All language subtitles for The Spoils Before Dying s01e05 The Trip Trap.eng

Hello, I'm Eric Jonrosh,

novelist, architect, malcontent.

Things get weird tonight
on Spoils Before Dying.

You can handle it.

When I directed
The Spoils Before Dying,

I was in a strange place
in my life.

It was the late '50s,

and my world was
spinning out of control.

I turned to suspect substances
to try and manage the spin,

but certain substances
I acquired

from South American Indians
actually accelerated the spin

in a not so unpleasant way,
creatively speaking of course.

The substances, to be blunt,
drove me crazy.

I might have killed someone
I loved very much.

I honestly don't know.

That's where my head was at.

Creatively speaking, it was like
kicking open a locked door

in a unicorn's eye
and discovering

a meadow of sexual daisies.

I gathered my crew in Paris,
and, in a trance,

we went out and shot much
of tonight's episode.

Looking back I realized
I can't handle some drugs.

It's important as an artist
to understand this.

[scoffs] No, it's not, really.

I don't know why I said that.

I think maybe I get scared
no one will hire me again

if I confess
to all my little murders.

Enjoy the mess.

Hello,
I'm Detective Kenneth Bluntly

from the hit Dutone television
program Calling All Cars.

The following portion
of the film you are watching now

involves a depiction
of the effects

of illegal hallucinogenics
of the mind.

The drugs depicted are real,
and the images were chosen

from the case files of thousands
of actual drug addicts.

"Tripping," or "lollypopping,"

or "scallywagging,"
as the kids call it,

is not only against the law,
but it can be deadly.

One medical professional
predicts that by the year 1965,

over half of 10% of 70%
of teenagers

will die from drug overdoses.

Tripping on drugs
is no vacation,

unless you plan
on vacationing in a graveyard.

It's your choice.

Thank you. Now enjoy the show.

This is a special concoction

of opiates, methedrine,

and just a skosh of cyanide.

I'm so proud of it.

I'm afraid it won't be
very pleasant for you.

Let's skip it, then.

[laughs]

I like your sense of humor,
Mr. Banyon.

You got to write that one down.

It'll be over soon,
don't fight it.

It's just going to be
a little prick.

Oh, there we go.

You gonna kill me,
then get it over with.

We have to make it look
like an overdose.

How much longer?

He should be feeling it
in about ten seconds.

- It won't be fun, Mr. Banyon...
- Acht.

- Where you're going.
- Sieben.

But at least you won't wake up
from it.

- Sechs.
- Enjoy the dance.

What dance?

- Three.
- Drei.

- Two.
- Zwei.

- One.
- Eins.

Run, Rock, run.

[random piano keys played]

Meow.

Welcome to the party,
Mr. Banyon.

What'll it be?

I'll take a hair of that dog
that bit me, Lloyd.

How about you?

I'm just a holy fool
surfing the eternal now.

How's your nightmare
treating you?

Gotta get back to the center.

The center is the boundary.

Your mind, your body,
your spirit

is committing chakracide.

I saw darkness.

So?

So you create reality
by raising the vibration.

Polarity, my friend.

- Polarity.
- Blingo.

- Pretty sure you mean bingo.
- That's what I said.

- Bingo.
- Blingo.

You... just... flip...
the... switch.

[opera music]

[applause]

(man echoing)
You're watching BBK 7

[jazz music]

(woman) The poor.

[steam whisle, train bell dings]

Homo... sexual.

Homosexual.

I had a singing group once.
It was The Four Robins.

Man named Wardell. Sax player.

Why? Why?

Hello, Rock.

Fresno! You're alive.

Deader than a Sunday morning.

You'll be dead soon too.

I was so close, Fres.

The guy that killed Wardell
killed you and Stygamian.

It wasn't me.

Stygamian has
something dangerous

in that cigarette case.

I find that case,
I can get to the bottom of this.

It's in locker 214
at the bus station downtown.

- Really?
- No, not really.

How would I know? I'm dead.

What was
in Wardell's saxophone case?

Again, the dead thing
still applies.

Aw, come on, Fres,
you gotta tell me something.

Why were you
with Stygamian that night?

Are you going to do
a strings album, Rock?

I don't know! Why?

Don't do it, Rock.

You are an artist.

I was never an artist like you.

I made a play for the cash,
and now look at me.

Don't make a play for the cash.

Who was trying
to give you money?

Stygamian?

Good-bye, Rock.

Fresno.

Fresno, no.

- Fresno!
- [screams]

Bad scene, Daddy.

He was hunted down by the Nazis.

It was a pleasure meeting you,
Mr. Banyon.

That's right, Mr. Man.

It won't be pleasant for you.

[jass music]

- Duke.
- Yeah.

You ain't never did
no strings album.

- Ahh.
- What I'ma do?

What does your heart
tell you to do, man?

I don't know. I can't
even feel my own heartbeat.

What?

You can't feel
your heartbeat, man,

that is a crime... crime.

Listen, listen.

You are the truth, man,
you created the truth... truth.

You got to go deep
for the vibration, man.

The vibration never stops.

Vibration never stops.

The vibration keeps going on.

Vibration.

[laughs] Yeah.

All right. [laughs]

Vibration.

Banyon.

[slow motion]
Run, Rock, run, my brother.

Well, well,
good morning, sweetheart.

Where am I?

We give you three whole days
to clear yourself,

and you go juice up
and pass out.

What?

What's the monkey on your back,
Banyon, huh?

Is it the reefer?
Is it the uppers, the downers?

The Bennies, the Dexies,
the big H, huh?

You know what they say, Biggs.

Once a user, always a user.

I didn't do anything.

Oh, no? Then would you care
to explain... this?

Huh? What? What's that?

Let me give you
a little tutorial.

It's a .38, service revolver.

Same kind of gun that shot up
Stygamian and the girl.

That's not mine.

- All right, let's go, Banyon.
- Where?

Oh, a comedian, huh?

[Donwelly and Biggs laughing]

Downtown... you are under arrest
for the murder

of Wilbur Stygamian
and Fresno Foxglove.

- No. No.
- Let's go.

- Come on.
- No, wait.

- Come on.
- [panting]

You guys gave me three days
to solve this murder.

I still got a few hours.

Your time is up.
That gun is all we need.

Don't you think it's
a bit convenient that

I would wake up in the middle
of a field with that gun on me?

Mm, that is convenient for us.
[chuckles]

Wait, what are you saying?

What if someone
planted that gun on me?

What if someone doesn't want
the police to find out

who really killed Stygamian?

That's a pretty sweet little
theory, except for one thing.

You killed Stygamian.

What if someone thinks
they're smarter than the police?

What if someone is
using you guys?

Like... like a...
Like a pair of pants,

like an old pair of pants.

But not just any pants,
the kind of pants you use

when you...
When you paint your house.

You know, so you don't get paint
on your regular pants

that you wear to work or to
church or something like that.

Don't you see? You're the pants!

Wait, wait, wait a minute,
wait a minute.

How are we the pants?

Or maybe... maybe I'm the pants,
I don't know.

Look, look,
can we forget the pants?

No, no, keep the pants.

The pants analogy should be
played out to the end.

All right, look,
someone killed Stygamian, right?

Then they killed Wardell
and Fresno and...

and a homosexual by the name
of Kenton Price.

Who?

Another dead man
y'all gonna pin on me.

Got it, keep going.

Well, murder's a dirty business.

The killer's gonna want to
stay clean, so what does he do?

- Take a shower?
- No!

- Bleach?
- No.

- Run through the sprinklers?
- No!

Dry cleaning.

He puts on
another pair of pants,

a dirty pair of pants.

Don't you see the killer's
using us to stay clean

while he paints the city
with blood?

Rubber pants.

But it's not going to keep you
out of the electric chair.

They're framing me
and using you to do it.

Ah, don't you ever get tired
of yapping?

Hey, isn't this your tenor sax
friend right here?

[jazz on radio]

(Rock) Old friend Wardell,

telling me to find
the missing tenor sax.

Suddenly the whole dirty mess
started to make sense.

Look, guys.
Give me my few hours.

I know I can prove my innocence,
I know!

I'm close, okay? I'm so close.

Ah, come on, Biggs,
are you just gonna sit there

and let this guy
use us like... like...

Like an old pair of pants?

What's a couple of hours?

- Ehh.
- You got it, jazz man.

Go see what you can find.

Let us stop first, Jesus.

(Rock) The cops let me off
in the middle of nowhere.

I didn't know where I was,
but someone else did.

[phone ringing]

- Hello?
- Is this Mr. Rock Banyon?

This is he. Who am I talking to?

My name is Gerhart Moll.

Does the name
mean anything to you?

Dead man told me that name.
Kenton Price.

Too bad about Kenton.

These are dangerous times,
Mr. Banyon.

How did you know to find me
here? This phone booth?

We're watching you, Mr. Banyon.

Who watching me? Who is this?

I'll explain that to you
in person.

I'll be waiting on pier 45.

The ship is called
the Dorian Blue.

How do you know Kenton Price?

[phone disconnects]

Hello?

I gave up
all my earthly possessions...

(Rock) I hitched a
ride down to San Pedro

with one of those
beatnik songwriters.

After what I'd been through,

I didn't know
if he was real or not.

I just knew
I had to get to Gerhart Moll.

Maybe he could tell me
what I was looking for.

Thanks for the ride, friend.

[eerie music]

(Rock) Was I being set up again?

I had nothing to lose.

Gerhart Moll?

Mr. Banyon, it's a miracle
you're alive.

Who are these people?

They thought they could make
you talk before you died.

Perhaps you did?

They want
that gold cigarette case.

It's much more than
a cigarette case, Mr. Banyon.

Much more.

You have stepped
into a very dark secret.

Enlighten me.

You fought in the war,
didn't you?

Infantry.

Then you must know Adolf Hitler
hated modern art?

Wasn't too concerned about art,
modern or otherwise.

Too busy being shot at.

He called it degenerate art.

He organized an exhibition
in '37.

(Gerhart) Dadaists, Cubists,
surrealists, Bauhaus.

He lumped them all
in one building,

paraded the German people
before them

to persuade them
that this is what had happened

to their once mighty culture.

He blamed the Jews, the artists,
the painters, the writers,

the homosexuals, and yes,
even the jazz musicians

for the downfall of Germany.

Anyone not in step
with Nazi cultural values

was either exiled or destroyed.

Hitler forged his own culture
out of repression and fear.

He wanted to rid the world
of those he called degenerate.

He burned their art. He sold it.
He slashed it to bits.

All of it, all of it,
save one strange sculpture,

which he kept hidden
in his secret bunker.

Why?
Why was this sculpture saved?

This piece of degenerate art?

The question plagued
a young rocket scientist

who worked for the Reich
at the time.

He was Jewish and a homosexual,
and he loved jazz music.

So in many ways
he was like the sculpture.

He should have been destroyed.

But he knew about rockets.
He was useful.

What use, then,
was the sculpture?

This question plagued him,

even as he defected to America
to begin a new life.

For years,
Wilbur Stygamian searched

for this orphaned piece of art
that had once been kept

in Hitler's secret bunker.

A Russian art dealer
contacted him

with an offer to buy it
on the black market.

He hired me to retrieve the art.

Many lives were lost
bringing it to this country.

Stygamian is not the only one
looking for this art object.

I seen the sculpture.

I seen it inside of his house.

And for that you will die.

I'm already dead.

Adolf Hitler hid something
in that sculpture,

something that many men
have died for.

Find the sculpture.
That's your only chance.

I can't go back in that house.

It's your only chance.

I can't, I tell you!

[engine starts]

[dramatic music]

[tires screech]

[engine revs]

Stop!

Stop running, Rock!

- Stop!
- [gun cocks]

(Rock) Most men wouldn't
have survived that fall.

Maybe it was the booze
and pills, but I made it.

Rock Banyon!

Say, how come you never made
an album with strings, huh?

What?

Miles made an album
with strings.

Chet Baker, Coleman Hawkins...

(Rock) I knew now I was
gonna have to go back

to Stygamian's house again...

Banyon...

(Rock) But first I needed
to make a couple stops...

[exhales] I genuinely enjoy
jazz with strings, now.

(Rock) So I paid a visit
to an old friend,

Bebop Jones.

After Wardell and Fresno
left the club that night,

I knew they went out
to Bebop Jones to score.

Bebop had lied
about the tenor sax.

He must have known what was
in the case and pinched it.

I was pretty sure if I found it,
I would get

that gold cigarette case
and the chance to clear my name.

I wanted that tenor sax,

and I would've killed Bebop
to get it, except...

someone beat me to it.

There it was,
Wardell's tenor sax.

(Rock) I went home to Delores.

I needed her now more than ever.

Rock, you're hurt!

Oh, let me make you some eggs.

I'm more than hurt. I need you
to do something for me, Delores.

Well, I've got eggs
in the fridge, there's bacon.

What else do you need?
There's sausage.

I know you think we're out
of butter, but we're not.

Just tell me what you need.

I need you to go by the club

and pick up a tenor sax
from behind the bar.

Beatrice will know
where it's at.

What do you need with the horn?

I've got a hunch
on a few things.

Okay, all right, well, do you
want me to bring it back here?

Find Alistair and meet me up
by the cabin.

Cabin? What cabin?
Is there food there?

Don't worry about food, Dolores!

Well, why don't you come
with us? Where will you be?

I gotta get something.
Everything will be all right.

- Hey, Delores.
- Yes?

Wear something warm.

Well, I've got a Lanni Jergens
cashmere cardigan sweater.

Oh, sweater, baby?

No, you gotta wear
something really warm.

Well, I've got
an RJ Bunt Mackinaw jacket.

Will that be all right?

- Now see, that's the ticket.
- Yeah.

And I'm wearing a PJ Crumley
wool hunting jacket

and a pair of Camp Master 500
sporting pants... exquisite.

Oh, I've got
a Harris Buntly Dubliner.

Too on the nose, but good try.

Oh, what about
my Kraverly Mills dungarees?

We really don't have time
for this, but yes, okay, yes!

What about Alistair?

Alistair!
I forgot about Alistair.

Get something from Bullocks
for him.

Oh, God, no, I'm too scared.
I'm terrified!

You can do it.
Just... he likes virgin wool.

Lord Bainbridge or Fox Hunt.

Well, Sears is having a sale
on Chester & Morechester

Scotch plaid waddle droppers.

Ah, that's perfect!

I'll see you... at the cabin.

All right.
Is there anything else I can do?

- Yeah. Just one thing.
- All right.

Need you to plant one
right here for me.

Oh, Rock.

- Dolores?
- Yes, Rock.

I'm real close to pulling myself
out of this mess.

I know you are.

It's a long shot,
but I got a real good hunch.

Oh.

I'll see you at the cabin.

All right.

- Rock!
- [meows]

I'm worried about you!

- Oh.
- [cat crying]

[sobs]

We're gonna be safe, aren't we?

- I just know we are.
- [cat meows]

All right,
I know what I'm gonna do.

I'm gonna make myself some eggs.

(Rock)
I sped out into the night,

all the answers falling into
place like an Ellington song.

My solo break was about
to happen, and I was feeling it,

the notes preordained
and magical.

The good guys thought they could
kill me with a few drugs,

but they didn't understand jazz.

They thought
they could end the song,

but I had one more solo to play.

Contractually speaking,
I was guaranteed wine.

Not one glass or two glasses.

Wine.

The contract says wine.

Well, I'm seriously considering
walking, I am.

If I didn't need help
getting up, I would walk.

Horse balls.

[grunting]

[panting] Oh, my God.

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