All language subtitles for The.Resurrecteday.x265-RARBG

- Charles Ward's escaped.

- How did he get out?

- Looks like he went out the window.

How did he
get loose from his restraints?

- I don't know, doc.

- We got one hell of a
mess in there doctor.

- I ain't going in there.

There's no way for nothing
I'm going in there.

- What's the matter with the light?

Getting it right now, sir.

What in
the hell happened here?

What do you have down there?

- It's Ward's suitcase.

- Testing.

Testing.

This closes the case
of Charles Dexter Ward.

I'm telling this now,

while all the details are
still fresh in my mind.

I don't expect anyone to believe this.

I don't even know if I believe it myself.

I can't trust my eyes anymore,

even when I sleep.

I haven't slept in days,

but when I do, I hate what I see.

Three weeks ago, Providence
was a sane enough place.

It's a smallish city on a small corner

of the smallest state in the Union.

Its inhabitants enjoy
the eastern sea breeze,

except in late summer when
the river starts to smell.

But that smell is historic,

having stunk since the
time of the witch hunts.

The whole place reeks of history.

And history, I have learned,
can jump up and bite you.

This piece of history began simply enough.

Good morning.

I'm John March.

- Claire Ward.

- Come in, Mrs. Ward.

Have a seat.

I'll take that for you.

- Thank you.

- Would either of you like coffee or tea?

- Nothing, thank you.

- I'm fine.

Actually, some tea please.

- Sure.

- You were recommended
to me, Mister March,

by my friend Elaine James.

Formerly Mrs. Arthur James.

- Oh yes, yes, please say
hello to Mrs. James for me.

- Elaine said that you
were highly capable.

She also said that I could
trust your discretion.

- Thank you.

- My husband has moved out of the house.

The police came to our house last night.

They asked me questions.

- About what?

- About contraband that they
found in Charles' possession.

- What sort of contraband?

- Apparently, remains from a cemetery.

- Do you mean human remains?

I see.

And how did your husband explain that?

- I don't know.

I haven't spoken to him
for more than two weeks.

I've tried to reach him, but
he seems to be avoiding me.

Our wedding anniversary
is coming up and...

- Do you mind?

It's just a tool of the trade.

Why did Charles move out?

- I suppose I drove him out.

It was the night of October 1st,

and we were

hosting a fundraiser

for Senator O'Neils re-election campaign.

Half way through the evening,

Charles said that he had
work that couldn't wait

and just left.

Wait, stop.

What's going on?

- Darling, there's some work I have to do

that simply can't wait.

- Now?

- Yes, now.

- In the middle of party
with all these guests here,

you can't just leave now.

- Well, I'm sorry.

Please offer my apologies.

Tell them I'm sorry, I had to go.

Alright?

And left all
those people standing there

and went out to the carriage house.

He'd built himself a laboratory out there.

A laboratory?

My husband is the
head of chemical engineering

for Belmont Cosmetics.

Long after everyone had left,

he was still carrying on in there.

What do you mean carrying on?

I don't know what he was doing.

There were awful smells coming
from the carriage house.

A lot of noises.

Loud shouting.

- Shouting?

- All I know is that I wanted him to stop.

I guess I lost it.

I screamed at him

that he'd have to find some other place

for whatever it was he was doing.

You're gonna to have to
find some other place

to do whatever it is
you're doing out there!

The next morning,

I saw him loading his
equipment into a van.

And then I saw he was with that man,

that Doctor Ash.

Who's Doctor Ash?

I don't know,
somebody Charles met.

- I've found a better place to work.

I'm sorry it took so long.

Sorry about last night.

You've been so patient.

- Charles, what is it?

What are you working on?

- I promise.

I promise I'll tell you
everything when the time's right.

Trust me?

Do you trust him?

- He's my husband, and I love him.

And I believe he's sincere.

- How did the police get involved?

- A man named Lucius Fenner called me.

He's an old, retired gentleman

who lives directly across the River Road

from where Charles set up shop.

Mister Fenner was complaining

that Charles was working all
night and keeping him awake,

receiving deliveries at all hours.

But apparently, Charles
ignored his complaints,

until Mister Fenner's
fighting nature was aroused.

And Fenner called the cops.

- Yes, and they showed up

just as Charles was
receiving another shipment

of those long boxes.

I want to know what he's doing.

- Mrs. Ward, you wouldn't happen to have

your husband's social
security number, would you?

- What are you going to do, audit him?

- No, no, it's just the way we work today.

But that one number
gets me his entire life.

There's a lot of shoe leather.

- Well I can get it for you.

Does that mean you'll take the case?

- I'll tell you what.

I'll take a drive out,
see what Charles is up to.

Doesn't look like it's on the level, well,

we'll discuss my taking your case.

How does that sound?

- I'd appreciate it, Mister March.

- My pleasure.

- Thank you.

- And don't forget, your
husbands social security number.

- I won't.

Not too shabby, boss.

- Take it easy, Lonnie.

- So, what did miss manners want?

- Oh, same old story.

Husband's dabbling in grave robbery.

- What?
- What?

- I don't know, that's
why I'm a detective.

To find out all about what I don't know.

- Well, are you gonna take the case?

- Softly softly catchie monkey.

Okay?

Lonnie.

Call your contact in PD.

Find out what really happened
out at the Ward place.

Pawtuxet Valley.

Pawtuxet Valley.

Sunday.

Okay?

- You got it, boss.

- Thanks.

- Gee, she was pretty!

- Holly, she is a client.

I'd spent the better part
of my life in Providence,

but I'd never ventured out
to the Pawtuxet valley.

You always got a strange feeling

when you met somebody from the valley,

like maybe they were hiding something.

Hello?

Anybody here?

- You're standing in dog's blood.

Dang mutt, ran into the truck out front.

Splattered everywhere.

Last few weeks we had a lot of trouble

with wild dogs around here.

Running into trucks, wrapping
themselves around axles.

What a mess.

- Hey.

Could I have some gas out
here if you don't mind.

- No problem, come on.

- Listen, I'm looking for the Ward place

out on River Road.

Couldn't find it on my map.

Could you point me in the right direction?

- Ward, huh?

- Could you be a little more specific?

I've been driving for almost two hours.

- Just keep your window down,

the smell will take you
right up the driveway.

- The smell?

What kind of smell?

- Like that dog.

Smells like death.

- Thanks.

No mail box, no address.

1.6 miles south east of the gas station,

just past the cemetery.

You start to smell it half a mile away.

You'd have to pay me five
figures to go there after dark.

Hank O'Hara, fire inspectors office.

We've had a report that
some flammable materials

are being stored here.

We'll need to inspect the premises.

Are you Mister Ward?

I see.

Then could you call Mister
Ward to the door please?

- Raymond.

I'm Charles Ward, what can I do for you?

- Fire inspectors office.

We got a call from the police

about some hazardous
chemicals being stored here

without a permit.

- All that business was
taken care of yesterday.

I see.

Do you mind if I look around?

- Yes, I do, I mind very much.

Do you have a warrant?

- Actually I'd like to
know what kind of research

you might be doing out here,

what kind of chemicals you might be using.

I noticed a very peculiar smell.

- The smell is from the
remains of lab animals

that I haven't cremated yet.

When I do, I assure you that it will be

in a small incinerator
with every precaution

respectfully taken.

- One more thing, sir.

Do you mind telling me

what was in those long boxes of yours?

- I'm afraid that's none of your business.

Good day.

- So, Charles Ward pulls up
stakes and moves to the country.

So what?

Maybe he does need time to himself.

Maybe Claire's driving him crazy.

What you want on your dog?

- I'd like...

Thanks.

Hello?

- It's me.

Lonnie, what have you got for me?

- Yeah, about the raid on Wards place.

- Yeah, the raid.

You mean the police?

- That's the one.

You ready for this?

The cops found eight, count 'em,

eight boxes of human remains.

Nothing fresh mind you, old bones.

Pretty stale, too.

Ward said it was all a shipping mistake,

but here comes the good part.

Somebody down the precinct

remembers this tip they
got about drug smugglers

smuggling corpus delicti's
along with their dope.

They ran a check through Interpol.

Turns out they've had a
rash of tomb snatchings

over in Europe.

38 in one month.

Honorius I, Cosimo Ruggeri,

Walter Bauld, Nickolai Simanof,

and a bunch of other names
I can't even pronounce.

You want to guess what all
these individuals had in common?

- They're all dead?

- They were all wizards,
magicians, or occult scholars.

- What's the street
value of wizards bones?

- How 'bout this?

Maybe somebody out there's collecting them

like baseball cards.

And maybe, Ward is the man to see.

- Are the cops going to
do anything about it?

- Nah.

The guys clean as a whistle
and connected as hell.

Old money.

- Anything else?

- Else?

What the hell else you
want for one afternoon?

Jesus!

How long had you
and Charles known each other?

- Not long.

A few months.

Mister March, are you trying
to prepare me for something?

If so, I wish you'd just come out with it.

I want the truth.

- Okay, here's what I have so far.

A truck drops some bones
off at your husbands place.

Your husband claims it's a mistake,

but if so, why does he
sign the shipping order

and still have the cargo in his possession

two days later when the police arrive?

Plus the sender turns out
to be a dummy company.

My guess is it wasn't a mistake.

- What possible use could
Charles have for human remains?

- When did he first begin acting strange?

- When?

When that trunk arrived,

six months ago, that shipping trunk.

You see, he'd been
contacted by an attorney

who was settling an estate.

He'd been mentioned in the
will of some obscure relative.

He'd never been what I'd
call passionately interested

in his family roots before,

but he found something
interesting in that trunk.

What was in the trunk?

- Family papers, wills, family trees,

letters, genealogies, old
bibles, stuff like that.

It seems that all these
old papers made mention

of a man that was referred to

as the true father of Jacob Ward.

- What was this guy's name?

- Joseph Curwen.

- Who was he?

- He was reputed to be
some sort of magician.

And the documents said
that he had a farmhouse

in the Pawtuxet Valley
so we drove out there

to see if it was still there.

It didn't seem that the
house had been lived in

for a long time, so Charles
went ahead and broke in.

- Hand me that flashlight will you?

I think you'd better stay
there for a minute, honey.

Alright.

Now that's a little strange.

- What?

- Why would someone put
wallpaper right over a mantle?

Something.

Holy.

Whoa!

He brought it
home and had it restored.

It was uncanny.

It could have been a
portrait of Charles himself.

What do you mean?

I mean Curwen
looked exactly like Charles.

What?

You can see it if
you like, it's in the house.

Yeah, I'd like to see it.

- That's when he set up that lab

in the carriage house
and became secretive.

When I asked him what he was doing,

he said he'd found some more old papers

that contained remarkable secrets

of early scientific knowledge,
or something to that effect.

There it is.

Can I get you something?

- No thanks.

Two months before the wedding.

First time I saw that
smile I was done for,

couldn't take my eyes off him.

It was at the marina.

He didn't say anything,
he just smiled at me.

Great teeth.

- When you smile, Mister March,

it's like you're holding something back.

- I'd like to see the carriage house

if you don't mind.

- That's the trunk.

- Yeah, this is John March.

Any messages?

Yes, Mister March.

You received a call from a Lucius Fenner.

- Fenner?

Fenner called me?

Yes, sir.

He left his phone number and address,

and he said it was an emergency.

- Give me the phone number.

555-1330.

- Thank you.

We're sorry

but this number is
temporarily out of service.

- John March, P.I.

What's going on?

- Wait here, sir.

- Sure.

- What brings you out this way, Mister?

- March, John March.

Lucius Fenner called me.

What happened?

- What's your interest in Mister Fenner?

- Well he's connected with a
case that I'm investigating.

I have no specific
interest in Fenner himself.

What happened here?

- Come with me, Mister March.

We got a call from a neighbor.

Said she heard a lot of
loud noises over here.

Screams, furniture breaking,
that kind of thing.

She got worried, seeing as how
Fenner lives here by himself.

There's Fenner.

We think it was an animal attack.

Could be wild dogs, but I don't buy it.

- Would you excuse me?

- John.

Did you sleep here?

John, you're not gonna take all of those!

- Holly, I've already
had one mother, yeah!

Do you think you could make some coffee?

Please.

- Right away.

- Thank you.

- Quit smoking.

- Lonnie, that's wonderful.

Good for you!

God, your clothes aren't
gonna smell bad anymore

and you're gonna live longer.

You've just done a wonderful
thing for yourself.

Tell me, is it difficult to do?

- Nah, when I make up my mind
to do something, I just do it.

- Good luck.

Quit smoking.

- Why?

- My girlfriend was on my case.

You look like you slept here.

- Give me a minute and I'll
be my usual, debonair self.

- Yuck!

Get out of that filthy shirt.

- Some coffee, please.

- Yes, I can't make the
water boil any faster.

- You're helping?

- Yes.

- You take the top and
I'll take the bottom.

- Would you like me to leave?

- Take that one off, and put this one on.

You're gonna have to wait
out in the reception area.

- It's okay, Holly, thanks.

Sorry about--
- Just had to stop by

to give you this.
- My appearance.

Come on, have a seat.

Would you like some
coffee or tea, anything?

- No, nothing, thank you.

- I guess you heard about Fenner.

Mister Fenner.

What about him?

- He was killed last night.

- My God.

How?

- They're not sure.

They think an animal did it.

What's on the tape?

- It's Charles.

Claire.

Claire.

It's Charles.

Are you there?

Honey, if you still love
me, please be there.

I need help, Claire.

I think I made a mistake,
a terrible mistake.

I'm scared.

I'm scared for you.

So you gotta listen to me.

Whatever happens, keep
away from Doctor Ash.

Don't let him in the house,
don't even talk to him.

He's--

- Remember me, the fire inspector?

We're here to see Mister Ward.

Don't give me that crap!

This is his wife, she
wants to see her husband.

- Charles!

- Open the door, Spike.

Let them in, Raymond.

We may as well talk now, as ever.

- Charles.

- You must excuse my speech.

I'm grown phthisical from
this cursed river air.

I suppose you've come to see what ails me.

I trust you'll find nothing to alarm you.

- Charles, we have to get you to a doctor.

- I'm already under
the care of Doctor Ash.

He is most able.

- Where is this Doctor Ash?

I'd like to meet him.

- He had business to attend to elsewhere.

- Sweetheart, it's not too late

for you to come back with me,

before something terrible happens.

- Do not fret my dear.

There is no evil in what I do
so long as I do it rightly.

- Sweetheart, do you
know what Saturday is?

It's our anniversary.

- How thoughtless of me.

It appears you have married an oaf.

But you know I'm on the
threshold of great things.

And the bigness of them

leaves room for little
else in my thoughts.

- I need to know what is so
incredibly important out here.

- Have the goodness to wait six weeks.

I will show you, what will
pay your patience well.

- You can't expect us to leave here

without some explanation
of what you're up to.

- It is nothing less than
the interrogation of matter!

The proper pursuit of which

requires unbending
concentration and solitude.

Thank you for your patience
and for your solicitude.

- That's not my husband.

- Has he ever talked that way before,

you know, using antiquated language?

- No.

- Have you ever heard about those,

what do you call "em, trance channelers?

People who claim that the
dead speak through them.

- Yeah.

- I read once about a
kid up in New Hampshire

who took on the personality
of his dead grandfather.

I mean he talked like
him, thought like him,

knew things only he would know.

- Are you saying that
Charles is possessed?

- No, no, no.

I think he's convinced
himself that he's possessed

by the ghost of Curwen or
whatever you wanna call it.

Either that, or somebody's
got him talked into it.

Some third party, like this
Doctor Ash for instance.

- Do you have any suggestions?

- Yes, I do.

But you're not gonna like it.

- I don't like any of this.

There was no question in my mind

that Charles had gone over the edge.

The trick was proving it to Claire.

She just wasn't ready to accept the truth.

- Is that unusual?

- Oh, yes, because of rain,

they're obviously been down it

again and then right through here.

- Right onto your property?

- Yes, right onto my property.

- They were all placed by
that fella with the eye.

- Can I see that?

Doesn't it seem like an awful lot of meat

for just three people?

- I'll tell ya, it's more than we ship

to most restaurants in a month.

And nobody orders fresh blood but him.

We got a truck dialed-in special

from a Jersey slaughterhouse.

- Lonnie, what's the
story on Mister Eyeball?

- Guy's name is Raymond Chang.

Cheap muscle from Hong Kong.

Doesn't speak a lot of English.

- Did you see the tracks
on that guy's arms?

- He used to be some kind
of low-level drug runner

before he went to work for Charles.

Tell him about the bank.

Oh, yes.

The bank called.

- What about?

- Charles' checks.

The signatures look like forgeries.

- Doctor Ash.

- Apparently not.

The bank sent a man out to the farmhouse

to ask Charles about it.

Charles claims it's a nervous
problem with his hands.

- It's a nervous problem all right.

- Lonnie, what is this here
you wrote here about tunneling?

- Yeah, that's Mrs. Bishop.

She said she found what looked like

a couple of collapsed
tunnels on her property.

But that's coming from a
lady who's blotto by 10 a.m.

- What about Doctor Ash?

- We're learnin' more
about the meat industry

than we are Doctor Ash.

Look Mrs. Ward, we're just detectives.

Your husband needs intervention.

It would only be a
temporary step, say 30 days.

- And what if it's not temporary?

- Mister Ward!

Check that out there.

- Yes, sir.

- Mister Ward!

Scott, you take that room.

The rest of you, come with me.

Allow me to go first, sir.

Be my guest.

- Oh, Charles.

- Is this Ward?

- No.

- Who is the hell is this guy anyway?

- Some druggie who works for Ward.

- Get the cuffs on him and
let's get him out of here.

Come on.

Watch the steps here.

Careful with him.

You were warned.

- I'd put that down if
I were you, Mister Ward.

And don't, don't hurt Claire.

Careful, March.

- You can walk.

You can go free.

Just give me the scalpel.

- Jesus!

You gotta get that looked at.

- That crazy son-of-a-bitch!

- Come here, come on over here.

Stay there.

- Ye have made the most damnable mistake!

- Hold him still!

- This is Doctor Lyman, Charles.

She's going to ask you a few questions.

Your cooperation would be appreciated.

- Hello, Charles.

How are you feeling?

- Unspeakable.

- Maybe if we speak about
it, you might feel better.

There's a note here, Charles.

It says you didn't eat
your dinner last night.

Was there a problem with it?

- Problem?

I must have raw meat.

Not disgusting, seared, burnt flesh.

It is blood, I must have the blood.

Your kitchen drains the
blood from the meat.

- Are you in control of your body?

- For the present, yes.

But I warn you, once the hunger grows

my control will surely weaken.

- And if it weakens, what is
it you think might happen?

- It will be a damnable mess.

- Now in regards to Charles,
the curious physical details,

the abhorrent metabolism,

the uneven respiratory and
cardiovascular patterns,

the excessively dry and flaking skin,

these are all explainable on the basis

of autonomic and hormonal dysfunctions.

Secondary to his anxious obsession

with his dead relative
that you've spoken of.

Less easy to explain

is his peculiar fixation he
has on blood and raw meat.

- What are you saying here, doctor?

Is the man curable?

- About the best we can
hope for at this point

is to somehow diminish Charles' homicidal

and cannibalistic impulses.

- What are you doing here?

- I couldn't sleep.

I think I've found something here.

What is it?

- Diary of Ezra Ward, 1771.

- So let me get this straight.

Joseph Curwen comes to Pawtuxet,

nobody knows from where, in the 1700s,

before the revolution.

- Yeah, he was a real founding father.

- Okay.

He sets himself up in
the shipping business

and gets rich quick,

but nobody likes the guy

'cause he's got a reputation

for hanging around local graveyards.

- The word witchcraft comes up a lot.

- Well yeah, you can traffic
in a lot of nasty stuff

with your own shipping business

Anything you want.

- There was a lot of
smuggling going on back then.

You know, rum, other contraband.

It was the patriotic thing to do.

- So, talk to me about this diary.

- Ezra Ward was Charles'
five times great grandfather.

He lived at the same time as Curwen.

- What else does it say?

- It says that Curwen stole Ezra's girl.

- No kidding.

- Yeah, listen to this.

Six October.

Over the last few nights,

I've ventured out to Curwen's farm house

in the hope of proving
the vile rumor is true.

From Eliza's
letters I am convinced

her heart belongs still to me.

It is only the fiends
wealth and her fathers greed

that have gained him such a wife.

That, or the infernal
power of his black arts.

Seven October.

Curwen was gone to port.

I met Eliza, as we had planned.

- Ezra, I must tell thee.

I'm fearful Joseph is truly
practicing the black arts,

as is said in town.

- What has thou seen, Eliza, tell me.

- Lately, he's been
receiving strange cargo's

from the Indies.

And four nights ago, he
came up from the cellar

with the most dreadful wound on his arm.

Joseph?

Joseph, what has happened?

Thou art bleeding.

I must fetch Doctor Hopkins.

- No!

It is to be expected.

The dead take much blood.

- 11 October.

I have spent three sleepless nights

to make my case against Curwen.

After what I have viewed,

I am convinced that Joseph Curwen

is indeed practicing witchcraft.

I counted two deliveries
made on the ninth.

The first was a load of slaughtered cattle

directly to the front door.
- Are they fresh?

- Yes sir, yes.

Each night thereafter,

more cattle were delivered by the negro

they call Old Ezza.

The next delivery came in
the boat of two Chinamen

who brought with them what
can only have been coffins.

But it was on the morning of the third day

that I discovered the
door by the riverbank

below Curwen's house

leading to what subterranean
catacomb, I know not.

12 October.

I wasted no time in
assembling the town fathers.

While they deliberated,

heavy rains washed away large
sections of the riverbank.

What followed will not be soon forgot.

That abomination, or devil,

was burnt by the high sheriff.

Plans were laid for Curwen.

At 10 in the night, on Friday October 13,

the year of our lord 1771,

a company of 100 privateers,

led by some of the most
learned men in town,

marched on Curwen's farm.

Burn him!

Burn the house!

- Ezra, I'm afraid.

I have his child within me.

- That's where it ends.

What?

- Or begins.

- Wait a minute, you mean that's it?

- What about the raid?

What happened to Curwen?

- Oh shit, that's frustrating.

Why the hell did he stop there?

- So Curwen is the real great,
great whatever grandfather

of Charles, and not Ezra.

- Looks that way, doesn't it?

- And he was a monster maker?

- In local news today,
another gruesome murder

has thrown the state into panic.

Police officials are
still hunting the person,

or persons, responsible
for last nights killing

of Mrs. Anna Bishop at
her home in Pawtuxet.

It was the night for bizarre
violence in the city as well.

In what appears to be a
related case of animal attack,

a man has been found brutally
slain in Town Street Park.

The victim, who's body
had been partially eaten,

was identified as a local drug dealer.

- Take a bite out of crime.

- Maybe it's time we went to the police.

- And tell them what?

That Charles was making
monsters at the farmhouse?

No, I don't wanna to see you

spend the rest of your life

being hounded by a bunch
of tabloid reporters.

- Someone should clear out the farmhouse

and destroy whatever
Charles was working on.

- Blow it up, you own it.

I know a guy who works
for a construction firm.

Boom!

- Well maybe we will,

but not before we know what's down there.

- Alright.

Let's do it.

Easy there, boss.

- Right, okay.

Okay.

Since when did you start smoking again?

- Since I quit.

You really gonna let her
go down there with us?

- I don't know, got any
ideas how I could stop her?

- Hey, you're the man.

Just tell her she can't come with us.

- Right, well you tell her.

- What?

What's up?

Huh?

- Nothing, nothing, nothing.

I just thought I saw
something, that's all.

- What did you think you saw?

- Nothing.

I'm just tired, you know.

Claire.

I don't think it's such a hot idea

for you to come along on this.

- You can't stop me.

This is it?

- There are enough explosives in there

to give Mount Rushmore a headache.

Okay, let's do it.

The cellar?

- This way.

- Can I have a flashlight, please?

Let's go.

Watch this, it's steep in here.

Light switch is here.

What are we looking for?

- Some sort of access down.

- I don't see shit, boss.

- What's that?

- This thing moves, John.

- This end.

Just pull.

Gimme a hand.

Curiouser and curiouser.

- Jesus!
- Oh, my God!

Jesus.

- Smells like Charles' experiments.

- Stark descent.

- Gentlemen.

- Boss.

Easy, easy.

- Claire, be very careful, it's slippery.

- Go ahead.

Where's that light?

Thank you!

Throw me the flashlight.

- You know, we really could
have used two of these.

Hey, it's not
getting any lighter down here.

Come on, drop it.

- Okay?

Great.

Now come on down.

Hand me the shotgun when you get a chance.

Okay.

Got it?

I do now.

All right, here's your gun.

Guess we're going down.

Watch your head here.

- This is unbelievable.

- Great, a lantern.

Lonnie, Lonnie, get me a light.

Here, hold this.

Stick it up here, got it?

Any preference?

Left's my lucky side.

The river?

- Ezra's door.

So I guess we're
going the other way, huh?

Watch it, it's slick.

You be careful.

Here's a door.

- Another one here.

They all must be sealed.

Get back!

What is it with this place,

is it coming down around
our ears, or what?

It's been here 200 years,

it'll probably be here
another couple of hours.

Come on, let's go.

Jesus.

You go on ahead.

- Hey, Lonnie, give me a hand here,

let's knock this down.

Let's knock this son of
a bitch down, come on.

One, two, three.

John?

John!

What the?

- My God!

Holy shit!

- Look at this.

Oh, shit.

What do ya got?

- Journal and notes of Joseph Curwen.

Gentleman of Pawtuxet plantation.

To him who shall come after,

and how he may get beyond
time and ye spheres.

- What does that mean?

- August the fourth.

I am no longer a slave
to history and to time.

I have finally conquered
the last extremity.

Death.

Very large quantities of
meat and blood are required.

However, everything depends on
the completeness of remains.

No part must be missing if the
finest effects are to be had,

for there is not but liveliest awfulness

at what came up from imperfect salts.

Refluxing the elixir in the
alembic had proven the way.

Success depending on
the control of the fire.

Beware the marriage of the flesh,

for that which is taken hath
a desire of its own return,

even if it be sucked from
the operators very bones.

When suddenly the
skeleton is reconstituted,

the operator is pulled
asunder as the flesh useth

to restore himself returneth
to its rightful owner.

What's he talking about?

- He's talking about bringing
people back from the dead.

- John.

That's fuckin' insane!

Ballpoint?

At last the method is learnt.

- Shit, John, you don't
believe this, do ya?

Geez.

- What are these urns?

- Honorius the First, Cosimo Rubieri,

Robert Flud,

Nicolas Flamel.

- What is that shit?

- Human remains.

That bastard wanted to live forever,

and this is his immortality lab.

- Yeah, right.

- Don't you understand what's
going on down here, Lonnie?

He beat death!

Look, you know what that means?

Huh?

Let's see how it works.

- Hey, wait a minute, boss.

- John.

- Just a pinch.

- Are you shitting me?

- Oh, no.

- That's it then.

It's real.

Let's see what else
this place has to offer.

Come on, Lonnie.

- Oh, shit!

Here.

What's this place?

- You okay?

Sure?

What's that?

Anybody know Latin?

Who built this place?

Slave labor?

Oh, God!

Mistakes and screw-ups.

You ready to leave yet?

- Yes.

- Come on.

Jesus Christ!

Don't move!

Lonnie, Lonnie!

I'm lookin', where are they,

where the fuck are they?

John?

Where are you?

Over here.

Lonnie, Lonnie, your matches!

Claire?

This way.

Just watch your step.

Jesus!

John!

- Gotcha, come on.

Hold on, Lonnie!

- Lonnie!

- Pull me up!

My leg.

My leg!

Lonnie!

The matches, Claire.

Light another one.

Damn it!

- Come on, come on!

Claire, hang in there.

Oh, no!

What about Lonnie?

There's nothing we can do.

Wait.

That's Charles' suitcase.

Better bring it.

It's following us.

Come on, John.

- God damn it!

Here.

Wait.

- I'm okay.

Let's go!

Please.

- Okay.

Come on.

- She has a mild concussion.

She may not remember much.

- Well hopefully she
won't remember anything.

- Did you know she's pregnant?

- Thanks Dave, I'll
call you if I need you.

- I won't hear ya, you'll
have to hit this button.

- Do you recognize this?

- My memories not as it should be.

The doctors here say I
suffered a severe depression.

- But you and I know
differently, don't we?

See your problem is

you're not even Charles
Dexter Ward, are you?

No.

You're just plain old Curwen.

- Superstition.

- Impersonation.

Murder.

- You know nothing.

- I know plenty.

See, I just just got
back from your catacombs.

- And how fares my domain?

- I blew it up.

Afraid so.

I blew the shit out of it.

And if you ever want to go home again,

you're gonna have to do it with a shovel.

Now this is Charles.

And the way I see it, nobody,

I mean, nobody, is ever
gonna let you out of here.

- Mister March.

Let me put you a question.

Suppose you were a
physician or a constable

and someone came to you and said,

"Charles Ward isn't really
Charles Ward at all.

"He's Joseph Curwen

"who is 250 years old and
looks exactly like him."

What would you say?

Take my point.

- I don't give a rat's ass.

You killed Charles, didn't you?

- Young master Charles
was a headstrong lad.

Inquisitive but principled.

It was he who raised me up, you know?

As planned.

Knowing my demise, imminent,

I paid handsomely the local undertaker,

thus ensuring my remains
to be properly preserved.

- Of course, you couldn't go
around together like that,

could ya?

Would've raised eyebrows.

- Indeed.

And so the inestimable physician was born.

Doctor Ash.

A most clever creation, don't you agree?

- And he sneaked you out
of the house like that.

- It would have been better for me

to make an appearance as
some kinsman from afar,

but young master Charles
would not have it.

He developed qualms.

Charles and I soon disagreed
on the disposition of flesh.

His, specifically.

Charles simply couldn't reconcile himself

to the resurrective hunger.

- Give me the satisfaction
of some answers.

What are you doing?

- You are the detective, Mister March.

What do you think?

- I think you've found
a way to live forever.

But it's messy.

- That is just the beginning.

I have struck depths that your
little brain cannot fathom.

My researches have led
me far beyond eternity.

I have drawn down demons from the stars.

I have harnessed the shadows that stride

from world to world to
sow death and madness.

I have designs whereby the earth,

nay, the very stars themselves,
can move at my command.

Time and cosmos belong
to me, Mister March.

The destinies of all things,
living and dead, are mine.

But, as you say, it is messy.

Truly, the curse of the
formerly dead is the hunger.

And it will not be denied.

Much better.

Are you trembling?

Oh, there'll be no point in that.

There'll be no salvation for thee.

For you see, Mister March.

May I call you John?

I feel that I know you.

Strong as my hunger for knowledge may be,

my hunger for food is so much stronger.

- Hey!

- And as for thee, I shall strip thy flesh

from thy bones like a suckling pig.

But because I'm a madman,
they will do nothing to me.

Such are the customs of
this enlightened century.

Then, in due time,

and under the guidance of
the learned Doctor Waite,

I shall make a full
recovery and win my release.

Mrs. Ward will be pleased.

Yes?

Especially when my teeth are fixed.

So, you have the reflux?

And what will you do
with that, little man?

- Corwen.

Now the whole
story is down on tape

just in case the police ever get curious.

I'm guessing they'll buy my version.

- How's he doin'?

- Resting quietly.

There was nothing I could do
for Lonnie, or the orderly.

But there was something
I could do for Claire.

I made it look like Charles had escaped.

I wanted to spare her the truth.

The truth, whatever that means.