Original subtitles

No, no, no!

Don't touch that dial.

Here's what's on my mind tonight.

(male narrator) Tabloid reporter on assignment.

Where am I going?

Little place called Springwood.

An editor on the warpath.

I expect a new story faxed and on my desk

'first thing tomorrow morning.'

And an eminent deadline.

Wonder how far that reporter's willing to go.

Faceless man murders hotel guest.

Gloria Loring stars on the next "Freddy's Nightmares."

[theme music]

[indistinct chatter]

(Freddy Krueger) You're in Springwood now.

And you're all mine.

[screams]

[laughs]

[screams]

[laughing]

[indistinct chatter]

[typewriter keys clacking]

[creaking]

[knocking]

I just came to say goodbye

Okay.

Shoot.

Well..

- What? - Say goodbye.

That's very funny, Dittano

Roger. Call me Roger.

I mean, you don't mind if I call you Ellen

now that I no longer work for you?

Here, Ellen, have a jawbreaker.

[laughs]

No, thanks.

- Listen, Dittano. - Roger.

Whatever.

Is there any way I can change your mind about leaving?

[chuckles] Not a chance.

Then I wanna get one more story out of you.

Unh-unh. I'm out of here. I am history.

I'm no longer writing this..

doo-doo.

'This time next week, I'll be working'

for the "Chicago Tribune."

A real paper.

You're paid till the end of the week. You're still mine.

[sighs]

Okay, Ellen, shoot.

What's the fairytale this time?

"World Inquirer" reporter commits suicide.

[intense music]

Ah! You gotta be out of your mind.

Circulation should double with this picture on the cover.

(Roger) 'Help me.'

(Ellen) Dittano, no sleeping on my time.

Dittano!

I pay you to work, not to sleep.

Ah. I don't want to sleep.

I have to sleep.

I do my best work when I'm asleep.

Is that when you come up with your bad grammar?

I had to fix it again on the Bigfoot story.

Well, an editor's work is never done.

Mm. "A real Bigfoot joined Michael Jackson's menageri

after he saved his life."

Who saved whose life?

Michael saved Bigfoot, of course.

Will you check your pronouns next time?

Yeah. Yeah.

Uh, what is next time?

I believe going out of town.

Oh, great. Where am I going?

[chuckles] Little place called Springwood.

Oh, and what's in Springwood?

Elvis.

[laughs] Presley?

Well, they have several reportings of-of sightings

at a hotel there, where he supposedly lives.

Yeah.

You leave in an hour.

Ugh!

At least can I fly an airlines I recognize?

[eerie music]

"Man explodes.

"Aliens torture woman to death.

"Bigfoot.."

I love it. I love this paper!

Not afraid to lie. No ethics.

Not afraid to step over the line.

Wonder how far that reporter's willing to go?

Maybe I'll, uh, just give him a little test.

[laughing]

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Roger Dittano. "World Inquirer."

Um, I had a call earlier about a claim that, uh, Elvis Presley

was living in this hotel.

So?

Is he here?

No. Left this mornin'.

Said he was gonna do a concert with John, uh, Lennon.

'He'll be back in couple of days.'

After he does his concert?

That's right.

[sighs] Of course.

Got a phone?

[sighs] He's on tour with John Lennon.

- It's very funny, Dittano. - 'I'm not trying to be funny.'

(Roger on phone) 'That's what the guy behind the desk said.'

So I figured I'd-I'd still try to make it to Chicago

for my interview with "The Tribune."

Wrong. Get a room, and wait till Elvis comes back.

And use the time to pull up another story.

Well, I've got to get to my interview by...

I expect a new story faxed and on my desk

first thing tomorrow morning.

[sighs]

[instrumental music]

(female #1) 'Room service.'

Hi.

Here's your order, sir.

There's, uh, chocolate cake

cheesecake, cookies

and two pots of coffee.

Do you know you're pregnant?

- Oh, yes, sir. - Oh, well, geez.

You shouldn't be carrying a heavy tray. Here. Have a seat.

Uh..

If you don't mind my asking, sir.

You gonna eat all that by yourself?

(Roger) 'Oh, afraid so.'

I have trouble staying awake, uh

during a deadline, so the caffeine and the sugar help.

[woman screams]

Yeah, I know, that's how

generally how I feel after I eat this stuff.

No, I think the baby's comin'.

Oh, my God. Sit down.

Oh, ah, here. Let me get you a nice, hot cup of coffee.

Oh, that's stupid.

Here, a glass of water.

Take it, drink.

Front desk? Yeah.

If you don't get a cab up here in the next five minutes

this woman is gonna squeeze out a brand-new person

right in the middle of room 23.

[woman gasping]

'I-I don't think your cabin is prepared to deal with that.'

Right. Room 23.

You okay?

Is there anything that I can do for you

while we wait for the cab?

Uh, pour some water?

Oh, uh, take in a breathe.

[breathing heavily]

You married?

No.

Well, it'd be mighty nice if you ride with me

to the hospital.

Oh, do you want me to call your husband?

No husband.

My boyfriend left town the moment he found out about..

I'm sorry. That's too bad.

No, it's okay. It's my fault.

I don't know what possessed me to go out with that skunk.

Possessed?

I gave birth to the devil's baby.

That's page 1 material.

Can you fax that to me by tonight?

Well, I got permission to shoot the birth.

So, I-I'm gonna have to bring the negatives back

so the guys in the lab can add the horns and the tail.

Right. Alright, then I'll see you after you meet with Elvis.

No, no. But-but my interview in Chicago..

[sighs]

(male #1) 'Mr. Dittano, would you come to delivery room, please?'

(nurse) 'Push, Mary.'

[groans]

Push, Mary.

[groans]

Push.

The head is almost out.

Something wrong, doc?

No. No, everything's okay.

What... what is it?

No, everything's just fine.

Mary, j-just push one more time.

We're almost finished.

[groans]

Uh, hey, doc, why don't you hold the little guy up

so I can get a picture?

No, I would rather not do that, Mr. Dittano.

May I ask why?

It wouldn't be a good idea.

Oh, please do it, Dr. Coppage.

I wanna have the picture.

[thunder crashing]

[rumbling]

Mr. Dittano. Mr. Dittano.

Oh, God. Doc.

Oh, God, I'm sorry.

We've been looking for you

We had to go on with the delivery.

Oh, damn! I missed the launch.

Afraid so.

[sighs] Well, uh, can I, can I get a shot of the kid?

I'm sorry. The baby was stillborn.

Oh, God.

The-the mom's okay?

Oh, she's fine.

Thank God she never got an opportunity to see the child.

Why-why do you say that?

The baby had what we call bilateral indurated masses

in the parietal region.

Not a pleasant sight.

- I'm sorry. - Doc. Doc.

Give me that in English.

[sighs]

Mr. Dittano..

'...the child's skull was malformed'

in a very grotesque way.

Looked almost like it had horns.

[intense music]

Would you cool it? I'll come up with another story.

(Ellen on phone) 'I don't get it, Dittano.'

'Why doesn't the devil's baby story work?'

Because the baby was stillborn.

But you said it really had horns. Get some shots of it.

You are one sick puppy.

Oh, well, you're the one who wants to work

for "Chicago Tribune", 'cause you can report on real stories.

You've got a real story here, Dittano.

What real story? It's not the devil's baby.

And I'm not gonna write the story saying it is.

Okay. Have it your way.

Uh, by the way, I've got a letter here for you

from the "New York Times."

'Would you like me to open it and read it?'

Of course I do.

Okay.

[paper rustling]

Let's see, "Dear, Mr. Dittano, thank you for forwarding

"a sample of your writing to us.

'"We regret to inform you'

"however that you showed an aptitude for punctuation

"and spelling that is far lower

"than is satisfactory for the "New York Times."

We are therefore forced to reject you."

'Should I go on?'

No.

If I were you, I'd make an effort to keep the job I've got.

Come up with another story, right?

That'd be a good start.

[sighs]

Hey.

[instrumental music]

Need somethin'?

Is Elvis here yet?

Nope. Not yet.

Of course not.

[sighs]

Anything else?

Not unless you've got a good story.

Story?

'Yeah, I mean this old hotel has gotta have some good stories?'

Anything weird ever happen here?

I mean, anybody ever get killed

or the walls ever talk?

'Anybody ever spontaneously combust?'

Not that I can remember offhand, but I'll think about it.

What are you waiting for, boy?

If you want any tip at all, you'd best move that luggage.

(Roger) 'Well, I'm sorry I'm not the bellboy'

'but I'd be happy to take your tip.'

George Teller?

Who are you?

I'm Tom Gibson.

[gasps] Oh... yeah, I remember.

- You own the local paper. - That's right.

The local paper that took me a whole lifetime to built.

Really? A whole lifetime.

[chuckles] That's funny.

Should take me just one day to destroy it.

Replace you with someone younger and hipper.

Oh, you..

heartless, good-for-nothing...

- Come on, Lou. - You son of a bitch!

That paper's like a family to me!

That-that was George Teller, the newspaper tycoon.

There was that murder last year.

What?

Uh, there was a murder in the hotel.

Oh, yeah?

Well, what happened?

- Man got killed. - And?

- That's it. - What do you mean, "That's it?"

There-there's got to be more. I mean, do you know who did it?

No. Never caught the guy.

I saw him run out.

Oh, great, great. Well-well, what'd he look like?

Never saw his face.

Couldn't see his face.

Didn't have a mask.

No.

Didn't have a face.

[chuckles]

[dramatic music]

"Faceless man electrocutes hotel guest"

by Roger Dittano.

Old James Williams, the handyman at the Springwood Hotel

was defaced a year ago in a bizarre accident with a..

traveling chainsaw salesman.

horse is lost.

[man whistling]

[intense music]

[screaming]

Ah-h-h!

[crackling]

I'm telling you, it is just too weird.

Everything I write comes true.

That's a very imaginative excuse, Dittano.

It is not an excuse.

Alright, first the baby with the horns

then I almost get electrocuted in the bathtub.

[sighs] I'm-I'm almost afraid to write anything.

Very convenient, Rog.

Can't write in Springwood

so you might as well come home, huh?

Just in time for your next job interview, right?

No. No, I am gonna write your story for you.

But it's gonna be a happy story.

That way, if it comes true

it'll be okay.

Happy stories don't sell papers.

I want grotesque, weird

violent, your usual wonderful stuff.

I don't think I can do that.

'Well, then, perhaps you should write a story about how you won'

the lottery, because you're gonna need

the cash after I fire you.

Go ahead and hang up on me, you witch.

I don't need your ten-dollar a week job, anyway.

Besides, I never wanna see your ugly face again!

I quit!

Hey.

What now?

Thought you'd like to know, Elvis is dead.

Thank you for that newsflash.

Oh, and you've got a message.

From whom?

Uh, a fellow named Levine, uh, from the "Chicago Tribune."

Oh. W-w-what'd he say?

[clicks tongue] He said don't bother about coming to Chicago

for an interview. He read your stuff.

Damn!

Oh, yes, uh, you got another message.

Oh.

Someone named Ellen called.

She said, since you don't want to ever see her ugly face again

you're fired.

She heard me? Oh, I thought she hung up.

'And she's not gonna pay for the hotel bill.'

[sighs]

What about the hotel bill?

Don't-don't worry. I'll-I'll take care of it.

I demand a new room.

Half of lights in my room won't go on, and the TV doesn't work.

Hotel's full. Got no more rooms.

You must find another room

Wish I did. But I don't.

Excuse me, Mr. Teller, I-I couldn't help overhearing.

Um, I would be happy to trade rooms with you.

Who are you?

Roger Dittano is my name.

I-I-I work for a... a small paper.

Suppose you're looking for a job.

Well, I-I'm entertaining offers from several of the more

prominent papers, but I would certainly consider, uh..

Forget it.

I don't hire slobs.

Well, this isn't slob, this is young and hip.

Hey, watch it!

I have a black belt in-in..

several martial arts.

Have a nice day.

[mumbling]

Billionaire takes poison.

[clicks]

No.

Billionaire leaves newspaper empire to reporter

after he takes poison.

[clicks]

[laughs]

Like that.

[knock on door]

Look, I wanna see Mr. Teller.

(George) 'Well, if it isn't the slob.'

Look, you got me all wrong, Mr. Teller.

Oh, do I?

[sighs] Alright, I might look like a slob.

Hell, I might even be a slob.

But I am a young, hip, smart... slob.

Just the kind you need to run this paper you're taking over.

I know.

I mean, I've got five-years

experience in the newspa..

What did you say?

I said, I know you're the man for the job.

One minute... down at the lobby, you-you said..

I was just testing you.

I need a man who's a fighter.

A man who won't take no for an answer.

[sighs] Well, that's me.

I can see that.

You've got the job.

[sighs] Thank you... sir.

Let's drink to it. Lou!

[glasses clinking]

What's in that?

What's in it?

Well, let's see if it's the way Lou usually makes it.

It's got, uh, vodka

peach schnapps, orange juice

and, uh, just a touch of arsenic.

Arsenic in my drink?

That's not what I wrote.

[groaning]

[eerie music]

Oh, and I'd like to leave you

my newspaper empire.

[laughing]

[telephone rings]

Excuse me, are you Dr. Coppage?

- Yes. - I'm Ellen Kramer.

I was told to see you about making arrangements

to bring Roger Dittano's body

and his effects back home?

Yes, his things are right over there.

The police just brought them.

Please accept my condolences.

Uh, thanks.

Have you determined the cause of death?

Yes.

It seems..

'...he choked on one of these.'

[telephone ringing]

- Excuse me. - Certainly.

[eerie music]

(Roger on recorder) 'Billionaire leaves newspaper empire to reporter'

'after he takes poison.'

You never learnt your pronouns, did you, Dittano?

Who took the poison? Billionaire or reporter?

[telephone rings]

[siren blaring]

- Who is that? - Elvis.

Is he dead?

Of course, everyone knows that.

Excuse me, uh, wait, wait.

Just a minute please.

Now, there's a good reason to do your English homework.

Learn the use

of the proper pronoun..

or die!

[snickering]

[birds chirping]

[female announcing over PA]

I'm, uh, looking for a Dr. Coppage.

I'm Dr. Coppage, what can I do for you?

I'm Rachel Kelly, this is my daughter Salley

We drove all the way from Copperton.

As soon as we saw this in the paper.

Oh, yes, our amnesia victim.

He's been here for three weeks.

- Do you know him? - He's my husband.

Good, we were hoping his family would surface.

How is he?

Well, considering he was thrown from a car

after it went over a cliff

'he's in pretty good shape, physically.'

- Can we see him? - Of course.

Follow me.

[instrumental music]

[humming]

[tires screeching]

[intense music]

[groaning]

[crashing]

[screaming]

[explosion]

- Are you okay, sweetheart? - Who are you?

Don't you recognize us, Jerry?

Is that my name? Jerry?

Hi, daddy.

Daddy?

This is your wife and your daughter.

'Do they look at all familiar?'

No.

[eerie music]

Me?

I cherish my memories.

Yes, playing with bodies in the winter.

Torturing small animals in the spring.

[laughing]

Scaring old ladies in the fall.

Oh, yes, I remember it well.

Too bad poor Jerry can't.

But don't worry.

What I'm gonna do to him

he'll never forget.

(Rachel) 'There, that's last Christmas.'

I gave you a new golf shirt.

No?

Wh-why aren't there any here of me and Salley?

- Uh, well, uh... - 'It's okay, honey.'

The bad things are part of his memory too.

What? What is it?

I-i-it's no big deal.

It's just that, you and I haven't

been getting along so well lately.

Why not?

Oh, well..

it...you were just being

a typically overprotective daddy, that's all.

Salley's growing up.

She's driving, and dating.

And I'm afraid you didn't handle it very well.

Here, look at some more, they'll maybe help you remember.

- That's our house. - Hmm.

And that's the den.

Right after you finished painting it.

Took you two weeks.

You remember that, Jerry?

[instrumental music]

[intense music]

(Dr. Coppage) 'How's the photo session going?'

Huh? I'm sorry?

Family pictures, stirring any memories?

Oh, I'm not sure.

Well, don't worry, it takes time.

Is there anything we can do to speed up this process?

Well, the only other thing you can do is to let him sleep.

The first memories to return are usually in the subconscious.

- In dreams. - Great.

When do I get to sleep?

You will, I'll prescribe some sleeping pills.

[dramatic music]

It's time for your midnight injection, Mr. Kelly.

It's okay, it's alright.

[breathes heavily]

There you are.

[whispering] Goodnight.

[dramatic music]

[birds chirping]

So, Mr. Kelly?

How'd you sleep?

Not so good.

I have a question.

You said that my memories might come back

in my dreams first, right?

Yes, that's right.

Alright, does that mean

that whatever I see in my dreams

are memories that actually happened?

(Dr. Coppage) 'No, no not necessarily.'

Now, they could be memories of a TV show

or a movie that you watched just before your accident.

Just about anything.

(Rachel) Why?

Did you remember something last night?

Uhh, I've been having several nightmares.

'Very disturbing ones.'

About what?

Just, uh, pieces of-of things.

It doesn't make any sense.

Hmm.

Well, I wouldn't worry.

They probably were just nightmares.

Look around you, honey.

Look at the pictures in this book.

You have a beautiful home

and you have a loving family.

You've got a past anybody would cherish.

Yes, don't block it out, Mr. Kelly.

Now, you've gotta do everything

in your power to regain your memories.

Now, study these pictures.

And talk to your wife and your daughter..

and sleep.

(Rachel) 'Wouldn't he make more progress'

if we could take him home?

Where he could see these things first hand?

[explosion]

Umm, I don't think that, uh, we should drive home yet.

(Dr. Coppage) 'No, I don't either.'

It's not advisable for a person

with a serious head trauma to travel long distances.

What about a hotel?

Wouldn't you be more comfortable in a hotel room?

Can I do that?

[sighs]

Well, we could switch you to outpatient status

as long as you promise to stay in bed

once you get to the hotel.

Yeah.

It might help your memory come back

if we could spend more time together.

'As a family.'

[eerie music]

I-I, I really wouldn't mind getting out of this hospital.

[birds chirping]

You have terrible taste in clothes.

Lucky I have a good taste in wives.

[instrumental music]

[moaning]

What, don't tell me we weren't getting along either?

Oh, no, no, that's not it.

What then?

Can't a man kiss his wife?

His very sexy wife?

Sure he can.

But you never did.

Not like that, at least.

You haven't kissed me like that since our honeymoon.

You kidding me?

No.

Well, that's about to change.

Hey..

The doctor said you're supposed to get some rest.

You're supposed to stay in bed.

Well, that's where I was headed, the bed.

[laughing]

Now, why don't you get some sleep?

I'm gonna take a bath.

[instrumental music]

- Come in. - Hi.

I was just wondering how you're doing.

I'm fine. I'm studying.

Yeah, what subject?

- Calculus. - Oh, boy.

Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I forgot, we're not getting along.

It's okay.

[sighs]

No, Salley, i-it's not okay.

S-s-sit down, will you?

Salley, sometimes parents do things that they shouldn't

just like kids.

Now, I don't pretend to remember

what it is I did to you

but it obviously upset you very, very much.

I-I just want to say that I'm sorry.

You think maybe we could just forget about the whole thing?

I certainly have.

What do you say, huh?

Clean slate? Fresh start?

Yeah, that's it.

Now, aren't you supposed to be in bed?

Yeah, well, I'm too restless, I can't sleep.

Isn't that why the doctor gave you those sleeping pills?

Yeah, yeah, alright, I'll go to sleep.

You go back to your Calculus.

I see, you've, uh, got your old man's brains.

Yeah.

Goodnight.

Well, hello, there.

[Jerry chuckles]

Hi.

What are you doing here?

Well, I'm just looking for my sleeping pills.

I thought you might know where they are.

Oh. Pier on the dresser.

Well, thanks.

[instrumental music]

[music continues]

- Rachel, who's this? - Huh!

Huh?

- Where'd you get that? - In your purse.

I was looking for my pills Answer the question.

Who's that man?

It's Frank. He's your business partner.

Oh, yeah? How come he's so cozy with you in this picture?

He's our best friend.

Look.

He introduced us, for Christ sake.

I'm sorry. I-I-I'm sorry...

I-I thought, I-I..

You still don't remember anything, do you?

Just pieces.

Why don't you take another sleeping pill

and go back to sleep?

[instrumental music]

My God, it's hard to believe I can't remember you.

Sorry, partner.

[gasps]

- Honey. - What, what is it?

I'm-I'm sorry, I couldn't wait, I had to ask you.

- What? - Where is he?

- Who? - The man in the photo?

Frank, my partner, where is he?

Well, honey, Frank's dead.

- How did he die? - He had a heart attack.

- Where? - In our den.

- Why're you asking me all the.. - Where in the den did he die?

Well, it was by the fireplace.

Why, what is it? Are you remembering something?

I dreamt it, all of it, in every single detail.

That's great.

Now, there was one added thing.

What?

I did it, I killed him.

I hit him on the head with a rock

and then I injected air into his veins.

Don't be silly, Jerry.

I was there.

You told me that he had a heart attack.

And he fell and hit his head.

And the coroner's report confirmed that.

Why would every single detail be right, except for one?

I don't know.

Maybe your memory's still scrambled.

Can you remember anything else?

[exhales]

No.

Why don't you try and go back to sleep?

Oh, God.

Maybe some more of it will come to you if you do

[instrumental music]

[siren wailing]

[eerie music]

Sorry, partner.

[intense music]

[door opens]

[gasps] Jerry!

He collapsed.

He died in my arms.

(Rachel) Frank.

Frank. Oh, God!

Frank.

You remember now, Jerry?

What's going on? What are you doing?

Good thing daddy invited you over so often.

We have a lot of good pictures to jog your memory.

My husband was a good man, Jerry.

Your husband?

Jesus.

I killed your husband.

See, Salley.

I told you he remembered.

Why'd you do it, Jerry?

Just didn't wanna share the wealth

with your partner anymore?

Alright, okay.

So... what are you gonna do?

You gonna turn me in?

No way.

You'd probably just got to jail for a few years.

How did you know that I did it?

Oh, I always knew.

I just didn't know how.

Until you told me.

'You injected air into his veins.'

'It's a perfect crime.'

'And the authorities are gonna think'

'that you died of a heart attack too.'

'Just like Frank.'

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, wait a minute.

I wonder what air in the veins feels like.

- 'Wait, wait. Whoa, whoa.' - 'You think it hurts?'

Why did you go to all this trouble?

Why didn't you just kill me when you had a chance?

Oh, Jerry.

Because revenge is only sweet

when the person you're punishing knows what they did.

'It took you a while.'

But you finally remembered.

Talk to me, talk to me. What-what-what-what do you want?

- What do you want? - I don't want anything.

What do you..

What-what-what do you want?

Goodbye, Jerry.

Have fun in hell.

Wait a minute. Wait! Wait! Wait! Whoa! Whoa!

'No! No! No, no, talk to me! Wait, talk, no!'

Wait! Wait!

No!

Memories..

light the corner of my mind.

[laughing]

Medulla oblongata.

[theme music]