaps understand

what this is all about.

The regular hospital will be useless,

and so will the other doctors here.

That's an absolutely
unwarrantable statement.

Well, it's true.

They'll be very cool and professional,

and underneath, they'll be disgusted
and immovably English,

just like my court.

Well, what am I? Polynesian?

Please, Martin.

This is the last favor I'll ever ask of you.

- No, it's not.
- No, it's not.

I mean, he's obviously abominable.
I know that already.

Why me? Why, Hesther?

'Cause there's something
extraordinary about him.

In what way?

Terrible, if you like.

I don't quite know what I'm saying. I'm...

Just knew I had to come here.

Take him, Martin. It's very important.

What did I expect of him?

Very little, I promise you.

One more dented little face.

One more adolescent freak.

The usual unusual.

Now, this room
will be completely yours.

No one will come in without your say so.

There's a bell if you need anything.

There's a lavatory down the corridor,
2nd door on the left.

I think this is one of the nicest rooms

in the whole place. Don't you, Mr. Pearce?

Absolutely.

Sometimes, I blame Hesther.

She brought him to me.

But of course, that's nonsense.

What is he but a last straw?

A last symbol. That's all.

I was ripe for the confrontation.

Alan Strang, Doctor.

Ah, thank you.

Hello.

My name's, uh, Martin. Yours is Alan.

Won't you sit down?

For today, I just want a few simple facts.

Uh, is... is this your full name?

Alan Strang?

And you're 17, is that right? 17?

You work in an electrical shop
during the week.

Electrical and kitchenware.

Well?

Double Your Pleasure
Double your fun

With Double-good, Double-good
doublemint gum

Yes.

Now let's see, you live with your parents,
and your father's a printer.

What sort of things does he print?

Double Your Pleasure
Double your fun

With Double-good, Double-good
doublemint gum

I mean, does he do leaflets, calendars?
Things like that?

Try the taste of martini

The most beautiful drink in the world

It's the bright one
The right one, that's martini

I wish you'd sit down if you're going to sing.

Don't you think you'd be more comfortable?

There's only one "T" in typhoo

In packets and in teabags, too

Any way you make it
You'll know that it's true

There's only one "T" in typhoo

That's a good song.

I like that better than the other two.
Sing that one again.

Double Your Pleasure
Double your fun

With Double-good, Double-good

Now, listen.

This is not a loony bin. It's not a prison.

If you behave yourself,

you'll have a reasonably all right time.

If you don't, you'll be packed off
to a mental hospital,

and you'll find things much more restricted.

So it's up to you.

You'll be seeing me every day.

Your session will last exactly 45 minutes.

And I expect you to be absolutely on time.
All right?

By the way...

Which of your parents is it who won't allow
you to watch television?

Mother?

Father?

Or is it both?

Come in, David.

Uh, take Strang, here, on a tour of the...

Hospital, before lunch.

You'll find it quite pleasant.

There's a piano room,

a darkroom for photographers,

even a television room.

3 nights later, I had this very specific dream.

In it, I am a chief priest in Homeric Greece.

I'm wearing a wide gold mask,
all noble and bearded,

like the so-called mask of Agamemnon,
found at Mycenae.

I'm standing by a thick, round stone,
holding a sharp knife.

In fact, I'm officiating in some

immensely important ritual sacrifice

on which depends the fate of the crops,

or of a military expedition.

The sacrifice is a herd of children,

about 500 boys and girls
stretching in a long queue,

across the plain of Argos.

I know it's Argos, because of the red soil.

On either side of me
stand two assistant priests,

wearing masks as well...

Lumpy, pop-eyed masks,

such as were also found at Mycenae.

They're enormously strong, these priests,

and absolutely tireless.

As each child steps forward,

they grab it from behind
and throw it over the stone.

Then, with a surgical skill

that amazes even me, I fit in the knife,

and slice elegantly down to the navel,

just like a seamstress following a pattern.

I part the flaps, sever the inner tubes,

yank them out and throw them,
hot and steaming, on the floor.

The other two then study
the patterns they make,

as if they're reading hieroglyphics.

It's obvious to me that I'm tops,

as chief priest.

It's this unique talent for carving
that's got me where I am.

The only thing is,

unknown to the others,

I'm beginning to feel distinctly nauseous.

And with each victim, it's getting worse.

My face is going green behind the mask.

Of course, I redouble my efforts
to look professional,

cutting and snipping for all I'm worth,

mainly because I know
that if those two others

so much as suspect my distress,

and the implied doubt that this repetitive
and smelly work

is doing any social good at all,

then I'd be next over the stone.

And then, of course,
the damn mask begins to slip.

The priests both turn and look at it.

Their gold pop-eyes suddenly fill with blood.

They tear the knife from my hand, and I...

I wake up.

Mrs. Strang,

have you any idea
how this could have occurred?

No, Doctor. It's all so unbelievable.

Alan was always such a gentle boy. Always.

And he loves animals, especially horses.

Thank you.

- Especially?
- Yes.

He even has a picture of one,
up in his bedroom.

His father gave it to him a few years ago,

off a calendar he'd had printed,

and the boy's never taken it down.

And, uh, when he was, uh, seven or eight,

I used to have to read the same book to him,
over and over again,

all about a horse.

Really?

It was called prince,
and no one could ride him.

You say he kept the picture of the horse
in his bedroom?

Yes.

Could I see it?

Yes. Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

- Uh...
- Thank you.

It's, uh... Uh, please, it's this way.

Uh, I do remember telling him
one very odd thing.

Did you know, Doctor,
that when the Christian cavalry

first appeared in the new world,

the pagans thought that horse
and rider was one person?

- One person?
- Yes.

Of course.

Actually, they thought it must be a God.

In here, please.

This is Alan's room.

Remarkable.

Yes.

Mrs. Strang, is there...

Anything else you can remember
you told him about horses?

Anything at all?

Oh, well, they're in the Bible of course.

"He saith among the trumpets, ha-ha!"

"Ha-ha"?

The Book of Job.

Such a noble passage.

Do you know it?

"Hast thou given the horse strength?

"Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?

"The glory of his nostrils is terrible.

"He saith among the trumpets,

"Ha-Ha!"

That's marvelous.

Yes.

Yes... Oh, there's Mr. Strang now.

Uh, Frank,
I've got the doctor here.

We'll come down.

Uh...

He's very upset.

You understand, of course?

Uh, this is Dr. Dysart, dear.

Mr. Strang. How do you do?

I was just telling Dr. Dysart, dear,

how... how Alan always adored horses.

Oh, yes?

Yeah, in fact, we've always been
a very horsey family.

Uh, well, uh, my side of it has.

Uh, my uncle used to ride every morning
on the downs behind Brighton,

all dressed up in a bowler hat and jodhpurs.
He used to look splendid.

Uh, "indulging in equitation," he called it.

Uh, I remember telling Alan

how that word came from "equus."

"Equus"?

The Latin word for "horse."

Oh, yeah.

Alan was absolutely
fascinated by that word, I know.

I suppose because he'd never come across
one with two "u"s together before.

My dear, have you offered
the doctor a cup of tea?

Oh, no, no, dear, I haven't. Oh.

You must be dying for one. Excuse me.

Oh, yes.

My, uh,

my wife has, uh,

romantic ideas, if you receive my meaning.

About her family?

Yes. She thinks she married beneath her.

I dare say, she did.
I don't understand these things myself.

Would you say that she's closer
to the boy than you are?

Oh, they've always been as thick as thieves.

I can't say I entirely approve...

Especially when I hear her reading
that Bible to him,

night after night, up there in his room.

You mean, she's, uh, religious?

Some might say excessively so.

Mind you, that is her business, but, uh...

When it comes to dosing it down
the boy's throat,

well, frankly, he's my son as well as hers.

Bloody religion.

Well, it's our only real problem
in this house,

but I... it's insuperable.
I don't mind admitting it.

You must excuse my husband, Doctor.

This one subject is something
of an obsession with him.

Isn't it, dear? You must admit.

Call it what you like.
All that stuff, to me, is just bad sex.

What has that got to do with Alan?

Everything. Everything, Dora.

I don't understand. What are you saying?

Mr. Strang, exactly how informed

would you judge your son to be, about sex?

I don't know.

You didn't actually instruct him yourself?

Well, not in so many words, no.

Uh, did you, Mrs. Strang?

Well, I spoke a little. Yes, I had to.

Oh, let me help you.

Uh, what sort of things did you tell him?

I'm sorry if this is embarrassing.

Uh, I told him the biological facts.

But I also told him what I believed,

that sex is not just a biological matter,
but a spiritual one as well,

that if God willed,
he would fall in love one day.

Uh, sugar?

Yes, thank you.

Uh, that his task was to prepare himself

for the most important happening of his life.

And after that, if he was lucky,

he would come to know a higher love, still.

There, now. There, now, Dora.
Dora, it's all right. Come on.

Oh, God. Laugh. Laugh, as usual.

No one is laughing, Dora.

Dora.

Equus.

Eh...

Equus!

Equus! Equus!

Eq... Equus! Equus!

Equus!

Suddenly, I realized whose face
I'd seen in my dream.

On every victim across the stone,

it was his stare accusing me.

But what of?

Well...

How are you this morning?

Sorry if I gave you a start last night, I...

I was collecting some papers
from my office,

and I thought I'd look in on you.

Do you dream often?

Do you?

It's my job to ask the questions,
yours to answer them.

- Says who?
- Says me.

Do you dream often?

Do you?

Now, look, Alan...

I'll answer if you answer.

In turns.

Very well.

Only, we have to speak the truth.

Very well.

So.

Do you dream often?

Yes.

- Do you?
- Yes.

Do you have a special dream?

No.

Do you?

Yes. What was your dream about last night?

Can't remember. What's yours about?

I said, the truth.

That is the truth. What's yours about?
The special one.

Carving up children.

It's my turn.

What is your first memory of a horse?

I can't remember.

You have no recollection of the first time
you ever noticed a horse?

I just told you. It's my turn.

All right.

Are you married?

I am.

Is she a doctor, too?

My turn.

What, uh...

What is, uh, "Eq"?

You shouted it out in your sleep last night.

I thought perhaps you might like
to talk about it.

Plop, plop, fizz, fizz

Oh, what a relief it is

Plop, plop

Come on now, Alan,
you can do better than that.

So, Double Your pleasure
double your fun

You Can Double Everything
Rolled into one, one

All right, good morning.

What do you mean?

We're finished for today.

Only had five minutes.

Too bad.

Didn't you hear me? I said, "Good morning."

Well, that's not fair.

- No?
- No.

The government pays
you £50 an hour to see me.

I know, I heard, downstairs.

So, go back downstairs
and hear some more.

That's not fair.

You're a swizz.

Bloody swizz! Swizz!

Do I have to call a nurse?

She puts a finger on me, and I'll bash her.

She'll bash you a damn sight harder,
I can assure you of that.

Now, go.

On a beach.

What?

Where I first saw a horse.

Sod.

How old were you?

How should I know? Six.

What were you doing there?

Nothing.

Digging.

Sandcastles?

Well, what else?

Go on.

That's a terrific castle.

It must've taken a long time to build.

You can stroke him if you like.
He won't mind.

His name's Trojan. Easy there, Troj.

Easy, boy.

Easy there, Trojan.

Oh, you can hardly reach from down there.
You want to come up?

Come on, then.

No, come round this side.

You always mount a horse from the left.

I'll give you a lift up, okay?

Now, do nothing at all.

Easy, boy! Easy!

Don't be frightened, now.

Hold on tight to his mane
and grip with your knees.

That's it. Come on, now. Let's go.

Do you want to go faster?

All you have to do is say,

"Come on, Trojan, bear me away."

Say it, then!

Bear me away.

I can't hear you. Say it!

Bear me away!

Come on, Trojan!

Alan!

Alan! Alan!

- Alan!
- Alan!

Alan!

Alan!

What... Come back here!

Alan!

Alan! Alan. Hey, you!

Easy, boy, easy.

What do you imagine you're doing?

- Imagine?
- What is my son doing up there?

It's all right, Frank. He's not hurt, is he?

Don't you think to ask permission

before doing a thing stupid like that?

It's lovely, Dad.

The boy is perfectly safe.
Please don't be hysterical!

Don't you be la-de-da with me, young man.

Come down, here, Alan,
you heard what your mother said.

No.

- Come down here at once.
- No.

- Right this moment! I said, this moment!
- No.

Frank.

Ugh!

Watch it! Are you mad?

Alan!

Do you want to terrify the horse?

You're a public menace, you know that?

Easy, Trojan.

How dare you pick up children
and put them on dangerous animals!

- Dangerous?
- Frank, the boy's hurt.

Look at his eyes, they're rolling.

So are yours.

Frank, he's cut himself. The boy's hurt.

I'm not, I'm not! I'm not!

I'm not, I'm not! I'm not!

That's all I remember.

And a lot, too.

Thank you.

Do you know...

Do you know, I've...
I've never been on a horse in my life?

Nor me.

You mean, since that?

Yeah.

Never?

No.

How come?

I didn't care to.

You mean to say, you never rode,
even when you were at the stables?

No.

Wasn't that part of the job?

No, didn't have to.

Why not? Surely it would've been fun,
after being cooped up in that shop all week.

Just didn't care to, that's all.

Anyway, it's my turn.
I told you a secret, you tell me one.

All right.

There are patients who have things
to tell me,

but they're ashamed to...

Say them to my face.
What do you think I do about that?

What?

I give them this little tape recorder.

They go off to another room,
and they send the tape back through nurse.

They don't have to listen to it with me.

Stupid.

Quite simple, really.
You press this button and speak into this.

Anyway, our time's up for today.
I'll see you tomorrow.

Maybe.

Maybe?

If I feel like it.

Stupid.

I thought I'd go in tomorrow,

and see the boy.

Would you come?

Frank, it's not right, your not...

But you should.

You've got to tell him.

The doctor, I mean.

He should know about that.

You think it's important?

Yes, I do.

Why?

Well, it just could be.

It was sexy.
That's what you want to know, isn't it?

Hello?

Hello, Doctor.
I hope it's not too late.

Uh, no, Mrs. Strang.

Uh, no, it's just that,
uh, Mr. Strang and I were talking,

and we felt there was something
you might want to know.

Could I come and see you tomorrow?

Why don't I come to see you?

I'm talking about the beach,

that time that I told you about.

I was pushed forward on the horse.

There was sweat on my legs from his neck.

His sides were all warm...

The smell...

And turning him...

All that power, going anywhere you wanted.

And then, Dad...

It's about the picture...

Of the horse.

Uh, the one on his bedroom wall?

I'm afraid I...
I didn't quite tell you all about it... last time.

I didn't think it was that important.

You see...

It actually took the place
of another kind of picture altogether.

What kind?

It was a reproduction of our Lord
on his way to Calvary.

Uh, Alan insisted on buying
it with his own pocket money,

and hanging it where he could see it,
last thing at night.

My husband was very displeased.

And, to be fair, it is a little extreme.

Then, one day,

Mr. Strang and I had one
of our tiffs about religion,

and he went straight up the stairs,

and tore it off the boy's wall.

Alan went quite hysterical.

He cried for days, without stopping.

But he recovered when
he was given the picture of the horse?

Oh, yes.

Uh, he hung it in exactly the same place.

And we had no more of that awful weeping.

Mr. Dalton?

My name is Dysart. I'm a doctor.

I'm dealing with Alan Strang.
I mean, I'm treating Alan Strang.

I know this is an intrusion, but I,

I'd like to have a talk with you.

I realize this must be difficult for you.

Difficult?

For lack of a word.

If I had my way,
that boy would be dead.

I should have killed him that night.

Of course, now you've got him in hospital.

Private room, three meals a day,

remedial therapy, ping-pong, basketwork.

Hmph.

- Mr. Dalton...
- No, no, no. Quite right.

We've got to be, uh, modern about it.

After all, there are no criminals now.

We're all capable of everything.

I know. I've heard all about it.

Forgive and forget...

Two months ping-pong...

He's paid his debt to society, eh?

Mr. Dalton?

Damn you!

I'm sorry, I can't help it.

I keep seeing it.

Over and over, I see it.

Jill's had a breakdown.

- Jill?
- The girl who worked for me.

Complete and utter breakdown.
She'll never get over it.

Of course, she blames herself,

being the one who brought him here
to begin with.

He was introduced to the stables by a girl?

I just told you, didn't I? Jill, Jill Mason.

Excuse me for being stupid,
but was that his girlfriend?

How should I know?

No, he met up with her somewhere,
asked for a job.

She told him to come and see me.

Piss off now, will you?

Yes, I'll be going.

One thing, when he first appeared,
did he seem at all peculiar?

I mean, odd in any way?

No.

He did bloody good.

He spent hours with the horses,
cleaning and grooming,

way over the call of duty.

I thought he was a real find.

Apparently, the whole time
he worked for you,

he never actually rode.

That's true.

Wasn't that peculiar?

Certainly, if he didn't.

What do you mean?

I mean that, on and off, that whole year,

I had the feeling

the horses were being taken out at night.

At night?

Oh, just odd things I noticed.

I mean...

Too often, one or other of them
would be sweaty first thing in the morning,

when it wasn't sick. Very sweaty, too.

And its stall wouldn't be nearly
as mucky as it should be,

if it had been in all night.

Stupidly enough,
I never paid much mind to it at the time.

It wasn't until I realized
I'd been hiring a loony

that I came to wonder
if he hadn't been riding

all the time, behind our backs.

All right, it's obviously just my fancy.

This thing has shaken me so badly,

I'm liable to believe anything.

Why should anybody do that?

Why should any boy prefer
to go riding by himself at night,

when he could go off with others
during the day?

Are you asking me?

He's a loony, isn't he?

This girl, Jill Mason,

could you tell me where she lives?

Her mother keeps a shop,
a mile down the road.

Sells the antiques.

Thank you.

You won't see her.

And something else.

When the horse first appeared,
I looked up into his mouth.

There was this chain in it.

I said, "Does it hurt?" And he...

The horse said...

It was always the same, after that.

Every time I heard one clop by,
I had to run and see.

Up a country lane...

Anywhere...

Just to watch their skins...

And the way their necks twist.

The sweat comes in the folds.

Words like "reins,"

"stirrups," "flanks..."

"Dashing his spurs against
his charger's flanks..."

Even those words made me...

The way they give themselves to us.

That was it, too.

They could stamp us into bits
anytime they wanted, and they don't.

They just let themselves be turned
on a string all day, absolutely humble.

They give us all their strength,
and we just give them stripes for it.

They'll run forever.

They'll gallop till they die, they will...

If we don't say "stop."

They live for us...

Just for us...

Their whole lives.

Years, I've never told anyone.

My mum wouldn't understand.
She likes equitation,

bowler hats, jodhpurs.

My uncle dressed for the horses, she says.

But what does that mean?

Horse isn't dressed.

It's naked.

It's the most naked thing you ever saw,
more than a dog, a cat, or anything.

Even the brokenest-down
old nag has got its life.

Put a bowler hat on top of it... filthy.

Putting them through their paces,
bloody horse shows.

How do they dare?

No one understands. No one.

Except cowboys. They do.

But they're free. They just swing up,
and it's nothing but miles of grass.

I bet all cowboys are orphans.

I bet they are.

No one ever says to cowboys,

"Receive my meaning" or God.

"All the time, God sees you, Alan.
God's got eyes everywhere."

No, I'm not doing anymore, I hate this.

You can whistle for anymore. I've had it.

I'm very busy, you know.

That's why I came to see you.

Mr. Strang, is there something
you're not telling me?

What do you mean?

The last time we met, you said
that religion was at the bottom of all this.

So it is.

Well, just because his mother
reads him the Bible?

Night after night.

Fifty years ago,

that would've been considered
proper conduct for a mother.

Mr. Strang, I know I'm being impertinent.

I'm prying, and I'm nosy.

But if you want to help Alan,
you've got to help me.

Anything will do, Mr. Strang.

Any bloody thing!

Your wife told me about the picture.

No, it's not that, it's...

It's about that.

But it's worse.

I wanted to tell you the other day,
but I couldn't in front of Dora.

Maybe I should have.

It might show her all that stuff leads to,
she drills into the boy, behind my back.

What kind of thing is it?

It's something I witnessed.

Where?

At home,

18 months ago.

Go on.

It was, uh, it was late.

The boy had been in bed hours,
or so I thought.

Go on.

As I came out of the bathroom,

I heard...

I heard the noise of this chanting.

Chanting?

Yes, you know.

By the Bible, you know, one of those lists
his mother was always reading to him.

Those "begat, so and so, begat..."
you know, genealogy. But, uh...

What did Alan's list sound like?

Well, I remember the sort of thing I...

The first word I heard was...

Prince.

- Prince?
- Yeah.

Prince begat Prance.

And Prance begat Prankus.

And Prankus begat Flankus.

And Flankus begat Spankus.

And Spankus begat Spunkus the great,
who lived threescore years.

And Legwus begat Neckwus.

And Neckwus begat Fleckwus,
the king of spit.

And Fleckwus spoke out of his
chinkle-chankle.

What?

I'm sure that was the word.
I've never forgotten it.

"Chinkle-chankle."

And he said "Behold, I give you Equus,
my only begotten son."

Equus?

There's no doubt of that,
he repeated that word several times.

"Equus...

"My only begotten son."

And then...

He took this...

String,

and he put it in his mouth, and...

With his other hand...

He picked up this...

Coat hanger, this wooden coat hanger...

Equus.

And he...

Equus.

Equus.

Well, you see why I...

I couldn't tell his mother.

Religion. Religion is the bottom of this,
don't you see?

Did you speak to him about it later?

No.

I can't speak about things like that, Doctor.

It's not in my nature.

No.

I see that.

Here, let me help you.

Just run it under the tap.

I must tell you
that it's been an enormous help...

Mr. Strang, is there...

Something else?

There is, actually. There's one...
There's one thing.

That night that he...

That he did it, that, uh,

that awful thing in the... in the stables...

That night, he was out with a girl.

How do you know that?

Well, I just know, that's all.

Was that girl Jill Mason?

I don't know her name.

Excuse me, Mr. Strang, what do you know?

- I can't say anymore.
- Mr. Strang...

Ask him! Just ask him about taking
a girl out that very night. It's...

Thanks for the tape.
It was excellent.

Yeah, I'm not making anymore.

One thing I didn't quite understand,
you began to say something

about the horse on the beach talking to you.

Tsk. Stupid, horses don't talk.

So I believe.

I don't know what you mean.

Never mind about that.
Tell me something else.

Who introduced you to the stable
to begin with?

Someone I met.

Where?

Hello, can I do something for you?

No.

You're always staring in here,
aren't you?

Me?

Yes. Every day, at lunchtime.

I've seen you.

Not me.

Course it's you.
You looking for a job, or something?

Is there one? I can only do weekends.

That's when most people ride.
We could use extra hands.

It will mainly be mucking out.

Oh, I don't mind.

Please.

Come up on Saturday.
I'll introduce you to Mr. Dalton.

And you went?

Yeah.

Hello!

You came, then.

Let's find Mr. Dalton.
My name's Jill, by the way. What's yours?

All riders are accompanied, madam.

No riders are allowed out on their own.

All right, I'll put her down for 3:00.
What is the name, please?

Mrs. Shawcross.

Thank you. Goodbye.

This is Alan Strang, Mr. Dalton.

Oh?

You ever worked in a stable before?

- Can you ride?
- No, I don't want to.

It's not extra, you know.
It comes with the job.

No, I just want to work here.

You like horses?

Well, we can certainly use the help.

There's enough work around here
for six lads.

Four quid a day.
Saturdays and Sundays. All right?

- Yes, sir.
- Good.

Now, I expect the place neat, dry
and clean at all times.

The main rule is,

never pretend you know something
when you don't.

Actually, the main rule is, enjoy yourself.

Remember, 7:30 on the dot.

Horses don't oversleep, you know.
See you later.

This is Nugget. Come on, that's it. Yeah.

Come on, come on.

He's my favorite.

This is a body brush.

You use it with a currycomb.

Now, you always groom the same way,

from the ears, downwards.

Don't be afraid to do it hard.

The harder you do it,
the more the horse loves it.

Push it right through the coat, like this.

Work towards the tail,
and right through the coat.

See how he loves it?

Giving you a lovely massage, aren't I, boy?

Here, you try.

Nice and easy.

Never rush.

Work towards the tail,
and right through the coat.

That's it.

Again.

You've got a feel for it, I can tell.

It's going to be fun teaching you.

Jill! Jill!

What?

Mr. Dalton wants you, please. Right away.

Keep that up for 15 minutes.
Then do old trooper.

See you later.

All right, I'm off now.
I'll be back after lunch.

If anyone rings, just put it in the book.

Two rides this afternoon. That's the lot.

Was it good? Touching them?

Must've been marvelous,
being near them at last,

making them fresh and glossy.

Tell me,

you worked at the stable every weekend?

Yeah.

You must have seen a lot of the girl.

Tell me about her. Did you like her?

- Come on, Alan, tell me.
- All right.

Was she friendly?

Yes.

Or standoffish?

Yes.

Well, which?

What?

Which was she?

Tell me, did you, uh...

Did you ever take her out?

- Did you have dates with her?
- What?

Tell me if you did.

"Tell me!"

"Tell me, tell me, tell me" on and on.
Standing there, nosy parker.

That's all you are, a bloody nosy parker,
just like my dad.

"Answer this, answer that," never stop.

- Well, I'm sorry.
- All right.

Well, now it's my turn.
You tell me, answer me.

We're not playing that game now.

We're playing what I say.

All right.

What do you want to know?

Do you have dates?

I told you, I'm married.

I know. Her name's Margaret,
she's a dentist.

You see? I found out.

What made you go with her, then?

Did you used to bite her hands
when she did you in the chair?

That's not very funny.

Do you have girls behind her back?

No.

Then what? Do you fuck her?

All right.

Come on, tell me, tell me, tell me.

- That's enough now.
- I'll bet you don't.

I bet you never touch her.
You've got no kids, have you?

Is that because you don't fuck?

Go to your room.

Quick march.

Alan.

Give me those cigarettes.

Give them to me!

Now go.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

The boy's on the run, so he turns defensive.
What am I, then?

Wicked little bastard.
He knew exactly what questions to try.

Not that there's anything novel about that.

Advanced neurotics can
be dazzling at that game.

They aim unswervingly
at your area of maximum vulnerability,

which is, I suppose, as good a way
as any of describing Margaret.

Now, stop it.

Do I embarrass you?

I suspect you're about to.

My wife doesn't understand me,
your honor.

Do you understand her?

No.

Obviously, I never did.

I'm sorry.

I never like to ask.

But I always imagined you weren't

exactly compatible.

We were.
It actually worked for a bit.

I mean, for both of us.

She, for me, through a kind of...

Briskness,

a clear, redheaded, inaccessible briskness,

that kept me keyed up for months.

Mind you, if you're kinky
for northern hygiene, which I am,

you can hardly find
anything more compelling

than a Scottish lady dentist.

It's you who are
wicked, you know.

Not at all.

She got exactly the same from me.
Antiseptic proficiency.

I was like that in those days.

I see us in our wedding photograph,

Dr. And Dr. Macbrisk.

We were brisk in our wooing,

brisk in our wedding,
brisk in our disappointment.

We turned from each other briskly
into our separate surgeries,

and now, there's a nice,

brisk nothing.

You never had children, did you?

No.

We did not go in for them.

Instead she sits and knits things for orphans
in some home she works with,

and I sit opposite turning over the pages
of books on mythical Greece.

Mentally, we're in different parts
of the world.

She's forever in some drizzly chapel
of her own inheriting,

and I'm in some doric temple,

clouds tearing through the pillars,

eagles bearing prophesies out of the sky.

She finds all that repulsive.

All that my wife has ever taken
from the Mediterranean,

from that whole, vast, intuitive culture,

are four bottles of Chianti
to make into lamps,

and two China condiment donkeys
labeled Sally and Pepe.

Now you're being cruel.

I wish...

There was somebody in this life
I could show.

One...

Instinctive, absolutely unbrisk person
that I could take to Greece,

and stand in front of certain shrines
and sacred streams and say,

"Look,

"life is only comprehensible through 1,000

"local Gods.

"Not just the old, dead Gods,
with names like Zeus,

"but living geniuses of place and person.

"Not just Greece, but modern England.

"Here, spirits of certain trees,

"of certain curves of brick wall,

"of certain fish-and-chip shops, if you like,

"and... and slate roofs, and

"frowns in people, slouches."

I'd say to them,

"Worship...

"All you can see...

"And more will appear."

This boy,

with his stare,

he's trying to save himself through me.

I'd say so.

What am I trying to do to him?

- Restore him.
- To what?

A normal life.

Normal?

It still means something, you know.

You mean, a normal boy has one head.

A normal head has two ears.

- You know I don't...
- Then what do you mean?

Oh, stop it.

I want to know.

Look, my dear,

you know what I mean by
a normal smile in a child's eyes,

and one that isn't, don't you?

Yes.

Then we have a duty to that,
surely, both of us.

Touche.

I'll talk to you.

Martin.

You're going through a rotten patch
at the moment, I'm sorry.

I suppose one of the few things one can do

is simply hold on to priorities.

Such as?

Children before adults.

Things like that.

You're really quite splendid, you know that?

Famous for it.

All right.

The normal is the good smile
in a child's eyes.

It's also the dead stare in a million adults.

Both sustains and kills,

like a God.

It is the ordinary made beautiful.
It is also the average,

made lethal.

The normal is the indispensable,

murderous God of health.

And I am his priest.

I'm sorry about our row yesterday.

Yeah, it was stupid.

Yes.

Yes, it was.

Would you like to play a game?

What kind?

It's one I invented myself. It's called blink.

You fix your eyes on something,

say, that little stain on the wall over there,

and I tap my pencil on the desk.

First tap, you close your eyes.
The second, you open.

Close, open, close, open, till I say "stop."

What's the point of that?

Well, relax you.
Make it easier for you to talk.

Stupid.

Well, you don't have to if you don't want to.

I didn't say I didn't want to.

Well?

I don't mind.

All right.

Start watching that stain.

Now, put your hands by your side,
your fingers open wide.

The thing to do is to...

Feel comfortable and relax,

absolutely.

You watching that stain?

Yeah.

Right.

Now try and make your mind
as blank as possible.

That's not difficult.

No more talking.

First tap... close.

Second, open. Ready?

My tools are very delicate.

My compassion is honest.

I've honestly assisted children in this room.

I've talked away terrors,
relieved many agonies.

But beyond question,

I have cut from them
portions of individuality,

repugnant to this God, normal,

in all its aspects.

And at what length.

Sacrifices to Zeus took, at the most,
60 seconds each.

Sacrifices to the normal...

Can take as much as

60 months.

Can you hear me?

Can you speak normally?

Say "yes" if you can.

Yes.

Good.

Now raise your head.

Open your eyes.

Now, Alan,

when you wake up, you're going
to remember everything you've told me.

Understand?

Yes.

Now, I want you to think back in time.

You're on that beach you told me about.

You're six.

Above you, staring down at you,
is that great horse's head.

Can you see that?

Yes.

You ask him a question.

"Does the chain hurt?"

Yes.

Do you ask him aloud?

No.

And what does the horse say back?

"Yes."

What do you say?

"I'll take it out for you."

And he says?

"It never comes out.
They have me in chains."

Like Jesus?

Yes.

Only, his name is not Jesus, is it?

No.

What is it?

It's Equus.

Equus.

Does he live in all horses, or just some?

All.

Good.

Now you leave the beach.

You're in your bedroom at home.

You're 12 years old.

You're looking at Equus from
the foot of the bed.

Would you like to kneel down?

Yes.

Go on.

Now tell me,

why is Equus in chains?

For the sins of the world.

What does he say to you?

"I see you.

- "I will save you."
- How?

"Bear you away, two shall be one."

Horse and rider should be one beast?

- "One person."
- And?

"And my chinkle-chankle
shall be in thy hand."

"Chinkle-chankle," that's his mouth chain?

Yes.

All right.

You can get up now.

Now tell me,

what is the stable?

His temple? His holy of holies?

Yes.

Will you wash him, and tend him,

and brush him with many brushes?

Yes.

And there he spoke to you, didn't he?

He looked at you with his gentle eyes

and he spoke unto you.

Yes.

What did he say? "Ride me?

"Mount me, and ride me forth at night"?

Yes.

- And you obeyed?
- Yes.

How did you learn? By watching others?

Yes.

Must've been difficult. You bounced about?

Yes.

But he taught you, didn't he?
Equus showed you the way.

No.

- He didn't?
- He showed me nothing.

He's a mean bugger.
Ride or fall, that's straw law.

Straw law?

he was born in the straw
and this is his law

But... But you managed? You mastered him?

Had to.

And so you rode forth in secret?

- Yes.
- How often?

Every three weeks.
More, people would notice.

On a particular horse?

No.

Let's do it.

Let's go riding.

Now.

You're there now,

in front of the stable door.

Go on, open it.

Now go in.

Shh! Quietly now.
Dalton may still be awake.

Quietly as possible.

That's a good boy.

Are you in yet?

Yes.

Can you see all the horses?

Yes.

Which one are you going to take?

Nugget.

What do you do, first thing?

Put on his sandals.

The sandals of majesty.

Made of sack.

And then?

Chinkle-chankle.

He doesn't like it so late.

But he takes it for my sake.

He bends for me,

stretches forth his neck unto it.

And then?

Buckle,

and lead out.

No saddle?

Never.

Where are you now?

The path.

He's quiet.

Always is, this bit.

Meek and mild legs.

Gentle Equus, meek and mild.

At least, till the field.

- What field?
- Ha-ha.

What?

The field of ha-ha then there's trouble.

- What kind?
- He won't go in.

Make him go into it.

Come on.

Come on.

Is it a good field?

It's perfect.

Full of rubbish,

electrical and kitchenware.

It's covered with nettles.

Burn your feet.

Take your shoes off?

Everything.

All your clothes?

Yes.

What do you do now?

Hide the clothes.

Get the man-bit.

Man-bit?

Stick for my mouth.

- Your mouth?
- To bite on.

Why? What for?

So as it won't happen too quick.

Is it always the same stick?

Of course.

Sacred stick.

Keep it in the hole.

The ark of the man-bit.

And now?

What do you do now?

Touch him.

Where?

All over,

belly,

ribs.

His ribs are of ivory,

of great value.

His flank is cool.

His nostrils open for me.

His eyes shine! They can see!

His eyes!

Go on.

What then?

Sugar.

- Lump sugar?
- His last supper.

- Last before what?
- Ha-ha.

You say anything when you give it to him?

Take my sins.

Eat them, for my sake.

Now he's ready?

You can get up on him now?

Yes.

Go on then, Alan.

Mount him.

Into my hands, he commends himself...

Naked in his chinkle-chankle.

Equus.

Take me.

Whoa.

Whoa, down.

Whoa, down, easy, boy, easy, boy.

Easy, boy.

Equus, the godslave.

Faithful and true, that's it.

He's good. He's good.

He's good.

Equus, son of Fleckwus.

Son of Neckwus.

Walk.

Here we go.

The king rides out on Equus,
mightiest of horses.

Only I can ride him.

His neck comes out of my body.

It lifts in the dark.

Equus, godslave.

Now the king commands you.

Tonight, we ride against them all,

the hosts of bowler,

the hosts of Jodhpur,

all those who show you off for their vanity,

tie rosettes on your head for their vanity.

Come on, Equus, let's get them.

Trot! Steady, steady! Steady, steady!

That's it, steady, steady.

Cowboys are watching,
taking off their Stetsons.

They know who we are.
They're admiring us.

Bowing low unto us.
Come on now, show them.

Canter! Canter!

And Equus the mighty rose against all.

His enemies scatter.

His enemies fall.

Turn! Trample them! Trample them!

Trample them! Turn.

Trample them! Trample them!
Trample them! Turn.

Turn! Turn! Turn!

Turn! Turn! Turn!

Stiff! Stiff in the wind.
My mane, stiff in the wind!

I'm raw, I'm raw. Do you feel my raw?
Feel me on you?

On you! On you! I want to be inside you.

I want to be inside you, and be you.
Forever one person.

I love you!

Bear me away.

Make us now one person.

Ahh! One person!

Amen.

Afterwards, he says,
they always embrace.

He showed me how he stands in the night,

like a frozen tango dancer,

inhaling the cold...

Sweet breath.

Have you noticed it about horses,
the way they'll stand,

one hoof on its end,
like those girls in the ballet?

And now,

he's gone off to rest,

leaving me alone,

with Equus.

I can hear the creature's voice.

He's calling me out
of the black cave of the psyche.

I shove in my dim little torch,

and there he stands,

waiting for me.

He raises his matted head.

He opens his great square teeth,
and he says,

"Why? Why me?

"Why, ultimately, me?

"Do you really imagine
you can account for me,

"totally, infallibly,
inevitably account for me?

"Poor Dr. Dysart."

Of course, I've stared at such images before,

or been stared at by them,
whichever way you look at it.

And weirdly, often now with me,
the feeling is that they are staring at us.

That in some quite palpable way,

they precede us.

Meaningless, but unsettling.

In either case, this particular one.

This huge, implacable head
is the most alarming yet.

It asks questions
I've avoided all my professional life.

A child is born into a world of phenomena,

all equal in their power to enslave.

It sniffs, it sucks, it strokes its eyes,

over the whole, uncountable range.

Suddenly, one strikes.

Then another. Then another.

Why?

Moments snap together,
like magnets forging a chain of shackles.

Why?

I can trace them. I can even,
with time, pull them apart again.

But why, at the start,
they were ever magnetized at all,

why those particular moments
of experience and no others,

I do not know, and nor does anybody else!

And if I don't know,

if I can never know,

what am I doing here?

I don't mean clinically doing,
or socially doing, but fundamentally.

These whys, these questions,
are fundamental.

Yet they have no place in a consulting room.

So, then, do I?

Do any of us?

This is the feeling, more and more.

Displacement.

Relentless...

Displacement.

"Account for me,"

says staring Equus.

"First, account for me!"

Dr. Dysart!

Dr. Dysart!

There's a terrible scene with
the Strang boy in the violence room.

His mother brought him chocolates.
He threw them at her, hard!

Don't you dare!

Don't you dare.
Don't you look at me like that.

I'm not a doctor, you know,
who'll take anything.

Don't you give me that stare, young man.

Mrs. Strang.

I know your stares, they don't work on me...

Leave here at once!

What did you say?

I tell you to leave here at once.

Goodbye, Alan.

Wait for me here.

I must ask you never to come here again.

You think I want to?
Do you think I want to?

Mrs. Strang,

what on earth has got into you?

Into me?

- Can't you see the boy's highly distressed?
- Oh, really?

Yes, he's at the most delicate stage
of treatment.

He's totally ex... ex... exposed,
ashamed, everything you can imagine.

And me?

What about me?

What do you think I am?

I'm a parent. Of course, that doesn't count.

That's a dirty word in here, isn't it?
"Parent"?

Now, you know that's not true.

Oh, I know it, I know it, all right.

I've heard it all my life.

I... it's our fault.
Whatever happens, we did it.

You come to us and say,
"Who forbids television?

"Who does what behind whose back?"

As if we're criminals.

Well, let me tell you something.
We're not criminals.

We've done nothing wrong.

We loved Alan.
We gave him the best love we could.

Poor Frank digs into the boy too much,
but... but nothing in excess.

He's not a bully.

No, Doctor.

Whatever has happened,

has happened because of Alan.

If you added up everything
we ever did to him,

from his first day on Earth to this,

you wouldn't find out why he did this,
t... terrible thing.

Do you understand what I'm saying?

I want you to understand,

because I lie awake,
and awake, thinking it out.

And I want you to know

that I deny it absolutely,
what he's doing now.

Staring at me,

attacking me for what he's done.

For what... he... is.

- Mrs. Strang!
- Oh!

You have your words, and I have mine.

But if you knew God, Doctor,
you would know about the devil.

The devil isn't made by what Mummy says,
or what Daddy says.

The devil is there.

It's an old-fashioned word, but a true thing.

I'll go.

What I did just now was inexcusable.

I only know that...

He was my little Alan,

and then the devil came.

I thought you liked your mother.

She doesn't know anything, you know.

I haven't told her what you told me.
You know that, don't you?

It was lies, anyway.

What was?

You and your pencil.
Just a con-trick, that's all.

Made me say a lot of lies.

Like what?

All of it. Everything I said. A lot of lies.

I see.

Ought to be locked up. Bloody tricks.

Thought you liked tricks.

It'll be the drug next, huh?

What drug?

I've heard. I'm not ignorant.

I know what you get up to in here,

shove needles in people and pump them
full of truth drugs, so they...

Can't help saying things.
That's next, isn't it?

Alan,

do you know why you're here?

So you can give me truth drugs.

He actually believes they exist.

Truth drugs?

Yes.

And don't they?

Of course not.

The important thing is that he...

Wants a way to speak,

to finally tell me
what happened in those stables.

Tape is too isolated,

and hypnosis, he pretends, is a trick,
so he can deny it later.

Now I'm tempted to play a real trick on him.

Like what?

Give him an aspirin.

Tell him it's the strongest truth drug
in the world.

He'd just deny everything again afterwards.

The same thing all over.

No, because I'd tell him
the truth afterwards,

that it was simply an aspirin.

And he'll believe me.

You know, underneath all that glowering,
the boy trusts me.

You realize that?

Oh, I'm sure he does.

Poor, bloody fool.

Oh, now, please, Martin, dear,
don't start that again.

Can you think of anything worse
one can do to somebody

than to take away their worship?

Worship?

Yes, that word again.

Isn't that a little extreme?

Extremity...

Is the point.

Worship isn't destructive, Martin.
I know that.

I don't.

I only know it's the core of his life.

What else has he got?
I mean, think about it. He can hardly read.

He knows no physics or engineering
to make the world real to him,

no paintings to show him
how others have enjoyed it,

no music except television jingles,

no history except tales
from a desperate mother.

No friends, not one kid to give him a joke,

or make him know
himself more moderately.

He's a modern citizen
for whom society doesn't exist.

He lives one hour every three weeks,
howling in a mist.

"With my body, I thee worship."

Many men are less vital with their wives.

All the same, they don't usually blind
their wives, do they?

- Oh, come on.
- Well, do they?

You mean he's a madman?
A violent, dangerous madman,

who'll go round the country,
doing it again and again?

I mean he's in pain, Martin.

He's been in pain for most of his life.

Yes.

And you can take it away.

Yes.

Then that's all you need to know, in the end.

No.

Why not?

Because it is his.

His?

His pain.

His own.

He made it.

I don't understand.

Well, I don't!

I mean, there's nothing meritorious
about being in pain,

that's just pure old masochism.

I'm talking about passion, Hesther.

Do you know what that word
meant originally? Suffering.

The way you get your own spirit
through your own suffering.

Self-chosen. Self-made.
This boy's done that.

He's created his own desperate ceremony
just, just to...

Just to ignite one flame of original ecstasy

in... in the spiritless waste around him.

All right,

he's destroyed for it, horribly.

He's virtually been destroyed by it.

But one thing I know for sure,
that boy has known a passion

more ferocious than I have known
in any second of my life.

Well, let me tell you something. I envy it.

- You can't.
- Don't you see?

That's what his stare
has been saying to me all this time.

"At least I galloped. When did you?"

I'm jealous, Hesther.

Jealous...

Of Alan Strang.

That's absurd.

Is it?

Yes, utterly.

Utterly!

I go on about my wife.

Have you thought about the husband?

The finicky, critical husband,
with his art books on mythical Greece?

What worship has he ever known?
Real worship?

Without worship, you... you shrink!

It's as brutal as that. I shrank my own life.
No one can do it for you.

I settled for being pallid and provincial
out of my own eternal timidity.

The old... the old story of bluster,
and do bugger-all.

I didn't even dare to have children...

Didn't dare to bring children into a house
and marriage as cold as mine.

I tell everyone Margaret's the Puritan,
I'm the pagan.

Some pagan. Such wild returns
I make to the womb of civilization.

Three weeks a year in the Mediterranean.

Every bed booked in advance,
every meal paid for with vouchers,

cautious jaunts in hired cars,

suitcase crammed with kaopectate.

What a fantastic surrender to the primitive.

And the "primitive."
I use that word endlessly.

"Ah, the primitive world," I say,

"What instinctual truths were lost with it."

And while I sit there baiting that poor,

unimaginative woman with the word,

that freaky boy is trying
to conjure the reality.

I look at pages of centaurs
trampling the soil of Argos.

And outside my window,

that boy is trying to become one
in a Hampshire field.

I sit there, night after night
watching that woman knitting,

a woman I haven't kissed in six years.

And he stands for an hour in the dark,

sucking the sweat off his god's hairy cheek.

Then in the morning,
I put away my books on the cultural shelf,

close up my kodachrome snaps
of Mount Olympus,

touch my reproduction statue
of Dionysus for luck,

and then go off to
the hospital to treat him...

For insanity.

Now do you see?

The boy's in pain, Martin.

That's all I see.

I understand, you know.

I'm not just being Mrs. Macbrisk.

You haven't made that kind of pain.

So few of us have.

But you've still made other things.

Your own thoughts. Your own skill.

Skill absolutely, what you said,
unique to you.

I've watched you do it, year after year,
and it's marvelous!

I mean, you can't just sit there now,

and say it's all provincial,
you're just a butcher.

All that stuff is stupid, hateful.

All right, you never galloped. Too bad.

Let me tell you, if I have to choose between
his galloping and your sheer training,

I'll take the training every time.

And what's more, so will the boy,
at this moment.

That stare of his isn't accusing you,
my dear, it's simply demanding.

- What?
- Just that.

Your power to pull him out of the nightmare
he's galloped himself into.

Do you see?

It is all true,

what I said after you tapped the pencil.

Postscriptum, I know why I'm in here.

I got your note. Thank you.

Also for the postscriptum.

Well, that's the right word.
Me mum told me.

It's Latin. It means "after writing."

Sorry I didn't see you today.

You're fed up with me?

Yes.

Can I make it up to you now?

What do you mean?

I thought we'd have a session.

Now?

Yes, at dead of night.

Better than going to sleep, isn't it?

Listen, Alan.

Everything I say has a trick or a catch.

Everything I do has a trick or a catch.

It's the only thing I know to do. But they...

They work. And you know that, don't you?

Now trust me.

You got another trick, then?

Yes.

- Truth drug?
- If you like.

What's it do?

Make it easier for you to talk.

What, like you can't help yourself?

Yes, like you have to speak the truth
at all costs, and all of it.

Where is it?

Here.

Let's see.

Is that really it?

Yes.

You want to try it?

No.

I think you do.

I don't, not at all.

Afterwards, you'd sleep.

You'd have no more bad dreams all night.

Probably for many nights from then on.

How long does it take to work?

- It's instant, like coffee.
- It isn't.

Promise.

Well?

Can I have a cigarette?

Pill first.

What'll I feel first?

Nothing much.

After a minute, about 100 green snakes
will come out of that cabinet,

singing the hallelujah chorus.

No, I'm serious.

You'll feel nothing.

Nothing is going to happen,
but what you want to happen.

You're not going to say anything to me,
but what you want to say.

Sit back. Relax.

Finish your cigarette.

Bet this room's heard some funny things.

It certainly has.

I like it.

- This room?
- Don't you?

Well, there's...

Nothing much to like, is there?

Actually, I'd like to leave this room,
and never...

Never set foot in it again in my life.

Why?

Been in it too long.

Where would you go?

Somewhere.

Secret?

Yes.

There's a sea...

A great sea that I love.

It's where the Gods used to bathe.

What Gods?

The old ones, before they died.

Gods don't die.

Oh, yes, they do.

Come with me.

It's a village I spent a night in once,

where I'd like to live.

All white.

How would you nosy parker, though?

You wouldn't have a room for it anymore.

Well, I wouldn't mind.

I don't actually enjoy being
a nosy parker, you know.

Then why do it?

Because you're unhappy.

So are you.

Here, I didn't mean that.

It's all right.

No... is that how it works?

Things just slip out
without you feeling anything?

Yes.

So quick.

I told you.

You can say anything under it?

Yes.

Well, ask me a question.

All right.

Tell me about Jill.

Nothing to tell.

Nothing?

Well, for example, is she, uh, pretty?

You've never described her to me.

She's all right.

What color is her hair?

- Don't know.
- Is it long or short?

Don't know.

Now, come on, Alan, surely,
you must know that.

I don't remember. I don't!

Alan,

you're going to do this, and do it now.

You're going to tell me everything
that happened with this girl.

And now, not just tell me, show me.

Act it out, if you like,
even more than when I tapped the pencil.

I want you to feel free to do anything
you like in this room.

The pill will help you, I will help you.

Now describe her to me.
Is her hair long or short?

Down to here.

- You sure?
- Yes.

Well?

She was posh.

You mean snobbish?

Yeah, no. I don't know!

- She was always looking.
- At you?

Saying stupid things.

Always asking questions.

Like what?

Do you find them sexy?

What?

Horses.

Don't be daft.

Girls do.

I mean, they go through a period
where they pat them and kiss them a lot.

I know I did.

I suppose it's just a substitute, really.

That kind of thing, all the time.

Till one night...

Yes, what?

It was her idea.
She got me into it, the whole thing.

What are you saying?
One night? Go on from there.

It was a Saturday night.
We were just closing up.

How would you like to take me out?

What?

How would you like to take me out tonight?

No, I've got to go home.

What for?

They expect me.

Ring up and say you're going out.

I can't.

Why not?

They expect me.

Look, either we go out together
and have some fun,

or you go back to
your boring home, as usual,

and I go back to mine.

That's the situation, isn't it?

Where would we go?

There's a skin flick over in Winchester.

I've never seen one. Have you?

Wouldn't you like to?

All those heavy Swedes
panting at one another.

Well?

What do you say?

Yeah.

Well?

So you did?

I'm tired now. I want to stop.

- Come on, now. You can't stop there.
- Well, I'm tired, I want to go to bed!

- Well, you can't.
- Why?

I want to hear about that film.

- Hear what? What? It was bloody awful.
- Why?

- Nosy parker!
- Why?

- Because...
- Yes?

The whole place was full of men.

Jill was the only girl.

It was daft.

All took place in Sweden.

There was this girl, Brita, who was 16.

She went to stay in this house
where there was an older boy.

He kept giving her looks.

But she ignored him completely.

Instead, she took a shower.

She went into the bathroom
and took off all her clothes,

the lot, very, very slowly.

It was fantastic.

Water fell down her,
bouncing off her breasts.

Is that the first time
you'd ever seen a girl naked?

Yes.

Couldn't see everything, though.

It was funny.

All around me, all the men were staring up,

like they were in a church.

Like a secret congregation.

Like those early Christians
my mum talks about,

the ones that came together
in caves underground.

And then...

- Christ!
- What?

Dad!

I think he saw me.

Alan!

You can hear me. Don't pretend.

Do I have to come and fetch you? Alan!

Shut up, will you?

- Alan!
- Stop it!

- Come here this instant. Come on!
- But, Dad!

Come on.

You went with him, then?

What else could I do?

It was weird.

I mean, it turned into follow the leader.

Dad trying to look impressive, and me,

I suppose, thinking I ought to copy him.

It was absolutely stupid.

We stood at the bus stop,
like we were three people in a queue,

who didn't know each other.

We must have stayed like that
for five minutes.

I tried to speak, I said,

I've never been in there before in my life.

Never.

Honest.

Jill tried.

It's true, Mr. Strang.

It wasn't Alan's idea to go there at all.
It was mine.

I'm not shocked by films like that, I just...

Think they're silly, that's all.

Bus wouldn't come.

We stood, we stood.

And then suddenly, he spoke.

It felt like it was somebody else
talking for him.

I would like you to know something,

both of you.

Hey!

I came here tonight to see the manager.

He asked me to call on him
for business purposes.

I happen to be a printer, miss...

The picture house needs posters.

That is entirely why I'm here,
to discuss posters.

And while I was there,
I happened to glance in, and I saw...

I can only say that I am going
to complain to the council.

I had no idea they showed films like this.

I'm certainly going to refuse my services.

Yes, of course.

So long as that is understood.

Perfectly.

Come along, Alan.

No.

No fuss, please.
Just... just say good night to the young lady.

No, I'm stopping here.
I've got to see her home.

It's proper.

Hmph. Very well.

I'll see you when you choose to return, then.

Very well. Yes.

Terrible.

What was?

His face.

He was scared.

Scared of me.

We've got to walk.

It's four miles.

Yes?

What were you thinking?

It was like I'd been fooled.

Like I was the only person who didn't know.

Every man in the street,
everyone I've ever seen, they all do it.

All of them, they're not just dads.

They're all people with pricks.

And my dad, he's not just a dad either.
He's a man with a prick, too.

He's nothing special.

Nothing special at all.
Just a poor old sod on his own.

He goes off at night
and does his own secret thing,

which no one will know about, just like me.

You were happy
at that second, weren't you,

when you thought about your dad?

Other people have secrets, too.

Not just you.

Yes.

And you felt free, didn't you?

Free to do almost anything.

Yes.

What's in your head?

Her eyes.

I keep looking at them,
because I really want...

I really wanted...

To look at her breasts?

Yes.

I love your eyes.

Her face was so warm.

You want her very much?

I can't!

- Go on.
- I can't!

Of course you can.
You're doing wonderfully.

Don't make me, please.

Don't think, just answer. Come on, Alan.

Where are you now, Alan?

Cabbages, with the moon on them.

Like steel.

All the country, like it's been steel-plated.

I know absolutely where we're going.

Absolutely.

And I can't stop it.

What?

Nothing.

Come on, then.

Where do you go now?

Into his temple?

His holy of holies?

What else can I do?

Are you all right?

Why?

You look weird.

Come here.

Hello.

Good things come in threes.

What's the matter?

Alan?

What is it? Say.

Yes, all right, leave.

Take your sweater off.

I will, if you will.

You're beautiful.

So are you.

She put her mouth in mine.

It was lovely.

What did you do then?

I put it in her.

- Yes?
- I put it in her.

- You did?
- Yes.

- Was it easy?
- Yes.

Describe it.

I told you.

What, exactly?

- I put it in her.
- Did you?

- Yes.
- Did you?

- All the way.
- Did you, Alan?

All the way, I shoved it.
I put it in her all the way.

- Did you?
- Yes.

- Did you, Alan?
- Yes! Yes!

Tell me the truth, Alan. Did you?

Fuck off!

What was it?

You couldn't, though you...
wanted to very much?

I couldn't see her.

What do you mean?

Only him!

Every time I kissed her, he was in the way.

- Who?
- You know who!

When I touched her, I felt him.

His side under me, waiting for my hand.

I refused him. I looked...

Looked right at her, and I couldn't do it.

When I shut my eyes,
I saw him at once, the streaks on his belly.

I couldn't feel her flesh at all.

I wanted the foam...

Off his neck,

not flesh, hide, horse hide.

And I couldn't even kiss her.

- Hello?
- No.

It's all right.

I don't mind.

Really, I don't.

Alan?

- Look at me.
- Get out.

- What?
- Out!

There's nothing wrong.

Believe me.

Please, believe me,
there's nothing at all wrong.

Get out!

Listen to me.

Why don't we just
sit down for a bit and talk?

Please.

- Just talk?
- Please.

Look, Alan,
there's nothing wrong, you know.

It happens sometimes.

It really doesn't matter.

Well, you tell anyone,
just you tell and see, that's all.

What do you think I am, Alan?

I'm your friend.

Do you want me to go, then?

Get out!

Equus.

Equus.

Friend.

Equus the merciful.

Forgive me.

It wasn't me, not really me.

Take me back.

I'll never do it again, I swear, please.

Please.

And he? What does he say?

"Mine. You're mine.

"I am yours, and you are mine.

"I see you. I see you, always,

"everywhere, forever."

"Kiss anyone, and I will see.

"Lie with anyone, and I will see.

Ahh!

"And you will fail, Alan.

"Forever and ever you will fail.

"You will see me, and you will fail.

"The Lord thy God is a jealous God."

He sees you, Alan.

He sees you, forever and ever, Alan.

He sees you. He sees you.

Eyes, white eyes all round.
Eyes, like flames coming, coming. God sees.

God sees. My God hast seen!

No.

No more, Equus.

Thou, God,

seest...

Nothing.

Nothing!

Here I am. Find me. Find me.

Kill me. Kill me.

Find me, and kill me.

Kill me!

Find me!

And kill me!

Here I am. Here I am.

Find me. Kill me.

Find me and kill me.

Find me and kill me!

Kill me!

Argh!

Alan.

Alan. Alan.

Breathe. Breathe in.

Calm, Alan. Calm. Calm.

Calm.

Now breathe in, deep.

Deep.

Breathe in.

Out. In.

Out. In.

Out.

Come on. Come on, that's a good boy.

Keep it going. In. Out.

In. Out.

Keep it going. Keep it going.

Keep it going.

Easy, now. Easy, now. There.

There.

It's all over now, Alan. All over now.

He'll go away now.
You'll never see him again.

You'll never see him again, I promise you.

There'll be no more bad dreams.
No more awful nights.

Think of that.

You're going to be well.
I'm going to make you well.

I promise you.

You just trust me.

Trust me.

Just trust me.

Trust me.

Now trust me, Alan.

You lie back.

Lie back.

Sleep.

Just sleep.

You've earned it.

Sleep, Alan.

Sleep.

Remember,

he'll go away now.

I'm going to make you well.

Sleep.

I'm lying to you, Alan.

He won't really go that easily,

just clop away,
like some nice old carthorse.

No, when Equus leaves,
if he leaves at all, it'll be with your...

Intestines in his teeth.

And I don't

stock replacements.

The boy's in pain, Martin.

Yes.

But you can take it away.

Yes.

Then that has to be enough for you.

All right.

I'll take it away. What then?

He'll feel himself acceptable. What then?

You think feelings like his
can be simply reattached,

like plasters stuck
on other objects we select?

I mean, look at him.

My desire might be to make of this boy
an ardent husband, a caring citizen,

a worshipper of abstract and unifying God.

My achievement, however,
is more likely to make a ghost.

I'll heal the rash on his body.

I'll erase the welts cut into his mind
by flying manes.

And when that's done,
I'll put him on a metal scooter,

and send him puttering off
into the concrete world,

and he'll never touch hide again.

Hopefully, he'll feel nothing
at his fork but approved flesh,

I doubt, however, with much passion.

Passion, you see,

can be destroyed by a doctor.

It cannot be created.

You won't gallop anymore, Alan.

Horses will be quite safe.

You'll save your money every week,

and change that scooter for a car,

and spend glorious weekends

grooming that.

You'll pop round to the betting shop

and put the odd 50 pence on the nags,

quite forgetting that they ever meant
anything more to you

than bearers of little profits
and little losses.

You will, however, be without pain,

almost completely without...

Pain.

And now,

for me,

it never stops,

the voice of Equus,

out of the cave.

"Why me?

"First...

"Account for me."

How can I?

In an ultimate sense,

I cannot know what I do in this place.

Yet I do ultimate things,

irreversible things.

And I...

I stand in the dark with a blade in my hand,

striking at heads.

I need...

More desperately
than my children need me,

a way of seeing in the dark.

What way is this?

What dark is this?

I cannot call it ordained of God!

I cannot go so far!

I will, however,

pay it so much homage.

There is now, in my mouth,

this sharp chain.

And it never comes out.