Original subtitles

Any sign of him?

Not yet.

Nice putt, sir.

Caddy.

My putter.

Mr. Kuryakin, you're right in Mr. Solo's line.

ILLYA: He said the seventh green. Maybe he's not coming?

Oh, let's be patient.

It isn't every day that a Thrush agent makes an appointment to see us.

Ha, ha. Oh, sorry.

Eleven.

Now, what would a Thrush man want from us?

Bread, man.

Lots of it.

- You Waverly? - Yes. And you're...?

The cat that called.

The cat? Oh, yes.

Yes, you said you had something for us.

Yeah, baby. But let's talk about the bread first, huh?

- Money, sir. - I understand.

That depends, of course, a good deal upon what you have to offer us.

I've been on this development gig for Thrush...

...but I'm up to here with those guys.

They're slow pay.

Did you come up with something good?

It's a gas, man.

Two years for this.

Now, they're ready to start mass-producing the stuff...

...and I still haven't got my green.

WAVERLY: Some people will never learn to shout “fore“ when they tee off.

That's no golf ball. Move out.

ILLYA: Cover me.

[HICCUPPING]

- Was he hit? - I don't think so, but the can was.

It looks like hiccups.

He's dead.

ILLYA: “A severe attack interfered with the deceased's breathing...

...and caused him to expire due to cardiac arrest," unquote.

WAVERLY: Oh, it's neat. Very neat.

ILLYA: The gas in that can, whatever it was...

...irritated the phrenic nerve and triggered hiccupping at a lethal rate.

WAVERLY: What findings has the lab made? SOLO: None.

There was no formula for them to analyze.

The contents of the can had completely evaporated.

WAVERLY: Mm. - Looks simple enough.

WAVERLY: Yes, that's what makes it all the more terrifying.

Anything on the dead man?

No labels, no laundry marks...

...and the standard Thrush fingerprint obliteration.

WAVERLY: Not much to go on, is it?

Research traced his call to a pay phone at the Golden Spike.

It's a coffee house in the Village.

That accounts for all those Thrush agents with long hair.

Thrush beatniks.

All right, gentlemen...

...Greenwich Village seems to be the logical jumping-off place.

You'll fit in there very nicely, Mr. Kuryakin.

Mr. Solo will coordinate from here.

Well, I think I'll wear this, whatever it is. It will make me look like one of the boys.

It'll go very nice with, uh, basic black.

[SLOW JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]

Espresso.

They'll serve you at the table.

The girls are all busy, I'll take it myself.

- Those guys are too much, man. - A new group from the coast.

A little square for my money but the tourists lap it up.

You look like you know what's shaking.

I'm after this cat. He chopped me on a deal.

You on a trip?

You might say that.

No, I've never seen him.

Are you fuzz?

Do I look it?

Fuzz comes in all sizes and colors.

He laid this on me for a down.

Ever seen one like it?

Uh-uh. No, it's not my bag.

Thanks.

Come on, baby, shake it up.

- Hi. Would you care for a portrait? - No, thank you. I have one.

I'm very good. And I'm cheap, only $2.

Can I finance it? I'm rather short this week.

Hey, you've really got an interesting face.

One dollar?

Oh, if you put it like that, how can I refuse?

That's why I put it like that.

My face is in your hands.

Fine. Fine.

If you say so.

Before I commit charcoal to paper, I have to get the feel of you.

- You do? - Uh-huh.

Everyone's on a wavelength, you know.

First, I capture the inner you, then I go. Dig?

Dug.

How long have you been cuffing the canvas?

Since birth. But I really didn't get cooking until last month.

I was too hung up with parents and stuff, you know?

Yes, I've been hung up a few times myself.

Figures. Most people who make it here are uptight over something.

You know the Village quite well.

Are you putting me on? I practically invented it.

You have really got brooding eyes...

...almost like a Dostoyevsky character.

You don't say.

Hey, you, uh-- You ever see him?

I don't know.

He looks like somebody I've seen around...

...but, no, I can't place him. Why?

I did a painting for him and he cutout. All he left was this.

Hey, that's mean.

I'd like to cop one for myself.

Done.

- You're something else. - Thanks.

I'll finish it, you can pick it up later.

I only do this for three hots and a cot.

My real serious work is across the street, at Olé's Gallery.

I have got an opus there that you just wouldn't believe.

- Hey, you wanna see it? - I'd love to, but I have to split.

Oh, uh, it you remember that man, give me a yell at this number.

Cool.

Uh... Cool.

Your three minutes are up, doll. Fade.

Mark Olé speaking, may I help you?

Oh, yes, Fred.

Oh?

Looking for Coplin?

A pendant?

Yeah.

Well, good. Good work, Fred.

Somebody's nosing around.

- You want me to go to work on it? - No, you keep your mind on the big thing.

Well, we can't make the gas without the catalyzer.

Coplin took the key part, the thing that makes it deadly.

You worked on it with him, design another one.

It's not just the design. It's the components.

Only Coplin knew how to put the catalyze! together.

I'm surrounded by incompetents.

Practically.

[DOOR CHIMES RING]

Brilliant, isn't it?

My sentiments entirely.

Are you looking for something specific or merely passing the time of night?

I'm Mark Olé, proprietor.

IIIya Kuryakin, artist.

I like your stuff. Its, uh-- It's there.

We like to feel we're au courant.

And then some.

This one here, uh...

This one really has it.

Ah. You demonstrate good taste, ML, uh, Akin?

- Kuryakin. - Ah.

A masterpiece of Pop Art.

The commonplace made all the more significant...

...by its utter lack of significance.

I'd go even further.

I'd say it captures, in one bold conception...

...the immediacy, the phantasmagoria, the todayness of pop culture.

Hm.

Who's the artist?

A creative genius who has not yet received the recognition he so richly deserves.

One of the true pioneers of the Pop movement.

And who's that?

The artist wishes to remain anonymous.

That pendant, it's most interesting. Your work?

It was just something I picked up.

Do you think it has any value?

It's hard to say offhand. It certainly appears to be unique.

[DOOR OPENS]

Ah, Mari, my deal. This is Mr. Kuryakin, a very perceptive young painter.

Would you show him around, please?

A very busy night. Excuse me, won't you?

Of course.

Mari Brooks. Would you like to paint me?

[CHUCKLES]

Everyone else does.

I'd love to.

Have you, um, ever sold anything?

Not yet.

If you will excuse me a moment, I have to, uh, think.

I'll be here.

And we'll have a drink at Nardis and dinner at Chamford...

...and then we'll stop by my place for a little nightcap.

[RADIO BEEPING]

- Channel D is open. - Hm. It must be IIIya. His timing is uncanny.

Napoleon, what am I interrupting this time?

Well, I hope you're doing better than I am.

I want a quick check run on Mark Olé.

He owns a gallery in the Village.

How do you spell that?

Blond, medium height.

That's the one all right, Fred.

Down to the pendant.

Right.

It seems our friend in there is a wolf in beat's clothing.

He must have gotten the pendant from Coplin.

MAN: Hm. Cumin never were a pendant.

OLE: Exactly.

This pendant must be the catalyzer.

"Whither Mankind by Sylvia Harrison.“

Very interesting.

And deeply significant.

May I have the pendant?

- Are you talking to me? - Please.

I think you're making a mistake.

Au contraire, Mr. Kuryakin.

[GRUNTS]

- Hi, IIIya. Got a minute? - Uh, later, baby.

Tragedy, my friends.

Hearts burst when the, uh...

The great ape climbed the tower of the tallest...

He only wanted love, but--

But 6,000 Spads attacked him...

...and a million gray people screamed, “Kill! Kill!“

[THUD]

But one sane voice meekly squeaked:

“Let him live. Let him live. The great ape knows what am.“

And the gorilla tell at the feet of the blond goddess.

This is too freaky.

And...

The hard-hearted policeman snarled as he wrote out a ticket:

“Is this your ape?“

[GRUNTS]

Is this a happening or is it?

[FLUTE PLAYING]

[FINGERS SNAPPING]

Come in, IIIya, wherever you are.

How about this one?

He's in some kind of trouble. I can't raise him.

Tell Mr. Waverly I've gone to the Village.

[RADIO BEEPING]

Extension seven.

Yes. One moment.

- Hello? - Hello, IIIya. This is Sylvia.

SOLO: Sylvia? - Hey. You're not IIIya.

- Hardly. How did you get this number? - IIIya gave me his card. Is he there?

No, I was just trying to reach him.

Well, he told me to call him.

I guess it's not important. Goodbye.

Wait a minute. Uh, it is important.

- When did you see him? - Tonight, twice.

I'd like to talk to you. Where can I find you?

At the Golden Spike in the Village.

I know where it is. You stay there, I'll be right over.

You stay here. I'll be right back.

We're going to find it eventually.

You're playing the wrong note, daddy. I don't know where it is.

I must have lost it in the happening.

Now, there is no sense in struggling.

It's the artist in me.

And there wouldn't be any point in yelling either, Mr. Kuryakin.

This room is completely soundproof.

Now, once more, what did you do with the pendant?

Are we back to that again?

SYLVIA: I knew he looked familiar.

Right after IIIya left, I remembered that I've seen him around the Olé Gallery.

All men look alike with their eyes closed.

That's why I couldn't place him right away.

Did you know where IIIya was going?

Negative. The last I saw him was right in the middle of the happening.

Uh, happening?

You wouldn't have believed that battle. It was out of sight.

Oh, that Illya is really going places.

Yes, I'm sure he is. Uh, did you know any of the others in the battle?

Uh-huh. Some of the new wave cats from Olé's.

They really pounded him. It was classic.

You know a lot of people from the Olé Gallery?

Sure. Olé's makes it.

My best think piece is over there now.

Hey, do you dig symbolism?

I appreciate an, yes.

Then you would just love my piece.

It's an opus one, with meaning.

Well, I'll get a look at it when I have a chance.

Uh...

Oh, how do I find the Olé Gallery?

Oh, it's right across the street, on the camel.

Okay, thanks. You've been very helpful.

- Nice meeting you, Mr...? - Uh, Napoleon.

Okay, Nap, if I see IIIya...

...I'll tell him you were around making like the private-eye.

Yeah.

[CAMERA CLICKS]

[CAMERA CLICKS]

That'll be all for tonight, Harry.

Good evening.

You're working late.

Oh, that. A fashion magazine.

It's easier to shoot after hours. When the tourists aren't around.

Are comic books pan of the fashion scene these days?

Comic books are camp, and camp is the last word.

Mm. Mm-hm.

Well, I'm sure it would make any difference.

When you're in the picture, I'm certain no one notices the props.

Are you looking for something in particular?

Yeah, something very special.

The work of a relatively unknown young artist, IIIya Kuryakin.

You've heard of him?

SYLVIA: Hi.

Miss Harrison, you know the rules about disturbing the displays.

Well, it's mine.

How would you like to exhibit it out in the street?

Now, don't touch it again.

About Kuryakin.

I have never heard of him.

But perhaps Mr. Olé has. I'll see.

You have your choice.

Either her Opus or mine.

What are you doing here?

Just checking up on you.

I wanted to find out if you were really a friend of IIIya's.

Take my word for it.

And IIIya wouldn't want you to stick around here any more than I do.

- How come? - Let's just say...

...I know more about the Olé Gallery than you do.

- They bad guys? - Yeah.

See you around.

- I didn't get your name. - Solo. Napoleon Solo.

This is Mr. Olé.

I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with Kuryakin.

- What's he done? - Nothing of acclaim.

But we at the, uh, Thaler Foundation believe in him.

In his future, particularly.

Oh, you're with the Thaler Foundation?

Yes, you know of us, of course.

Certainly, and I thought I knew every Thaler representative.

- Have you recently joined them? - Very recently.

Formerly with the Fallen Museum.

Ah. Well, possibly we have something here which may interest you.

Did Miss Brooks show you anything?

That's an understatement. You have a very attractive associate.

Well, thank you.

Mari's the world's number one fashion model.

Hm. Now, I can see why number two has to try harder.

ILLYA: Napoleon. - Sure I couldn't interest you in this piece?

It's a novel and daring new concept.

ILLYA: Napoleon!

No, actually, it's a Kuryakin we're after.

Napoleon! Napo--

Napoleon, I'm in-- I'm in here.

Napoleon!

Mari, will you ask Dominic to check up on the outdoor display?

Tell him it's the one we just discussed.

Ooh.

Napoleon.

If we can be of any service to you, please come back.

Oh, I plan to.

[DOOR OPENS, CLOSES]

Sylvia. What's the matter?

I'm taking this out of here, I've decided to change galleries.

Ha, ha. Suit yourself.

Allow me.

SYLVIA: I'm so glad you tipped me about Olé.

Besides, they stuck my baby in the darkest comer...

...where nobody could really appreciate it.

That, uh, pendant. Where did you get it?

IIIya gave it to me. I'm gonna copy it.

I know it's commercial, but I can use the cash.

Duck.

[SKATEBOARDS THUDDING]

It's a good thing to have around, if a fellow runs out of razor blades.

The world's top model, and you still can't do your eyes correctly.

Careful with that.

[DOOR OPENS]

You still don't know what happened to the pendant, huh?

Right. And you still don't believe me.

Incidentally, you never did tell me why you were so anxious to get a hold of it.

Because, Mr. Kuryakin, it happens to be the catalyze! we need...

...to produce the hiccup gas.

You know all about the hiccup gas, don't you?

Yes.

All I can say is that I hope you never find it.

But we have found it, Mr. Kuryakin.

It's around Sylvia's lovely little neck, but it won't be there much longer.

And now, my good man, I must leave before your guests arrive.

A party? For me?

A bon voyage affair, without the champagne.

[DOOR OPENS]

[DOOR CLOSES]

[SNIFFING]

[BUBBLING]

ILLYA: Napoleon!

Napoleon!

Napoleon!

[SNIFFING]

[WATER SPRAYING]

ILLYA: Napoleon.

Aargh! Napoleon.

[GASPS]

I hope you scrubbed behind your ears.

Isn't it a little early for your Saturday night bath?

Ugh. That pendant is a catalyst. They need it to make the gas.

Olé has gone for it.

- Where? - From Sylvia.

It's almost dawn.

If they haven't gotten to her yet, she's probably still asleep.

Do you know where she lives?

I took her home.

You would.

WOMAN: Hi. - Who are you?

Heidi. Sylvia and I share this pad.

- What happened? - Some hard guys fell by, looking for Sylvia.

SOLO: They find her?

- She split just before the crack of. - Oh.

Was she wearing the pendant?

I guess so.

You're IIIya.

How did you know?

Sylvia told me about your Dostoyevsky eyes.

She and I always did agree about eyes.

You weren't gagged and you didn't shout out. Why?

I wasn't in any hurry to be rescued. I've never been tied up before.

I think everyone should experience everything at least once, n'est pas?

Where's Sylvia's opus?

I can't understand that. That's all they took.

You might have thought they'd at least something valuable.

Like one of my ceramic pieces.

Oh. When did she get up?

She never got down.

She rolled in while I was sacked out...

...and went to work with my tiring even, making something or other.

Did she say where she was going before she cut?

I was zonked when she came in, I only heard her out of the come! of my ear.

And?

She mentioned going to her parent's house for her meal.

But she was also going up to Harmonica Lake for the day.

Well, Sylvia didn't strike me as the woodsy type at all.

Once in a while some of us like to shoot up there and smell grass.

It's nice.

A lot of real trees and everything, you know?

Where do her parents live?

On the island, in Great Neck. Doesn't it figure?

1567 South Laurelton Drive.

I'll take the parents. You take the lake, all right?

Well, hey, fellas. can't I fix you breakfast or something?

Uh, we'll graze in your pasture later, huh? Ha, ha.

Did your daughter say where she was going, Mrs. Harrison?

No, Sylvia never tells us anything.

She just comes and eats.

Oh, yes. Well, I'm-- I'm sorry I missed her.

It's certainly a pleasure to see a nice, clean young man like you calling on Sylvia.

Why don't you stay and have some coffee? It's no trouble.

Let me make you some nice eggs.

No, thank you. It's kind of you, but I must be going.

How come you got a haircut?

- I beg your pardon? - Ralph.

Some of the young men that Sylvia has been seeing...

...they're, uh, well, ha, ha, you know.

Believe me, I know. Well, thank you again. That's very kind--

Uh, I didn't know your daughter was a musician.

Oh, mercy, no.

Mr. Harrison was a French horn player, though.

My, it was an exciting life we led in those days, wasn't it, dear?

Yeah.

Then he went into plumbing supplies.

- People have to make a living, you know. -01 course.

MR. HARRISON: That's the trouble with the younger generation.

Never had to meet a payroll.

MRS. HARRISON: If I'm not being too personal, Mr. Solo...

...uh, would you mind telling me what line of work you're in?

Oh, you don't have to answer if you don't want to.

If there's one thing I hate, it's a prying mother-in-Iaw.

Law. Actually, yes, that's what I'm in. International health and welfare and law.

Oh, your mother must be proud, government jobs are so very secure.

The pay's rotten.

Oh, well, uh, thank you very much. Now, I really must be going.

- Do come back. - Say hello to Sylvia for us.

Uh, goodbye.

The other car, Mr. Solo.

[BEATNIKS GIGGLING]

- Where'd you get this? - From a chick.

- What chick? - Sylvia.

- What is Sylvia? - She's a little blond.

I dug the one she had on, so she sold me this copy for 3 bucks.

[COUGHS]

- What's the beef, fella? - No beef.

Uh, sorry I had to do that.

Man, there's a lot of freaky people running around loose.

The thought of a nation hiccupping itself to death...

...is at once macabre and amusing, is it not, Mr. Solo?

Hm? Uh, well. depends on your point of view.

OLE: It'll be my personal revenge.

A vendetta against the know-nothings.

Vendetta?

OLE: When I was young, I was the first artist...

...to paint magnificent pictures with no meaning.

Neo-Non-Objectivism.

They were actively ignored.

All geniuses are ahead of their contemporaries.

It's just a matter of time before the world catches up to you.

You understand. And so did Thrush.

They gave me an opportunity to unleash the full gamut of my creativity.

The hiccup plan was mine. Conceived, carried, born and nurtured by me.

My finest hour.

[RADIO BEEPING]

MARI: What's that? SOLO: Hm? What's what?

You're being paged.

Ahem. Yes?

I'm at Harmonica Lake and I haven't found her yet.

Mm, uh... Keep looking.

Incidentally, she has a new business. Costume jewelry.

She's had a few copies of the pendant made...

...and she's selling them at $3 a piece.

What have you found at your end?

Uh, as a matter--

MARI: She made copies.

- You mean, it's--? - We'll soon find out.

Napoleon?

You dumb statue. You got the wrong one.

- How was I to know? It fooled you too. - Shut up.

Women like you should be seen and not heard.

Harmonica Lake, huh?

I'll take care of that end.

You get rid of him like a good girl.

That's not a wrinkle, is it, Mari?

I hope not.

Remember, I keep only flawless works of an.

That was merely a prologue.

- Shut up. - A line, a wrinkle. A crew's foot.

Pretty soon, he'll trade you in for next year's model.

That's enough.

Olé never regarded you as a woman, anyway.

Only as an object of an.

That's a lie. Every man who looks at me, wants me.

Except Olé.

He made you look desirable.

When was the last time he made you feel desirable?

He never regarded you as anything more than a life-size kewpie doll.

Did he ever take you in his arms...

...and muss up that glossy perfection you paint on every morning?

You're both fakes.

He's a window dresser and you're a mannequin. Look.

You're lying.

[GUITAR STRUMMING]

Uh, do either of you two know Sylvia?

[BEATNIK SINGING NEARBY]

[SINGING]

[BUBBLING]

Hey, everybody, the wheat germ's ready!

Yoo-hoo! Yoo-hoo, IIIya!

What are you doing here?

Don't move. I'll be right over.

Sylvia, Sylvia. Somebody is lifting that, uh, whatever it is you call--

Hey, you! Hey, where'd you get that?

Hey, let it alone.

Sylvia, don't. It's a trap!

[GRUNTING]

[GRUNTS]

[SYLVIA SCREAMS]

[GRUNTS]

[SYLVIA SCREAMS]

Are you sure you know what you're doing?

Well, the controls on this are similar to those used in a zeppelin.

Here, hold this and hold it tight.

What's this for?

I don't know. I've never been in a zeppelin.

My father should see me now.

Floating over the Hudson in a balloon, wearing goose bumps and a bikini.

I thought you were pretty far out.

Man, nobody's this far out.

I told you not to look.

It's not so had, once you get used to it.

It's so-- So free, like swimming with no clothes on.

[GUNSHOTS]

- IIIya, what are those? - Somebody down there doesn't like us.

IIIya, those are bullets.

Well, that's what they usually use on clay pigeons.

I don't understand it. Where are they?

Ground to balloon, come in.

OLE [ON RADIO]: Ground to balloon, come in. What's going on up there?

It's Olé.

Hold this.

Olé, it's Kuryakin here. I've got the pendant.

Unless you tell your boys to stop shooting, I'll throw it in the river.

All right, it's a deal.

[GUNSHOT]

- Aah! - IIIya!

[GAS HISSING]

SYLVIA: You murderer, you tried to kill him. ILLYA: Shh.

We Kuryakins have an amazing aptitude for recovery.

Nice seeing you again, Mr. Kuryakin.

The pleasure is all yours.

At last.

So that's how you make it.

OLE: And we'll test the new batch on you and Sylvia. Isn't that exciting?

- Take them upstairs. - That way.

Congratulations, darling.

Now, you can realize your dream. You destroy anything you wish.

Yes.

Where should we begin, Mari?

New York? Washington?

Perhaps my home town. I never did like my hometown.

Wherever it is, I want to be there by your side so I can see it happen.

- If you're happy, darling, then I'm happy. - We'll see.

You're looking at me so strangely, Mark.

It's nothing. I thought I detected the hint of a crew's toot near your eye.

I have no crew's feet.

[CHUCKLES]

Of course not, darling, of course not.

You mussed my hair.

Why don't you go freshen up a bit? It'll make you feel much better.

Then I have a wonderful surprise for you.

You always know what's best for me, don't you, Mark?

Of course, I do, my dear.

[ILLYA GROANS]

This is some finish to a picnic.

Your friend Napoleon was right. He warned me.

No, I wonder what happened to my opus.

I worked on that for two years.

IIIya, can Olé really do what he says?

I'm afraid he can.

That's a bad scene.

How come you jumped in the balloon with me?

You had the pendant.

Was that the only reason?

Not really.

What wrinkles? Ha, ha.

Admiring yourself, my dear?

Only trying to make you proud of me.

But I am, Mari.

Very proud.

[HICCUPPING]

Sorry about the delay.

But being an artist yourself...

...you know a masterpiece is worth waiting for.

This is living an.

Depends which side you're on.

OLE: All right. Let's call it functional an. Is that acceptable to you?

I question whether it's any kind of art, It's a little too avant-garde for my tastes.

So you prefer the traditional, then.

Very well, it might interest you to know that as a fringe benefit of this operation...

...Thrush has promised to award me the world's greatest examples...

...of the traditional school.

Ba V'mcis. Michehngems. Radius.

What for? You could never appreciate them.

I have no intention of appreciating them.

I'm going to destroy them.

- Lose something, daddy? - Hm? Oh.

Lose, yeah. My kite.

Get the masks.

All right, you can cancel that order. Your guests won't be staying.

You spray and I spray and we all go to hiccup heaven.

[GUNSHOT]

[GUNSHOT]

ILLYA: They're caught in there.

[GUNSHOTS]

[OLE SCREAMS]

But how could you do it?

You work on that thing for two years. Then you sell it for $49?

49.95. I needed rent money.

Besides, how was I to know you guys would come up with a buyer for 200?

- How far is this place? - I sure hope we get it back.

Are you sure your buyer's gonna show?

Oh, yeah. He's usually very dependable.

ILLYA: A cigar store?

He couldn't afford a wooden Indian.

Miss Harrison, this is Mr. Waverly, one of our leading collectors.

Two hundred dollars?

And a bargain at the price.

It's a steal.

Sir. Ahem.

[ENGLISH SDH]