All language subtitles for Poker.Face.S01E06.720p.x265-T0PAZ.mkv3

(scoffs)

Woman:
Jesus, Michael.

You want to 'Gram
with the shrine?

Woman:
No, I'm, uh. I'm good.

Well, Kathleen.

-Welcome to the life.
-Kathleen: Mm-hmm.

Hey, sweetheart.

Kathleen, I'd love for you
to meet my wife, Ava.

Ava, I'd like for you
to meet my mortal enemy,

Kathleen Townsend.

Ava:
Kathleen.

It is a pleasure
to finally meet you.

Well, likewise.
Likewise.

-Congratulations, newlyweds.
-Michael and Ava: Thank you.

A May-December romance
really warms my heart.

Aww, that's so sweet.

-And you look wonderful,
by the way.
-Thank you.

I think I recognize
that outfit from season six.

Okay, well, I will leave
the two of you to catch up.

Behave.

Congratulations.

Not bad.

I mean, a year ago,

you were doing
insurance commercials

with talking beavers.

And now,
now you have all this

She have
family money?

Oh no. Ava is 100% self-made.

She founded a discount
online brokerage for women--

She Trade.

So this is a treat.

After three years
radio silence.

What is this?
Some kind of 12-Step thing?

You're a rage-a-holic?
You here to make amends?

No.

This isn't easy
for me, Michael.

I know that we have hurt
each other in the past.

I know that I have
hurt you terribly.

But I have to ask you
for a favor.

Uh-huh?

I want you to do
a play with me.

What? It's one night only.
Regional theater.

Oh, but they have
very deep pockets.

I think some of the donors are
big "Spooky" fans actually.

They offered big money.

What's the play?

"The Ghosts of Pensacola."

Ugh. Listen,
even 30 years ago,
that mope-fest sucked.

Those were the best reviews
of our career.

It's a low bar.

Michael, do you know

that if you died tomorrow,

you would be remembered

for Spooky and the Cop.

Michael:
Well, that's great.

That means I provided joy
to a lot of people.

You are an artist.

It rages in your blood.

I know your soul.

I remember what the fire
was like on that stage.

Okay, I think you're
overselling it, darling.

The primal connection
we had

before the success,

before the feuds
and the tabloids.

Oh yeah, and the "People"
magazine interview

where you implied
that I couldn't read.

I said I was sorry.

It's still on
my Wikipedia page.

There's a whole subheading.
"Illiteracy."

Michael, I'm desperate.

Please, I'm begging you.

I will do anything you want.

I will prostrate
myself publicly.

But I need this.

Do you know what it's like
for an actress of a certain age?

You go from mom
to senator

to dementia patient.

And, and I need the money.

Well, I'm sorry, Kathleen.
The answer's no.

Okay.

But if you need some cash,
I could, I could ask Ava.

Oh, fuck you!

And fuck you, bitch.

Fuckin' motherfuckers!

-Fuck!
-Ava: Jesus Christ.

Kathleen:
Motherfucker!

Oh God.

Ava: Michael,
I keep asking you

to keep your pills
on you.

What if I'm not here?

-Ava--
-Your heart.

It's just seeing Kathleen

makes my
blood pressure spike.

I'll get a massage
from Jean Marc.

-Ava: Darling.
-Michael: Mm?

Perhaps you
should reconsider.

I worry.

You know,
my money, my career,

all of... this.

You miss the limelight.

But with Kathleen?

Oh, come on.

It was 30 years ago.

I'm sure you've both
grown since then.

Hmm?

You manipulating,
lying shrew!

Oh, grow up,
you're a kept man.

You should be used to
taking direction from a woman.

There is no way

I'm letting you direct
this damn play!

Whoops, I am.

And you would have
known that

had you read your contract

or had someone read it to you.

Oh, okay, great.
I'm in hell!

And get this dog
off the stage

before I kick it
for three points.

-(dog whines)
-Come here, Fosse.

Woman:
Um, could we possibly discuss

my character's clubfoot
for just a moment?

Because I would feel personally
a lot more comfortable

if somebody from
the clubfoot community

were advising.

-Oh God. Really?
-Rebecca: Yeah.

Kathleen:
Just get out there
and hobble, honey.

That's the lunch menu, sir.

I'll have a club sandwich
with a side order of a gun.

Um, uh, and also, Harry,
if it's not too much trouble,

thanks, could you get me
a hibiscus tea, please?

With milk.
Um, but not almond milk.

I know people like it,
but I'm allergic

to all tree nuts
and legumes, actually.

-Of course, you are.
-Well, no, I am.

So if those dog treats
are peanut-based,

because they smell
peanut-based

and they say
peanut butter on them,

I could go into
anaphylactic shock actually.

Hold on.
What the fuck is that?

What?

That thing on your lap.

What is it?

My script?

Would you like
a representative

of the off-book
community present?

You know, this is not
a TikTok, baby.

This is my stage!

And you show up knowing
your goddamn lines.

These fucking millennials.

Don't worry.
You're doing great.

You've already lasted longer
than John Stamos.

Where is my
stage manager Bill?

-Phil.
-Kathleen: Okay, Bill,

we are going
to run this play

the exact same way
we did in 1991.

The timing on
my trapdoor exit

at the finale

must be exactly the same.

Well, we don't do
trapdoor drops anymore.

It, it isn't safe.

There's a 15-foot drop down

to a concrete floor underneath,
and union regulations state--

Okay, I did that drop
every night for one year.

Frank Rich
called it "effective."

Okay, well, that was
a long time, uh, uh...

Say the word "ago."

(gulps audibly)

Kathleen:
Go ahead.

(whispers):
I want you to.

Um... I'll make it
as safe as I can.

Don't knock
yourself out, Phil.

Kathleen: (clapping)
Okay, everyone, come on.

We have four days
to make magic happen here.

Places, everybody.

Places.

(classical music playing)

Kathleen:
Okay, people, to review--

Every time
a military jet flies over,

I want everything
on this stage to shake.

Shake! You got it.
Everything.

-Crew Member: Yes, ma'am.
-Now, on the third flyover,

that is the cue
for Michael's monologue.

If he can manage
to hit his mark.

Is that big enough?
Can you see it?

Okay. Now, Bill.

Bill, I would like to run
through my monologue

all the way till the end
till the trapdoor fall.

(quietly):
It's Phil.

Yeah, we're ready!
Everything's good!

Kathleen: It was cold
in Pensacola that winter.

Unnatural cold.

Frost that comes too soon
and stays too long.

Maybe forever.

-The mist rises up and...
-(clattering)

Don't move!

The mist rises up
and covers your toes.

Then you waste.

(door opens)

The waves.

They want to meet
the clouds.

The mother and child
reaching out...

-(clattering)
-...for each other...

Oh, goddamn you!

-What the hell...!
-Hey, Kathleen.

Why don't you grab me some
extra thousand island dressing

while you're back there.

Oh!
(grunts)

-Son of a bitch!
-Mats work.

-Hey.
-Kathleen: What?

I almost broke
my goddamn neck!

-I'm done. I'm out. I quit.
-Good.

You walk out now,
you're on the hook

for a $200,000 kill fee.

So maybe you want to talk
to your wife about it first.

The one who
pays your allowance.

It's worth every penny!

Kathleen: You know,
I'm not so sure,

because I think if she knew

about all your dalliances,
maybe not so much.

Alright. You want some
mutually-assured destruction?

-Yeah.
-I got you, baby.

-Bring it.
-Because I'm working
on my memoirs,

and I got
a whole chapter about...

(whispers):
...Acapulco.

You signed an NDA.

Yeah, well,
now I got NFs to G.

Alright,
I'll do your damn play,

but I tell you this--
the doomsday clock is ticking.

And when the curtains drop
on this play tonight,

you can kiss
your career goodbye.

You might want to check
your prenup.

Because tomorrow,

Ava is getting
a little info in the mail

about Chyna with a "Y."

I'm not bluffing.

I know.

You're not
a good enough actor.

* *

Okay. Five minutes
to call, people.
Five minutes.

-Found it.
-Thank you.

Michael: I got you
a seat right up front

so I can see you.

Lucky me.

Break a leg.

Ava.
Ava darling.

I just wanted
to thank you.

Sorry?

Well, I know
that you convinced Michael

to do the play
with me, and...

I just... thank you.

Oh, Kathleen. Oh.

No, see, I knew that
working with you would be

such a fucking nightmare
that it would kill off

Michael's silly
little acting bug

once and for all,
and voilà.

-So, thank you.
-(Kathleen chuckles)

Psycho.

(bell rings)

That bitch's teeth
don't even match.

The fuck is
going on here?

-Break a leg, Michael.
-Oh!

Better not let Kathleen
catch you with those.

What is she going
to do, fire me?

-(Rebecca chuckles)
-A man can dream.

Brrrr!

-(jets whooshing)
-(audience applauds)

Tomcat?

No, that's a Phantom.

Don't know
why they bother.

They say our boys
will be home by Christmas.

Michael:
What are you afraid of?

Kathleen:
What will become of her?

I'm afraid that,
that she has

too much of both
of us inside her.

I'm afraid that she has
a gunmetal heart.

Like you.

Summer felt like winter

felt like spring.

Fucking hack!

Pathetic excuse
for a man.

You ball-busting harpy.

Ow. Ouch. Ouch.

Goddamn son of
a fucking piece of shit.

Michael:
You washed-up has-been.

Kathleen:
You pathetic
preening prick!

You are such a failure.

You think you're an actress?

You're a joke.

A lying,
philandering failure.

The whole crew used
to laugh at you.

Actress?
More like hacktress.

Kathleen:
You impotent baby.

How the fuck
did I put up with you
all these years?

(squeaking)

Michael:
You shriveled prune.
Ah, ah!

Kathleen:
Not as shriveled
as your tiny little dick!

Asshole.

You vain,
backstabbing hag.

What kind of god!

Bobby.

Bobby, I want
my heart to soar.

I will dance
on your grave.

I'll piss on your grave.

Kathleen:
It feels like
a storm is brewin'.

Did you close
the windows, sweetheart?

(window slides shut)

Oh baby.
I saw the Crawford boy
down the supermarket today.

He works at
the base now.

(indistinct dialogue)

(creaking)

(indistinct dialogue)

-Rebecca: Stop it, Mama.
-Kathleen: Stop what?

Stop it!
Just stop thinking

that any man
would ever want me.

Oh, no, I didn't say that
about your foot.

-Rebecca: No!
-Kathleen: Oh no.

They say that there are
two types of men in Pensacola:

pilots, and the men
who keep 'em up in the air.

And if you forget,
they'll remind you.

Some folks say that that's why
they fly their jets so low.

Make us spill
our morning coffee.

(jets whooshing)

Always looking up
at the skies

in fear.

-(rattling)
-Just to keep us in our place.

-Woman: Look out!
-(glass shatters)

(gasps)

(groaning)

Michael!

Ava.

-Shit.
-(Michael groaning)

-(Ava screams)
-(head smacks)

-(audience exclaiming)
-(body thuds)

Ava! Ava!

(Michael screams)

-Man: Oh, my God!
-(woman screams)

Oh no!

Officer:
I think we've got
everything we need.

And again,
I'm so sorry for your loss.

Thank you.

Oh, I'll give you guys
some privacy.

I just want you to know that
"Spooky and the Cop"

made me choose a career
in law enforcement.

Thank you. I can't tell you
how many times I've heard that.

That was the performance
of a lifetime.

You did it, darling.

We did it.

We did it.

* *

Come on, you threw
a tip at a customer.

You know what,
it was a dime.

And you ate
someone's bacon.

They were ignoring me.

You are the worst waitress
I've ever had.

And I ran a Cracker Barrel
in the Green Zone.

That last part
was unnecessary.

But thank you
for your service.

Okay. God.

(lighter clicking)

(sighs)

Well, as firings go,

hardly my best work.

(Phil chuckles)

Not bad
for a matinee.

You happen to know
anyplace else

that's looking
for a subpar waitress

that doesn't require paperwork
or references?

Well, actually,
half hours, good tips.

Mm, no benefits.

Seasonal work,
so it pays cash.

I can put in a good word
for you if you're interested.

Well, that actually
sounds pretty perfect.

What's the catch?

-* Philadelphia *
-* Yeah *

-* Am I helping ya? *
-* Yeah *

* Who's your daddy?
And by that, I mean *

-* Founding Father?
-* Franklin *

-* Who? Ben Franklin *
-* You *

* It's no surprise *

* I'm healthy
and wealthy and wise *

* I've been struck
by lightning *

* Anyone can see *

* A great big storm
and a little old kite *

* Helped me find
the key *

This is hell.

* I'm all about
the Benjamin *

-(lowers audio)
-* Benjamin Franklin... *

(thunder rumbling
over earphones)

(muffled singing)

Kathleen:
Okay, people, to review--

Every time a military jet
flies over,

I want everything
on this stage to shake.

Morning, Jer.
Miss me?

Shh! I'm listening
to the tech rehearsal.

I'll take that as a yes.
What is this...

Kathleen (on speakers):
Bill! Bill!

...the big magilla
they've been working on
all week.

That's Kathleen Townsend
and Michael Graves

doing "Ghosts
of Pensacola" here.

I'm losing my shit.

Hey, hey.
No, that's not food.

It's a prop. Prop food.

-Respect it.
-Well, this is, this is food.

This is food.
You're nuts.

Listen up.
No peanuts in anything.

The third banana onstage
has an allergy.

It's our one-night-only
gala event.

It's a sellout, and I don't
get halibut every day.

(muffled):
So I need everyone
on their toes. Okay.

(thunder rumbling
over earphones)

(inaudible dialogue)

Man:
Wait. Charlie. No!

-(muffled dialogue)
-(thunder continues)

Kathleen:
Oh, goddamn you!

What the hell?!

Michael (over speaker):
Hey, Kathleen.

Why don't you grab me
some extra

thousand island dressing
while you're back there?

-(trapdoor opens,
Michael screams)
-What?

Michael:
Son of a bitch!

Phil:
Mats work!

Bring me the Philistine.

(feedback squeals)

Oh, please, God, no,
don't break another wig.

-Hey.
-Now you listen to me.

When an actor
is performing,

you don't sneeze,
you don't breathe.

You don't dump fucking ice

in a fucking frozé dispenser.

Okay, listen, lady,
I, I, I, I really. I just...

I'm just doing my job here.

What, do you think people
come here for the food?

Well, yeah.
I mean, kind of.

Uh... You know,
I'm just a waitress.

It's not really my fault
that this place came

with a talking wall.

That stage is an altar

where we bare our souls

in search of the truth.

Now you will respect that,
young lady,

or you can hit
the fucking bricks.

The truth.

Wow. Uh, yeah, sorry.

I just, I happen to know
a thing or two about the truth,

so I'll tell you.

You got Patrick Swayze,
"Roadhouse."

Jennifer Jason Leigh,
"Single White Female."

Christian Slater,
"True Romance."

Truth, truth, truth.
Now, you.

Uh, well, I did
happen to catch

a few words
through the rainstorm.

And I'll tell you the truth,
I didn't believe a single word.

In fact, I would say that
that's maybe the biggest batch

of bullshit I've heard
in my whole,

yeah, whole entire life.

(exhales)
Jesus.

I get it.
I'll see myself out.

I haven't been spoken to
that way in 30 years.

Uh-huh.

-Does this mean I'm not fired.
-Kathleen: Fired?

My God.
What you're
giving me is gold.

It's fuel.

I live off it.
I use it.

And you're lucky
you took those earbuds out

because you're about to hear
the performance of a lifetime.

I love your work.

Hey. (laughs)

Hey.

You survived a face full

of Kathleen Townsend, kid.

Uh, I mean, you seem like
a normal guy, Phil.

How are you putting up
with these theater people?

Well, you got to love 'em,
and you got to understand 'em.

I mean, what Kathleen said,
she's right.

What happens on that stage
is a kind of magic.

And I get to see
someone hit with it,

truly transformed by it
for the first time every show.

That's probably
why I keep doing it.

Well, you're a better man
than me, Phil.

Well, everything I said
and, but also,

Jack Daniels

is my dramaturg.

Now you see, this is the kind
of pep talk I can get behind.

(chuckles)
One night only, kid.

After opening,
this is all over.

(exhales)
To opening night.

(classical music playing)

Ava (whispering):
Excuse me, darling.

Can you get me
absolutely shit-faced?

Oh, you'll never see
the bottom of that glass.

Michael:
You mean like you?

Summer felt like winter

felt like spring.

Makes you miss
the hip-hop Ben Franklin.

I didn't know what
the seasons felt like--

Michael (over speakers):
...you washed-up has-been.

Kathleen (over speakers):
You pathetic, preening prick!

Glad someone's riveted.

Michael:
...actress. You're a joke.

Kathleen and Michael
are fighting backstage,

and they forgot
to turn off their mics.

Kathleen: ...failure.

Michael: The whole crew
used to laugh at you.

-You weren't kidding.
-Michael: Actress?
More like hacktress.

Hold on, if we can hear this,

you realize who else
can hear it, right?

Rebecca:
And I always ask myself,
why, God, why?

-But Bobby always
made me feel...
-Michael: Prune!

Kathleen:
Not as shriveled
as your tiny little dick!

Asshole!

Michael: You vain,
backstabbing hag.

Who's talking?
Is that the ghost?

That's all
I've ever wanted.

Oh. Feels like
a storm is brewin'.

I saw the Crawford boy down
the supermarket today.

He asked about you.

-Thanks.
-Rebecca: Oh, stop it, Mama!

Stop thinking that
any man would ever want me.

-Kill me.
-Rebecca: Oh!

Michael:
There are two kinds
of men in Pensacola--

pilots, and the men
who keep 'em up in the air.

And if you forget,
they'll remind you.

Watch Kathleen.

Michael:
Some folks say that's why--

She's so present.

Look at her.

Fear and anticipation
in her eyes.

(jets whooshing)

Yeah, you're right.

This is the first time
I've really believed her.

(jets whooshing)

Look out!

Michael: (grunting)
Ava!

-Ava: Michael!
-Oh!

Michael: Ava!
(groaning)

-(screams)
-(head smacks)

-(body thuds)
-(people gasp)

Michael:
Ava! Ava!

Audience Member:
Oh, my God!

Charlie:
I mean, look,
it's not your fault.

A woman fell to her death
on my stage.

How is it not my fault?

Because it was
a crazy accident, okay?

I mean, just think
about all the things

that had to go wrong.

The light fell.
Michael had a heart attack.

His wife ran up
with his pills

after I poured her a bottle
of the good stuff, by the way.

If any one of those things
hadn't happened,

you and me will be
outside by the dumpsters

ranking Christopher Nolan
movies right now.

No, as soon as
the curtain goes up,

it's all
my responsibility.

I guess I'm lucky.

All the cops had to do
is check my thermos,

and I'd be sitting
in a cell.

Come on.
I know you.

It was just
a little Irish coffee

to take the edge off, right?

Yeah, that's what
I thought.

Maybe I'm a lightweight now.

I know I checked that bolt
and those pads.

It's the last thing
I remember before...

Oh God.

(crying)
Oh God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God.

Jesus. Should you be
leaving those out?

Baby, I'm an actress.

If I didn't have a bottle
of Ambien in my dressing room,

people would ask questions.

Yeah, it's too bad
about Phil.

It's not like
he's in jail or anything.

He just went
a little overboard.

Wow. You really missed
your window for playing
a femme fatale.

Now, I can remind
the whole world

what Kathleen Townsend can do.

And the world is watching.

What are you
talking about?

We are trending, baby.

Right now,

people are watching us.

They are really watching.

And I never got
to deliver my monologue.

-No.
-Yes.

One last performance.
Tonight.

-No.
-For Ava.

-No.
-For Ava.

Fuck that.

What happened to
we hide out overseas for a year

and then reemerge
confessing our love.

You wrote the script, baby.

I know. I wrote it.

-And now I'm flipping it.
-No.

I'm flipping
the script entirely.

Yes. Your tragedy
is what drew us together.

It's risky.

Oh, baby...

don't you want
to be together right now?

-Yes.
-Hmm?

Don't you think
we should start spending

some of that
She Trade money.

-Oh yes.
-Hmm?

The spotlight's ours, baby.

Let's get it
while it's hot.

So let me get this straight,

a woman dies
right in our faces

and instead of giving us
grief counseling,

we have to work.

Theater people
are so strong.

I don't know, it just, it,
it doesn't make any sense.

I mean, the dude
had a coronary,

and then his wife died.

Like, what doctor
signed off on this?

Find a seat
for Sheriff Ed.

He's some crazy
"Spooky and the Cop" fan.

It's a sellout.
If he doesn't have a ticket...

Give the lawman
what he wants.

He just dealt with
the richest woman
in Connecticut

getting killed
by a drunk stagehand.

Oh, come on.
Bullshit.

Thin ice.

Get out there
and keep your job.

(sighs)

-(indistinct chatter)
-(knock on door)

What do you want?

Oh, don't worry
about Fosse.

He's very
well-behaved today.

So I thought it was weird

that Michael was going over
his dialogue for the show

since he didn't miss
a single line in rehearsal.

So I checked in his coat pocket
and lo and behold,

this is not dialogue from
"Ghosts of Pensacola."

This is the fight
that the two of you had

during my monologue.

The fight that you used
to cover up Ava's murder.

Sweetheart, Michael and I
are workshopping

a new play
by a brilliant new writer,

and we're running lines
backstage.

That might fly
if I had seen

the two of you
backstage together.

But I didn't.
You were gone.

And my monologue
gave you just enough time

to sabotage the light
and the trapdoor.

So you did it.

You watch
too much "Dateline."

Rebecca: No, but I
have been watching

a heck of a lot of
"Spooky and the Cop."

And this exact thing happens

in season six, episode 11,
"Exit Stage Death."

You lazy assholes
didn't even bother
to change the dialogue.

So, um...
here's my price.

And here is my bank info.

So if that money
is not in my account

by the end
of the play tonight,

I'm going to the police.

Oh, and one last thing.

I killed that
fucking monologue, okay?

So don't you ever
upstage me again.

Fucking boomers.

Okay, what are we
going to do?

We have to pay.
We have no choice.

(door opens)

(door closes)

(Fosse whines)

Just delivering
the prop food.

Oh, I belong here.

Yeah.
Okay, sir, prop food.

Jesus.

Man (on radio):
Ten minutes to curtain.

Ten minutes to curtain.

Phil's preshow checklist.

Oh shit. I got
to do the checklist.

Charlie:
Wow.

He ticked off
the flappy door checkbox
before the show.

-It's here.
-Harry: So?

If he secured
the flappy door,

that means that
someone unsecured it.

That means
it wasn't Phil's fault

and it wasn't an accident.

Is anyone else
besides Kathleen

supposed to go through
that flappy door?

Her big trapdoor moment?
Are you kidding me?

That means that Kathleen
was the target.

I gotta text Phil.

Oh, my God.

-Hey.
-It's Charlie.

It wasn't your fault.

It was sabotage.
S-A-B-O-O...

-That doesn't seem right.
-The show is about to start.

Oh, my God, dude, dude,
we just figured out

that someone is trying
to kill Kathleen.

Now you're going to give them
another whack at the piñata.

But the show is
about to start!

(knocking on door)

Oh, if it isn't
my fiercest critic.

Are you here to give me
some notes before my swan song?

Charlie:
It wasn't Phil's fault.

He was framed.

So I think
someone drugged him

and futzed
with the floor door.

I mean, I don't know why,

but I think
you were the target.

Me?

You're the only one
who was supposed
to stand on it, so...

I walk across it
many times

and did not fall through.

My blocking is very vigorous.

-Okay, uh--
-Look,

things happen
in the theater all the time.

Entire sets collapse.

Live wires get exposed,

they electrocute actors.

But we persevere.

Hey, I-I'm so sorry.
I don't think
you're hearing me.

Someone's trying
to kill you.

I'm not going to let you
go back out there.

(radio crackles)

I'm already on.

Now get out
of my room.

Wardrobe.

(audience applauds)

-(jets whooshing)
-Tomcat?

No, that's a Phantom.

I don't know
why they bother.

They say our boys
will be home by Christmas.

(whispering):
Cue 38.

(whispering):
Listen, is that Phil?

Give me that.

-Phil, Phil.
-Phil: Hey.

Listen, I, I,
I don't get it.

I mean, the bolt
must have been in place

until Ava
walked across it.

Did you see anybody else
down there?

Phil:
Nobody.

Look, Charlie,
I appreciate

what you're trying to do,
but just let it go.

Charlie:
No can do, Phil.

I'm like De Niro
at the end of "Heat," man.

So stay tuned.

I need to see the video
of last night's show.

Well, be my guest.
Take the curse off me.

It's like the video
from "The Ring,"

but with Phil gone,
I'm the stage manager

and I have nothing to go on
except this video

and Phil's notes
from last night.

Charlie:
Hey, hey, hey.

What is that?

Is that smoke?

Harry:
Looks like dry ice.

Where do you keep
this, uh, dry ice?

(indistinct chatter)

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Man:
You okay?

Jesus. I-I got
to talk to Kathleen.

Hey, wait.
Stop!

See that?
It's a sight line.

You can't cross it,
you're in the play.

Kathleen:
Bobby was my
unexpected gift.

Shameful as it was,

I loved him so.

He liked the stars
that moved fast,

like his aircraft.

Charlie:
Hey, I figured it out.

The bolt was dry ice.

Excuse me. That means
that someone definitely--

The crickets are certainly
very active.

...off! Off the stage.

Oh, these crickets
are wild.

Off the stage.

They need to stop,
the crickets.

Charlie:
Get off the stage.

You need
to stop now.

You need to get
off the stage.

-Um, Garrett...
-Jesus!

...what are you doing
smoking that filthy thing
in the house.

You'll give Daisy pleurisy
if you don't watch out.

Mother, I smoke.

Does that shock you?

That's right.
I smoke cigarettes.

Your daughter,
your little girl.

-Thank God.
-Rebecca: It suits me.
It calms my spirit...

-Hey!
-...and it eases my mind.

Uh, yeah, well,
looks like we got us

a real smoker, Savannah.

Good for you, Daisy.

Hey, what are you doing?

I myself enjoy smoking

by the window over here.

Let me go.
Let me go!

Smoke is going to be
the death of all of us.

I know what let's do...

let's bake
something together.

A key lime pie.

Like when you were
a little girl.

I'm not a little girl
anymore, Mama.

Charlie:
It was Michael!

His fingers are burned
from the dry ice

he used to rig the floor.

There's supposed to be milk
in here somewhere.

Oh, there.

Michael was on stage
the entire time.

No, the chubby foot monologue,
that was three minutes.

-He could have--
-Our argument.

Everyone heard it.
You heard it.

Now, what the fuck
are you even talking about?

You almost caught
the bus, lady.

That falling light
saved your life.

...if I were a refrigerator,
would you pay attention to me?

Exactly. And do you think
he rigged the light
to kill himself?

The light?

Michael:
...watching life
like his old man!

Why did I push Bobby? Why?

You only told him
to aim high.

Isn't that what we all want
for our children?

Michael:
Oh.

But when I saw him
in those dress blues.

Kathleen: Oh,
that boy was born to fly.

Was he happy,
our son?

Was he happy?

Kathleen: Oh, baby,
you and I both know that

Bobby was never happy

other than when he was up there
flying with the birds...

If that matters.
If anything matters.

I love you.

That matters.

The truth.

I love you, too.

Hey, hey,
chubby foot.

Uh, we've got
a situation here.

Who are you?
Did you just come down
from the lights?

It doesn't matter.
So I thought

that Michael was trying
to kill Kathleen,

but I was wrong.

It was his wife,
and they were in it together.

Michael and Kathleen.

You see,
they don't hate each other.

-They love each other.
-Why are you telling me this?

-I'm about to go on.
-Oh, because...

Excuse me.
You can prove it.

You see, it was during
your foot club speech thing.

He was futzing
with the flappy door,

and she, she was messing
with the light.

What was it?
Three minutes, right?

Yes. But I saw the two
of them backstage together,

so they couldn't possibly
have done it, okay.

So... will you leave me alone.
I have to go on.

Wait, why are you lying?

Wait, are you in love
with him too?

Will you please
leave me alone?

Are you a thruple?

-Shit.
-Rebecca: Mama.

Do you think Billy Crawford
will come calling?

Oh, I could call his mother
and ask her, couldn't I?

No, never mind, Mama.
Forget I mentioned it.

Kathleen:
I will.

Do you think there could be
a sign or somethin'?

* *

(Fosse whining)

Fucking actors, man.

Chubby foot.
Very hardcore.

(Fosse barking)

Shhh.

Quiet, quiet, hey!

Who wants a yummy, yummy

little peanut butter treat?

Oh shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Kathleen: Look, honey,
I made you a little snack.

Charlie:
Oh, Jesus.

-Thank you, Mama.
-Charlie: Oh shit.

Hey.

Who eats the prop?

-Which actor
eats the Chex Mix?
-Rebecca.

No, they put
peanut butter in it.
They're gonna kill again.

Shit.

Michael:
I was so young.

Florida State was looking
for a fullback.

Coach was scouting me.

You think I wanted
to get married at 18?

Kathleen:
Do you think I did?

* *

(clattering)

(audience murmuring)

Uh...

I am, I am
a ghost of Pensacola.

Uh, and you are
not here to eat.

You are here to talk
about your chubby foot

and, uh, feelings.

Do not let your mother

poison your spirit...

and drive you nuts.

And now I will return

to the spirit realm
of Pensacola.

Okay.

(spookily):
Goodbye!

(scattered applause)

What, why are you
looking at me?

-What'd I do? What'd I say?
-Listen, Rebec--

I mean, Daisy.
Listen, Daisy.

I had nothing to do
with your mom--

-Mama.
-Kathleen: What?

Daddy. You already lost
one child,

and you almost lost
another one.

So now, the price
of my love

has doubled,

and I demand
to see it immediately.

Are you fucking kidding me?
Immediately!

Summer felt like winter...

How could you do that
without talking to me first?

What? Oh, yes.

(feedback squeals)

What were you thinking?

Someone had
to do it.

Michael:
You're insane.

We could have paid her off.
This would all be over.

Oh, don't be so naive.

She would have just
come back for more.

Hey, Sheriff.
Never meet your heroes, right?

Kathleen (on radio):
You spend years planning
your wife's murder

to get shafted
by a fucking day player.

I will shove
that peanut butter

down that Juilliard
bitch's throat if I have to.

No. Okay, look,
that's it.

We're going to pay
her off, alright.

I'm going to call
my business manager.

He is going
to have a fit.

Kathleen: Michael,
what the fuck is that?

Michael: What?

What in the hell?

Oh... shit.

We're fucked.

They heard everything.

What do I do now?

We use it.

Showtime, baby.

I used to wait
for that parade every year.

Independence Day.

For who? From what?

Bobby's real daddy went down
over the Sea of Japan.

(gasps)

July 12th, 1952.

An aviator.

(thudding)

Why did you take Bobby?

He was better than me
in every way!

(howling)

Kathleen: It was cold
in Pensacola that winter.

Unnatural cold.

Frost that comes
too early

means to stay too long,

maybe forever.

The mists rise up.

They cover your ankles,
then your waist.

The sea longs
to reach the clouds.

Mother and child
reachin' out for each other.

When my sweet Bobby
went up...

he always took me
with him.

And so it follows
that that day,

I, too, went down.

That cold winter.

This winter.

The mists
up to the lashline.

Ice on the wing
is mist on the ground,

is tears.

The mist rises up,

and I kneel down
to meet it.

And so now
I too become

just another ghost...

of Pensacola.

(trapdoor opens)

(applause)

Man:
Bravo!

-(audience cheering)
-Man: Bravo!

* I'm just *

* A Broadway Baby *

* Walking off my tired feet *

* Pounding 42nd Street *

* To be in a show *

* Oh *

(audience laughing,
applauding)

* Broadway Baby *

* Learning how to sing
and dance *

* Waiting for that
one big chance *

* To be in a show *

* Oh *

* Gee *

* *