All language subtitles for Felidae.1994.1080p.Bluray.AV1.Opus.2.0-heTOrico_track4_[eng]

BASED ON THE EPONYMOUS NOVEL
BY AKIF PIRINCCI

If you really want
to hear my story,

you'll first have to get used to the idea

that you won't be hearing
a pleasant story.

Oh, I beg your pardon.
Allow me, I'm Francis.

My species is easily overlooked by humans.

There it is, our new home.

Right, Francis, out you come.

Hop.

One of the things I hate most
in life is moving house.

But Gustav, my life partner, usually
doesn't make allowances for this.

He's a trained archaeologist
specializing on Egyptian deities,

but he earns our living
by writing kitschy novels.

Whenever he runs out of ideas,
he'll move house.

He thinks that this helps.

This is so heavy.
Where is it now?

Thank God.

This is heavenly.
Just needs some fresh paint.

Come on now, Francis.

Or do I have to carry you
over the threshold?

The stench of mold hit me
like a hammer.

I realized immediately

that the unpleasant odor did not arise
from the building's foundation,

but that it was creeping down
from upstairs.

It was a mix of pharmacy, veterinary
office, and toxic waste disposal smells.

And I shouldn't have set a paw
in this house.

Francis, isn't it gorgeous?

What a joy.
Renovate, modernize, refurbish.

Well, well. Where should I put the books?

Yes... oh, here!

This is a good place.

And the cat litter...

Well, let's see.

Isn't it beautiful?

Look at this, Francis. Old stucco.

Yes, the china, the china.
Where should it go?

Well, we'll find a place.

Aha.

What I was seeing there was
my welcome present, so to speak.

There he was, my black conspecific,
spreadeagled on the ground.

But he wasn't sleeping.

Can opener.

Can opener?

What do you mean?

Well, the damned can openers did it.

They put a special outlet
into little Sasha's neck.

Oh, you mean humans. Did you witness it?

Shit, no. But who else would do such
a thing other than a shitty can opener?

They're good for nothing
but opening cans for us. Shit, yeah.

That's the fourth cold bag already.

You mean he's already the fourth corpse?

You must be new here.

Are you moving into the dump in there?

Nice place. I always go there to pee.

No, it wasn't a can opener who did this.

This guy's neck is totally shredded.

What do they call you...

smart aleck?

Francis.

Francis.

Oh, not him as well. Archie.

Oh, Archie, it's still full.

Yes. Fantastic.

Cheers.

I was fascinated from the start,
I really was.

A doctor's office?

Hm. Would explain the chemical smell.

Don't you think parquet is one
size too big for me, Archie?

But parquet is the minimum,
Gustav. It's an absolute must have.

Carpet is something only homeless people
use downtown as a bed base.

As young rebels, we still have
our golden ideals,

if you don't have a great place to live.

And when we realize later
that we didn't become great rebels...

what's left for us then?

The parquet fetishist was Archibald
Philipp Purpur, aka Archie.

A trendsetter by trade.

- Bye, Archie.
- My poor can opener Gustav's only friend.

Apart from myself, of course.

I know, it's hard times for you, Francis.

But I brought your favorite music.

Mahler's symphony no. 2. Good night.

Who are you?

Where are you?

Come here, buddy.

Come here and look at the pretty thing
I have for you.

Argh!

Wah!

Are you looking for your old pee spot?
No more peeing here.

Home decor is created here.

Cold bag?

Hell, how... Yes! Cold bag.

Let me guess.

It's a guy. Am I right?
Just like the other four bodies.

Shit, yes.

How the devil do you know?

Well, it's just conjecture.

Anyway, this time it was old Deep Purple
who kicked the bucket.

His neck looks like someone tried out
their new ice pick.

One question.
Had Deep Purple been castrated?

Purple castrated? Oh man.

Purple was beyond such troubles.

He was around the same age as Methusaleh,
but he looked much older.

- Hm.
- "Hm." Is that all you have to say?

I've had it with you walking out on me.

Where is Deep Purple's body now?
Can you lead me there?

Why not?

Hey, what do they call you, smart aleck?

Bluebeard.

However, I've made more kitties happy
than Henry VIII.

The longer I had to trot behind this proud
invalid and take in all his misery,

the more I was haunted by the question
who or what he had fallen victim to.

Ah!

Dead end!

Well, hello. There they are,
the typical obnoxious loiterers.

Good grief. Hermann and Hermann.

Don't tell me you'll rave about the
advantages of your castration again.

But I believe you, boys.

Without the nut bag,
you carry much less weight.

Kong, why do you still hang out
with these buffoons?

Bluebeard,
you old house cripple.

I see that your forays into the gay scene
have been extremely successful.

The little guy behind you is indeed
a magnificent specimen.

Does he teach you how they do it?

No, but he wanted to show you personally.

He's got the ideal position
for the three of you.

I can see that you're looking for trouble.
OK, you can have it.

However, I assume you're
more interested in my friend Francis.

In this case you should know that I won't
stand idly by such an unfair fight.

So, how do you want it, old slimeball?

Come on down.

I'm about to shit myself, buddy.

And as far as you're concerned, sweetie,
you can bet your bottom dollar

that we'll have an interesting
conversation,

just the two of us
in the not so far future.

One that you won't forget any time soon.

So, see you later, pretty babies.

- Hey, Bluebeard.
- Yeah?

I'm afraid you're no longer true
to your principles.

You don't say.

And why, if you don't mind my asking?

Well, you told them I was your friend.

Oof.

In my opinion, the last minutes
of his life went as follows.

The murderer bit Purple's neck
several times. That was outside.

The bloody trails in the garden
are proof of that.

Purple managed to drag himself into
the garage. Quite a feat for his age.

Didn't you say earlier that Purple
was beyond such gay troubles?

You mean sex, yeah?

Yes! Old Purple was
in a phase of heat when he was killed.

The most striking detail
of these serial murders is sexuality.

The killer himself is in heat

and has very extravagant views
on competitive behavior in his territory.

Or he is against copulation in general.

In my days, we called it plugging.

And I still think it was
a god damned can opener, shit.

Let's not kid ourselves.

This bloody hole is a bite wound.

However, it looks like it was time

I found out about this wretched territory
and its inhabitants.

And you will help me, Bluebeard.

Will I, really, detective?

All right. Tomorrow,
I'll introduce you to someone.

You're not the only smart aleck
in our foggy London for dummies.

The sound was coming from the first floor.

I was surprised that the noise
hadn't woken Gustav yet.

That god damned indomitable curiosity.

My God, where had I ended up?

On behalf of brother Claudandus.

On behalf of brother Claudandus
who sacrificed himself for us

and became God. Claudandus!
Oh, holy Claudandus!

Hear our anguish, hear our voice.

Hear our prayer!

Accept our sacrifice! Yeah!

Accept the sacrifice.

His ending was seen as misfortune,

and his leaving us as destruction, yeah!

There will be peace.

Hallelujah, hallelujah.

On behalf of brother Claudandus

who now dwells among the immortals!

He shall judge the people
and rule over nations!

Those who trust in him
shall then know the truth!

Grace and mercy shall be bestowed
upon his elect!

Save us.

Truly, these madcap activities
were beyond The Aristocats.

Oh, Claudandus.

- Claudandus, save us.
- Son of pain and light,

our wounds are full of blood
like your wounds were full of blood.

Hear...

There is someone up there!

What are you idiots waiting for?

Argh!

Go on, get him!

Good Lord.

Frankenstein's laboratory,
or much, much worse.

What did it all mean?

Argh!

Go on, spread out!
We need to surround him.

I can smell him...

He must be here somewhere.

He was here.

But where is he now?

You're new here.

Right?

Yes. That's true.

My name is Francis.

Friend or foe?

Friend.

Forever friend.

A friend who fell from the sky.

Not from the sky...

well, through the skylight. Escaping from
a few crazies of the Claudandus sect.

That's what I'd expect of these idiots.

Is it already light outside?

But don't you see...

You're blind.

I'm not blind.

I just can't see.

Do you go out sometimes?

No.

But until now not a single day
has gone past

when I didn't wish I could see
this evil world just once.

I'm sorry.

Why?

There are worse things in life.
You can put up with quite a lot.

Unless you have to live in a dog parlor.

Have you always been like this?

- I mean, this...
- This blind?

- Mh-hm.
- Yes.

From birth.

But it's strange.

There are images. Images in my head.

What kind of images?

I can see a lot of humans
gathered around me.

They are so big and light.

One of the humans bends down to me
and smiles at me.

Suddenly, he has something shiny
in his hand.

It hurts.

And I go to sleep.

You weren't blind from birth.

Some human did something horrible to you.

Want me to tell you something?

Humans are still the nicest beings.

Who else would keep a blind hen like me?

May I ask an unusual question?

Um...

Felicity.

In the nights of the past weeks,
have you heard any unusual...

You mean the death cries?

Good Lord! You're the first witness
I come across.

But why are you so interested
in this matter?

Well, after all, it's murder.

Murder? Sounds pretty dramatic.

I think it's just
excessive rivalry fighting.

What makes you say that?

The death cries.

They were all from tomcats who were
on their way to some alluring madonna.

And suddenly, someone joined them
whom they seemed to know very well.

Did this someone talk
to the prospective corpses?

Yes. But I didn't catch any specifics.

But the tone of his voice
was very... emphatic.

Heavy with meaning.

As if he wanted to convince
them of something.

Mhm.

And later?

And then let out the death cry.

What do you know
about this Claudandus sect?

I just know that they worship a martyr
by the name of Claudandus.

Allegedly, he was tormented
and tortured by humans

here in this area a long time ago.

Tortured...

Why did you take off?

We just wanted to chat with you.

And 360 volts was supposed
to loosen my tongue, right?

Felicity, I'll be back.

But first, I need to discuss
something with him up there.

On the one hand, you came to me so that
I'd do something about this murder case.

On the other hand, you withheld
crucial information, Bluebeard.

Huh?

What was that?

Just a pastime.

Thrills, the whole Claudandus shebang.

- Not very important.
- Not very important?

It's been around for a few years.

Joker was the first to spread
the doctrine of Claudandus.

With time, he found more
and more followers. That's all.

Joker? He's the geriatric
master of ceremonies

with the charm of a shrunken head.

Yes, but the whole thing
is harmless, Francis.

No one knows who Claudandus really was.

Maybe he never even existed.

- May I now?
- Yes. Go on, eat.

Then you'll take me to the genius
you told me about.

As far as can openers go,
yours is a superb chef. Truly superb!

I looked it up
in the dictionary.

Claudandus is Latin and means
"one who should or must be closed".

There's something to it.

I can't imagine.

Oh! You are imagining.

I imagine all the time.
You're baffled, right?

Well, at some point, I read a book too.

Ah.

Bluebeard was here.

Oh dear, oh dear.

Very impressive.

Are we in the house
of an art professor or... a pimp?

Shit, I'm not so sure myself.

I think the guy who owns this pad
is doing something with science

or parapsychology or the devil knows.

Aha.

Hm? Aha.

Welcome, my dear friends.
I had been wondering where you were.

Bluebeard, tell me.

So, this smart al... this guy is Francis,

and the smarty-pants here is Pascal.

Francis...

Francis.

It's a pleasure and an honor
to meet you, Francis.

May I offer you a snack?

- Well...
- Thanks, we've eaten.

Um, I mean, I personally
wouldn't mind a small bite.

Go ahead, you know where the kitchen is.

To be honest, in my wildest dreams
it wouldn't have occurred to me

that one of us could use a computer.

In my modest way,
I'm trying to use the computer

to get wise to the vicious killer
in our area.

Do you know what this word means?

Felidae?

As far as I know, it's the scientific
umbrella term for our species,

the feline species.

Felidae.

Evolution has produced
a staggering multitude of creatures.

But none commands more respect
and admiration than the felidae.

But what does your list comprise, Pascal?

All inhabitants of our territory, name,
age, sex, breed, and so on.

That reminds me. I have to enter you, too.

- Interesting.
- Isn't it?

Particularly, if it can help
to solve a murder case.

Did you know that all the victims
at the time of...

Yes.

They were all after some female in heat.

- I... I have an idea.
- Yes?

Tell the computer to find out the breed
of the murder victims.

Mh-hm. Compliment.

Neither of the five was a particularly
genteel representative of felidae.

How odd. All victims are male,
in heat, and European shorthair.

No, not all of them.

I haven't had the time
to enter the sixth victim yet.

Who's the sixth victim?

Felicity?

Yep. I'm afraid Felicity also.

No, Pascal, that's impossible.
I talked to her only an hour ago.

But I was told just before you
and Bluebeard arrived.

Oh!

And the way her eyes were wide open...

As if she had been desperate to see,
even in the face of death.

Life goes on, Francis.

Where did you get that bullshit from?
From the one book you've read?

Just saying.

Whoever has Felicity on their conscience...

will have to pay for it.

Do you hear me, neck biter?
You will pay for this.

We'll get you, shithead.

No matter what Pascal says,

Felicity had to die
because she was a witness.

We have been shadowed all this time.

The murderer is not a madman gone wild.

He is cold as ice and follows a plan.

Francis!

The solution to the riddle
is really very simple.

Felidae.

Evolution has produced an
astonishing variety of living creatures.

But none compel more respect
and admiration than the Felidae.

Don't forget the case of Claudandus.
He is the key!

And hop... hop... hop!

Hop... hop... hop!

And hop! Hop! Hop!

And hop, hop, hop!

Experiments on plant hybrids!
Experiments on plant hybrids!

Experiments on plant hybrids!

Hey, you. Did you sleep well?

If only I were a cat. Eat...

sleep...

eat, sleep, yes...

Great minds have little hobbies
in order to unwind from their brain work.

I did what I always do when I need a clear
head and a distraction from the stress.

Hunt rats!

There they were! Always busy!
Always funny! Always sociable!

Patiently waiting
for day X of their takeover.

The laboratory is a dream.

Pharmarox has spared no expense.

My assistants are Ziebold and Gray.

I know that my tissue adhesive
will revolutionize medicine.

The first attempt failed.

Instead of sticking, the mixture
completely corroded the flesh.

I need to reduce the concentration of...

maleic acid.

It is simply contrary to logic.

Just this morning, this handsome
lad came running up to me.

He is now our mascot.

I'll start a new attempt immediately.

I fear the nameless stray
will have to bite the dust.

A miracle happened. It worked right away!

The young stray has probably proven

an invaluable service to science.

He will be known
as Claudandus throughout histor-

We had to take apart Claudandus again.

Some factor in his gene structure ensures

that his body absorbs the soup
without any problems.

He is a... mutation.

They have reduced our funding.

But I am Professor Preterius!

Lack of animals for the experiments?

Not a problem.

Yes, just go, Mr. Ziebold!

Sacrifice! Science requires sacrifice!

Thanks to my sophisticated
breeding program,

some of the females have provided supply.

Are you still able
to produce offspring, Claudandus?

What I have in mind
has never existed before.

A unique breed of cats.

A super breed!

Yes, Claudandus spoke with me!
Fascinating, is it not?

This animal has absolutely
no sense of humor.

Didn't he say...

I should let him out of the cage

and prepare to fight him?

Was that it? I must save Claudandus!

Didn't I promise you that we'd
still have a conversation in private?

What do you want to talk to me about?
About silent stalking?

This is really funny. Come on.

Don't you think we should
attend to serious matters?

Oh yeah, yeah, you've grasped it, brother.

A monster is going around.
Won't you help me look for this madman?

You don't need to look for him any more.

You? And why do you kill?

Well, why?

Well, because those guys
were all pretty brazen.

You're a real son of a bitch,
but your motive doesn't sound convinced.

Oh, you'll soon realise
how convincing I am.

Is that fair?

No.

Leave him to me!

Faster!

Yeah!

Ha, I've got you.

Huah!

No, not that!

The little one ran out of breath.

Probably sucked
on too much bad quality kibble.

Yes, I ran out of breath.

But apparently I'm not the only one.

What are you prattling on about?

Solitaire! Oh, Solitaire!

What have they done to you?
My God, what have they done to you?

My poor, poor Solitaire!

Who was she?

Solitaire was the boss' favorite doll.

And that which was in her
was probably from him too.

I'll kill him!
I'll make mincemeat out of him!

I'll tear his balls off
and stuff them in his mouth!

What heartless creature was it?

Who? Who? Dammit!

You... you didn't do it.
The time was too short.

But who then? Who did this?

Curse you!

You rascal!

He was back there.

Any idea where the waddler
disappeared to, smartass?

In this lousy weather, I don't even
remember where my home is.

He must have kept running, Boss.

But there's only three more gardens,
then it's the end of the line.

- Then we'll grab him.
- Yeah, yeah!

Yeah! Let's go!

I'd had enough of this nightmare.

The murder of Kong's beloved Solitaire
had quashed my theories

about the murders at a single blow.

And now, I was stuck,
who knows how deep, in this hell hole!

Oof.

I've been wondering where you were.

- Shit, I'm too old for slides!
- Shh! Not so loud.

Not so loud? Not so loud?

I heard Kong wailing
like a muezzin in delirium,

saw the poor Solitaire,
and followed you over the walls.

Where are we?

- No idea.
- Mh-hm.

Catacombs.

Not so loud.

Oh, shit! A mass grave!

- A Goddamn...
- Do you smell it?

Yes. Disgusting!

The stench of decay.

Kong was right. The waddler is the killer.

But I see neither Sascha,
nor Deep Purple, or Feli...

Hm-mh. He-he.

Do no harm to the Guardian of the Dead.

Certainly, the Guardian of the Dead
has broken the sacred rule.

For this he will have to pay bitterly.

Do you always have an early mass
before you go at someone's neck?

What's your name, my friend?

They call me Jesaja.

Is all this your doing?

I mean, all those carcasses. Did you
kill and then transport them here?

Oh, no, stranger. The dead come to me.

They are sent by the Prophet.

If you ask me, he's an ordinary nutcase.

Where are you from, Jesaja?

And how on earth did you come
to be in this terrible place?

Once there was the land of dreams
where I was born.

In the land of dreams,
the Prophet was doing his work.

He finally brought us salvation.

God heard the pleading of the Prophet.

And when the bright day exploded,
the land of dreams also exploded,

and the tormented fled
panic-stricken in all directions.

What happened to the Prophet?

He ascended to heaven.
Father Joker told me.

- Joker? The leader of the Claudandus sect?
- Mh-hm.

He had called this temple
his home since time immemorial.

And he carried me here
and cared for me from then on.

But then he left me
to proclaim the word of the Prophet.

And how did Father Joker justify
this pretty bone collection here?

Oh, no. As Father Joker
and I lived here together,

the dead had not yet dwelt among us.

One day, however,
after Father Joker had gone,

I heard a rumbling in one of the shafts.

When I arrived at the exit hole,
I saw a dead sister flying from it.

And suddenly,
I heard the voice of the Lord.

And what did His voice say?

That I had been chosen

to take up the service
of the Guardian of the Dead.

But now everything has changed.

The Prophet no longer speaks with me,

nor does he send any dead
to the realm of the dead.

He has forgotten me.

So you were up there tonight

in order to personally keep a lookout
for the dead, right?

Have you noticed anything
particular about the dead?

I mean, were there, for instance,
some cats in heat amongst them?

That was the case, brother.

But strangely disfigured folks
also came down to the temple.

- And pregnant ones?
- Many.

Oh, so many, brother.

Cod without breadcrumbs. Cooked cod.

Cod lightly fried.

Cod in mayonnaise...

Cod! Don't you understand
what we've just heard?

Mayonnaise...

We're not bemoaning seven
murder victims, but hundreds.

The killing spree goes back many years.

Probably until the closure
of the laboratory.

Indeed.

Earlier in the mortuary temple,
you asked a very wise question.

Which was?

Why were the bodies of Sasha,
Deep Purple, Solitaire and...

Felicitas not in the temple?

Perhaps the murderer feels like me.

Because I'm growing tired of this.

I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I long for cod!

"I'm hungry, I'm tired, I long for cod!"
Cod, my God!

Old Joker is the only one who knows
something about the Prophet Claudandus.

The guy who operates
this electroshock cult, of all people!

What did you say back then?
It was a pastime, a thrill?

Something like that.

Sometimes it seems to me

as if all the fuss about this sect
served a specific purpose.

As if it were a preparation for
something really special, unimaginable!

Such as cod, for instance?

At last, I have found you!

Of course, dear Francis.

I am the Prophet,
I am the man and the beast,

and I am Felidae!

Come with us, Francis.

Everything that ever was and will be
no longer has any meaning, Francis.

- Come with us.
- Come.

You'll find something better
than death anywhere!

Come with us on the long,
wonderful journey.

- And what will we find?
- Everything we have lost, Francis.

Who are you? Which breed do you belong to?

Breed! What an antiquated
and isolating term.

I don't belong to any breed.
Your lover is the way she is.

- You mean your breed is new?
- Not new, but old.

Or better said, old and new...
and different.

- Figure it out for yourself, Francis.
- How do you know my name?

A little bird twittered it to me.

And what's your name?

My name wouldn't mean much to you.
But don't worry about it.

Everything will become clear one day...

and all will end well.

Trust me...

Mhm. Do I at least know the girl?

Yeah, I hope you know her.

Because she could bring us a little
closer to the resolution of the case.

Case? Resolution?

Don't tell me you're still interested.

Judging by your unbearable odor,

were you plugging all day?

My God!

Yes, yes, you're right, old friend.

Let's work. First of all,
where is Joker right now?

He's probably sitting at home,
preparing for his next Bible class.

- Where's his home?
- Quite far away from the district.

His can opener has a shop
for porcelain and precious glass.

Okay, I'm going to pay a visit
to Pascal in a moment.

In the meantime, you'll march
over to Joker and tell him

that I and Pascal
wish to speak to him about the murders.

Do you really think
old Joker is the killer?

Don't forget what we learned from Jesaja.

Joker is deeply, and I mean very deeply,
involved in this.

The question is, can I unmask him?

Um, before I forget,

I have made the
acquaintance of a lady this morning

whose breed is completely alien to me.

Sand-colored coat, glowing yellow eyes...

- I know that bunch.
- Are there so many of them?

Shit, yeah! Seems to be a breed
that's in particularly great demand.

This whole area is full
of those pompous asses.

But with this breed, the can openers
are pissing themselves.

- What do you mean?
- They are not like us!

Well, somehow I get the impression

that in their entire rearing
and breeding processes,

domestication has fallen by the wayside.

These new ones, they're wilder,

more unapproachable, more dangerous even.

- Like predators?
- Yeah.

Phew. My compliment.

I've lived in this area for years,
Francis, and never noticed a fraction

of all the horrific things
you've found out so quickly. Hats off.

Have you saved conspecifics who suddenly
left the district for whatever reason?

- Of course.
- So we can check with this list

how many have disappeared for no
apparent reason, and when exactly?

- Mh-hm.
- Why did the murderer no longer entrust

his last seven victims to Jesaja,
the Guardian of the Dead?

That's an important point, Francis.

Because it's a sign that our
friend is beginning to make mistakes.

I can't imagine that such a wunderkind
of horror makes even a single mistake.

Perhaps he wants to point us at something.

- That's good!
- No, not at all.

We have no idea
what he wants us to notice.

Him and his work.

Baloney. The average intelligence of
the area's residents is so shamefully low

that no one could possibly
comprehend his subtle signs.

Well then, what if he only wants

to draw the attention of one particular
conspecific to his life's work?

- That is good!
- Why?

Because for the first time you
speak of a life's work, Francis.

Don't you get it? He deliberately
sets out to be seen through!

The guy's very strange.
He's like a riddle... no.

He is the riddle, and he's just
waiting for someone to solve it.

Hm?

Hm. Either Joker was in a hurry
or he has a stomach problem.

Mh-hm.

Joker. For me, a prime suspect.

Could be right.

He witnessed the drama in Preterius'
laboratory and saw his chance

to build a martyr religion
around Claudandus' suffering.

That's possible.

Tell me more about the
lady you met earlier today.

- Well, she wasn't like the others.
- Professor Preterius' killer breed?

Why not?

Mh. Unlikely. You're forgetting evolution.

A new breed can also arise by coincidence.

I see. Mh-hm.

You think that my wild lady and her fellow
kind are the product of natural selection?

- Well, you're right as always, Pascal.
- Don't be so modest, Francis.

You are the true smartass.

May I say something too?

- Where's Joker?
- Not there. Disappeared.

What do you mean, "disappeared"?

"Disappeared" means disappeared.

Would you like a snack
before you continue with your report?

My owner Ziebold has prepared fresh liver.

- Fresh liver!
- Get to the point, Bluebeard!

That Joker guy
lives in a horror house.

I searched from the bottom to the top
but found nothing.

- Joker was murdered...
- No, he disappeared.

He knew you were close
to catching him and took off.

No, no! I refuse to accept
such a cheap solution.

Calm down. Tomorrow, we'll get down
to work and draw up a list

of possible survivors from
the laboratory of Professor Preterius.

You better watch your ass, smartass.

What do you mean?

The neck biter will want to wreak
great vengeance on the one

who rained on his parade. Shit, yeah!

True. Pascal is in danger, too.
He also knows too much.

According to what you found out,

the killer only attacks those
who want to improve themselves sexually.

But good old Pascal is neutered.

And besides, well,
he be a goner soon, anyway.

- Why?
- He has cancer.

Colon cancer, I think.

The doctor only gave him
a little longer than half a year.

Dear friends!

Thank you for accepting
our invitation in such great numbers.

I hope you'll deliver, godfather.
If not, someone'll have to suffer

because I'm missing
my favorite movie on TV.

- Kong, you stupid rhino.
- Hm?

If you had just a shred of decency,

you would at least pretend
to be mourning your Solitaire!

I'll catch that neck biter
sooner or later anyway.

You won't catch anyone at all, you fool.

Do you think this guy will someday knock
on your door and apologize to you?

- Aren't we allowed to crack a joke?
- Kong!

The problem is that our murdering
friend doesn't have a sense of humor.

Francis and I have been
doing computer work.

We can now assume with certainty that the
murderer doesn't have seven of us,

but a whopping 450 on his conscience.

These murders, these murders
are most likely connected

to the gruesome secrets
of Professor Preterius' laboratory.

Crimes which some of you fell victim to
without remembering it today.

That's enough!

What did you think about why some of us
wander around like a total wreck?

Take a chill pill
and let the smartass talk.

Maybe he'll present us with the murderer.

I'm afraid I can't serve you
with the murderer as of yet.

But perhaps with the truth.

A large number of you, dear friends,
worship dead Claudandus

who, as you now know,

had to suffer the worst torment
in Professor Preterius' torture lab...

He didn't die!

Aha. What do you know about Claudandus?

Why do you think
he didn't die at the time?

Because great-grandfather
told me about it.

- And who is your great-grandfather?
- Father Joker.

He told me that in the end,

Claudandus challenged the monster
to a fight and killed him.

Dear friends. The only one
who knows what Claudandus looks like

and who could lead us to him is Joker.

- But Joker is dead.
- Disappeared!

If you ask me, Joker has assumed
the identity of the Prophet.

Claudandus is dead.

No one would've survived such torture.
But Joker is alive and on the run!

Thanks to brother Francis,
his sinister plans were thwarted.

I already told you that I searched
Joker's place from the bottom to the top!

Exactly. From bottom to top!

Huh?

You had no way of looking
at the shelves from above.

Hm.

And now what?

Well then, we do it the hard way.

Mh?

Oh dear, oh dear.

Oh!

My God! It had been an execution.

And Joker had agreed to it.

But what was the incredibly
important thing at stake

that Joker was willing
to let himself be sacrificed for it?

Claudandus! He had survived.

Now that Joker's dead,
we don't have a prime suspect anymore.

Right. The whole thing is as inscrutable
as ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.

Meow!

Bluebeard, I just had an insane idea.

Insane. With that word you could
often describe your state of mind.

Genetics.

Genetics.

"The laws of inheritance
were first discovered

by the Jesuit priest
Gregor Johann Mendel."

- We're being bred back!
- We're being what?

I'm so stupid. Why did I never ask myself

which female the murder victims
wanted to mate with?

I should've listened to my dreams
in the first place.

My first nightmare. The man without
a face was, of course, Preterius!

Earwitness Felicitas' crucial words:

But I didn't catch any specifics.

But the tone of his voice was very...
emphatic. Heavy with meaning.

As if he wanted to convince
them of something.

The murderer is no madman running amok!

He wanted to persuade
the poor Sashas and Purples

to stop mating with my hot terrace lady
or her fellow females.

How did she describe herself?
"We are not new, but old!"

You mean the new guys in the district?
The super bunch?

That's the ones.

- There. Look at that.
- What? Is that her?

No. It's the motif.

We are being bred back
to our original form.

To the wild, proud Felidae!

"Gregor Johann Mendel
and his theory of genetics.

Major work:
Experiments on plant hybrids... "

Experiments on plant hybrids!

And who reveres Gregor Johann Mendel
and has his portrait hanging in his study?

Who was Preterius' assistant
in the laboratory?

- Well, who?
- Ziebold!

- Who the hell is Ziebold?
- Fresh liver! Ring any bells?

- Fresh liver... let me think.
- No time to think. Come on!

Okay, you take this entrance.

I'll go up the tree
directly into the study.

Psss, aah.

Bluebeard was here.

The code word, dammit!

Argh!

Come on, come on, think!
Think! The damn code word!

"Number 287, Pasha,

on June 18,1986 around 12:30am,

tried to mate with Traglyahn.

All powers of persuasion in vain."

Now I understood.

He had to make sure that the female
selected for breeding purposes

had to meet with the appropriate male.

And if a stranger wanted
to stick his oar in, well, then...

Do you know everything now,
dear Francis?

Yes, Claudandus. There are only
a few more gaps in my knowledge.

Perhaps you'd like to fill them in.

I'll tell you a story of humans
and animals.

A true story. Yes, I am Claudandus.

I was in that lab, I survived the torture.

When Preterius finally went crackers,
I spoke to him!

- You spoke with him?
- Yes. And he let me out of the cage.

And I sunk my fangs deep into his throat.

After that, Ziebold found me.

Through him, I learned
the Mendelian theory of genetics,

and all of a sudden, I knew how I could
turn the wheels of history back again.

My only help was Joker.

He was in charge
of spreading the ideology,

and I dealt with the scientific side
of the project.

After the first breeding successes,
the program expanded rapidly.

I had to kill, Francis. I had to.

To preserve the racial purity
of my original Felidae.

I will die soon.
That's why I lured you onto my scent

so that you'll become my successor.

The leader of this wonderful,
mighty Felidae!

- And why did Joker have to bite the dust?
- I had no other choice.

He would have given the show away
if bullied.

Now I really do know everything.
But I wish I had never learned it.

Oh no, Francis...

You live your ordinary little day,

and at night you sleep your carefree,
ordinary little sleep

full of peaceful, stupid dreams.
And I...

gave you nightmares. Didn't I?

The world is hell, Francis!

And the culmination of all this
ugliness of the universe is man!

I tell you, my friend,
we're cut from the same cloth.

You are the true human being!
You think like them, you act like them!

Tell me, what role do you intend
for the other animal species?

None at all.

They're stupid
and give themselves up to fate.

But there are good people,

Pascal or Claudandus or Felidae
or whoever you may be.

No, no, no! There are no good people!

They're all the same!

Animals are good human beings,
and human beings are evil animals.

I will fight you any way I can!

And I'll start by deleting
this unspeakable program.

I'm sorry.

You have no idea
just how sorry I am, Francis.

So much darkness in the world, Francis.

So much darkness.

I became evil, Francis.

But at one point, I, too, was...

good.

Bluebeard!

He had lost his innocence...

Bluebeard...

just like the humans.

Even murderers die,
and with them the mysterious stories

that have kept us in suspense for a while.

And so, it's farewell
from your loyal little Francis

and a heartfelt salute
to all the smart asses of the world.

Don't give up believing in a world

where animals and humans
can live together in harmony.

Of course, including smarter species
than the last-mentioned.

For instance, Felidae!

Subtitles by Stephanie Geiges