Original subtitles

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♪♪

All right, kids.

Now, Sister Stephanie is passing out these cards,

and you write down your choice

for your confirmation name, okay?

Now, you guys, your confirmation name

should be the name of a saint that you think is really cool.

Somebody that you really admire, you know.

And I'm talking saints here.

I don't mean, like, TV stars or rock and rollers

or anything like that.

You know, last year, we had two Madonnas and a MacGyver.

But they didn't get away with it.

Good.

I see preparations for the confirmation are coming along.

The bishop is going to be so pleased

when he sees how we've spruced up this church.

Thank you.

Where's Harry Gulliver?

I don't know.

He's supposed to be retouching the frescoes.

They've got to be finished before the bishop arrives

for the service on Sunday.

Why isn't he working on them?

Well, he hasn't shown up yet.

Now, Harry's a wonderful painter, but he's

not the most reliable person in the world.

You vouched for him, Frank.

Well, I know, and I'm trying to help him.

Listen, if you're waiting for Harry Gulliver,

just don't hold your breath.

What do you mean, Marie?

Well, his girlfriend, Iris, just called.

He's off on another one of his benders.

I knew it, Frank.

Did she say where he is?

He's at the loft.

He got up this morning, got drunk,

went over to some art gallery and slugged the owner.

- Fella named Dennis Cray. - Oh, no.

- Why did he do it? - Well, Iris said

this Cray fella bought one of Harry's paintings for peanuts,

and then he sold it for a lot of money.

No wonder he went crazy.

- Yeah. - Let's go.

Could you get their cards back, please?

- Sister... - Bye, guys.

Marie, would you help me collect these cards, please?

Oh, sure.

Get out!

Get out of here!

- Let go! Let go of it! - What are you doing?

No! Oh, Harry, are you crazy or what?

What happened? What's the matter?

Oh, Father Dowling, Sister...

Harry's totally lost it. Totally.

He's tossing his paintings out.

What's gotten into him?

About a quart of cheap gin.

I can't take it anymore, Father.

I've been Harry's inspiration

and his mistress... Sorry, Father...

And his nurse and his cleaning woman

since I was 18.

Well, I have had it.

He's all yours.

Take care of yourself, Iris.

Come on, get away from me. Get out of here.

Come on, take it easy, Harry, please.

- Come on! - Harry!

Harry, what are you doing?

Watch it, Father!

Harry! Harry...

Just stop, Harry.

Calm down.

What do you say we go and have a cup of coffee, huh?

Shh. Where did you get this trash?

They're yours, Harry.

You threw them out the window.

Oh.

You want them?

You want them? They're yours.

I'm hanging up my brushes.

Oh!

What... what are you talking about?

There's no place in the art world

for painters anymore.

Only thieves, like that rat, Dennis Cray!

Yes, yes, we know all about his selling one of your paintings.

It was a lousy thing to do.

But it's no reason to attack him with your bare hands, Harry.

What else could I do?

I didn't have a gun.

And that's no reason to destroy your work.

What work? This?

This is junk!

The only good work I've done in years,

somebody stole right from this loft.

Harry!

Harry, for God's sake,

you got to stop behaving like this.

What difference does it make?

I'm finished.

It's all over for me.

The world belongs to thieves and philistines.

Just take it easy, will you, Harry?

And you're one of them, Angelo.

You call yourself an artist?

You should paint clowns on velvet.

I do paint clowns on velvet.

I'm not surprised.

I'm going home.

Nice work, Harry.

First you lost Iris, and now you've lost your friend, Angelo.

Is that what you want?

Who needs them?

You need something!

You're right.

I need a drink.

Harry, you are killing yourself with this stuff.

You don't understand.

Dennis Cray ripped me off!

I am emotionally involved!

No, Harry.

You are spoiled and selfish.

You don't drink because you're emotional.

You drink because you're a drunk.

- Steve. - It's true, Frank,

and he knows it.

I'll be outside.

Harry.

What?!

More abuse?

You don't understand the artistic attitude.

Have a drink.

If you don't put that bottle down right now, I'm leaving.

And then you won't have anybody to care what you do to yourself.

Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

Good-bye, Harry.

God help you.

I really lost it up there, Frank.

You did.

It's just, he sounds like my father, Frank.

Smells like my father.

Your father is gone, Steve.

You're yelling at the wrong man.

I know.

It's not going to happen again.

But I don't feel sorry for him.

You don't have to.

Just have a little sympathy for someone who needs a lift

to the Dennis Cray Gallery.

Do you mind if I ask you a question, Mr. Cray?

What did you pay Harry for his painting?

- $500. - $500.

And only because I felt sorry for him.

Mm-hmm. How much did you sell it for?

I was so outraged by the woman's attitude

that I tossed out the first figure

that came into my head,

and to my utter amazement, she said yes.

How much?

$28,000.

Excuse me.

Isn't Harry entitled to some of that money?

You don't know anything about business, Father.

Your friend, Harry Gulliver, is lucky

I don't have him prosecuted for assault and battery.

Now, what kind of publicity would that be for you, Mr. Cray?

I can see Harry getting up in court

and telling his side of the story.

All right.

I'm willing to drop the whole matter.

I'll tell him.

Provided he stays away from me.

I'll tell him that, too.

Sorry.

I didn't know you were busy.

Not at all. Hello, Mr. Hewitt.

Good-bye, Father Dowling.

Good-bye.

Half the girls picked the name Teresa.

That's my confirmation name.

I love St. Teresa.

Mine's Paul, after St. Paul.

What's yours?

Well...

Good afternoon, all.

What's the word on Harry Gulliver?

Harry? Oh.

Well, he's taking a short sabbatical.

Maybe a long one.

What about the frescoes?

The bishop is going to be conducting

a confirmation service in St. Michael's.

Yes, we all know about that, Father Prestwick.

He is going to be staring at unfinished seraphim

and cherubim that look like teapots.

I'm afraid there's nothing we can do about it.

Phil, the Vatican has a lot of frescoes that are unfinished,

need to be repainted all the time.

Doesn't bother the Pope.

I'm sure the bishop can handle it.

Yes, but I gave him my word.

And I relied on your assurance, Frank.

I know, and I'm sorry.

Father Prestwick, what about some lunch?

I'm too upset, Marie.

What have you got?

Tuna sandwich.

I don't know.

Maybe just one.

Not too much mayonnaise.

Mmm, I'll get it.

Harry.

Father, can I talk to you?

Well, uh, sure, sure.

Come on in the study.

Here.

I'm sorry about the way I behaved yesterday.

Oh, that's all right.

I don't know what to do.

About what?

Look, I know I have a drinking problem.

I want to do something about it.

You mean that?

Of course.

I always mean it.

I make a resolution, I try to straighten my life out,

and something always happens.

I-I don't know what to do about it.

You've got to help me.

I can't help you unless you help yourself.

But if you're really serious about this,

I can put you in touch with an alcohol abuse clinic.

That's the first step.

All right.

Thank you, Father Dowling.

Mm-hmm.

I'll see you in church tomorrow morning.

I still have some frescoes to finish in there.

When you're up to it, Harry.

I'll be up to it.

I feel better already.

You're very good at your job, Father.

Well, thank you.

I try.

You know, I feel like doing a little painting.

First time since that rat Cray ripped me off.

That's a start.

- See you tomorrow. - Mm.

Look, that church is perfectly spotless.

The church is about as far from spot...

Father Prestwick, I'm keeping my fingers crossed when I say this,

but it looks like you're gonna get

those frescoes of yours painted after all.

Really?

In that case, Marie, I think I'll have a little dessert.

I'll see if there's any pie.

♪♪

Feeling better, Harry?

Oh, I'm fine.

It's just that quack Dr. Greenberg...

He wants me to stay overnight for observation.

Angelo Copelli. We met over at Harry's place.

Oh, yes, yes.

Nice to see you again.

- Hi. - Hey.

Listen, Harry, we need to talk to you

- alone for a minute, all right? - Oh, sure.

Angelo, run downstairs, uh, get me something...

Juice, something, anything.

Go. Go on.

We're glad you're feeling better, Harry,

but you've got some explaining to do.

About what?

Well, the hospital did a blood screen on you, Harry,

and they found traces of LSD.

What?

All I drank since I left the rectory was orange juice.

I swear to God.

LSD?

Yeah.

I'd never go near that kind of stuff.

I mean, not even in the '60s. I swear.

What happened last night?

I came home, I felt like working.

So I mixed some colors together and I started fooling around.

I remember, there was this picture

of the Devil in my mind.

I-I couldn't get it on the canvas.

The Devil?

Yes.

The Devil.

I kept seeing this face.

I couldn't concentrate.

I couldn't nail it down. I...

And then, all of a sudden,

the place blew up and-and I woke up here.

Sure sounds like you were on something, Harry.

Well, I-I felt kind of spaced out,

but all I had to drink was orange juice.

What caused the explosion?

I don't know.

I didn't do it.

I got it.

Someone's trying to kill me.

Now, who would want to do a thing like that?

Ah.

You don't understand the art world, do you, Father?

Now, listen.

With me dead, my prices would go through the roof.

Whoever stole those paintings of mine from the loft,

they could sell them; they'd make a fortune!

You probably threw them out the window.

Never!

Those were my-my nest egg, my legacy to the world of art.

I'd never touch those canvases.

Harry, you were drunk!

Yes, I was drunk!

I wasn't crazy.

Father, van Gogh... He sliced off his ear.

He didn't slash his masterpieces.

Who do you think might have done this?

If I knew, I wouldn't be sitting here.

I'd be out there taking care of them myself, personally.

Okay, let us look into this.

Father, you find those paintings...

you'll do the world a favor.

Thanks.

Got you some juice.

Oh.

You believe Harry?

I think we ought to take a look in his loft.

Excuse me.

We're friends of the owner.

Any idea what caused this?

Sure.

The gas was on, the guy happened to light a cigar.

We're just gonna look around, if that's all right.

Be my guest, Father. I'm just leaving.

Thank you.

Harry says he wasn't drinking.

Oh, Steve, I-I know how strong you feel about this,

but... well, suppose Harry's telling the truth.

- Frank... - Well, I know,

but just suppose.

How do I do that?

Well, suppose somebody slipped him the drug

without his knowledge.

How?

I don't know.

Whoa.

Now, if Harry had eaten that, it would've killed him on the spot.

Hey.

What are you doing here?

I was gonna ask you the same question.

Looks like Harry had quite a night.

Just, uh, came here to get the rest of my things.

Iris, if those are your things, don't you have a key?

Yeah.

I just don't know where I put it.

Mm.

Sister Stephanie?

Oh.

No problem.

See?

My passport, my Social Security card...

my unemployment book.

Does that satisfy your morbid curiosity?

Iris, does Harry buy his own groceries?

Are you kidding?

If I didn't buy Harry's groceries for him,

he would starve to death.

See ya.

What do you think?

Ain't love grand?

Thanks a lot, Clancy.

The police lab says that every bottle

in Harry's refrigerator contained LSD.

So then somebody went in

and spiked everything in Harry's refrigerator,

so no matter what he drank, he'd hallucinate.

Right.

Oh, Frank, was I wrong.

Well, we're all guilty of that sometimes.

Right now, we got to find Harry.

Somebody tried to kill him once, they'll try it again.

Come on.

♪♪

♪♪

Excuse me, but visiting hours are over.

This is an emergency.

I'm sorry, Father, we're not supposed to make any exceptions.

Yeah, but this patient is in great danger.

Harry? Harry?

Harry!

Harry.

Father.

We just wanted to make sure you were all right.

I could use some sleep.

Father, please.

This gentleman's doctor is Sam Greenberg,

who's a very old and very dear friend of mine.

Now, I happen to know that he usually makes his rounds

at this hour, and I would appreciate it if you'd be

kind enough to have him paged for me, please.

It's very important.

All right.

But that's all.

What's going on?

We're gonna take you home with us.

Well, what's the rush?

Well, we think someone is out to get you.

I could've told you that.

I did tell you that.

Well, Frank, your timing is perfect.

What's the problem?

How are you, Sam?

We'd like to take Harry home with us,

look after him there.

I don't see why not.

You're very lucky, Harry; it was just a slight concussion.

Not a mark on you.

I'll sign the discharge.

Thanks, Sam.

Well, my clothes are in the closet.

No, the other closet.

Thank you.

You could help me get dressed, Sister.

I'll wait outside, Harry.

Oh, not too strong, Marie.

Remember, I'm on the wagon.

Harry, don't rub it in.

Listen, I really need to apologize to you.

I told you, forget about it.

I'm used to people thinking the worst about me.

It's part of my image.

Next question, Harry:

who spiked your juice with a hallucinogenic drug?

Yeah, nobody came to your apartment that night

that you can remember?

I was so strung out that night that all I can remember is

trying to paint, and I couldn't concentrate.

But I remember somebody else was there.

I don't know who.

That face...

and it was the face of the Devil.

I was hoping it would be someone more accessible.

Yeah, like Iris, for instance.

Iris?

Well, she could have gotten hold

of those stolen paintings somehow, you know?

Excuse me.

Listen, if Iris was gonna bump me off,

I'd have been dead already.

Well, Father Prestwick, we were worried about you.

You didn't show up for dinner.

Oh, that's all right, Marie. Any dessert left?

I'll see if there's some ice cream.

Good evening, all.

Phil.

Mr. Gulliver, I heard you were in the hospital.

It is wonderful to see you on your feet again.

Where's Steve?

Uh, I think she was going out.

Out? Out where?

I don't know. She was putting on her coat.

Steve?

Are you prepared for death?

Are you prepared for death?!

This will not bring death.

Death comes in small packages.

We... are the planet.

We... kill ourselves.

Bravo.

Thank you for coming.

Good night.

Iris, what was that, anyway?

Performance art. How'd you like it?

Very interesting.

Steve, you're a born critic.

That one of Harry's?

Ha! Harry would kill you if he heard you say that.

No, my six-year-old niece did that.

The only painting Harry every gave me,

he slashed one night when he was drunk.

Harry says someone stole some paintings from his loft?

You mean ones he didn't throw out the window?

I mean, you were there. You saw it.

Look, Sister,

I love Harry, but all of this talk

about missing paintings is just another one

of Harry's paranoid fantasies.

But, Iris, what if it isn't?

I mean, this guy, Cray, he took one of Harry's paintings.

He sold it, he made a lot of money.

Let me make it simple for you, Steve.

Harry Gulliver is not my problem.

And if you'll take my advice,

you won't make him your problem either.

You'll live to regret it.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got things to do.

Where were you last night, Iris?

Steve, I hope you're not accusing me of doing this

because if I had stolen Harry's paintings and sold them,

I wouldn't have this drawer full of bills I can't pay.

Want to take a look at 'em? Be my guest.

You can have 'em if you want

because I sure as hell can't pay 'em.

I can't even use this

because the phone company cut me off.

Look, Iris, somebody went into Harry's place.

But it wasn't me.

Now why don't you do me a favor and get out?

Okay.

Yeah!

I was wondering when you'd call. Yeah.

Father Dowling.

Am I disturbing you?

No, no, come on in.

- Hey, what a nice place, Angelo. - Yeah.

You seem to be doing very well for a struggling painter.

Well, I get along.

Better than Harry, it seems.

Oh, Harry could have it all

if he wasn't, you know, self-destructive.

Mm. Did you know that somebody tried to kill him?

I hear that all the time. Come on. Let's have some coffee.

Oh, thanks.

No, this time it's true.

Seems that somebody slipped a hallucinogenic drug

into his orange juice at his loft the other night.

You know, instead of killing him outright,

that drug made it look like he'd been drinking.

Blew himself up in a alcoholic stupor. It almost worked.

Harry must have a guardian angel watching over him.

Yeah, well, he's also got a potential killer

who may strike again.

I'm just trying to find out who and why.

Well, I wish I could help you, Father,

but this is all news to me.

I haven't got a clue.

You know, Harry... he thinks that someone is stealing

some of his paintings.

And if he's dead, they'll go way up in value.

Father, Harry never keeps track of his work.

If he doesn't like something he's doing,

he paints over it or throws it out.

One time, I even saw him set fire

to some stuff he didn't like.

And don't forget, he's usually so drunk,

he doesn't know what he's doing.

So when he says, "Somebody stole my paintings,"

well, you got to just take that with a grain of salt.

You think so?

Absolutely. I know Harry. He's my best friend.

Yeah. Well, thanks, Angelo.

You bet.

Why is that, by the way?

Why's what?

Why is Harry your best friend?

All I've ever seen him do is

treat you like some kind of a servant.

Well, I never, I never said he was easy to take,

but he's a genius.

And, well, you know, he's just Harry.

That's true enough.

Oh, did I ask you where you were the night before last?

No. Why?

Well, whoever spiked Harry's orange juice,

he must have known an awful lot about him.

Are you accusing me?

No. No, no, no, but I did have to ask the question.

You don't have to answer.

I, I was here painting all night.

Thanks again, Angelo.

You find something out about that,

you let me know, won't you?

Oh, yes. Yes, I will.

Thanks for the coffee.

You like it, Father?

Oh, well, it's, it's, uh, uh, it's, uh... it's very expensive.

Yes. Well, you're entitled to your opinion, Father.

Art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

I guess it is.

Ha!

The artist at work,

just like Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel.

Michelangelo wasn't interrupted all the time.

Yes, he was.

Pope Julius Il.

When will you be finished?

I don't know.

Michelangelo took about two, three years.

What is it you want?

I, uh, I-I wanted to see how you were coming along.

Everybody's a critic.

Go away.

No, I'm entitled to be here, Mr. Gulliver.

This, this is a church, you know?

Yeah, well, go pray somewhere.

Stop looking over my shoulder.

Harry, do you know there's a painting by your friend Angelo

hanging in the Cray gallery priced at $25,000?

Huh, that's ridiculous.

Angelo couldn't even sell his stuff to paper a bathroom.

Well, apparently, Mr. Cray doesn't agree with you.

That's how much he paid for it. He told me himself.

We think it might be a payoff.

For what?

Maybe for stealing those missing paintings.

Father Dowling again.

You're developing quite an interest in modern art.

Well, I must admit I am fascinated

by some of the things you have here.

Now there's a real patron of the arts.

You know her?

Stephanie Oskowski.

Of the Lakeshore Drive Oskowskis.

She's been extremely generous to our church.

You don't say.

Excuse me, Father Dowling.

Miss Oskowski, what a pleasure.

I'm Dennis Cray.

How do you do, Mr. Cray?

What a lovely little place you have here.

You know, I've been meaning to come by for such a long time

to see if you might have something for me.

I'd be happy to show you around.

Wonderful.

It's bound to appreciate in value.

Think of it not only as a work of beauty,

but as a solid investment.

Fabulous. I'll take it.

Goes with my bag.

Lovely. Shall we go to my office?

- We'll do the paperwork there. - Of course.

Let's do it before I change my mind.

All right.

Here we are, over here. Come with us. Look at this.

Excuse me.

Would you do something for me, please?

Would you make it out to Cray Galleries, please?

- Certainly. - Thank you.

Yes?

I'll be right there.

Would you excuse me for a moment?

Take your time, Mr. Cray.

Thank you.

I keep reading these words...

Impressionist, Expressionist...

Here in your catalogue and...

well, I was just wondering if you'd be kind enough

to explain the difference to me.

You called me out here for that?

Oh, I'm so sorry.

You're busy, eh?

What's that priest Dowling doing here?

Making a nuisance of himself.

Well, he and that Sister Stephanie,

with that funny last name, they're trying to find out

what happened to Harry's paintings.

Stephanie...

♪♪

That's her, Mr. Cray.

Sister Stephanie, I presume.

Now, just a minute.

Before you do anything foolish, Mr. Cray...

Your friend here is trespassing.

Yeah, and I found a great place to do it, too.

Frank, you want to see eight Harry Gulliver originals?

Hmm?

Here you go.

Well... looks like you two have some questions to answer.

You may go.

I trust we can discuss this like reasonable people.

You gonna give us a reasonable explanation

of how you stole Harry's paintings

and then tried to kill him?

I took them... That part of it is true...

But we never, we never tried to kill Harry.

He's telling you the truth.

I had Angelo take them without Harry's knowledge.

We figured he'd never know the difference.

We'd sell them and give Harry his fair share of the money.

Oh, like you cut him in last time?

Besides, the night Harry was almost killed,

Angelo and I were meeting with a prospective buyer.

That's why I couldn't tell you where I really was.

Which, by the way, we can prove.

Well, I hope you can.

Because if you didn't try to kill Harry, who did?

Well, at least Harry got his paintings back.

You know, Frank, I would've bet the car

that it was Dennis Cray and Angelo that wanted to do him in.

Well, if it wasn't, then that only leaves Iris.

Yeah, I guess Harry gave her a lot of reason over the years.

Maybe, but she had no real motive.

Come quick! Harry is destroying the church!

- What?! - Hurry!

What are you doing?!

I'm getting it...

it's coming...

I'm getting it...

that face...

I'm getting it... it's here...

Frank, make him stop.

It's the Devil.

I got it.

Sure.

Now I know what happened to me.

Look at that.

Sure.

It's Iris.

Harry... Harry! Wait!

Who's there?

Iris! Let me in!

Iris...

let me in!

It's me... Harry.

I just want to have a quiet little chat.

Harry, stop it!

Honey, I'm home.

Harry...

Harry!

Easy, easy!

Ah...

Ah!

You're the Devil.

You tried to kill me.

Stay away from me, I'm warning you!

You hate me!

You've always hated me!

No, no!

No! No, Harry, Harry...

I love you. I love you.

Oh, yeah? Then why did you try to murder me, huh?

Please, please, Harry. Calm down...

Calm down?!

Calm down?!

You'll pay for this, Iris.

- No! - See you in Hell!

Oh...!

Come on...

Stop it!

You'll pay for this!

Iris bought it.

She really thinks I'm gonna kill her.

And I'm such a sweet guy.

Come on, hurry up.

Whew!

We haven't had an exhibit like this in years.

I know!

Dennis Cray... I knew it.

Ripped me off, tried to get Iris to kill me.

Now who's she talking to?

That's Marshall Hewitt.

He's the one who gave the painting to the museum.

Go to prison, you can go with me.

He doesn't seem very happy to see her.

- Harry...? - Hey!

Geez...!

Harry!

Harry... Harry, what are you doing?

He's crazy!

No! It's mine!

Call the police!

No, no.

It's an original Gulliver.

I painted this myself.

It's a forgery.

I'm a forger.

I was a forger.

Harry...

I know. I know.

I was young.

I-I needed to survive.

I needed paint and canvas.

And when Hewitt offered me what appeared to be a small fortune,

just to forge a couple of pictures, I...

You jumped at it.

And when you decided to donate the painting to the university,

for a multi-million-dollar tax write-off,

you couldn't run the risk that Harry might recognize it

and expose you, so you hired Iris to kill Harry.

You can't prove any of this.

Oh, I won't have to.

After the police and IRS get through with you,

you'll have forgotten all about me.

I think you should take these people downstairs

and call the police.

Iris, how could you?

Wasn't hard.

Harry, let's go, hmm?

Are you okay?

Too much blue.

All right, all right. Okay, don't forget to smile.

Now, I need you a little closer together.

Closer!

Ah, now, hold your breath.

Smile.

You simply won't believe

what the bishop said to me as he left.

What did he say?

He said, "It was a beautiful confirmation service, Philip.

Just beautiful."

Well, it was.

No, no, you don't get it.

Get what?

He called me Philip.

That's the first time he's actually called me

by my Christian name.

That's a good sign, don't you think?

Mm.

Father!

Oh, dear. Breathe! Breathe!

PRESTWICK All right, hold it.

Smile...

Wonderful! Thank you.

- Very nice, children. - Thank you, guys.

We're so proud of you. You look gorgeous.

By the way, uh... what was your confirmation name?

Bye. What?

Your confirmation name, what was it?

Sivle.

Sivle?!

S-I-V-L-E. Sivle.

I don't remember any St. Sivle.

Sivle is Elvis spelled backwards.

I got away with it.