Original subtitles

(theme music playing)

NARRATOR: Man lives in the sunlit world

of what he believes to be reality.

But... there is,

unseen by most, an underworld.

A place that is just as real

but not as brightly lit.

A dark side.

�

(doorbell rings)

Welcome to the Cantrell home, Mr. Tabbitt,

where we hope to be the home of the future mayor of Huntsville.

We want you to make yourself right at home.

Honey, our guest of honor has arrived.

Mr. Tabbitt!

I hope you're going to manage my mayoral campaign.

You don't have any cats?

Why, no, no cats at all.

Does a mayor need cats?

I'm allergic to cats.

Oh, we have no pets.

We believe four-legged animals are happier

on farms and in trees.

Julian,

perhaps Mr. Tabbitt is craving a thirst quencher.

Ah.

This way, Tabbitt.

WOMAN: Mr. Tabbitt,

you'll have to excuse us.

It's Thursday night and, as you know,

help doesn't come in on Thursdays.

Yeah. Uh, whiskey?

(sneezes)

Are you wearing wool?

Oh, uh, Valeria, honey, is this wool?

Might be, sugar.

I'm allergic to wool.

(sneezes)

Oh, uh, well, then, uh,

you and I won't get too huggy and kissy.

(chuckles) How's that, huh?

(giggles)

Mr. Tabbitt, we are so sure that Julian will be

the most outstanding mayor that Huntsville has ever known.

I hear that no one can get elected in this town

without your help.

Uh...

You look pretty, baby shucks.

I look like a turtle.

Mr. Tabbitt, this is our lovely turtle, Charlotte Rose.

Gentlemen, shall we?

Ah. Ah...

It's families that win elections

in this town, Mr. Cantrell.

A fine, upstanding, normal family

is what people like to see.

Gets 'em

where they eat.

Well, my family is as wholesome as a whole loaf of white bread.

Isn't that right, Valeria?

TABBITT: What about you, little missy?

What will the voting populace of Huntsville

want to know about you?

I love America.

Of course you do, darling.

A-And I really want to be

a baton twirler for the Dallas Cowboys,

as soon as I get a figure worthy of national television.

I been practicing, Daddy.

Oh.

� O beautiful

� For spacious skies

� For amber waves of...

Charlotte!

Wasn't I good?

Baton twirling has not been known to inspire votes.

Charlotte, honey, you were just lovely.

Now, sit down.

Exhibitionism is really not in good taste, honey.

We must leave that--

we must leave that to the daughters of men

who do not aspire to be mayor of Huntsville.

(ethereal music plays)

The true talent of women of our social standing is to blend

into the background of life,

and support those who were born to be

our leaders.

(ethereal music fades)

How did you do that, Miz Cantrell?

What?

You positively glowed.

Why, thank you, sir.

Was that your wife

or was that some special lightbulb?

(ethereal choir singing)

Uh... Is there something

terribly wrong with your poached salmon, Mr. Tabbitt?

I'm allergic to fish.

Do I hear music?

VALERIA: How thoughtless of me.

I should have consulted you before planning my menu.

Only thing I'm not allergic to is fried chicken.

Well, I wish I had fried chicken for you right now.

(shrieks)

Is that fried chicken on your plate, Mr. Tabbitt?

Don't it look like fried chicken?

It looks like fried chicken to me!

And you, Miz Cantrell, were lit up like a Christmas tree.

This is not normal.

This is not a normal family, Mr. Cantrell,

and I don't like it.

I don't like chicken coming down from the ceiling.

I just don't like-- goo... good-bye!

JULIAN: Tabbitt...

Mr. Tabbitt, please don't go.

What about my husband's campaign?

Mama, what's wrong with you?

What in the devil is going on, Valeria?

What is everybody so all-fired excited about?

I wish a big chocolate cake

would fall out of the ceiling right now,

and ice cream,

and a pair of aqua stretch pants.

We will not discuss last night, Charlotte,

and please, darling, be careful with that makeup.

(phone rings)

Cantrells'. Valeria speaking.

(indistinct talking over phone) Hello, Mother. How's the sniffles?

What?

Oh, my, you have a little headache?

Well, would you like me to call the doctor?

I'll be over directly.

You put your eyeshades on and rest.

All right?

Bye-bye.

Mary Anne Whipple's mother wears aqua stretch pants

and an orange satin blouse that shows her cleavage.

Everyone has their own path to walk on, honey,

and God gives people

questionable taste in clothing sometimes

as a penance for buying polyester in a previous life.

We Cantrells do not judge.

Mary Anne says her mother has three boyfriends.

They sleep over sometimes,

in the same bedroom as her mother.

There's only one bed in that room.

Don't be a tattletale.

Ruby Whipple has a right to a private life,

and if I spoke to her,

I would caution her to keep it as private as possible.

You'd never talk to Mrs. Whipple,

but you'd let me be friends with Mary Anne.

Mary Anne needs you as a friend.

Ruby Whipple has enough friends.

Charlotte, what are you doing?

Charlotte.

It's a project at school-- art class.

Egyptian-- we're supposed to look like Cleopatra.

Yeah, uh, i-it's a contest, and I just have to win.

I've never won a contest.

Why don't you help me?

Don't you wish I'd win?!

Mother...

Mother, I don't want to wear these stupid clothes!

Make them go away!

Darling, I would if I could!

Mother, I'm scared!

Darling, take a deep breath.

Now, hold Mama's hands. (screams)

You're scaring me!

Make them go away! Valeria.

Uh, Charlotte was just telling me about a contest.

I was lying!

I just wanted to wear makeup!

(sobbing): I was lying.

Please, Mother, make it stop!

Daddy.

(gasps)

You are traumatizing the child.

Now, you said this was never going to happen again.

I'm sorry, Julian, I, I...

I just don't know how to explain it!

Well, you better find someone who can.

(sobs)

MAN: Your daughter turned into Cleopatra before your eyes,

a bucket of chicken came down from the ceiling,

and your husband says you glow like a firefly.

Um, are you a member of this parish, Mrs. Cantrell?

Well, actually, no,

but I, I didn't think it was a Methodist kind of problem.

Have you seen a... doctor?

I thought that a priest,

with a certain experience in unearthly visitations,

might be able to help me.

Well, I-I just got out of the seminary, Mrs. Cantrell.

Let me check my book here.

Um, uh...

Uh, filed under "psycho"-- no.

Hmm, maybe "wacko."

(ethereal choir singing)

Good gadooshky.

Now you can see how difficult it is to plan social functions.

Mother was right.

I should have been a truck driver.

(sighs)

(chuckles)

Uh, okay, all right.

Um...

Mrs. Cantrell, let me ask you a question.

Look me straight in the eye as you answer.

Have you always been a devout woman?

Never.

Never.

You never prayed?

Father...

I believe God respects my ability

to run my house on earth,

and I respect God's ability to run celestial matters.

(celestial choir singing)

Good gadooshky.

You, Mrs. Cantrell, are a saint.

St. Mrs. Cantrell.

If this is being a saint, I... I don't want to be one.

You've stopped glowing.

For the moment.

It comes and goes without any warning.

God works in mysterious ways.

I'm ruining my family's life!

I can't be a saint.

How can I be un-sainted?

(scoffs) You're not serious.

What's the worst sin a person can commit?

Mrs. Cantrell, you wouldn't!

No, you've got to help me, Father.

What is the worst sin? I'm a priest.

I can't tell you how to sin!

All right, then.

I'll figure it out myself.

Mrs. Cantrell,

what are you gonna do?

The Devil's work, I suppose.

What other choice do I have?

(chorus singing jubilant heavenly melody)

(sighs)

Mother, do you have to do this?

Well, doesn't it make sense, honey,

that sainthood is something you get from not sinning enough?

I suppose so.

Then I'll just have to keep sinning

until I'm too wicked to be a saint.

Who's this?

That's Buddha, baby.

Not a very attractive god, but very calm.

I hate this.

Well, unless you want a 60-watt lightbulb

for a mother for the rest of your life,

I could use your support.

In the name of Buddha,

and Quan Yin,

and Rama-dama-ding-dong...

I pray to Bruce

every night before I go to sleep.

But it might help if-if you prayed to him, too.

Thank you, sweetheart.

I wish this wasn't happening.

I know it is very hard on you.

Oh, I love you, Mother.

Don't be a saint too long.

I won't.

Goddamn it!

Valeria!

You swore!

I did!

I'll never be mayor.

(phone rings)

Cantrells'. Valeria speaking.

Mother, I am sick and tired of you,

and your hypochondria,

and your calling me every other minute!

Now, why don't you just call information

and tell them about your crummy little colds and your headaches.

The number is 411!

Oh!

Okay.

(clears throat) Very well done, my dear.

Uh, I'll check in on her...

on the way to church.

Come on, peach fuzz.

Straighten up, Charlotte!

You look like hunchback.

Fine, Mama.

Be as mean as you have to be.

And if you two dare say a prayer for me

in that temple of deception,

I will personally starch all your underwear!

O God, what will it take for you to forsake me?

(harp glissando)

(heavenly chorus singing)

Ugh.

VALERIA: 20 dead and counting.

Well, nobody said I had to do 'em in order.

How about some lemonade and ginger snaps?

That's my T-shirt.

No, it's not, it's mine.

It is not.

That's my favorite T-shirt!

Mine now.

It's mine!

You can't steal my T-shirt!

It's my T-shirt.

Girls.

You're lying, Mother.

You're telling a big fat lie!

That's right.

(screams)

I hate you!

Just because you're a saint, you think you can do anything?!

I hate you!

(sobs) Aah!

Valeria, honey,

how about we go take a long sleepless nap?

I'm much too busy sinning, Julian!

Please!

I want a bigger swimming pool, like the Joneses'.

I want a new fur coat, like Harriet Sparks'.

I want a five-foot video screen,

and I want a new Cadillac!

And I always wanted to go to bed with Robert Redford!

(heavenly chorus singing jubilantly)

Oh, well, this is great, Valeria.

Now we got the whole Holy Roller chorus blasting us.

I'm doing the best I can, Julian.

Well, what the hell is coming next?

I only have one sin left!

CHORUS: � Hallelujah!

(chorus vocalizing brightly over pipe organ accompaniment)

Hi, there, you big sexy thing.

St. Mrs. Cantrell?

I bet every single hair on your head is so happy

to be connected to such a va-va-va-room face.

Uh, no, they fall out when I'm nervous, actually, and--

No need to be nervous.

Good gadooshky!

(gasps)

Uh, Saint...

uh, Miss, Miss, Mrs. Ca...

Can... trell.

I'm a priest

and you're a saint, and I don't think

you should be doing what you're doing.

Help me to sin, Father.

I am so unhappy.

(screams)

Adultery with a man of the cloth.

Surely, God would un-saint me for that.

(gasps)

Not to mention what he'd do to me.

No!

Why me, Lord?!

Why me?!

WOMAN: I was surprised to get your phone call,

till you told me what your problem was.

Oh...

nice decorating.

(dull tapping)

I like cheap plastic, myself.

I already figured out your problem, honey.

You ain't been sinning worth diddly-squat.

I've broken every Commandment.

I haven't murdered a person yet,

but there's old Mr. Hubbard, whose plug I can pull.

He's been in a coma for 12 years.

Murder ain't the worst of it, honey.

Ah.

Don't bother, I'll get it myself.

I find sinning so tedious,

tiresome, boring!

There ain't nothing better than living on the edge of bad.

You just don't know how to do it.

You can't say I haven't sinned.

That's nonsense.

Nonsense, my rosy butt.

You tell me why you been racing around

like a chicken with its head cut off--

lying and stealing and cussing

(laughing): and seducing priests.

Not to mention bowing to Buddha

and Bruce Springsteen.

You tell me why you don't want to be a saint.

Because Julian wants to be mayor

and Charlotte wants a normal mother.

And they're entitled to that.

I don't want to disappoint them.

That's your problem.

You've been sinning for the sake of those you love, honey.

That don't count.

What?!

You want ol' Ruby to tell you what the worst sin is?

I would be ever so grateful.

Pride.

That's the worst sin, honey.

Pride.

Now, tell me the truth,

ain't you just a little bit pumped up

because numero uno up there thinks you're the

cat's meow?

Yes, I am rather flattered.

Sure you are!

Now, let's start taking advantage of it.

JULIAN: Tarnation!

Valeria, honey, where are you?

(laughs): She's really flipped.

Hi, there. You here to see the saint?

I, uh, happen to be the saint's husband!

Who are you? We'll get to know each other later, big guy.

I'm busy now.

Are you ready, Your Sainthood?

I'll put the sign out on the front lawn, okay, Saint?

I want to die.

Valeria, I have to put my foot down!

Julian, who are you to tell a saint what to do?

(heavenly music plays) RUBY: Right!

You should be dusting her wings, big guy.

If you wanted her to be excited about living with a mayor,

how about you showing some excitement

about living with a saint?

Right, Saintie?

VALERIA: God did choose me, Julian.

He didn't choose you.

All set, now.

You just keep glowing, Your Glowness,

and we'll make us a fortune.

(doorbell chiming)

Don't you do it, Valeria.

Don't try and stop me, Julian.

CHARLOTTE: Mama, please?

No more of your "Mama, please," young lady.

I believe I have a more important mission in life

than to listen to your weeny whinings about being a mayor,

and your twirling a baton.

I should be healing the truly oppressed,

walking across the waters for the world to see.

So you take your petty problems,

and you go stick your heads in the toilet.

Well, you don't...

really mean that, sugar plumps, do you?

CHARLOTTE: You're just being mean, 'cause you don't want

to be a saint anymore, right, Mama?

I am a saint.

(heavenly music fades)

My, my, my.

VALERIA: Why is it so quiet in here?

I've lost my halo of light.

I can't not be a saint now; I was gonna save the world.

Ruby, what's happening?

Well, what you always wanted, honey--

your glow is gone.

And this time for good!

(heavenly music playing)

Oh, my.

Ruby...

you are glowing.

(laughs): You're beautiful!

Holy shmoly!

Nobody told me doing good deeds was gonna light me up.

My customers ain't gonna like this at all!

(laughing)

(Ruby continues laughing)

RUBY: Ooh!

(Ruby laughing)

NARRATOR: The dark side is always there.

Waiting for us to enter.

Waiting to enter us.

Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight.