All language subtitles for Only.Murders.in.the.Building.S03E02.1080p.WEB.h264-ETHEL

♪

- Who wants to go to Broadway?

I welcome you all...

to the world...

of Death Rattle!

- Well, my friends are
just beside themselves

that I'm gonna get to work with the CoBro!

- I'm just the friendly zoologist

who morphs into a 20-foot cobra

and helps the cops save the day.

Hey, you.
- I loved you in Girl Cop.

♪

Oh!

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
Oh, my God. He's dead.

He's dead. Ben's dead.
My leading man is dead!

- At least you had the consideration
to keep the body

out of the building this time.

- My first thought when he went down?

Maybe he was poisoned.

And a podcast about
the poisoning of a big movie star?

That could be huge.

- Mama's back, bitches!

That's right. I'm alive!

- Word is out. Ben is back.

♪

When you're falling...

...all you can hear is your heartbeat.

It's been beating since
the moment you were born,

and you never paid it any mind.

And now,

the last thought
that pops into your head,

right before you hit the ground,

"I should have listened to it
while I still had the chance.

"Because if I'd listened
to that heartbeat,

maybe none of this would've happened."

I'm sorry.
What did fucking happen in this play?

This woman got choked with a rattle

and thrown off the top
of the Pickwick Lighthouse,

and our audience is supposed to think
a baby is my prime suspect?

- Well, yes and no because the author--

- Well, what is it, Oliver?
Because I don't live in the gray.

CoBro doesn't live in the gray.

Is he a cobra? Yeah.
Is he a bro? Yeah.

That's how you gross two bill.

Not with subtle. Subtle doesn't sell.

- First of all, do you see
this paisley neckcloth?

I have never been accused of being subtle.

And second, Ben, Ben,

rehearsal's a process.

This is our first week with this material.

When the curtain goes up
in three months on opening night,

trust me.

You're gonna kill.

No, he definitely died the second time.

Oh shit, gotta go.

KT. KT. KT! Wait.

Wait!

Okay, wh-why are there people
out there striking our sets?

- Sorry, Oliver. I've got my orders.

- Well, I'm ordering you to stop.

This has to stop!

Thank you.

Now, I'm gonna call my producer

and show you that
we are all on the same page.

You've reached Donna Demeo,

CEO and founder of Demeo Productions.
Leave your--

- Okay. Well, I'll try the other producer,
the son.

Hi, it's Cliff Demeo.
I am also a professional now--

Okay, the reception here is dogshit.

- They're pulling the plug, Oliver.
They just don't wanna say it to your face.

Well, then I need to go to them.

And she's going with me! Gimme!
- What? No!

- And you can tell
those workers onstage right now

that if anyone lays
another finger on my sets,

I'm gonna wrestle them, too.

♪

And Oliver Putnam never taps out!

♪ lively theme song playing ♪

♪ vocalizing ♪

- I don't know, Bruce.
The drug bust is tonight.

What if I'm not back
in time for homecoming?

Guess you just have to speed.

- Your dad's Saab?
If my sergeant finds out,

he'll take my badge
and my learner's permit.

Save you a dance, Girl Cop.

♪ upbeat '80s music playing ♪

♪

Lester! Security!

Lester!

- You took those, didn't you?

'Sup?

- God, I had such a crush on you
in middle school.

- Really?
What are you now? Like, a senior?

- No, I-I actually
graduated a few years ago.

I-I'm 29.

- Tight.

So, you're, like,

done with college and working already?

- I didn't finish college.

- Tight.

Tight.

Hey, at least you landed
this sick apartment.

- It's my aunt's,

and I have to be out in a few weeks.

- Oh. Okay.

Okay.

That's, uh--
- The opposite of tight.

I'm almost 30, and I have...

nothing figured out.

I should be...

finding a job or a place to live,

and, instead, all I can think about is...

I don't know. I'm just lost.

- You know, I was your age
when I played this part.

- Yeah, I know. You were young and rich.

That makes me feel way better.

- No, I was a 31-year-old man
playing a high school senior.

I was lost. And lonely.

♪

And they hadn't invented Propecia yet,
so I was also terrified.

But, worst of all,
I was jealous of everyone else.

My broke actor friends doing
off-Broadway plays for free?

They had artistic integrity.
All the people I grew up with?

They had real jobs,
kids they loved, families.

But, it didn't do me any good
to compare myself to 'em.

The people who figure their shit out
right away are boring.

The late bloomers?

People like us?

We make the world go round.

You can afford to take your time, Mabel.

What you can't afford to do is waste it.

♪

- Thanks.

This is nice. I haven't spoken
to a dead person since Tim Kono.

- I'm dead?

I'm kiddin'. I knew.

You'll figure it out.

- My shit or who killed you?

- I'm bettin' on both.

- Is it weird if we do the handshake?

Mm.

Charles? Are you home?

I'm in desperate need of your help.

I have these scarves. Do you think
they're too much for a funeral?

O-Or do you have something I can borrow
from your incredibly bland wardrobe?

- Huh?

- I didn't realize you were
going to the funeral.

- Why would I not go to the funeral?

- Well, I mean, it's more of a...

fancy who's who kind of thing.

A-And, you know, you and Ben--

- Had a complicated but ultimately
copacetic working relationship.

I hope you gave the police

a better performance
than whatever that was.

- I gave them an honest statement,

not to mention a complete list
of alibi witnesses,

and a doctor's note saying

I'm too weak to kill!

Ow.
- Jesus.

I do not have time to plumb
the depths of your conscience.

Donna and Cliff are dodging my calls.

I have to convince them
not to kill my show.

- Oh, so now you're the victim here
and not the man in the box.

- All I need is five minutes.
Give me five minutes in a room,

and I can convince anyone of anything.
- That is not true.

- I convinced you to get Paramount Plus.

- No, I wanted that!
- Did you?

Hey!
- Hey!

- Can I come with you to the funeral?

- Yeah.
- Oh, please, God, yes! W-We need you!

You're the glue. You're the Mabel
in the Charles-Oliver sandwich.

- Without you, we're just two pieces
of stale white bread.

- Exactly. Come on!

- Hey, you didn't really know, Ben.

Are you still crushing on him
or something?

- No.
- Then, you're sleuthing?

- Obviously.

♪

♪ muffled choir singing ♪

- Yes, Oliver Putnam?

- Yes, welcome.

♪ choir continues ♪

♪

Is that Ben's funeral on the TV?

Closed circuit from upstairs.

- No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

I-I was sent here by mistake.

I should be upstairs in the action

with beloved friends, family,
and showbiz power players,

not... with this pack of nobodies.

- Hi, Charles-Haden Savage.

- No, you're in the right place.
This is overflow three.

- I'm sorry, overflow three?

- Why does that sound like
a plumbing emergency?

Like a very low priority
plumbing emergency.

- And your name?

- Mabel Mora.
I-I wouldn't be on the list.

- Ah, then overflow three.

- Hold on.
Complete strangers get overflow three?

- Why don't we take a seat, shall we?

Hurry.

I'm gonna look around. Behave yourselves.

♪ choir continues ♪

- Cliff and Donna have to be
up there somewhere.

I bet they have prime seats up there
on the main part of the cathedral.

You know, the whatchamacallit.

- The transept.
- No, no, no. That's the cross-section.

I'm talking about the main part.
- The narthex, the antechamber.

- Who are you,
the Hunchback of Notre Dame?

I didn't I know was attending a funeral
with famous church architect, Sir...

- Sir Christopher Wren.
- Okay, okay, okay.

Congrats on winning Jeopardy!
- Well, for God's sake, do a crossword.

I gotta get up there!

- Shh!
- Sorry.

♪ choir continues ♪

Okay, okay.
This is gonna be tricky

but I need you to draw
attention to yourself.

Now, you won't be able
to do it with charisma,

but maybe if you make
a loud noise to distract the usher.

- I'm not doing that.

- Something's rotten
in the state of Denmark.

- Hamlet?

- No, Gregg.

Oh yeah, Hamlet.

- I'm Mabel.
- Mabel Mora.

Your reputation precedes you.
I did security for Ben.

- Oh. Security.

I mean, then you must know all about--

- Threats, crazy fans, restraining orders.
- Yeah.

I got a whole filing cabinet
of that stuff.

When you work security,

you learn to look at a crowd
and pick out the troublemakers.

Like the ones from his play.

Kimber. Harmless ingenue,
or a woman scorned?

And Ty. Strapping heartthrob,
or over-ambitious hothead?

And Bobo?

That one writes itself.

- Sounds like you're investigating.

- Aren't you?

You should come look at my files.

Bring the old guys if you want.

- Have you shown them to the cops?

- I don't trust the cops.

And now, a remembrance
from Ben's good friend, Michael Musaleks.

- When I think of Ben,
I think of resiliency.

He was an actor, after all.
Actors need to be resilient.

Ben was fired from his first TV show.

Yep. Eight years old.

♪ It's a angel in flip-flops ♪

- Silence all phones, please.

- ♪ Angel in flip-flops, short-- ♪

- Hey. I think I got a lead.
- Are you gonna be okay by yourself?

- No!
- Go. Go.

Please join me
in welcoming Mr. Harry Styles.

♪

Ta-da.

Um, do you mind taking your shoes off?

- Oh, I have, uh, plantar fasciitis.

If I step on a grain of sand,
it feels like a shard of glass.

Oh, okay. Well...

- Whoa.
- I know, I know.

- It's--
- Amazing!

- Wait, are you a fan?
- Uh-huh.

- Oh. Well, then you're gonna love this.

♪

- Holy shit!

Oh, my gosh.

Are these the car keys from Girl Cop?

- Ben gave them to me.

That's the helmet from Chinook Rising.

Those are the sneakers from
Labrador Receiver.

- What are these?
- Those are Ben's pants.

- Wow! From...

- Old Navy.

- Oh. So, uh, you did security for Ben.

How come I never noticed you before?

- I don't know.
- I'm good at my job?

- Uh, Gregg, about those files
you were gonna show us.

Oh, right. Stay here.

Oop!

Ben wants to say hi.

- Oh. That's Ben! He's cute.

- She.
- Oh.

Okay, we have to go.

- No. You can go.
- I wanna see what he has to show us.

- What, a-an ant farm
with a thousand little Bens?

The man has an unhealthy vibe.

- He's a fan.
- H-He's a psycho.

Oh, he's harmless. I mean...

Look, they're friends. They're--

♪

Oh shit, that's Photoshopped.

- This is why I should
never take off my shoes.

What are you--

- Mabel! Are you okay?

- I thought you said
it was plantar fasciitis.

♪ suspenseful music swells ♪

- Maxine!
- Oh!

- Funny running into you here
in the narthex on my way to the nave.

Did your editor send his theater critic
to review a funeral?

Hey, d-did you happen to see
Donna and Cliff up there?

- I did, in fact.

- And how do they seem?
- Hm?

- You know, I mean, grieving, or more...

upbeat and open-minded?

- I'd say grieving.

- Hey, d-do you know what
might cheer them up?

If you shared your review
of Death Rattle with them.

- You're not serious.

M-Maybe just give them
a taste, you know?

I mean, "S-sure,
your lead died on opening night,

"but, lucky for you, we don't review
opening night in this business.

"We review press previews
that happened days before.

And the one I saw was a tour de force."

You know, something like that.

Maybe... exactly like that.

- Take care, Oliver.

- Please. Please. Please! Ple--

Please, Maxine.

They're taking down my sets, okay?

After Splash,
I spent 15 years in Broadway jail

thinking about what I'd do if I ever
got another shot, and now this.

Just my luck.

- Come sit.

I am sorry, Oliver,

but I don't think my review
will change anything.

- But I know you liked it.

You have a tell. Do you know that?

You close your notebook
when you love a show you're watching.

I had a spy at the previews.

He said you closed it
halfway through act one.

Are you telling me I'm wrong?

- My pen ran out of ink.

That's why I stopped taking notes.

- Oh.

Well, what does that mean?

- My review was going to be a pan.

- Was it?

Well, what about the performances?

- Oh, I hate to say it, especially here,

but I'm afraid your leading man is giving

a better performance today
than he did the night that I saw him.

Okay...

What about the staging?

- Bland. Bleak.

- You know, Jesus, Maxine!
What are you talking about?

Death Rattle is, is a classic
haunting murder mystery.

It's not supposed to be fun.
- I haven't always been a fan of yours,

but even your worst productions sing!
Somehow.

This one... just didn't sing.

- I mean, I was trying something new.
I was trying--

- Well, it felt stodgy.
And a little scared.

Yes.

But don't worry.

Nobody saw my review,
and nobody ever will.

Which... is a shame.

It was some of
my most vitriolic writing.

Peak Maxine.

I never hold back, Oliver.

And neither should you.

♪ melancholy music playing ♪

Come on, Ben.
I can feel you holding back.

- J-Just go for it.
- Sorry, but this...

This whole falling, heartbeat, heartbeat,

it just sounds weird, right?

- Could we lose it?
- Well, no.

Just say it how you would say it.

- When you're falling--
- When you're fall--

When you're falling, all you can--

- When you're falling--
- What's the matter?

- I mean, d-- Come on, don't you hear it?

I s-sound so fucking phony!

- Oh, phony, d-don't say that.
Don't say phony.

- I hate my voice.

Well, I hate to shock you,
all you have is your voice.

You're only a phony if you don't use it.

What's scaring you?

♪ dramatic music playing ♪

- I was Girl Cop. I was CoBro.

What if I can't just be me?

What if I need a ridiculous premise
just to be any good?

- Well, you are doing a play

where a baby is suspected of murder.

Look, Benjamin. Benjamin.

I want you to know it is okay

to just be you.

Look, I'm scared, too.

Scared, but exhilarated.

We're onto something here, Ben.

Come on! Take it again.

When you're falling...

all you can hear is your heartbeat.

It's been beating since the moment
you were born,

and you never paid it any mind.
Now...

♪ music builds ♪

the last thought that pops in your head,

right before you hit the ground...

"I should have listened to it
while I still had the chance."

♪ music crescendos ♪

- Motherfucker! Motherfucker!

- Hey, you're not gonna rip
this pillar out of the ground.

This is a pre-war building.
If fascism couldn't tear it down...

- Must... get... free!

Fuck!

What do you think is gonna happen?

- Well,

he killed Ben,

and we know too much, so...

Hey, at least we found the killer.

And in record time.

Usually, it takes us
at least eight episodes.

- Yeah, I guess we did get better.

We managed to solve it
without falsely accusing anyone.

- Or recording people
without their consent.

- Or interrogating a bird.

I'm so sorry I brought us here.

If you die, and it's my fault, I--

- This is not your fault.

I don't blame you
for trying to solve a murder.

You have a strong sense of justice.

And a huge crush on Ben.

- It's not that!

It's not just that.

After my dad died,

my mom wouldn't leave
her bedroom for six months.

I ate a lot of scrambled eggs that year.

I also watched a lot of Girl Cop.

Ben's character on the show was...

sweet and...

I used to dream that
he'd pull up in his dad's Saab

and take me away from that place.

- In a Saab?
- What, it was a cool car.

It looked like a Porsche.

♪

He got me through that time. Us...

through that.

One day, I was watching Girl Cop

and my mom was laughing in her room,

and I thought that was weird.

Then, a few minutes later,

there's a joke on the show,
and we both laughed.

And I realized that we were
watching the same thing.

For 30 minutes a week,

I was laughing with my mom again.

Even if we were in different rooms.

I know he was a dick to you, Charles,

and I didn't really know him...

♪

but, in a weird way,

he meant a lot to me.

- Ben wasn't the dick.

I was.

- What?

- Because if I'd listened
to that heartbeat...

maybe none
of this would've happened.

That was it. Did you feel it?

Did you feel it, Ben? Okay,

let that sink in.

Bravo.

- Hey.

That was great.

"That was great."

What is your problem?

You've been nothing but rude
to me since the table read.

- You seriously don't remember?
- Remember what?

- Brazzos?

- I mean, I remember Brazzos.

What? What?

What, what, what? Were you a fan?

- No, I was an actor!

I-I was cast as a series regular.
Boy genius Timothy Bush?

- Doesn't ring a bell.

- I'd just done
my very first table read ever.

You went over to the director,

told him I was a phony, and got me fired.

I was 8 years old.

- Did you act a lot with your hands?

- Do you have any idea
what that did to me?

It means that every job I go to,

I'm still that little boy
who can't hack it. Even now.

And that insecurity?
I can't walk into a room

without acting like a total jackass.

- Oh, and that's my fault?

- I was a kid!
I was supporting my mom and my brother,

and you fired me.

You know,
I could get you fired off this play.

I could bring things full circle,
but I won't.

I'd rather make it hell for you.

♪

This is my-- You get out.
- Okay, okay, okay!

So, when he showed up to do the play,

I could have made things right,

but I didn't.

And now, it's too late.

Alrighty, now!

- You can kill me any way you want,
but make hers quick and painless.

Actually,
we'll take two quick and painless.

What the fuck is that?

- It's a kitchen torch.

I stole it from the pastry chef at work.

- I thought you said
you were a security guard.

- I lied. I work at Lulu's Steakhouse
on 51st and 7th.

Chef Bobby doesn't think
I'm "sous-chef" material.

Punk-ass bitch.
He should see me now.

Come on.

- They usually have a safety.
- Charles!

- Huh. Thanks, Charles.
That's cool of you. You're right.

- Gregg,
you're not gonna get away with this!

- No, you aren't!

♪

I saw how you squirmed at the service.

How uncomfortable you were.

You hated Ben!

So much so that you killed him!

- No!
- Wait, what?

Charles didn't kill him. You did.

- Me? No, I loved him,
and you took him from me! Confess!

Confess!
- Help! Help!

- What?
- Where'd you get that hankie?

- I stole it from Ben's the night he died

when I was looking for clues
and collectibles.

Wait, you broke into--

- Admit it! You killed him!

- Kill!? I wouldn't kill--
- Say it!

Say it--

- Hands up!
- Drop the blowtorch!

Let me see your hands!
- I didn't do anything.

Take him! Gimme your hands.

Got him?

- Check his pockets.
- I didn't do anything!

I'm Detective Biswas.

You must be the podcasters.

Williams told me about you guys.

- Detective Williams
told you we were down here?

- No, she told me
you're a pain in the ass.

We've been on this guy
for the past 48 hours.

Someone saw him book it out of the Arconia

two minutes after Ben Glenroy died.

You know he's a stalker, right?

What the fuck were you thinking?

- Thank you.
- Wait.

Aren't there's supposed
to be three of you?

- We have his address, if you need it.

You've had a minor heart attack.

- Oh, my God, Dad.

- He said minor, Willie. I mean...

Plus, that's just a rite of passage
in the theater, you know.

Bob Fosse had, like, five.

- Yeah, you know the last one
killed him, right?

- Aw, you did read his biography.

- Uh, there are a few things
we need to talk about.

First is your blood pressure.

It's 160 over 100.

- And is that high?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- And is high good?

- No!
- No.

- Uh, I'm going to prescribe
you some medications,

but you need to change your diet, too.
Cut out dips.

- Doctor, are you trying to kill me?

- You also have an arrhythmia,

so I'm giving you this Holter monitor.

It sits right here across your chest.

And when you feel an irregular heartbeat,

you press the button, like that.

That way, we can keep track of them.

- B-But I'm healthy enough
to still direct a play, right?

Only if you think it's healthy

to pretend you didn't
just have a heart attack.

You need to reduce stress.

Hm? Because if there's a next time,

it might not be so small.

- PTSD check.

How are we holding up?
- Okay.

I've already repressed it.

- That's good.

So...

I think the police have the wrong guy.

- Mabel--
- Please, just hear me out!

Gregg didn't hate Ben.
He loved him.

- You're splitting psychopathic hairs!
He kidnapped us!

- But only because he wanted
to find the killer.

I mean, he wanted to find
the killer so badly

that he was willing to
commit multiple felonies.

Come on, you know I'm right.
Plus, there's this.

If Gregg had Ben's handkerchief,

then whose handkerchief
was Ben holding when he died?

♪

- Where'd you get these?

Well, I...

You tampered with a crime scene
and took photos?!

I find this highly concerning.

And, at the same time,
I am very impressed.

So, why was Ben holding that handkerchief?

So what if...

What if Ben, before he fell...

what if he tried to grab onto something?

Right, and all he could reach

was the killer's pocket square.

Or...

the killer had it in their hair
or around their neck.

Or, I don't know,

maybe he ripped it
right out of the killer's hand.

Okay, so,

are you in?

- Yeah.

Yeah...

- Oh, we'll get there.

You need to reduce stress.

Bland. Bleak.

This one... just didn't sing.

Just didn't sing.

I never hold back, Oliver.

And neither should you.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
let's take it from the top.

♪ Fosse-style jazz music playing ♪

♪ music crescendos ♪

♪

- Relax, Putnam.
You know I'm not into this musical shit.

♪ dramatic sting ♪

♪

You're making a mess of things, Oliver.

- She's right. You better listen.

- Listen, up, Daddy.

- ♪ You've got too much stress ♪

- ♪ Uh-huh ♪
- ♪ Let it go ♪

- ♪ Yeah ♪

- ♪ You're a mess ♪

♪ Too much stress ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪

- ♪ The show, the show, the show ♪

♪ The show, the show can't go on ♪

♪ Stop, stop, stop ♪

♪ Please stop ♪

♪ finale sting ♪

♪ whimsical music playing ♪

- Donna, Cliff, trust me.
You'll love it!

You'll hear me out?

I love you both. Give each other
a big kiss on the lips for me.

Big news, people!
First of all, Charles,

you should consider sequins,
and a lot of them.

- Uh, no thanks, and let's move on.

- Second, I'm listening to my heart

and re-imagining Death Rattle

in the most Oliver Putnam way.

I'm gonna make it sing, goddamn it!

That's right, folks.

It's a musical.

Get ready for Death Rattle dazzle!

What are you doing with that?

- The cops got it wrong.

We think that Ben's killer
is someone in your show.

Which means...

- We're back.

♪