All language subtitles for Night Gallery 310 - The Ring with the Red Velvet Ropes

Starring tonight,

Chuck Connors,

Gary Lockwood,

and Joan Van Ark.

Good evening.

I might offer this
small admonishment

if you happen to be a
purist in your judgment of art.

These are not your
ordinary canvases.

You don't find Monet
in a mausoleum,

or a Van Gogh in a graveyard.

This item here

commentative on what A.J. Liebling
referred to as "the sweet science,"

obviously having something to do
with the manly art of self-defense.

Boxing.

But if the Marquis of
Queensbury mayhem

doesn't particularly
turn you on,

don't turn this off.

This painting tells a story
infinitely more intriguing

than a couple of
fast boys mixing it up.

It's called The Ring with
the Red Velvet Ropes.

And it tells you the
tale of precisely who is

the real Heavyweight
Boxing Champion of the World.

And I think you'll be surprised.

Surprise happens to
be our stock-in-trade.

Because this is
the Night Gallery.

Give us a break, huh?

Give us a break
boys. Listen, fellas.

Press conference
tomorrow morning 10:00.

Hurry up, huh. Please.

Tomorrow morning 10:00 at
the hotel. All the time you want.

Okay. So long.

Champion.

Say it again.

Champion.

Champion.

Come on, come on, come on.

That bum didn't even
lay a scratch on me.

Ah, come on, kid. Big Dan
Anger was never no bum.

I'll get it.

Hey, Max, if that's Nina, tell her
to go straight to the party, okay?

All right. Hello.

Yeah, I can take it.

No, he's too busy to talk.

Hey, Big Dan, what
are you doing here?

Champion.

You just think
you're a champion.

Okay. Okay. We can
talk re-match tomorrow.

Go get yourself patched up, huh?

You're no more of
a champ than I was.

Yeah. Yeah. I'll tell him.

Jim, that was
Curly on the phone.

He had to take Big
Dan to the hospital.

I don't know. Something
about bone splinters.

Big Dan? Yeah.

They got him on the
operating table right now.

But I was just talking to him.

Huh?

Hey, don't look at
me like that, Max.

I'm telling you Big Dan
was just standing there.

Uh, look, kid. That was a
pretty rough fight you was in.

All right, now, look. I want you to
come in here and take a shower.

And then you and me are gonna
go and check with Doc Hoffman.

Yeah, I just saw him.

I saw him.

Okay, okay, you saw him.

Now give me those
trunks and get in there.

Now! Now!

Okay!

Curly must've been putting
you on, Max. I tell you.

Big Dan was standing right
in the middle of the doorway.

You hear me, Max?

Hey, Max!

Hey, Max, you hear me?

Hey, Max, you out there?

Why don't you answer me, Max?

The name is Hayes, Mr. Figg.

Where's Max?

How did you get...

There now, Mr. Figg.

That's better, isn't it? Hmm?

I trust the accommodations
are to your liking, sir?

Yeah.

Why don't you let it all go
and tell me like it is, huh?

Things are as they seem, sir.

Yeah, well, don't you
double talk me, you little runt.

Now, I'm the Heavyweight
Champion of the World. You got that?

Now, where is this place
and how did I get here?

I'm sure your hosts will be happy
to answer your questions, sir.

Who?

What host?

Mr. and Mrs.
Roderick Blanco, sir.

Now, then, Mr. Figg,

I think you'll find everything
here that you need.

There are some casual and
dress wardrobe in that closet there.

Everything in your size, sir.

Personal toiletries
in the bathroom, sir.

Lunch will be served...

Hey, buster, you run that
number on your own time, huh?

And who's this guy
Blanco? Blanco?

Mrs. Blanco hopes you will
join her in the game room, sir.

A phone.

There's gotta be a phone someplace
around here. There's gotta be a phone, huh?

Hayes! Hayes, you open this!

Mr. James Figg, Madam.

Lady,

you got some high-powered
explaining to do because...

I'm Sondra Blanco,
Mr. Figg. Roderick's wife.

I've so wanted to meet you.

Yeah.

Look, Mrs. Blanco...

Sondra.

Sondra? Sure.

Um...

Look, I figure I've been
drugged and kidnapped.

I mean, if you were in my
place you'd be sore, too, right?

Now, maybe you people
ought to think this thing over.

Kidnapping is a
very serious charge.

I'm sure it must be.

Coffee?

Lady.

Sondra.

I don't think I'm
getting through to you.

I happen to be, as of last night, the
Heavyweight Champion of the World.

There must be 100 people
looking for me already.

Not to mention the
TV, wire services, FBI.

Drink.

Go on.

Drink? Mmm-hmm.

Better?

I saw the fight.

You have a magnificently
developed body.

Yeah.

Uh...

Ringside?

I mean you had good seats?

Very.

We watched it here.

From here?

But the fight wasn't televised. I
mean, not on the home screen.

Do you like the ocean, Jim?

Yeah, I like it okay. As long
as I know which ocean it is.

Oh, how delightful.
A sense of humor.

Oh, I am liking you, Jim.

Do you feel me liking you?

Is that your husband,
the punching bag?

Your senses,

so alert, so aware.

I think I like you because
you're different from the others.

The others?

Other champions.

There's an honesty about you.

You're like that
in the ring, too.

Roderick thinks you're the best man
we've had here in the last 10 years.

I think longer.

Ten years?

You don't look like you
could've been married that long.

Oh.

See how nice you are.

Hey, uh...

Am I supposed to know your
husband... This what's-his-name, Blanco?

Roderick?

I don't see why.

Oh.

So, what am I doing here and
what does he need from me?

Roderick will explain.

No. Why don't you explain and don't
tell me you don't know either, lady.

Sondra.

Lady. Yeah? Lady.

Look, I don't know where I am,

I don't know how I got here, I've
never seen this place before in my life,

I don't know who you are and I sure
don't know who this Roderick Blanco is,

but I'll tell you one thing, lady.
I'm ready for him. Good and ready!

Something wrong, Jim?

The punching bag.

It stopped.

Yes. I know.

Roderick is coming.

Jim Figg.

Bare knuckle Heavyweight
Champion of England.

You got the wrong Figg.

Well, let's hope so.

The pugilist I
mentioned died in 1734.

He was beaten only once.

Sondra, leave us.

I don't suppose you know what the
experts are saying about you this morning,

do you, Figg?

That I'm missing?

Kidnapped, maybe?

They're saying that your
dispatching of Big Dan Anger,

suggests you're likely to
hold the crown for years.

They're right, you know.

Are they?

Oh, the crown, but
not the championship.

You'll do what Big Dan did.

He pretended to be the
champion for four years

and nobody questioned him,

now, did they? Oh.

Who was the real
champion all that time?

I knocked out Big Dan in the
first minute of the second round.

You boxed Big Dan?

As I will you.

You and me? A match?

Well, you want to be
the real champion?

Well, I thought I was.

What was that little brouhaha me
and Big Dan Anger had last night?

A preliminary. I'm talking
about a private match.

Nothing different from
all the others I've fought.

Before Big Dan?

And before,

and before,

and before.

Bruises, breaks,
blisters and blood.

Basics. Let's deal with those.

The prosaic approach.

You'll not leave here, Figg,
until you've met me in the ring.

Reconcile yourself to that.

Talk to my manager.

Don't you understand
anything, Figg?

No managers. No
crowds. No public displays.

A private match in my ring.

You can hardly see from there.

It clearly states that the undersigned
did engage in a bout with yours truly,

on the 10th of April this
year and was defeated

by a knockout. It's
signed Big Dan Anger.

What else have you got?

Ah! I've tweaked
your imagination, Figg.

A rare accomplishment, I expect.

Does anybody answer
a question around here?

Yes. You see that was an answer.

But to the earlier
one, suffice to say,

when you sign the document
stipulating the outcome of our encounter,

it shall rest here,

between the flyleaf
and Big Dan's affidavit.

But Big Dan wasn't
your first fight.

Not quite.

We'll fight Monday.

Whatever you need to
prepare, will be provided.

Winner take all.

Hey, Blanco.

What's all?

Chef Alexander here.

Upstairs.

Was there something
you wished, sir?

Yeah, how do you
get an outside line?

Oh, I'd assumed
you understood, sir.

There is no outside line.

Good night, Mr. Figg.

I think you can beat him.

He thinks so, too.

I can't remember
when he's been so...

Apprehensive.

He's never been beaten before.

He hasn't, huh?

Let him win.

Never threw a match in my life.

This time it's different.

The stakes are different.

What's the matter?
You afraid I'll hurt him?

No.

That's not what I'm afraid of.

What about the others?

They lost,

and left.

They never told anybody
what happened here.

How could they?

How could you,

without admitting defeat?

Lose, Jim.

Lose.

I saw you working out today.

Are you going to lose?

Gentlemen.

You boys know the rules.

Keep your punches up. Fight
in the clinches till I say, break.

In case of a knockdown,
the fighter standing,

will go to the farthest
neutral corner.

Now go to your corners and
come out fighting at the bell.

Keep your punches up.

All right. Over there.

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

Six!

Seven!

Eight!

All right, now
go to that corner.

Three! Four! Five!

Over there.

One! Two!

Three! Four! Five!

Six! Seven! Eight!

Nine! Ten!

Out!

What's the matter with
you? Why didn't you stop it?

You saw what was happening.
Why didn't you throw in the towel?

Don't you care? You're his wife.

Nobody should take a
beating like that. Nobody!

The Champion is dead.
Long live the Champion.

Who was he?

He was the real champion.

Having first taken the title
from Jim Mason in 1861,

and having successfully
defended it ever since.

Until tonight.

Winner take all, Jim.

For how long?

As long as you win.