Original subtitles

People ask, where do you get your ideas?

Right here.

All this is my magician's toy shop.

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

He was trying to rock up a cool wind in these glockenspiel rockers. It just gets

hotter.

Cost a while, Mr.

Fredley. Hey, thanks.

Like an old dry bone just lying here under the heart of the desert, drinking

in sun all day, baking my bones like breadsticks all night. I

feel like I'm a turkey buzzard.

Tufts would suck.

Mr. Turrell, wouldn't it be really nice someday

if you could buy air conditioning?

Got no money for such things, Mr. Fremley?

Uh, no imprints meant.

Why, oh, why can't we all just quit?

Move to some nice... decent city and stop this sweltering, frying,

sweating, scorching wind.

Dead mine, run -down hotel.

We'll buy it.

Nobody comes by here anymore, anyhow.

Except those who take the wrong turn 30 miles back.

No way to go.

We'll just sit here and wait.

It won't be long now.

August 29th.

One day in the year we get some rain.

The only day every year it rains in Lizard Falls, Arizona.

No, don't! Oh, what's the matter? Because it's still one minute to August

that's what.

Oh, so one minute.

Mr. Framley, don't run against luck. Don't push things!

That calendar page.

It's a little old ball of paper, that's all. See?

What time is it anyway? Ten seconds.

Seven.

Five. Three. Two.

One. Now it's August 29th. Today it always rains.

Once a year.

On top of, around, and over in the Mill Buck Hotel.

Thank you, Lord.

Much obliged.

See you in the morning.

The nice, wet Lord.

Clear sky.

Yep, clear sky.

Oh, that can't be right. For over 40 years, the sky was clouded over.

Not a drop of mercy there.

Days, y 'all. We're not. I don't see no clouds for 10 ,000 miles in that

direction.

There are 10 ,000 in that.

Now, patience, patience.

Mr. Tell, we've waited for a year, a solid year.

364 oven -baked, hell -warmed over days. You talk half about patience.

We're sitting at the center of a catastrophe, sir.

Now, you ever remember such a terrible clear sky ever?

No, I do not. I'm off.

Where are you going?

Out Skedaddle Pack.

Where to?

Ireland.

On my honor, this here rains one inch a day, 25 days a month.

I'll get a job there, and I'll run out in the downpour with my head back, my

head off, and my mouth open.

But... No buts, Mr. Tell.

for my suitcase.

No. You can't leave.

No? No. You owe me $5 ,462 .42.

I'm sorry I didn't mean that.

But you said it. And you owe it.

Fact's a fact.

the nearest thing to Ireland. I hear it rains ten inches above there. Ten

inches? It's twenty -five.

Twenty -five? You want to be drowned? Yes, drowned.

I want to sink deep into the glorious sea. I want to go down for the

last time in wet, wonderful rain.

But I will consider Seattle as nearer.

Look, do me a favor.

Wait till sundown.

It's cooler than anyhow.

Get yourself a nice walk towards the city.

Nothing would change between now and then.

Gotta have faith, Mr. Smith.

But everything else is gone.

Not a weeble thing would happen.

Sit here with me and think rain.

Last thing I'll ever ask of you.

Then you can leave with my blessings.

You're going to do no good this time, Mr.

Charles. No, sir.

You're going to?

No.

Too old to travel, so I'm up to bed.

I'll lie there.

And if I don't hear more than the pit bat of birds on that roof one more day,

I'll die.

You can't do that.

Go dig a hole.

I'll be ready for planting within the week.

Show me the bed.

Then show me the grave.

Can a man make himself die like that?

I've heard tell.

Oh, Lord.

Lord, Lord, Lord.

If only it would rain.

The mayor is... Drop of rain.

Mr. Friendly?

Mr. Friendly?

Damn desert cactus, that's us.

Even the best damn cactus has got to have a sip of water.

do no good, Mr.

Terrell. That ain't rain.

Ain't no use wasting water.

Dive like this.

Sit and think good thoughts before you set off on your journey.

How come you have such faith? How can I learn to sing along with you?

You gotta write your own hymns, or they ain't worth singing.

Anyways, I don't believe you'll ever leave, or that Mr. Plumlee will die.

And I know there's a storm out there coming right this way.

My bones tell me.

Feel.

Ain't no good, Mr. Terrell.

I ain't ever gonna have the faith like you. You see, I gotta get a new life.

Cool air, new faces, people to talk to instead of them gall darn desert

rats and roaches.

Temperature's down from 110 to 101.

105.

And goodbye to 365 days of... Unholy son!

Aye, Mr. Femley.

You take good care of yourself, you hear?

Goodbye, Mr. Terrell.

Shh!

Wait. What? What?

The storm.

Listen!

Hear that?

Where?

Over there.

Over there!

The storm by Chippity.

She comes.

Funny -looking clown.

Strange. Who cares? Here it comes.

Mr. Terrible ain't a storm.

It's a damn old -fashioned fireblow.

Sparkle up the vehicle.

I thought... I mean... Terrell's a name.

Joseph Terrell.

Miss Blanche Hillgood.

Graduate of Grinnell College.

Unmarried teacher of music.

30 years high school glee club and student orchestra conductor, Elm City.

I'm Smith.

Are you all right? I'm quite all right, thank you.

It's my car that has suffered.

I called her Bess.

I loved her very much.

Well, most natural man, we do name things we care about.

Miss Hillgood, it doesn't look like you'll be going anywhere from here.

I had a feeling about that.

Is there nothing we can do?

We can make a fence out of the wheels, dinner gongs out of the brake drums, and

the rest will make a fine rock garden basking ground for the Gila monsters.

Miss Hillgood, welcome to Terrell's Desert Hotel.

Open 26 hours a day.

Gila masters and roadrunners, please register before going upstairs.

Get your good night's sleep free. Come morning, we'll get the phone off its

blocks and drive you to the city.

Well, one friend's gone, but the other's still with me.

Mr. Terrell, would you be so kind as to bring her in out of the weather?

charming place you have here, Mr. Terrell. Why don't you just set her

there?

Miss Silgood, will you honor us with your presence at dinner tonight? Why,

that's very kind.

Mr.

Smith, a penny for your thoughts.

Oh, nothing, it's just that we were expecting a thunderstorm and here you

now. How come I'm not disappointed?

You shut up, Mr. Smith. I believe I will join you for dinner. Thank you. Fine,

fine. Then I'll go and fetch the silver.

Mr. Smith, go look for that bottle of wine we've been saving for ten years.

Go ahead, go ahead.

Will your friend be joining us? I'm afraid not. He suffered a disappointment

recently.

He's not feeling up to par, my friend.

Oh, I am sorry to hear that.

Go on with your life, Miss Hillgood.

Where was I?

I've spent so much time running from Bach to Beethoven to Brahms,

I never noticed I was 29.

The next thing I knew, I was 40.

And yesterday, 65.

Oh, there were men, but they'd given up singing when

they were 10.

and flying when they were 12.

I always figured we were meant to fly one way or another.

So most of the time, I just couldn't stand most men who just shuffled by with

the iron of the earth and their feet in blood.

I never met a man who weighed less than 900 pounds in those black business

suits.

You could just hear them roll.

by like funeral hearses.

So you flew away?

Just in my mind, Mr. Terrell.

It's taken me 40 years to make the final break.

It's been the long way around that brought me here.

No one in all Elm City really cares if you fly.

or leave it.

And they watch you down and laugh.

They say, why be a little frog in a big pond when you can be the biggest frog in

all Elm City?

Which may be true.

Except Elm City's the wrong pond.

So at last, I shook myself good and stared in the

mirror and asked myself, Look here, Blanche, you're good.

Since when do frogs have wings anyway?

And will they ever?

So I packed my bag and my old car threw a feather in the air and

followed it west.

Funny thing, when I was driving, I heard someone laugh.

And I felt a strange, wild thing on my face, and I put my hand up.

And I felt a smile just here.

And now where?

To California, maybe.

To play in the pictures.

Or in that orchestra under the stars.

Mother to play for someone who will listen.

And really hear.

Mr. Framley?

Brought you some soup.

what you've been talking about down there?

About life.

About when you're going to get yourself together and come downstairs.

I can't do that no more.

You're going to stay?

You eat your soup, love.

I'll be back later to get the tray.

And now?

I must pay you for my dinner.

It's on the house.

I mean... Right.

Right.

On the house.

No.

I want to pay you.

It's a heart.

You old fool. Of course it is.

Is it?

Could it be?

Yes, it is.

Miss Blanche Hillgood, when she was very young.

Ha ha ha ha!

Thus late!

He's gone!

Expect what?

The last wreck when Barrow's gone.

The fifty years of drought are over.