All language subtitles for Only.Murders.in.the.Building.S03E02.WEB.x264-TG

- Who wants to go to Broadway?

I
welcome you all...

to the world...

of Death Rattle!

- Well, my friends are
just beside themselves

that I'm gonna get to
work with the CoBro!

- I'm just the
friendly zoologist

who morphs into a 20-foot cobra

and helps the cops save the day.

Hey, you.
- I loved you in Girl Cop.

Oh!

Oh, my God. Oh, my
God. Oh, my God. He's dead.

He's dead. Ben's dead.
My leading man is dead!

- At least you had the
consideration to keep the body

out of the building this time.

- My first thought
when he went down?

Maybe he was poisoned.

And a podcast about the
poisoning of a big movie star?

That could be huge.

- Mama's back, bitches!

That's right. I'm alive!

- Word is out. Ben is back.

When you're falling...

all you can hear
is your heartbeat.

It's been beating since
the moment you were born,

and you never paid it any mind.

And now,

the last thought that
pops into your head,

right before you hit the ground,

"I should have listened to it
while I still had the chance.

"Because if I'd listened
to that heartbeat,

maybe none of this
would've happened."

I'm sorry. What did fucking
happen in this play?

This woman got
choked with a rattle

and thrown off the top of
the Pickwick Lighthouse,

and our audience is supposed to
think a baby is my prime suspect?

- Well, yes and no
because the author...

- Well, what is it, Oliver?
Because I don't live in the gray.

CoBro doesn't live in the gray.

Is he a cobra? Yeah.
Is he a bro? Yeah.

That's how you gross two bill.

Not with subtle. Subtle
doesn't sell.

- First of all, do you see
this paisley neckcloth?

I have never been
accused of being subtle.

And second, Ben, Ben,

rehearsal's a process.

This is our first week with
this material.

When the curtain goes up in
three months on opening night,

trust me.

You're gonna kill.

No, he definitely
died the second time.

Oh shit, gotta go.

KT. KT. KT! Wait.

Wait!

Okay, wh-why are there people
out there striking our sets?

- Sorry, Oliver.
I've got my orders.

- Well, I'm ordering
you to stop.

This has to stop!

Thank you.

Now, I'm gonna call my producer

and show you that we are
all on the same page.

You've reached Donna Demeo,

CEO and founder of Demeo
Productions. Leave your...

- Okay. Well, I'll try the
other producer, the son.

Hi, it's Cliff
Demeo. I am also a professional now...

Okay, the reception here is dogshit.

- They're pulling the plug, Oliver. They
just don't wanna say it to your face.

Well, then I need to go to them.

And she's going with me! Gimme!
- What? No!

- And you can tell those
workers onstage right now

that if anyone lays
another finger on my sets,

I'm gonna wrestle them, too.

And Oliver Putnam
never taps out!

- I don't know, Bruce.
The drug bust is tonight.

What if I'm not back
in time for homecoming?

Guess you just have to speed.

- Your dad's Saab? If
my sergeant finds out,

he'll take my badge and
my learner's permit.

Save you a dance, Girl Cop.

Lester! Security!

Lester!

- You took those, didn't you?

'Sup?

- God, I had such a crush
on you in middle school.

- Really? What are you
now? Like, a senior?

- No, I-I actually
graduated a few years ago.

I-I'm 29.

- Tight.

So, you're, like,

done with college
and working already?

- I didn't finish college.

- Tight.

Tight.

Hey, at least you landed
this sick apartment.

- It's my aunt's,

and I have to be
out in a few weeks.

- Oh. Okay.

Okay.

That's, uh...
- The opposite of tight.

I'm almost
30, and I have...

nothing figured out.

I should be...

finding a job or
a place to live,

and, instead, all I
can think about is...

I don't know. I'm just lost.

- You know, I was your age
when I played this part.

- Yeah, I know. You
were young and rich.

That makes me feel way better.

- No, I was a 31-year-old man
playing a high school senior.

I was lost. And lonely.

And they hadn't invented Propecia
yet, so I was also terrified.

But, worst of all, I was
jealous of everyone else.

My broke actor friends doing
off-Broadway plays for free?

They had artistic integrity.
All the people I grew up with?

They had real jobs, kids
they loved, families.

But, it didn't do me any good
to compare myself to 'em.

The people who figure their
shit out right away are boring.

The late bloomers?

People like us?

We make the world go round.

You can afford to
take your time, Mabel.

What you can't afford
to do is waste it.

- Thanks.

This is nice. I haven't spoken
to a dead person since Tim Kono.

- I'm dead?

I'm kiddin'. I knew.

You'll figure it out.

- My shit or who killed you?

- I'm bettin' on both.

- Is it weird if we
do the handshake?

Mm.

Charles? Are you home?

I'm in desperate
need of your help.

I have these scarves. Do you think
they're too much for a funeral?

O-Or do you have something I can borrow
from your incredibly bland wardrobe?

- Huh?

- I didn't realize you
were going to the funeral.

- Why would I not
go to the funeral?

- Well, I mean,
it's more of a...

fancy who's who kind of thing.

A-And, you know, you and Ben...

- Had a complicated but ultimately
copacetic working relationship.

I hope
you gave the police

a better performance
than whatever that was.

- I gave them an
honest statement,

not to mention a complete
list of alibi witnesses,

and a doctor's note saying

I'm too weak to kill!

Ow.
- Jesus.

I do not have time to plumb
the depths of your conscience.

Donna and Cliff are
dodging my calls.

I have to convince them
not to kill my show.

- Oh, so now you're the victim
here and not the man in the box.

- All I need is five minutes.
Give me five minutes in a room,

and I can convince anyone of anything.
- That is not true.

- I convinced you to
get Paramount Plus.

- No, I wanted that!
- Did you?

Hey!
- Hey!

- Can I come with
you to the funeral?

- Yeah.
- Oh, please, God, yes! W-We need you!

You're the glue. You're the Mabel
in the Charles-Oliver sandwich.

- Without you, we're just two
pieces of stale white bread.

- Exactly. Come on!

- Hey, you didn't
really know, Ben.

Are you still crushing
on him or something?

- No.
- Then, you're sleuthing?

- Obviously.

- Yes, Oliver Putnam?

- Yes, welcome.

Is that Ben's
funeral on the TV?

Closed circuit
from upstairs.

- No, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no.

I-I was sent here by mistake.

I should be upstairs
in the action

with beloved friends, family,
and showbiz power players,

not... with this
pack of nobodies.

- Hi, Charles-Haden Savage.

- No, you're in the right
place. This is overflow three.

- I'm sorry, overflow three?

- Why does that sound
like a plumbing emergency?

Like a very low priority
plumbing emergency.

- And your name?

- Mabel Mora. I-I
wouldn't be on the list.

- Ah, then overflow three.

- Hold on. Complete
strangers get overflow three?

- Why don't we take
a seat, shall we?

Hurry.

I'm gonna look around.
Behave yourselves.

- Cliff and Donna have
to be up there somewhere.

I bet they have prime seats up there
on the main part of the cathedral.

You know, the whatchamacallit.

- The transept.
- No, no, no. That's the cross-section.

I'm talking about the main part.
- The narthex, the antechamber.

- Who are you, the
Hunchback of Notre Dame?

I didn't I know was attending a funeral
with famous church architect, Sir...

- Sir Christopher Wren.
- Okay, okay, okay.

Congrats on winning Jeopardy!
- Well, for God's sake, do a crossword.

I gotta get up there!

- Shh!
- Sorry.

Okay, okay. This
is gonna be tricky

but I need you to draw
attention to yourself.

Now, you won't be able
to do it with charisma,

but maybe if you make a loud
noise to distract the usher.

- I'm not doing that.

- Something's rotten in
the state of Denmark.

- Hamlet?

- No, Gregg.

Oh yeah, Hamlet.

- I'm Mabel.
- Mabel Mora.

Your reputation precedes
you. I did security for Ben.

- Oh. Security.

I mean, then you must
know all about...

Threats, crazy fans,
restraining orders. Yeah.

I got a whole filing
cabinet of that stuff.

When you work security,

you learn to look at a crowd
and pick out the troublemakers.

Like the ones from his play.

Kimber. Harmless ingenue,
or a woman scorned?

And Ty. Strapping heartthrob,
or over-ambitious hothead?

And Bobo?

That one writes
itself.

- Sounds like you're
investigating.

- Aren't you?

You should come
look at my files.

Bring the old guys if you want.

- Have you shown
them to the cops?

- I don't trust the cops.

And now, a remembrance
from Ben's good friend, Michael Musaleks.

- When I think of Ben,
I think of resiliency.

He was an actor, after all.
Actors need to be resilient.

Ben was fired from
his first TV show.

Yep. Eight years old.

- Silence all phones, please.

- ♪ Angel in
flip-flops, short... ♪

- Hey. I think I got a lead.
- Are you gonna be okay by yourself?

- No!
- Go. Go.

Please join me
in welcoming Mr. Harry Styles.

Ta-da.

Um, do you mind
taking your shoes off?

- Oh, I have, uh,
plantar fasciitis.

If I step on a grain of sand,
it feels like a shard of glass.

Oh, okay. Well...

- Whoa.
- I know, I know.

- It's...
- Amazing!

- Wait, are you a fan?
- Uh-huh.

- Oh. Well, then
you're gonna love this.

- Holy shit!

Oh, my gosh.

Are these the car
keys from Girl Cop?

- Ben gave them to me.

That's the helmet from
Chinook Rising.

Those are the sneakers from
Labrador Receiver.

- What are these?
- Those are Ben's pants.

- Wow! From...

- Old Navy.

- Oh. So, uh, you
did security for Ben.

How come I never
noticed you before?

I don't know. I'm
good at my job?

- Uh, Gregg, about those
files you were gonna show us.

Oh, right. Stay here.

Oop!

Ben wants to say hi.

- Oh. That's Ben! He's cute.

- She.
- Oh.

Okay, we have to go.

No. You can go. I
wanna see what he has to show us.

- What, a-an ant farm with
a thousand little Bens?

The man has an unhealthy vibe.

- He's a fan.
- H-He's a psycho.

Oh, he's harmless. I mean...

Look, they're
friends. They're...

Oh shit, that's Photoshopped.

- This is why I should
never take off my shoes.

What are you...

- Mabel! Are you okay?

- I thought you said it
was plantar fasciitis.

- Maxine!
- Oh!

- Funny running into you here in
the narthex on my way to the nave.

Did your editor send his theater
critic to review a funeral?

Hey, d-did you happen to see
Donna and Cliff up there?

- I did, in fact.

- And how do they seem?
- Hm?

- You know, I mean,
grieving, or more...

upbeat and
open-minded?

- I'd say grieving.

- Hey, d-do you know
what might cheer them up?

If you shared your review
of Death Rattle with them.

- You're not serious.

M-Maybe just
give them a taste, you know?

I mean, "S-sure, your lead
died on opening night,

"but, lucky for you, we don't review
opening night in this business.

"We review press previews
that happened days before.

And the one I saw
was a tour de force."

You know, something like that.

Maybe... exactly like that.

- Take care, Oliver.

- Please. Please. Please! Ple...

Please, Maxine.

They're taking
down my sets, okay?

After Splash, I spent 15
years in Broadway jail

thinking about what I'd do if I
ever got another shot, and now this.

Just my luck.

- Come sit.

I am sorry, Oliver,

but I don't think my review
will change anything.

- But I know you liked it.

You have a tell.
Do you know that?

You close your notebook when
you love a show you're watching.

I had a spy at the previews.

He said you closed it
halfway through act one.

Are you telling me I'm wrong?

- My pen ran out of ink.

That's why I stopped
taking notes.

- Oh.

Well, what does that mean?

- My review was
going to be a pan.

- Was it?

Well, what about the
performances?

- Oh, I hate to say
it, especially here,

but I'm afraid your
leading man is giving

a better performance today than
he did the night that I saw him.

Okay...

What about the staging?

- Bland. Bleak.

- You know, Jesus, Maxine!
What are you talking about?

Death Rattle is, is a classic
haunting murder mystery.

It's not supposed to be fun.
- I haven't always been a fan of yours,

but even your worst
productions sing! Somehow.

This one... just didn't sing.

- I mean, I was trying
something new. I was trying...

- Well, it felt stodgy.
And a little scared.

Yes.

But don't worry.

Nobody saw my review,
and nobody ever will.

Which... is a shame.

It was some of my most
vitriolic writing.

Peak Maxine.

I never hold back, Oliver.

And neither should you.

Come on, Ben. I
can feel you holding back.

- J-Just go for it.
- Sorry, but this...

This whole falling,
heartbeat, heartbeat,

it just sounds weird, right?

- Could we lose it?
- Well, no.

Just say it how
you would say it.

When you're
falling... When you're fall...

When you're
falling, all you can...

- When you're falling...
- What's the matter?

- I mean, d... Come
on, don't you hear it?

I s-sound so fucking phony!

- Oh, phony, d-don't say
that. Don't say phony.

- I hate my voice.

Well, I hate to shock
you, all you have is your voice.

You're only a phony
if you don't use it.

What's scaring you?

- I was Girl Cop. I was CoBro.

What if I can't just be me?

What if I need a ridiculous
premise just to be any good?

- Well, you are doing a play

where a baby is
suspected of murder.

Look, Benjamin. Benjamin.

I want you to know it is okay

to just be you.

Look, I'm scared, too.

Scared, but exhilarated.

We're onto something here, Ben.

Come on! Take it again.

When you're falling...

all you can hear
is your heartbeat.

It's been beating since
the moment you were born,

and you never paid
it any mind. Now...

the last thought that
pops in your head,

right before you
hit the ground...

"I should have listened to it
while I still had the chance."

- Motherfucker! Motherfucker!

- Hey, you're not gonna rip
this pillar out of the ground.

This is a pre-war building. If
fascism couldn't tear it down...

- Must... get... free!

Fuck!

What do you
think is gonna happen?

- Well,

he killed Ben,

and we know too much, so...

Hey, at least we
found the killer.

And in record time.

Usually, it takes us at
least eight episodes.

- Yeah, I guess
we did get better.

We managed to solve it without
falsely accusing anyone.

- Or recording people
without their consent.

- Or interrogating a bird.

I'm so sorry I brought us here.

If you die, and
it's my fault, I...

- This is not your fault.

I don't blame you for
trying to solve a murder.

You have a strong
sense of justice.

And a huge crush on Ben.

- It's not that!

It's not just that.

After my dad died,

my mom wouldn't leave her
bedroom for six months.

I ate a lot of scrambled
eggs that year.

I also watched a
lot of Girl Cop.

Ben's character
on the show was...

sweet and...

I used to dream that he'd
pull up in his dad's Saab

and take me away
from that place.

- In a Saab?
- What, it was a cool car.

It looked like a Porsche.

He got me through
that time. Us...

through that.

One day, I was watching Girl Cop

and my mom was
laughing in her room,

and I thought that was weird.

Then, a few minutes later,

there's a joke on the
show, and we both laughed.

And I realized that we were
watching the same thing.

For 30 minutes a week,

I was laughing
with my mom again.

Even if we were in
different rooms.

I know he was a dick
to you, Charles,

and I didn't really know him...

But, in a weird way,

he meant a lot to me.

- Ben wasn't the dick.

I was.

- What?

- Because if I'd listened
to that heartbeat...

maybe none of
this would've happened.

That was it. Did you feel it?

Did you feel it, Ben? Okay,

let that sink in.

Bravo.

- Hey.

That was great.

"That was great."

What is your problem?

You've been nothing but rude
to me since the table read.

- You seriously don't remember?
- Remember what?

- Brazzos?

- I mean, I remember Brazzos.

What? What?

What, what, what?
Were you a fan?

- No, I was an actor!

I-I was cast as a series
regular. Boy genius Timothy Bush?

- Doesn't ring a bell.

- I'd just done my very
first table read ever.

You went over to the director,

told him I was a phony,
and got me fired.

I was 8 years old.

- Did you act a lot
with your hands?

- Do you have any idea
what that did to me?

It means that every job I go to,

I'm still that little boy
who can't hack it. Even now.

And that insecurity? I
can't walk into a room

without acting like
a total jackass.

- Oh, and that's my fault?

- I was a kid! I was supporting
my mom and my brother,

and you fired me.

You know, I could get
you fired off this play.

I could bring things
full circle, but I won't.

I'd rather make it hell for you.

This is my... You get out.
- Okay, okay, okay!

So, when he showed
up to do the play,

I could have made things right,

but I didn't.

And now, it's too late.

Alrighty,
now!

- You can kill me any way you want,
but make hers quick and painless.

Actually, we'll take
two quick and painless.

What the fuck is that?

- It's a kitchen torch.

I stole it from the
pastry chef at work.

- I thought you said you
were a security guard.

- I lied. I work at Lulu's
Steakhouse on 51st and 7th.

Chef Bobby doesn't think
I'm "sous-chef" material.

Punk-ass bitch. He
should see me now.

Come on.

- They usually have a safety.
- Charles!

- Huh. Thanks, Charles. That's
cool of you. You're right.

- Gregg, you're not
gonna get away with this!

- No, you aren't!

I saw how you squirmed
at the service.

How uncomfortable you were.

You hated Ben!

So much so that you killed him!

- No!
- Wait, what?

Charles didn't
kill him. You did.

- Me? No, I loved him, and
you took him from me! Confess!

Confess!
- Help! Help!

- What?
- Where'd you get that hankie?

- I stole it from
Ben's the night he died

when I was looking for
clues and collectibles.

Wait, you broke
into...

- Admit it! You killed him!

- Kill!? I wouldn't kill...
- Say it!

Say it...

Hands up! OFFICER
2: Drop the blowtorch!

Let me see your hands!
- I didn't do anything.

Take him!
Gimme your hands.

Got him?

Check his pockets. GREGG:
I didn't do anything!

I'm Detective Biswas.

You
must be the podcasters.

Williams told me about you guys.

- Detective Williams told
you we were down here?

- No, she told me you're
a pain in the ass.

We've been on this guy
for the past 48 hours.

Someone saw him book
it out of the Arconia

two minutes after
Ben Glenroy died.

You know he's a stalker, right?

What the fuck were you thinking?

Thank you. BISWAS: Wait.

Aren't there's supposed
to be three of you?

- We have his address,
if you need it.

You've had
a minor heart attack.

- Oh, my God, Dad.

- He said minor,
Willie. I mean...

Plus, that's just a rite of
passage in the theater, you know.

Bob Fosse had, like, five.

- Yeah, you know the last
one killed him, right?

- Aw, you did read
his biography.

- Uh, there are a few things
we need to talk about.

First is your blood pressure.

It's 160 over 100.

- And is that high?

- Yes.
- Yes.

- And is high good?

No! DOCTOR: No.

- Uh, I'm going to prescribe
you some medications,

but you need to change your
diet, too. Cut out dips.

- Doctor, are you
trying to kill me?

- You also have an arrhythmia,

so I'm giving you
this Holter monitor.

It sits right here
across your chest.

And when you feel an
irregular heartbeat,

you press the button,
like that.

That way, we can
keep track of them.

- B-But I'm healthy enough to
still direct a play, right?

Only if you
think it's healthy

to pretend you didn't
just have a heart attack.

You need to reduce stress.

Hm? Because if
there's a next time,

it might not be so small.

- PTSD check.

How are we holding up?
- Okay.

I've already repressed it.

- That's good.

So...

I think the police
have the wrong guy.

- Mabel...
- Please, just hear me out!

Gregg didn't hate
Ben. He loved him.

- You're splitting psychopathic
hairs! He kidnapped us!

- But only because he
wanted to find the killer.

I mean, he wanted to
find the killer so badly

that he was willing to
commit multiple felonies.

Come on, you know I'm
right. Plus, there's this.

If Gregg had Ben's handkerchief,

then whose handkerchief was
Ben holding when he died?

- Where'd you get these?

Well, I...

You tampered with a
crime scene and took photos?!

I find this highly concerning.

And, at the same time,
I am very impressed.

So, why was Ben holding
that handkerchief?

So what if...

What if Ben, before he fell...

what if he tried to
grab onto something?

Right, and
all he could reach

was the killer's pocket square.

Or...

the killer had it in their
hair or around their neck.

Or, I don't know,

maybe he ripped it right
out of the killer's hand.

Okay, so,

are you in?

- Yeah.

Yeah...

- Oh, we'll get there.

You
need to reduce stress.

MAXINE
Bland. Bleak.

This
one... just didn't sing.

Just didn't sing.

I never hold back, Oliver.

And neither should
you.

- Ladies and gentlemen,
let's take it from the top.

- Relax, Putnam. You know I'm
not into this musical shit.

You're making a mess
of things, Oliver.

- She's right.
You better listen.

- Listen, up, Daddy.

- ♪ You've got too much stress ♪

- ♪ Uh-huh ♪
- ♪ Let it go ♪

- ♪ Yeah ♪

- ♪ You're a mess ♪

♪ Too much stress ♪
- ♪ Ah ♪

- ♪ The show, the
show, the show ♪

♪ The show, the
show can't go on ♪

♪ Stop, stop, stop ♪

♪ Please stop ♪

♪ finale sting ♪

- Donna, Cliff, trust
me. You'll love it!

You'll hear me out?

I love you both. Give each other
a big kiss on the lips for me.

Big news, people!
First of all, Charles,

you should consider
sequins, and a lot of them.

- Uh, no thanks,
and let's move on.

- Second, I'm
listening to my heart

and re-imagining Death Rattle

in the most Oliver Putnam way.

I'm gonna make it
sing, goddamn it!

That's right, folks.

It's a musical.

Get ready for Death
Rattle dazzle!

What are you doing with that?

- The cops got it wrong.

We think that Ben's killer
is someone in your show.

Which means...

- We're back.