All language subtitles for the_ray_bradbury_s01e06_banshee

People ask, where do you get your ideas?

Well, right here.

All this is my Martian landscape.

Somewhere in this room is an African
veldt.

Just beyond, perhaps, is a small
Illinois town where I grew up. And I'm

surrounded on every side by my
magician's toy shop.

I'll never starve here.

I just look around, find what I need,
and begin.

I'm Ray Bradbury, and this is...

Well then, right now, what shall it be?

Out of all this, what do I choose to
make a story?

I never know where the next one will
take me.

And the trip?

Exactly one half exhilaration, exactly
one half terror.

So it's a screen cinema writer you are.

You'll find plenty to write about in
Ireland. All of it bad.

But don't let on I told you.

And will you be working for the great
man himself?

You will.

And him out here, far from Dublin.

Lord of the manor.

Riding to Houns.

Leaving one wife but to take another.

Aye, we know all about him.

And could tell far more than we know.

Well, here you are.

There he is.

God help you.

God be with you. But he must be with
someone.

Might as well be you.

Did I scare you, kid?

Get in out of that night before it grabs
you. John?

Get this in you, kid.

So you've finished the screenplay.

This is it.

So you say.

God, you've got me curious.

Glad you telephoned. The house is empty.
Clara's in Dublin. Dan rehearsals.

You'll meet her tomorrow. We'll have a
good go at this.

Do you know what that is?

What?

Never mind.

Let's see if your bright genius holds up
to the end.

I'll be damned.

Damn you to hell. I think I hate you.

It's good.

I need some cutting, of course.

Of course.

How do you do it, kid? You live with
unknown, stuck in books, have no idea of

what real horror is, yet you've captured
it.

Imagination.

Someday you must teach me to write.

Someday, John, you must teach me to
direct.

Fair enough.

The Beast will be our film, won't it?
What a team.

How are the wife and daughters?

Oh, fine. They're in Dublin waiting for
me.

Well, now it's back, is it?

That sound.

The banshee.

The what?

The banshee.

The spirits of women who roam the woods
and I tell money to die.

Maybe it means... Come

on, John.

No, kid, no. It goes back centuries.

The moaning of the banshee.

It tokens certain death whenever it is
heard in the silence of the night.

The banshee appeared at Klontoff,
warning King Brian he would meet his

death in the great battle to come.

And he did.

The banshee.

Did you ever figure, Doug, how much the
beast is like me?

The hero ploughing the seas, ploughing
women right and left,

round the world and no stop. You never
wonder how many women I've had, Doug.

Hundreds.

Brilliant.

Thank you.

Oh, no, not your script. This.

A brilliant review of your new book of
stories in the London Times.

Oh, yeah? No, no, no, no, no. Sit down.

Let me read this aloud.

You'll love it.

Terrific.

Ready?

Douglas Rogers may well be the huge
success in recent American literature.

do you like it so far, Kip? But here in
London, we ask more from our tellers of

tales. Attempting to emulate the ideas
of Kipling, the style of Maugham, the

of Waugh... Douglas Rogers Drums,
somewhere in mid -Atlantic. This is

stuff. Douglas Rogers, go home.

Let me see that.

Oh, now, what's wrong, kid? You feeling
poorly?

John, for God's sake.

Oh, Doug, I didn't think that you'd
be... Oh, like hell you didn't.

What's wrong with you?

Oh, nothing, kid. It was a fine review.
I just added a few lines to get your

goat.

What? You can buy a copy to borrow in
Dublin. You'll see. Fact is, they love

you. They relish you.

God, I just didn't want you to get a big
head.

Sir? The joke's over.

Isn't it enough you've just written the
finest scenes you have ever written in

your life for your truly great
screenplay?

Don't like your sense of humor.

You know what your problem is, Doug, eh?
Eh? Eh?

What?

You don't love me half as much as I love
you.

Come on, John. No, kid, I mean it.

God, son, I'd kill for you. You're the
finest living author in the world, and I

love you heart, soul, and mind.

Because of that, I thought, well, maybe
you could stand a little leg pull. I see

that I was wrong.

It's all right.

No, I'm sorry.

Really sorry.

It's okay. Shut up. Let's just forget
the whole thing. Oh, that's the boy.

let's spend an hour cutting these
brilliant, superb scenes of yours.

Shh.

Hear it.

The moaning.

So mournful.

It's only the wind.

The banshee won't go away, kid.

I bet it wants company.

Why don't you just run out into the
woods and see?

John, I write these kinds of stories. I
don't believe them.

No, go on out.

This has been a night of misconceptions,
kid. You doubt me and you doubt it.

Let's get my overcoat in the wall and
put it on you.

Here.

Toro.

Charge. John.

Or are you a coward, kid?

Are you yellow?

It's waiting.

Get out there.

Run for the team.

What time is it?

Eleven.

That's when she comes.

I've changed my mind. Don't go out
there, kid.

John, you want me to go out there.

You've probably got your caretaker out
there right now making noises for this

little joke.

Well, I could use some fresh air.

It's no long.

Stroll in the woods.

I should pick up some story to tell,
John.

Pick something crazy and then go back.

It's far enough.

We'll get a drink.

He's in your hair now.

A great animal that walks on two legs.

He stays.

All others go.

He wipes his hands off.

Girls are his napkins.

Women his midnight feast.

Not bad.

Improvised? Or did he write it?

Is it him?

Him who lives there and

loved me?

And now does not.

But I love him still.

So much I'd kill for it. And myself lost
at the end.

Who do you love?

I will, of course.

I've got the wrong house.

There's only a Johnny up there now.
John.

Why do you lie?

Maybe that was another time.

No.

There is only now.

I feel him there.

His name's changed, but it's him.

No friend of anyone, ever.

If he be your friend, then you are my
enemy.

Hey, that is your William.

What then?

What would you do with him?

Lie down with him and ne 'er get up
again.

He would be kept like a stone in a cold
stream.

here then.

How long since caught mine?

Will you ask?

Come on, John.

Oh, Doug, it's you. Who else would it
be?

A banshee, of course. Did you see it?

Yes.

If it's in you, you look awful. No, you
must learn to pay no mind to my joke.

Is that what it was?

A joke?

Get in here, kid. We have work to do.

Drink your drink, and I'll read you that
review of your book from the London

Times again.

You've burned it, John, remember?

Did that book review really exist?

Or were you... Lying? I wouldn't lie to
you, son.

Pull your leg, maybe. Fact is, I wrote
that review of your book myself.

God's truth, son.

The Times knew my great love for you,
asked me to do the job. Yes, I said, and

wrote as fair and square as any man
could about a loving friend, told what

good, what was awful bad, just the way I
do when you hand in a lousy script and

I make you do it over. Good's good,
bad's bad, fair's fair.

I don't believe you.

Buy a copy tomorrow.

Check it out. Drink up, son.

I won't poison you.

I already have.

God, if you're not upset, it was a joke,
Doug, a joke.

I wish it was.

I wish...

The

Banshee.

That was a joke, too.

No, she's there.

A young and lovely woman.

Long white shawl.

And the whitest skin.

And sad, dark eyes.

Sound like anyone you know?

Thousands.

Well, she's waiting for you.

Out in the woods.

She described you to somebody like you.

Called you Will, Willie, William.

But I knew it was you.

Young, you say, and beautiful and out
there right now.

The most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

I think you should go out and have a
chat with her.

Don't you?

I do indeed.

Put your coat on. It's a cold night.

She's really there.

Wait.

One thing I forgot to tell you.

The woman is out there all right. She's
walking.

But she's dead.

I'm not afraid.

As much as I hate you right now, I can't
let you go out there.

Kid,

you're good.

Almost as good as me.

What an actor.

I'm free.