Original subtitles

And of course,

there I was at the foot of the stage,

beating my breasts and howling at the sky…

"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!"

And then…

Suddenly, the rest of the play was gone.

I could hear them whispering, "Good heavens!"

"He's forgotten his lines!"

And then, it happened again

in St. Louis.

And the next night in Galesburg, until finally I said,

"Len Bronley, you must do something!"

You're very full of yourself, aren't you?

I do beg your pardon?

No one cares why you're here.

You forgot your lines.

So what?

Maybe you're just growing old.

I was a legend.

A household name all over Europe.

I have played every opera house from La Scala to the Bolshoi.

I have sung every great soprano role,

from Brünnhilde to Turandot.

I am here…

Because I have no choice.

My melancholia…

Has gotten the better of me.

I wake up in strange places…

…not knowing how I got there.

When I read about Dr. Hanover's miracle procedure

in The San Francisco Chronicle, huh…

…I knew I had to give it a chance.

I am hoping the procedure evens me out a little bit.

Also…

I really need to quit smoking.

Hello.

What's your name?

Peter.

It's nice to meet you, Peter.

I'm Lily.

What brings you to see Dr. Hanover,

if you don't mind me asking?

My mom says I daydream.

Friends.

Today, we stand together on the precipice of history.

It is truly a momentous day.

Nurse Ratched will get you prepped while I scrub in.

Here are your gowns.

And a reminder, the procedure will require some mild sedation.

See you on the other side.

Oh, I nearly forgot.

There will be some observers in the operating theater today.

Just some government officials and a reporter.

Nothing for you to concern yourselves with.

I'm sorry, a reporter?

I was hoping that the details of my condition would remain confidential.

What? That you're a lesbian?

That much is plain.

It's made obvious by your facial structure.

I refuse to wear this!

My entire backside will be exposed!

Any glimpse of your backside, Mr. Bronley, will be brief,

as it would cause even the most hardened observer to promptly avert their eyes.

Dr. Hanover has asked you to put on the gowns and prepare to be sedated.

Following the procedure, you will be woozy.

That's normal.

And there may be some dried blood at the site of incision.

Sorry I'm late.

Hi, Reggie.

Glad you could make it.

Where's the governor?

Campaign trail.

San Jose this morning.

How is this a major press event when the governor sends his secretary?

You know full well that I speak for the governor, Reggie.

And I'm confident you'll find today's event worth your time.

Oh.

It is already worth my time.

That took forever.

Hello, Mrs. Briggs.

Good morning. Reggie, this, of course, is Secretary Randall Berglund,

head of the State Detentions Bureau,

and Miss Annie Hardcastle,

administrative Aassistant to the director of state finance, Stan Powers.

The governor believes this facility can become a shining example,

not just of what we can accomplish as a state,

but what we're capable of as a nation.

And now… the main event.

Here's Dr. Hanover, a visionary who, like the governor,

believes that our correctional system should do exactly that:

correct rather than penalize.

This is just very exciting.

Nurses, take your seats, please.

Ladies and gentlemen,

you're about to witness history.

I present to you the lobotomy.

In 1935, Portuguese neurologist António Egas Moniz

first attempted a procedure that I now wish to make commonplace.

A procedure so straightforward,

it can be performed on all four subjects in a quarter of an hour.

The brain's frontal lobe is the seed of its neuroses.

Juvenile distraction,

mania,

memory loss,

lesbianism.

All of these maladies can be subdued, if not reversed,

by surgically disrupting a series of neural connections

in the brain's white matter.

As you can see, the patients have received only the lightest sedation…

And will awaken, though slightly groggy,

as brand-new individuals

unencumbered by the mental illness that brought them to this place.

Now, I encourage you to sit back,

relax, and bear witness as I touch the mind.

First, the incision.

You'll notice that the patient feels nothing.

Next, the trepanning.

Oh, my. Oh, my.

Now, we rotate the instrument,

creating a circular lesion in the brain.

You'll observe that the subject is still totally insensate.

A reminder that these are involuntary movements that emerge

as the neural connections are severed.

And the procedure is complete.

Miss Hardcastle!

Reggie, please.

Miss Hardcastle?

Nurse Ratched, if you could quickly attend to our guest,

I'd like to proceed with today's program.

Now, on to the next patient.

Who are you?

A friend.

My name is Mildred Ratched,

and I work with Dr. Hanover at Lucia State Hospital.

We're housing an inmate there.

Edmund Tolleson.

Do you recognize that name?

Yes... ...yes, I do.

What do you want with me?

I drove an hour and a half to tell you

that I'm trying to get Mr. Tolleson fit to stand trial,

so that he can be punished for what he did to those priests.

And to you, his only surviving victim.

I don't want to talk about this.

I know what you've been through.

About your nervous breakdown.

I don't want to talk about this.

You see, Father…

I'm a Catholic.

But when I read about what Mr. Tolleson did…

It destroyed my faith.

Help me, Father.

Help me cleanse the Lord's creation of this evil.

How?

By having an interview with Dr. Hanover and telling him what you saw.

It is Dr. Hanover's evaluation that will determine whether Edmund dies.

Or if he's allowed to live out the rest of his days…

In lavish, extravagant luxury.

No.

No, Church teaching is very clear on this. I don't believe in…

- Putting anyone to death. - Nor do I.

Except in this case.

We cannot trust the system.

If he is allowed to live, he will kill again.

I know it.

Please, Father.

Tell Dr. Hanover.

Not only the facts, but how it felt.

I can't.

I've already told the story.

I'm scheduled to… speak to the state prosecutors in...

When?

In two weeks' time, I'm…

I'm just… I'm not well enough.

I just can't.

I understand, Father.

Here.

My mother gave this to me on the morning of my first communion.

And I want you to have it…

So you know there is another child of God out there who is praying for you.

Why is he building a barn?

I don't understand it.

I have no idea.

Is it to house the patients?

No, it's an actual barn,

with animals.

I mean, it's like a real, functioning, actual barn.

I overheard Dr. Hanover talking about buying an Arabian stallion.

So I've looked into getting riding lessons,

because maybe that's something he and I could do together.

I haven't found the right teacher yet, but I will.

Excuse me.

You're eating my peach.

I haven't eaten anything.

All right, you're holding my peach.

- So? - So it's mine.

The peach in your hand.

I don't see your name on it.

- And who would do that? - Do what?

Put their name on a peach?

Somebody who really wanted it.

And how would one go about such a thing?

I don't know.

Felt-tip?

No one has ever put their name on a peach with a felt-tip.

- I've seen it done. - No, you haven't.

Maybe a pen.

You could gouge your name into it with a pen.

That's my peach.

I brought it here.

And I brought it here.

I paid for it.

- Maybe you stole it. - Maybe I didn't.

Well, what if you did? Then whose peach is it?

It's still mine.

I don't know.

What I do know is I saw it rolling around in the icebox, so I brought it here.

So now it's mine.

She kind of does have a point.

I mean, in a situation like this, the peach is sort of like cash,

so it belongs to whoever is...

No one is talking to you.

Ooh, someone's cranky.

She sure could use a peach.

That is my peach.

No, it's a peach in my mouth.

Sorry.

You are not sorry.

But you will be.

Oh, really?

What? What are you gonna do about it?

What are you, deaf?

No.

I'm just thinking of all the things I'm going to do about it.

Ladies, your attention, please.

I was appalled by yesterday's surgeries.

The lobotomies did not go at all how I had hoped,

and I alone am to blame.

Therefore, I will be demonstrating an alternative procedure

in the operating theater in 15 minutes.

I expect to see you all there.

I obtained these cadavers from the Oakland County morgue.

Upon viewing the reaction of our guests yesterday,

I realized the trepanning of the skull

by boring through the sphenoid bone with a hand drill

might be a bit too graphic to be accepted by the general public.

I recalled the observations of the Italian psychiatrist Amarro Fiamberti.

He complained that the prefrontal lobotomy

requires drilling through the skull at its thickest point,

only to access the site of the frontal lobe,

while its quivering underbelly can be more easily accessed

through one of the skull's thinnest points…

The eye socket.

Oh, no.

Behold… the transorbital lobotomy.

As if designed to comfort any queasy onlookers,

the procedure benefits from the everyday nature of its instrument.

A simple tool that John and Jane Q. Public already have around the home.

An ice pick.

- God… - Would you stop that?

Wait. Uh...

Are you going to stick that in her eye?

Above the eye,

against the thin layer of bone at the top of the eye socket.

Oh, my God, I think I'm gonna be sick.

Just stop.

And we tap the ice pick,

driving it five centimeters into the frontal lobe.

Oh, look.

My peach.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

That is unacceptable!

Are you a nurse, Miss Bucket?

Or a lily-livered hausfrau?

If you don't have the stomach for a procedure

that could revolutionize the field of medicine,

perhaps you should find other employment!

Now, go change a goddamn bed pan!

Both of you!

Dr. Hanover, please continue.

The ice pick is driven through the top of the eye socket.

Once inside…

The ice pick is pivoted 40 degrees…

…then returned to a neutral position,

and driven a further two centimeters.

And pivoted around 30 degrees each side, cutting outwards…

And inwards.

The sequence is repeated in the other lobe.

And the procedure is complete, with no noticeable bleeding.

Simple.

Elegant.

Thank you.

That will be all, you're all dismissed.

Excuse me.

I feel as if I've seen the future.

Oh.

You have.

I'm happy to be sharing this with you, Mildred.

You're not like those other women.

You're different.

That's something my mother used to say about me.

And while I don't believe she meant it as a compliment…

I certainly do.

One thing does occur to me, Dr. Hanover.

The refinement, the…

Sophistication of this procedure,

is not reflected in some of the other practices

in place at this hospital.

There's a patient here, Edmund Tolleson.

While other patients are allowed to shower under armed guard,

Edmund remains shackled.

Lathered up and hosed down like a circus animal.

Well, frankly, it seems barbaric.

Hi.

Hi.

Here.

From now on, you'll be allowed to shower like every other patient here.

Under armed guard, of course, but

you won't be blasted with a fire hose, and you'll be able to lather up yourself.

I kind of like that part.

I like feeling them soap up my balls.

Don't be vulgar.

This may not seem like much, but it's a first step.

I'm going to get you out of here.

But you have to control yourself.

Okay?

Okay.

Don't do that.

Mm.

Gate, please.

Hi.

You don't know me.

We haven't been officially introduced.

I know exactly who you are.

Mildred Ratched.

Gwendolyn Briggs.

This is slightly odd.

I put a sack lunch here.

Would someone have thrown it away?

Nurse Bucket ate it.

Ah.

You're welcome to the other half of my bologna sandwich.

Oh, no, I couldn't. Thank you.

I really don't mind.

No, I mean I don't eat bologna.

Why?

It's perfectly nutritious.

- I'm sure. - Very filling.

I just don't eat extruded meats.

No offense.

Bologna is my favorite food.

You can't be serious.

I am completely serious.

So are you from the area?

No.

Well, it's a beautiful part of the world.

The views from this stretch of coastline are simply magnificent.

Yes. I have a lovely view from where I stay.

Of course, I don't get to see it much.

My work is very stressful,

so I try to go to bed early.

So…

How about you let me show you around?

I'm sorry?

I'm driving down to Monterey this afternoon.

Would you care to join me?

No. Thank you.

Monterey is nothing but longshoremen

and morphine addicts trying to sell their poetry.

You sure?

It's a stunner of a drive.

And there's an oyster bar just off Route 1 I've been dying to try.

Oyster bar?

Yeah.

Well, won't there be a gentleman accompanying you?

No.

Come on, it'll be an adventure.

"Brutal" is the word that kept running through my mind.

This procedure is sadistic,

and Governor Wilburn is staking his entire reelection on it,

something that I don't know that voters are able to accept.

Then the voters are foolish.

- Hm. - Dr. Hanover is a true genius.

The governor is wise to be following his lead.

Enjoy.

Thank you.

I, um…

I'm not sure how I'm even meant to do this.

Well…

Allow me to demonstrate.

First, a few drops of lemon.

Then you take this little fork…

And loosen the oyster from his shell.

Then cocktail sauce, if you're a boor who likes hookers and cigars.

I prefer just a splash of mignonette.

And then…

You just let it slide into your mouth.

It's like making love to the ocean.

Mm.

I'm sorry, I think the fact that it's still alive as you eat it is...

Here.

Let me help you.

Just… open your lips.

Now swallow.

It's tasty.

So you believe in it?

What?

The lobotomy.

You really believe in it?

If it does what they say it does, yes, absolutely.

A disordered mind cannot ease its own suffering.

A person can be burdened by certain impulses and drives…

That are destroying their lives.

But then aren't we playing God?

Aren't we saying there's one feeling that's right,

and another feeling that's wrong?

Well, there are rights and there are wrongs, Mrs. Briggs.

I believe that.

I believe it because I've seen it.

I believe there are some things that are worse to feel

than simply feeling nothing.

You know what?

I could go for a nightcap.

What do you say?

Yes. I would like that.

- I think I want another one. - Do you?

I do!

Are you sure you know where you're going?

What is this place?

Oh, it's just… a little hole in the wall.

Relax.

It's an adventure, remember?

Well, this is lovely.

Isn't it?

What'll you have? It's on me.

Oh, I don't know, just…

I'm sorry. I have to go.

Mildred!

Mildred, come on.

- Mildred, what is the matter? - What is this place?!

It's a women's bar.

Why did you bring me here?

I asked you if you wanted a nightcap.

No, why did you bring me here?

Because I thought you were one of us.

One of you?

I don't even know what that means.

I think you do.

And what would have given you that impression?

Aren't you married?

Look, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry if I… made an assumption.

It seemed quite clear to me what was going on between us,

but I understand if that's not something you're ready to face yet.

I don't like what you're insinuating, Mrs. Briggs,

and I don't like your tone.

All right, fine.

I'm sorry. Let's just go.

No, thank you, I will find my own way home.

Mildred, don't be ridiculous. I'll drive you home.

I will ask the bartender to call me a taxi.

- Do not touch me! - Mildred...

Hello, Edmund.

Thank you, Harold.

You can unshackle his hands and wait outside the door.

My pleasure, sir.

Mm. I don't want to miss dinner.

They keep taking me away, and when I come back,

they say I already ate, but I didn't get nothing, you know?

And that's not fair 'cause everybody else already ate.

Take a seat, Edmund.

Here?

How are you feeling today, Edmund?

Oh, just real warm, I guess, 'cause I'm feeling a little nervous.

Well, Edmund, there's nothing to be nervous about.

I'm just here to get to know you.

Okay, yeah, but lots of the times folks say that,

and then they try to read your mind.

That's why I'm so nervous, and…

That window's got a migraine, and it's giving me one too.

Those ladies at the A&P, they were always trying to read my mind.

- That's why I killed them. - Who?

Uh, those girls you say I killed.

Maybe I did on account of them trying to switch my thoughts around behind my back.

I'm sorry, what girls are you meant to have killed, Edmund?

Those girls you say I killed.

They all lived together in a house.

They were ballet dancers, and I followed them inside.

Says to 'em, "I ain't gonna kill you," but then you says I did kill them, so…

Edmund.

Those were four men you murdered.

They were priests.

See, this is what I'm talking about.

That's why I gotta talk to the dentist.

Why would you need to see a dentist, Edmund?

Because I got radio mouth.

I got radio mouth real bad, a bad case.

And you're listening in too. I heard your voice before.

You're listening in and whispering these numbers,

but you don't know I can hear you 'cause the antenna's so good.

What is "radio mouth"?

Well, see, I told them all before.

These guys come into the rooming house where's I was staying,

four or five of 'em, they said, "We want to sell you something,"

and I said, "I got a bus to catch,"

and then one of them said, "Well, we already put it in there."

And they showed me.

And they put a little, tiny, metal radio antenna under my back teeth,

right behind the gums,

and then when I'm sleeping, these wires come out of my mouth

here, here, and here, and here.

And back here.

The landlady downstairs says, "No, we took those out while you were sleeping."

But I says, "Well, how come I keep pulling wires out of my mouth, then?"

You know?

And she… she has one too.

They give 'em little receivers, they tell 'em not to tell me,

they listen to what I'm thinking, then they switch it all around,

and then they sell it… to somebody else in the organization.

So it goes on and on and on.

Let's sit somewhere more comfortable, Edmund.

Okay.

I'm sorry, people listen to your thoughts

as you have them, and change them?

Mm-hm, mm-hm. They're doing it right now, 'cause it tingles.

And who do you think is changing your thoughts right now?

I think it's the army.

Edmund.

The person I see before me exhibits multiple symptoms of schizophrenia,

or perhaps schizoaffective mood disorder with psychotic features.

You're experiencing paranoid hallucinations,

both auditory and tactile.

Your delirium, the dementia, your grossly disorganized speech,

the delusion of thought-broadcasting.

Your fears of an inchoate, unseen conspiracy plotting against you.

These are all prototypical features of schizophrenia.

Mm-hm, well, okay. Sure.

They're somewhat too prototypical, actually.

So perfectly presented, they actually strain credulity.

Could I have a cigarette?

Well, see, Edmund, I don't believe you're schizophrenic,

despite the show you're so adeptly putting on.

And I also don't believe in the death penalty.

It's barbaric, ineffective as a deterrent,

and it debases the moral character of our society.

It's a cause of social dysfunction, not a solution to it.

I've seen crimes so heinous they beggar the imagination,

but not one that I felt warranted state-sanctioned murder.

I believe that the human mind can crack.

I believe a person can snap when experiencing certain stimuli,

specific traumas.

A person can quite literally lose control

and commit unspeakable acts of violence and depravity.

They can rape and mutilate one priest, stab another,

shatter the skull of a third, and nearly decapitate a fourth,

and still they are not necessarily insane,

nor are they beyond rehabilitation.

You're not fooling me, Edmund.

I can help you,

but you have to help me.

You want to help me?

Yes.

But you're going about this wrong.

I can keep you out of the gas chamber,

but you have to start being honest with me.

I need to know about the moment of rage.

What caused you to snap.

I don't want to be in this room anymore.

I think someone's trying to come in through the window.

Harold.

Think about what I said, Edmund.

And are you experiencing any physical discomfort?

Peter?

Yes?

Any pain?

No.

"No, ma'am."

And are you experiencing any of the symptoms that brought you here?

Scattered thoughts?

Distraction?

I don't have any thoughts at all.

Get out!

Hey, Ratched.

Private call on line three.

Who is it?

I'm not your secretary. Pick up the phone and ask them yourself.

Hello?

I got your flowers. They're wonderful.

Father Andrews.

They really brighten up the room.

Well, I'm just delighted to hear that.

I hope you know

your faith is very inspiring to me, Mildred.

Is there something I can help you with?

I'll tell my story.

Tell you what I saw.

Are you sure?

Yes, I'm sure.

That monster… needs… to be punished.

He must be put away.

Forever.

Very well.

I know just the place.

Dr. Hanover will be the only one with access to this information.

Thank you.

Tell me what you remember, Father.

Did you see his face?

Edmund Tolleson?

Would you recognize it if you saw him?

From under the bed, I couldn't see his face.

I watched… him…

Mutilate the monsignor.

It seemed like it took hours.

To calm your nerves.

Then suddenly I realized he was gone.

I knew that they were dead.

I went to get help.

That's when I saw his face.

Standing there, smoking.

Just staring at me.

And then he just walked away.

He didn't... he didn't... He didn't even run.

Oh, God. What if I'm next?

Finish your tea, Father.

That's it.

Finish it up, now.

Mm.

Good.

I don't feel so well.

It's all right, Father. Easy, now.

You've seen too much.

You're suffering.

Easy.

I'm going to relieve that suffering.

You see, Father…

Edmund Tolleson is my brother.

He wasn't born a monster.

Somebody turned him into one.

God bless you, Father.

He took a weekend trip with a young woman several weeks ago,

and ever since he just hasn't been himself,

but he's much more serene.

The night terrors have stopped, and he's put on some weight,

so we do feel like he's progressing.

Right this way.

Father Andrews, we're from the state attorney's office.

We're representing the people in the Edmund Tolleson murders.

We need you to provide an affidavit.

Do you know what that is?

Father Andrews, can you hear us?

Let's go. We're not gonna get anything out of him.

Sister, could you show us out?