All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S04E27.The.Waxwork.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

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Good evening.

This is called a rack.

A kind of medieval
chaise longue.

The victim lies down,

and his limbs are fastened
to the rollers at each end.

The body is then
gradually stretched

to and past the
breaking point.

They were quite
droll in those days.

You see a Latin inscription,

placed so the victim
can't read it.

"Nunc potes altior
quam illam."

Meaning, "Now you can
be taller than she is."

Tonight we are presenting a
play entitled, "The Waxwork."

First, however,

we have the 20th century
equivalent of the rack.

Now, please, no screams.

After all, this hurts me
more than it does you.

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A guide book, please.

It is a shilling, isn't it?

-She's wax, sir.
-She's what?

Of course, wax.

It happens all the time.

That's a comfort.

Would you care for
our souvenir booklet?

Ah, yes.

They're two shillings.

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I, uh...

*

I'm looking for
Mr. Marriner.

His office is over there.

Uh, hold on.

I believe you'll
find him next door.

Oh, thank you.

Now, don't move!

Please, please!

Watch what you're doing!

Albert, Albert!

He shouldn't have
been left here.

Albert, he shouldn't
have been left here,

it isn't safe.

Take him out,
will you, please?

Yes.

You really must
be more careful...

Wait.

What are you doing
here, young man?

The public isn't allowed in
this part of the building.

My name is Raymond Houston.

I'm from the illustrated
weekly, This World.

I wrote you about
doing a feature story.

Oh, yes.

Yes, I remember.

Well...

Shall we have
another look at this?

Come.

May I?

(clearing throat)

I'm afraid that's
rather out of drawing.

Yes, I turned your letter
over to Mr. Roberts,

our public relations
man, he, uh--

I spoke to Mr. Roberts
yesterday, but--

Well, I simply
had to see you,

so I took the liberty of
finding my way up here.

Yes, that's a liberty you
hadn't ought to have taken.

I wanted to persuade you
to let me spend the night

in the Murderer's Den.

Oh, I'm sure Mr. Roberts has
told you that that would be

quite impossible.

I have an idea for a
very interesting layout

with photographs.

It'd be good
publicity for you.

Well, I mean, not that
your famous museum

needs it, of course.

You know, in order to
become an artisan in wax,

one must turn oneself

into a combination
artist and surgeon.

One must...

One must learn
the relation

between bone and muscle,

the--the precise
strain which movement

places upon
tendons and joints.

You see?

I'd call my article,

"A Night with
Marriner's Murderers."

Ah, would you now?

Yeah, a heading
like that'd--

Well, it'd attract
a lot of readers.

I'm sure it'd cause
a lot of interest.

I'll take that.

Herbert?

I want you to see this.

She is removing the
lines and bubbles

that the mold
leaves on a cast.

Well, everybody knows that a
Marriner waxwork is perfect.

Wrong.

It's the imperfection,

the blemish,
the wrinkle,

the thousand signs
by which nature writes

the diary of a human life.

May I?

Vile botchery!

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Botchery.

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Mr. Houston...

Why is it so
important to you

to spend the night
in my Murderer's Den?

Well, I...

Perhaps I better give
you the real reason.

You see...

Well, I like to gamble.

Ah.

Cards or horses?

Cards.

Well, the other night I
lost a good deal of money

to an Englishman
I know very slightly,

a man called
Dicky Morrison.

Well, to cut the story short,

I gave him a check which
I knew would bounce.

That is a criminal
offense, you know.

He notified me yesterday
that he intends to prosecute,

unless I can pay.

Now, my editor wants
this story very badly.

I know that if you'll let
me spend the night here

and write my article,

I can earn enough
to pay the debt.

Mr. Houston, you put me in
a very difficult position...

Her Majesty looks rather
well today, don't you think?

What's that, sir?

Each one of our wax figures

gets a beauty treatment
every four months.

And the Virgin Queen has
just returned from hers.

Good day, Mrs. Nobbs.

How is your rheumatism?

Much better.

Thank you, sir.

It's quite all right.

You'll notice that hair
is put into a wax head

one strand at a time.

Look, Mr. Marriner,
my job, my future,

everything depends on this--

Now, look, young man,

I can't be made
to feel responsible

for your predicament.

Haven't you any friends?

You mean, friends
I can borrow from?

Is that your definition
of friendship?

Well, the answer's no.

Actually, you see,

I've only been in
London for a few months.

This is the young man

that you had an encounter
with a little while ago.

His name is Bourdette.

Or was.

Yes, I'm afraid he'll
be the last star boarder

in my Den of Murderers.

Oh, why?

Well, any day now,

Parliament will pass a law

putting an end to
capital punishment.

This fellow was
executed this morning

and so obliged us
in the nick of time.

He was a barber by day.

By night, a murderer
ten times over.

And always...

...with a razor.

I know, I--

I covered his trial.

I lost a bet on him, too.

I bet he wouldn't
be convicted.

Oh, why do you
think that?

Oh, I don't know.

He used to practice mesmerism.

I see.

And you thought he might
mesmerize the jury

or the witnesses or
perhaps even the judge?

I know it sounds
ridiculous, but...

He had extraordinary eyes.

Yes, a fact the
prosecution brought out.

And according to the evidence
developed at the trial,

he was said to have
hypnotized his victims

before dispatching them.

Really quite humane
of him, I think.

His eyes are
extraordinarily life-like.

Well, in a wax figure,

the eyes are of
the utmost importance.

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There.

As you can see, Mr. Houston,
this eye is definitely blue.

But you have no idea
how difficult it is

to get the exact
shade of blue.

Yes, we take a great deal
of trouble with the eyes.

Look, Mr. Marriner, I
don't seem to be able

to get through to you, I've
got to write this article.

For the last time, please,

may I spend the night with
Bourdette and the others?

(sighs)

I shall have to
think about it.

*

It's 8:00, we're closed.

On the house.

Oh, the writer fellow.

*

Good luck, sir.

Thank you.

Harry's been with us
for over 50 years,

before we had
the fire in 1925.

Oh, that reminds me, sir,

Mr. Marriner said to
be sure, no smoking.

The wax, you know.

It's gloomy enough down here.

Just right for
these beauties.

I guess I'll find

all the information
I need in this guide.

Well, if there's anything
special you want to know,

I'd be glad to tell you.

Ah, here's an
interesting chap.

Jack Sheppard, in the
cell of Newgate Prison,

from whence he
made his escape.

(footsteps)

Good evening, Mr. Houston.

I trust that everything
is to your liking.

And I hope that you
will be comfortable,

locked in here with
my little creatures.

Locked in?

What do you mean?

Who said anything
about being locked?

But my dear Houston,

you could hardly expect me

to leave these valuable
creatures of mine unlocked.

Well, of course,
I'll be here.

Oh, but I'm afraid that--

I--I know it sounds silly,

but I have a kind of funny
feeling about being closed in.

-Once when I was...
-Claustrophobia?

Yeah.

Yeah, I...

Something like
that, I guess.

The morbid fear of being
in confined places.

(tongue clicking)

That's too bad.

Well, I suppose we'd best
forget the whole thing.

No, no, no.

No, I can't do that.

All right, I'll stay.

Locked in?

Locked in.

Good night, Mr. Houston.

(door locking)

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(heavy breathing)

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"Torture was widely
used in medieval times

as a judicial instrument
for the extraction

of evidence from
unwilling witnesses.

It was also employed
as a form of trial

to determine guilt
or innocence."

"Fifty-seven, Petiot, Marcel.

Guillotined in Paris,
20th of May, 1946."

(thudding)

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(groaning)

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(heavy breathing)

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(clattering)

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(panting)

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Landru.

Morrison.

Armstrong.

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Seddon.

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Bourdette.

Why, of course,
you're the new boarder.

You only arrived
just yesterday.

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(typewriter clicking)

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(typewriter clicking)

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"The figure of Bourdette
appears to be moving

menacingly toward me."

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Good evening.

You cannot move

or speak without my bidding.

But you can hear me

perfectly well.

Something tells me that you
are, shall we say, nervous?

My dear sir,
have no illusions.

I am not one of these
contemptible effigies.

I am the barber,

Bourdette himself.

They did not execute
me this morning.

I escaped.

I was walking
past this building

when I saw a policeman
eyeing me with curiosity.

And I did not know whether
he would recognize me or not.

So I decided to mingle
with the crowd in here.

And once inside,

I realized I had an
ideal means of escape.

As you may understand,

this has been a
tiring evening for me.

But fortunately,

your attention was
drawn elsewhere.

And you were not
looking at me,

so I could occasionally draw
a breath and ease my pose.

And now I'm looking
at your throat.

You have a skinny neck, sir.

If you will forgive
the personal remark.

I like thick necks.

Thick, red necks.

This is a little
French razor.

They are not much
used in England.

One strops them on wood.

The blade, you notice,
is very narrow.

It doesn't cut very deep,

but deep enough.

And now, I must ask
you the usual question

all the barbers
ask the customers.

Does this razor
suit you, sir?

Would you please lift
your chin a little?

*

A little more.

Ah, perfect.

Thank you, thank you.

*

I never heard a
sound all night.

But when I opened the
gates at 6:00 this morning,

like he told me to,

there he was,
sitting in that chair.

He's dead, all right.

What do you
suppose caused him

to be sitting
like that, sir?

You mean, as if awaiting
the attention of a barber?

Well, yes, he looks like he
was waiting to be shaved.

"The figure of Bourdette
appears to be moving

menacingly toward me.

Power of imagination
amazingly strong."

I'm afraid we must credit

another victim to Bourdette.

Bourdette, sir?

Bourdette and an
overactive imagination.

But it couldn't have
been Bourdette, sir.

He ain't never been here!

Well, you know
as well as I do,

he was only hanged
yesterday, sir.

Well, look for
yourself, sir.

They're just
bringing him down now.

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So much for our
museum memories.

In the earlier part
of this program,

I referred to
the commercial

as the 20th century rack.

Unfortunately, our
sensitive sponsor

mistakenly interpreted
this as a veiled insult.

I certainly want
to apologize.

Furthermore, I'm going
to turn over a new leaf.

There, I feel much better.

Now, ladies and gentlemen,

before I return...

A moment ago,
I apologized

for comparing the rack
and the commercial.

But I neglected to mention
to whom I was apologizing.

I think I shall
leave it that way.

As for this
charming device,

it is being returned to
the athletic department

of Arcadia University.

I especially wish to thank
the Arcadia basketball coach,

Stretch Mulligan,
for his generosity.

Good night.

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