All language subtitles for thsufhuizt

(eerie music)

(high pitched noise)

- [Woman] I love you, Henry.

(gunshot)

(car horn beeping)

- Mr. Dawles?

- I'm Henry Dawles.

- I'm an associate
of Mr. Remiel.

Please, get in.

(pensive piano music)

Mr. Remiel's very appreciative

of you coming on
such short notice.

We do hope it wasn't

too much of an inconvenience.

- Oh, not at all.

To be honest, I needed the work.

It hasn't really
been easy to come by.

- Ah.

Well, then I hope
this is the first step

toward reversing your fortune.

- Yeah, me, too.

My wife and I, we're
expecting a kid.

- Congratulations, Mr. Dawles.

- Thank you.

- Is this your first?

- Yes, it is.

- Might I ask,

boy or girl?

- We actually don't know.

- Ah.

Another surprise.

How delightful.

(metal creaking)

Don't worry, Mr. Dawles.

This bridge has
proven quite reliable.

(phone ringing)

- [Recording] We're
sorry, your call

did not go through.

- I wouldn't fidget
with that too much,

Mr. Dawles, service
out here can be scarce.

- Great.

My wife's gonna think
I left for good.

- I'm sure she'll understand.

- I don't think so.

- Ah.

Well,

here we are.

It's a beautiful
structure,isn't it?

- Late 18th century?

- Precisely.

Word to the wise, Mr. Dawles,

Mr. Remiel can be a
rather demanding soul.

Just do ask he asks
and I promise you

the compensation can
be quite generous.

- Let me give you
a little something.

- No need for
gratuity, Mr. Dawles.

It's all been taken care of.

- Thank you.

When can we expect you back?

- Hmm.

Well, that is entirely
up to you, Mr. Dawles.

Oh, uh, yes.

Have a good stay.

Hmm?

(knocking)

- May I help you?

- I'm Henry Dawles.

Here to appraise the estate.

- Mr. Remiel has
put you in the north

end of the house,
overlooking the pond.

Once you've settled,
you're to join him

for a nightcap in the library.

This will be your room.

You'll find the bathroom at

the far end of the hall.

- It's wonderful, thank you.

(classical organ music)

- It is widely believed

that Bach died from
complications of eye surgery.

An infection festered

when a traveling
oculist attempted

to remove cataracts

from his eyes.

The procedure failed mightily

and within four months,

Bach was dead.

The greatest composer the world

has ever known

chose to fight his blind fate

rather than accept it.

Pride was his undoing.

- I'm not proud, but I am happy

and happiness blinds, I think,

more than pride.

- Alexandre Dumas.

- The Count of Monte Cristo.

My wife made me read it.

- Smart woman.

- You have no idea.

- Mr. Dawles, I presume.

- Please, call me Henry.

- Come, Henry,

join me by the fire.

I hope your journey
wasn't too uncomfortable.

- Oh no, not at all.

- Would you care to join me for

an evening spirit?

- Yes, I would love to.

Thank you.

- Thank you, Mrs. Gates.

Cheers.

- Cheers.

You've got a
beautiful home here.

- Thank you.

Sadly, I'm the last
of a dying breed.

I fear once I'm gone,

the estate will follow suit.

- No family?

- My late wife was
unable to bear children.

Adoption was always
a conversation,

rather than reality.

- I apologize if I'm
overstepping my bounds,

but without a
beneficiary, why bother

with the appraisal?

- Curiosity, I suppose.

Even I don't know
everything about this place.

Then again,

maybe I just wanted the company.

- Well then,

to paid company.

- To you, Henry.

My old body is
begging for some rest.

Feel free to look around
the place, if you like.

I'll see you in the
morning for breakfast.

Goodnight, Henry.

- Goodnight.

(soft motor sounds)

(cranking)

(tinkling music)

(clock chiming)

(creaking)

(stomp)

- Mr. Dawles.

The attic is very
dangerous at night.

May I suggest you
wait 'til morning?

- Of course.

- Good evening, Mr. Dawles.

(clock ticking)

(groans softly)

(creaking)

- Back there, about 300 yards,

my mother built herself a little

home away from home.

We lovingly refer
to it as a madhouse.

A small cottage where she could

cool the daily agitations

that my father presented her.

You see, my father
was a drinker.

My mother was a Methodist.

(chuckles)

- Well, my parents
divorced when I was 15.

Maybe your mother
was on to something.

- Maybe she was.

Maybe she was.

The house has been vacant
for over two decades.

Due to my declining health,

I haven't seen it
nearly that long.

(breathing heavily)

Would you mind
taking a few pictures

to share with me
at dinner tonight?

- Yeah, whatever you need.

- Thank you.

Holler if you need anything.

(slow piano music)

(music tinkling)

- No way.

Not bad.

(insects buzzing)

Holy shit!

- I'm sad to say,

he is not the first that we've

dealt with over the years.

Transients, drifters,

even fugitives

have sought asylum in our woods.

Property this large

lends itself to stowaways.

Did you find anything
else on the body?

Any sort of identification?

- No, I didn't look.

Legally, I shouldn't have
even touched the note.

- What a sin.

To give up on life so easily.

- Well, we should
call the police.

- I'll take care of
that, Mr. Dawles.

I'll see that the body
is properly disposed of.

- Disposed of?

- Poor choice of words.

A proper burial, of course.

I do hope you'll stay
and finish the appraisal.

I'm prepared to
offer you greater pay

to compensate for
today's unpleasantries.

- I don't think that
would be appropriate.

- $5,000.

On top of your fee.

- That's a sizable offer.

- $7,000.

- Mr. Remiel, I
think you should find

someone else.

- Tell me, Mr. Dawles,

just what will your
departure accomplish, hmm?

An ethical victory?

Moral triumph?

Because it certainly won't help

to take care of your wife.

Or your unborn child.

- How do you know
about my family?

- My driver and I,

we spoke.

I understand this
job is very important

to you, Mr. Dawles.

- Yeah.

It is.

- I am offering you a
great deal of money.

Enough to spoil
your growing family.

Please,

don't allow a fool's
poor judgement

to determine yours.

- $10,000.

On top of my fee.

- We have a deal.

I do hope you enjoy lamb.

- The madhouse definitely has

some interesting stuff.

Like that, for instance.

(laughing)

- Yes.

We named him Henry,
coincidentally.

He was a gift to my mother.

Brought back from China

nearly 60 years ago.

- Well, that's quite a gift.

- My family has never been one

for the obvious, Mr. Dawles.

Can I take a look?

That is beautiful.

You have quite an eye.

- I've had a lot of practice.

- In what way?

- I used to be a photographer.

- Professionally?

- Yep, for a number of years.

I had my own studio

in this broken down warehouse.

I mean, we had brown water

and the occasional rat, but

I loved everything
about that place.

- What changed?

- It's a long story.

(chuckles)

- I have all the
time in the world.

- One day, this
drop-dead brunette

walked in my doors.

She had these little
cut-off shorts,

porcelain skin.

Honestly, she was
the most beautiful

thing I'd ever seen.

She asked me if
I took head-shots.

She wanted to be an
actress out in Hollywood.

Now, I had never taken
a headshot in my life.

But I lied right to her face and

said with a smile,
of course I do.

Tragically enough,
that young lady

never did make it to Hollywood.

- Oh?

- Because I married
her three months later.

About a year after the marriage,

my business was failing.

The market was diluted.

My father-in-law had
thrown me a line,

he offered me this gig.

Steady pay, good benefits

and we wanted to start a family,

so I couldn't afford to say no.

Closed the studio, sold
all of my equipment

and that's that.

- How easily we betray
the things we love.

- Yeah.

- That's enough
reminiscing for one night.

Now try to get some
rest, Mr. Dawles.

I have something
special to show you

in the morning.

- Looking forward to it.

- Have a good night, Henry.

- You, too.

(phone ringing)

- [Recording] We're
sorry, your call

did not go through.

(phone ringing)

- [Recording] We're
sorry, your call

did not go through.

(phone beeping)

- Ahh, shit.

(grunting)

(whimpering)

(kettle whistling)

- Good morning.

- Coffee.

- Thanks.

Big tray for a little cup.

- May I get you anything else?

- No, ma'am.

(faint screeching)

- Something on your mind?

- You got any horses
in that stable?

- Not for many years.

I never took much to them.

And in return,

they never took much to me.

Shall we?

This farm has been in our
family for generations.

Centuries of history
under our very feet.

At one time, the main
house was an inn.

A bed and breakfast of sorts for

travelers heading north
into the mountains.

Many nights, I've
imagined all the souls

that must have
passed through here.

Each with their
own story to tell.

Ah, here we are.

(insects buzzing)

- We've been looking for you.

- Tell me that their beauty

isn't absolutely undeniable.

- These are incredible.

- Each and every piece

machined from scratch.

10,000 hours to create.

- Did you build these?

(chucking)

- Oh, no.

I'm not nearly patient enough.

'Twas my father who made them.

- Amazing.

Do they still run?

- Of course.

Though I wouldn't dare venture

them out on that
old track out there.

I can't help but feel

that the majority of people take

the world's beauty for granted.

It's time spent incepting,

designing, creating

all that is.

These objects in space.

Needless to say, I feel it is my

God-fearing responsibility

to preserve that beauty

and, when need be,

give it a little polish
from time to time.

- These are works
of art, Mr. Remiel,

there's no question about it.

But I'll be honest,
when it comes

to their worth,

I don't even know
where I'd start.

- That's easy, Henry.

They're priceless.

- Yeah.

- Through there,
you'll find a staircase

on your left leading
to the storage garage.

Between that and
the machine shop,

you should find plenty
of work to fill your day.

(thump)

- [Whispering] Henry.

(gasping)

(banging and chains rattling)

(grunting)

(loud growling noise)

(glass breaking)

(squealing noise)

- Hello?

(thunder booming)

- Oh, shit!

(grunting)

(door creaking)

(thud)

(melancholy orchestral music)

- What's wrong?

(thunder booming)

(groaning noises)

(crunching and crackling)

(growling)

(whining)

- Run.

(sighs)

Ugh.

- Mr. Dawles.

A word.

- Who the hell was that?

- You need to calm down, Mr.

- Don't you tell
me to calm down!

Do you see that?

I was attacked on your
property, understand?

- Are you threatening me?

- I need to know what's
going on right now.

- You're in shock, Henry.

You have suffered a
sharp blow to your head

and I suspect are
victim to a concussion.

- You didn't answer me.

- Take a moment, Mr. Dawles.

Calm your nerves.

And when you have done so,

meet me in the kitchen

for a civilized conversation.

In the meantime, I
shall fetch Mrs. Gates

to tend to your wound.

(thunder rolling)

You have taken liberties with my

hospitality, Mr. Dawles.

- There is something
in that barn.

- A rail thin creature

ravaging an unlucky hen.

Is that correct?

- You saw what was
left of that bird.

- What I saw was
the rotten remains

of an escaped farm animal.

Nothing more.

- I'm telling you the truth.

- See it through my eyes.

I find you in the stable, alone,

your head bleeding and
your camera smashed,

an empty glass of
bourbon on the porch.

Can you at least
appreciate my perspective?

- I understand how it must look.

- What's really troubling
you, Mr. Dawles?

It's in your eyes.

Something deeper.

Something personal.

- I'm just trying to do
my job and that's it.

- You are here to
perform a service, Henry.

One that means a
great deal to me.

Can I count on you?

- Yeah.

- Good.

I had faith you'd
muster the will.

Besides,

I am growing quite
fond of your company.

Get a good night's rest.

I'll see you in the morning.

(eerie music)

(door rattling and squeaking)

(heavy breathing)

(girl humming hymnal music)

♪ Will the circle

♪ Be unbroken

♪ By and by

♪ Lord, by and by

♪ There's a better

♪ Home a'waitin'

♪ In the sky, Lord, in the sky

♪ Will the circle

♪ Be unbroken

♪ By and by, Lord

♪ By and by

♪ There's a better

♪ Home a'waiting

♪ In the sky, Lord, in the sky ♪

- Salena?

You can't be here.

My wife.

Please.

(squishy noises)

No, I am not doing this.

(giggling)

(grunting)

(groaning in pain)

(footsteps)

- May I?

- I don't know what's
happening here.

- I'm not sure I
know what you mean.

- You're telling me you
don't feel something

evil?

Nothing?

- I was raised in a house
of refuge, Mr. Dawles.

A reform school
for teenage girls.

By societal standards,
we were classified as

undesirable.

But to the sexual
appetites of deep-pocketed

men, we were quite the opposite.

And when we matured and lost our

childlike appeal, we
became something else.

Disposable.

To answer your
question, Mr. Dawles,

I have felt evil many times.

But never in this place.

(lighter flicking)

(rattling, scraping)

- Hello?

(lighter flicking)

Mr. Remiel?

Who are you?

- I'm you.

(gasping)

Oh, shit.

(phone ringing, buzzing)

- Henry?

Henry, is that you?

- Hi, Rebecca.

- Where have you been?

I was so worried.

- I'm working.

- I've been calling you.

- There's no service here.

- You sound tired.

- I am.

- Are you with her?

- I have to go.

- I love you, Henry.

(dial tone)

(sobbing)

(lively organ music)

- You overslept, Mr. Dawles.

- I wasn't feeling
well, I'm sorry.

- Are you leaving us?

- My wife needs me home.

- Is that all?

- I need to be home.

- I thought we had
a deal, Mr. Dawles.

- Well, you can keep the money.

- Let us amend our agreement.

I detest ending on poor terms.

It is clear that
you are headstrong

in your decision, but my driver

will not be available
until morning.

So here is my compromise.

If you will work
through the night

to make up for your
daytime repose,

I will see that you
are fully compensated.

- I appreciate the
offer, Mr. Remiel,

I really do,

but I can't finish
this job in one night.

- That's quite all
right, Mr. Dawles.

There will always be others.

(footsteps crunching)

- [Henry] One more night.

Full pay.

And I leave at dawn.

- [Remiel] That's
fine, Mr. Dawles.

You'll find the
barn a quarter mile

south of the main house,

just past an old fishing pond.

(coughing)

- [Whispering voice]
I'm sorry, Jesus.

I didn't want to hurt her.

- Hello?

- [Whispering voice]
It's hers, not mine.

I promise I'll be good.

- Hello?

- [Whispering voice]
Please, Jesus.

I just want to go home.

(heavy breathing)

- Oh!

I'm Henry.

What's your name?

Why are you praying?

Is someone out there?

- Stop!

- No, no, no.

I'm sorry, I didn't
mean to scare you.

Will you take that off?

Please?

I just want to talk to you.

Can I take it off?

Ah, oh!

Who did that to you?

We need to get you out of here.

We gotta get you some help.

(screeching noise)

Hey, where'd you go?

Hey!

Oh, goddamnit.

(growling)

What the hell was that?

(growling)

(growling)

(growling)

Oh, shit.

(growling)

(growl)

(growl)

(footsteps, screeching)

- Ah, you've awakened.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Okay, my friend.

- Who the hell are you?

- My name is Ahmad.

I found you unconscious
near the woods.

I hope you don't mind,
I took the liberty

of cleaning your wounds.

- How'd you get out here?

- I may ask you the same
question, my friend.

- You're a fugitive.

- Ah.

I thought I had escaped.

But I am far from free.

- What did you do?

- I took what is not mine.

I bring you no harm.

Please, sit.

Are you hungry?

(soft piano music)

(coughing)

Take it easy, my friend.

The meat is rich.

You'll make yourself ill
if you eat too quick.

- Thank you for this.

- The pleasure's mine.

I must confess,

I haven't shared a
meal in many days.

And I fear the solitude
breeds madness.

- Well I suspect if
you were gonna kill me,

you wouldn't feed me first.

- Well, that would depend on

the degree of my madness.

(cackling)

I'm just messing
with you, my friend.

- So where you from?

(growling)

You hear those?

- How could I not?

- I've been hearing things.

I've been seeing
all kinds of things

that don't make sense.

- I fear these things
are quite real.

They accompany my day

and my nightmares as I sleep.

- Yeah, what the hell are they?

- I do not know.

But the fire seems to
keep them at a distance.

In my religion, when
you're very young,

we are taught of the djinn.

Are you familiar with this term?

- Only the liquor.

- I am Muslim.

Not the liquor.

The djinn are dark
beings created by Allah.

- You're talking about demons.

- Not demons.

But not human, either.

They are depraved creatures

caught between worlds.

Living in the shadows,
forever wandering,

until their day of judgement.

- Maybe you have been
out here too long.

- Well, that may be.

But then I must ask you
a question, my friend.

Do you have a better theory?

(growling)

Stay close, my friend.

As the darkness grows,

so too does their impatience.

I plan to move at first light.

Will you join me?

- Let's get the
hell out of here.

- I'll be quick, my friend.

Until then, you keep
the flames bright.

- Yeah.

(faint voices whispering)

- What are you doing?

- Don't move!

Please,

don't move.

- What are you doing?

- I know you.

You've been here before.

- I don't know what
you're talking about.

- They didn't follow you here.

You led them to me.

You're one of them.

- One of who?

- The djinn.

- That's insane

(growling)

- They're here.

(growling, snarling)

If it is my time, I
will take you with me.

I swear to you.

- I"m not one of them.

You fed me.

You treated my wounds.

I'm human, flesh and
blood, just like you.

- Don't lie to me!

- I'm not.

You heard me.

I'm your friend.

Ahmad, please.

Ahmad, please.

Please.

Ahmad, please.

(coughing)

- I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

(screeching, snarling)

We must run.

(suspenseful music)

- What are you doing?

Ahmad!

Ahmad, what's going on?

Hey, what's happening?

Ahmad, what are you doing?

We gotta get out of here.

We gotta go now!

(screeching)

- Go on!

- No, goddamnit, I'm
taking you with me.

Come on!

Come on, get up.

- Get out of here.

- Come on!

- Go alone, my friend.

Now!

(screeching and growling)

(peaceful piano music)

(praying in Arabic)

(screaming)

(mysterious music)

(crying)

(yelling in frustration)

('30s style music)

- Remiel!

I am done with your bullshit!

(motor running)

I found that body
you disposed of!

And Mrs. Gates.

You son of a bitch!

Goddamnit, Remiel, you face me!

(grunting)

(record scratching, static)

(somber classical music)

- Of all the music of man,

this is undeniably
the most sorrowful.

Don't you agree?

I apologize for that.

It was purely self
defense, I assure you.

- Is this hell?

(laughing)

- Oh no, Mr. Dawles.

This most certainly is not.

- Why did you kill Mrs. Gates?

- Kill?

For shame, Mr. Dawles,
I am no murderer.

She has been freed.

- She's dead!

(sighs)

- That

was rude,

Mr. Dawles.

- Why am I here?

- To appraise the
estate, of course.

- Bullshit.

- You have a
visitor, Mr. Dawles.

- A visitor?

- What is it about
visitor that you

don't understand?

- Who?

- See for yourself.

(tinkling music box)

(creaking)

(woman sobbing)

- Rebecca?

How did you get here?

- Same way you did.

- I don't understand.

We need to leave, Rebecca,

we have to go right now.

- How was she?

- Who?

- Lying only makes
it hurt more, Henry.

- Oh, no.

Oh, shit.

Oh.

(sobbing)

Oh, Rebecca.

Rebecca, what happened?

- I knew from the beginning

and I tried to convince myself

that you wouldn't do that to me.

To us.

To our baby girl.

I held it all in.

The pain and the heartbreak.

I thought I'd been strong.

But I wasn't strong
enough for both of us.

- What are you doing?

Rebecca, put down the gun.

- She died inside me, Henry.

I was pregnant
with our dead child

while you were
out there sleeping

with that woman.

That whore!

- Rebecca, please.

- I loved you.

I loved her.

- I do love you.

Ever since the first
time I saw you,

I've always loved you.

- You brought her
into our home, Henry.

Into our bedroom.

In our bed!

- I know.

It was a mistake, it
was a horrible mistake.

And I ended it.

- It's over?

- Yeah, it's over.

I swear.

That's right, baby,
just put down that gun.

We need to get you
to a hospital, okay?

- Love is the true seed
of every virtue in you.

And for all acts for
which you must atone.

(gunshot)

(grunting)

- No.

- I love you, Henry

(gunshot)

- I'm sorry,

I'm so sorry.

- Many nights I've
imagined all the souls

that must have
passed through here.

Each with their
own story to tell.

- They're depraved creatures

caught between worlds.

Living in the shadow,
forever wandering,

'til the day of judgement.

- But I can't finish
this job in one night.

- That's quite all
right, Mr. Dawles.

There will always be others.

- Rebecca?

How did you get up here?

- The same way you did.

- Are we dead?

- Yes, Henry.

- I'm sorry.

I never meant to hurt you.

I was lonely.

And I was weak.

I'm so sorry.

- You broke my heart.

But I put us here.

- What can I do?

- You must repent.

Just as I will.

- How?

- He's waiting for you.

- So good of you to
join me, Mr. Dawles.

- What is this place?

- And so he created a
place of purification.

A land of provisional torment

for those who are
not yet worthy.

A place where the
glutton shall starve,

where the envious
shall be blinded,

where the slothful
shall never rest,

where the prideful shall serve,

where the greedy
shall be chained,

where the wrathful shall mourn,

and where the
lustful shall burn.

I'm proud of you, Mr. Dawles.

You are doing far
better than ever before.

- What do you mean before?

- Don't you remember?

You have failed

many times.

- So what are you?

- Isn't that entirely clear?

I am the overseer of this land

and the guardian of the process.

My role is quite simple,

to purify.

- What do I have to do?

- The flames will
judge the lustful soul.

And if it proves worthy,

the spirit will ascend.

- And if not?

This is insane.

- There is no alternative
for repentance.

The lustful soul

must cross the flames.

- I can't.

- You must!

- I won't leave her!

Not again.

- She is one of the suffering.

It is not yet her time.

- Then I will wait

however long it takes.

- This is your final
opportunity for salvation.

Deny it and you will be damned.

- Then I'll be damned.

- And you will.

- Henry.

Cross the fire.

Repent.

I love you.

- That's it, Mr. Dawles.

Walk into the flame.

Become

penitent.

- Mr. Remiel can be a
rather demanding soul.

Just do as he asks
and I promise you,

compensation can
be quite generous.

(knocking)

- May I help you?

Mr. Remiel has put
you at the north end

of the estate,
overlooking the pond.

Once you've settled,
you're to join him

for a nightcap in the library.

(soft piano music)

- Ma'am.

Your room.

(classical organ music)