All language subtitles for Grotesquerie.S01E08.1080p.WEB.H264-SuccessfulCrab

A significant hurdle is

the efficient delivery
of RNA molecules

to cancer cells

while avoiding
off-target effects.

It's unstable in the body.

And then there's

a high likelihood
of immune responses.

The answer, I believe...

is in developing
ultrasophisticated nanoparticles

to encapsulate and
protect RNA molecules,

improving their stability.

Let's, uh, pick this up
next session, guys, okay?

It's good of you
to see me, Doctor.

I didn't think you would.

You're the last holdout within
your mother's inner circle.

Well, Doctor Witticomb,

I'm not really sure
what good I'd be,

or even what your approach
to her therapy is.

I mean, how exactly am I
important to this process?

It's controversial, what I do.

Neuroimaging.

Functional MRI and EEG show

patterns of brain activity
that look like aspects

- of dream activity.
- So she was...

"locked in" rather
than comatose?

She was in a liminal state,

and at times, very
aware of her dreams.

She has an extraordinary
recall of them.

And if we can
advance the science

of communicating
to people in comas,

my hope is we can find
ways to awaken them.

Well...

I'd feel like an asshole
if I didn't help.

Thanks.

I should warn you,

it's not an enjoyable process.

You'll hear things
you won't like.

Do you mind if I record you?

Fire away.

In her dream,

you were in, um, some sort
of reality television show.

Television? I hate television.

The only thing I watch is,
like, The Wire on a loop.

So, what's the name
of the show I was on?

Half-Ton Trauma.

A show in which
morbidly obese people...

Try to lose weight.

I told you this
would not be easy.

Well, that woman isn't easy.

Your star patient.

Just center.

Good, good. Okay. It's okay.

It's okay. Just try it again.

Good, just...

- Oh.
- Shit.

I couldn't do this
before I was in a coma.

Jesus Christ!

What the fuck do you want?

Just want to see
how you're doing.

Fuck off.

You tried to kill me.

I heard all of it. All of it!

- Lois, you hallucinated half of what you heard.
- Mm-mm.

- Mm-mm.
- I wasn't trying to kill you. I was trying to keep you alive.

- Lois, please...
- I-I...

I am done with all
of this, all of you.

I-I want to go home. I
just want to go home.

Okay, let me just... One second.

It's okay. Let me just...

- It's okay.
- Don't touch me.

- Okay, just reach out...
- Don't touch me!

Paddles!

Mom, you better fight.

Clear. I need adrenaline.

You fucking bitch. Fight!

You know, I never understood
why you're such a royalist.

Look at them, disasters
in the making.

Di, filled with terror and hope.

Charles,

grim and loving someone else.

I'm gonna roast
a chicken. Yeah?

Could use a prep chef.

Um...

I don't really want to move,

I'm not hungry.

It's fine, yeah.

I could use the
activity actually.

Maybe you'll be hungry by
the time it's ready, huh?

Mm.

Always think of the future,

even if it's only in
one-hour increments.

That's why I like
the royal family.

They're always thinking
about the future

but always in relation to
the traditions of the past.

I guess we need all
the rituals we can get.

Like roasting a chicken.

I'm not staying in it.

She's awake. I'm divorcing her.

I'm done.

Can you do that?

I mean, can you live
with that decision?

You stayed for all of it.

Why would you stay
with me anymore

if I didn't leave now?

The ritual of it?

You being here?

And, you know, I
think that maybe

this is the place where
you're really at peace, right?

Don't do it because you think
you'll lose me if you don't.

I started the process to
get her out of my life.

I saw the lawyer, Mr. Berger.

He's drawing it up.

I hope she has some sort
of life after all this,

that she realize that to
stay together is impossible

when you know too much
about who you both are.

She knows I wanted her to die.

I whispered in her
ear during visits.

First it was, "You can go."

Then it progressed to...

Please just fucking die.

She heard everything
the doctors said.

Can you imagine the level
of stamina and control

to be in a coma
and never turn off

your fucking
satellites and antenna?

Charles.

I always admired him.

She was clearly mentally ill.

He was clearly
hardwired for duty.

He kept going,
living in his duty.

Finally finding happiness with
the woman he always loved.

- I think I'll eat now.
- Yeah.

With Chief of
Police, Megan Duval.

So, you would not
describe your relationship

with Detective Tryon
as adversarial?

No. She was a mentor to me.

She was thrilled
when I became chief.

I listened to her.
I took her counsel.

And what about the
case of Andrea Salana?

How do you think
she handled that?

She blew it. She
totally blew it.

She should have helped
that woman way earlier,

and I was very
up-front about it.

Go on.

It was shit police work,

and she was guilty,
she was slipping

and she was tired and, um...

and I fucking let her know it.

It did result in some tension,

but she was always
very up-front with me,

and I had to pay her
the same respect.

We did have one fight

right before her
retirement party

where I let her know how I felt.

She had sudden qualms
about actually leaving,

and I said, "Hey,
babe, it's time."

I had made this punch.

What color was the punch?

Purple.

Violet really.

It was awful.

- Go to hell.
- Cheers.

Thank you, Chief.

One last thing. The
color of the punch,

was it more like...

the color of a bruise?

Yes.

Very much so.

And were there bruises
on Andrea Salana's body

when she was found
dead? Purple bruises?

She had been beaten
to death, yes.

She looked like a different
species from all the bruising.

You're late.

I'm mad hungry.

Mmm.

Blood sugar must be
low or something.

- I don't know.
- I'm not in the mood for your shit, Justin.

I'll heat up the Chinese.

Is this what you want?

Is it?

You know I'm gonna have a
shiner from your fucking fist!

And they know you
at the precinct.

Too many bruises, too many
emotional crying calls.

You want me to just
end this for you?

Is that what you want, Justin?

You don't have the
fucking balls, Meg.

Just get the fuck out.

It's my house.

My house, my rules,

my...

Fine. Stay then.

Enjoy dinner,

you fuck.

Fuck!

Fucking bitch!

♪ Don't you worry ♪

♪ An old flame used to show me ♪

♪ Fire don't have to burn ♪

♪ He said, "Baby,
don't you worry" ♪

♪ Don't you worry ♪

♪ There's only more to learn ♪

♪ Every laugh, every
touch, every kiss ♪

♪ Can haunt me at times ♪

♪ I would lie if I
said in your eyes ♪

♪ I don't see the signs ♪

♪ Carry on, no longer
yours to love ♪

♪ But your memory chimes ♪

♪ Back and forth sometimes ♪

♪ If I stay till the
end, will I find ♪

♪ Your love ♪

♪ Your love, babe ♪

♪ Is fire in my veins ♪

♪ Slowly burns, slowly burns ♪

♪ Only you can set me free ♪

♪ It's taken ahold of me ♪

♪ Future turns to flashes ♪

♪ Time turns into ashes ♪

♪ 'Cause only you can make me ♪

♪ Stay ♪

♪ Only you can make me ♪

♪ Stay ♪

Hello.

Checking in?

♪ Only you can make me ♪

♪ Stay ♪

♪ And only your
love can make me ♪

♪ Stay... ♪

Would you like
some ice, my dear?

Just a quiet room, please.

♪ Stay ♪

Thank you.

♪ And only your
love can make me. ♪

Well, we did meet, but
you were barely awake,

coming back from
the dream state.

So, are you ready to go
back to the real world?

Uh, I mean, I am.

It's just...

It's a lot to process.

You know? And...

my dreams were just so real.

And it will take a
long time to unpack,

but we can do that together.

If you want, sessions
a few times a week,

sifting through whatever
you do remember?

I was in a coma for
six weeks, and it...

felt like a lifetime.

Then, other times,
it just felt like

one long...

night of an endless nightmare.

And-and sometimes I feel like

I'm-I'm still in a
coma, and I'm just

in a maze,

trying to work my way through.

I feel like that now.

We are both very much awake.

And I think there
are very few cases

as valuable as yours, Lois,

in terms of understanding
the ways in which

the subconscious plays a part
in activating and healing

and even reawakening
the brain and body.

Are you sure?

I was there, Lois.

I saw your brain activity.

I saw areas of your
brain light up.

I know the emotions
you were feeling,

and I know when you felt them.

I just feel... stuck.

My dreams were very...

Very violent, I know.

Yeah.

And when you're able
to discuss those

and what you recollect of them,

the more you'll be able to
put the violence in context

so you can move forward.

Do you remember any of
the conversations we had

where you told me some
of what you dreamed?

Put them all together
and made one body...

We did this for several days.

Like a Frankenstein.

Mm-hmm.

Let's begin.

Why do you think you
put your daughter

on a TV show called
Half-Ton Trauma?

You would say because I
felt disgusted by her.

Is that what I would
say? What would you say?

I've seen a lot.

You know? In my job,
enormous shut-ins...

dead of heart disease,

lifted out of their
homes by a crane.

In the dream, there were times
when you force-fed Merritt.

This is a safe place
to talk about it.

I don't know why I
was that angry at her.

In dreams,

it's safer to express
anger than in waking life.

Or perhaps you aren't angry
at all but ashamed of her?

Which could be even harder
for you to process than anger.

Is that possible?

I don't... I don't, I
don't, I don't even know

why we got to talk about this.

I-I just want to
put it all behind me

and move forward.

I read somewhere
that-that-that we're not even

supposed to remember our dreams.
That's why we don't, and...

May I tell you what I think?

You felt a lack of
control in your marriage,

so you put your
husband in a coma.

Uh-huh. What else?

You felt threatened by
your colleague, Megan,

a person who seemed to
do everything right,

when you were
always in the wrong,

a "holier than thou" figure, so
you literally made her a nun.

And what about Grotesquerie?

Does it... represent me?

Grotesquerie is the
stand-in, the totem.

For the way the world,
according to Lois Tryon, now is.

What your work exposed
you to, what you suppress.

The long-term PTSD
of the work you did.

I looked that word up.

"Grotesquerie." It means...

"to live in a world

"that is grotesque

and make-believe."

It was hardly make-believe.

You were a homicide detective

dealing with the most
unspeakable crimes.

I've read your case files.

What you dealt with could only
be described as such, grotesque.

I feel like you were
the tip of some spear,

fighting the spirit
of evil in our time.

Almost someone who
sacrificed themselves

in order to combat it.

Maybe.

I have seen the worst

of the worst of the worst,

daily, endlessly.

Endlessly.

In my dreams...

I was still a drunk.

Which I am not.

"Anymore. Not anymore."

But dreams of using
are very, very common

in addicts and alcoholics.

A way of making sense
of the shackles,

trying to free oneself.

Is sobriety not a lifetime of
day-to-day decision making?

What about Andrea?

Go!

Andrea?

What do you think?

Your guilt, Lois.

Mishandling that case
was the tipping point.

A horrible tragedy,
but also the catalyst

for you finally asking for help.

Yeah.

My sponsor, Ed.
Merritt's husband...

In the dream, you made
him a caretaker. Fitting.

How did the affair with
Ed begin in real life?

He was just there.

It's that simple, Doctor.

Getting sober is a
shock to the system.

You have to relearn
how to be a person.

You gonna let me off the hook

for fucking my
daughter's husband?

Only you can do that.

What else?

Dr. Mayhew. Charlie.

This is particularly
fascinating to me

because it proves that you were
cognizant of your surroundings.

Well, he-he turned
out to be the killer.

You felt powerless.

You were hearing someone who
was supposed to be your ally

talking about ending your life,
taking you off the ventilator.

So you thrust him with Megan.

They became lovers
in your fantasy.

The two people trying to
take your job and your life.

You were so alone.

The only person who cared
about you in the end was...

Marshall's girlfriend.

Whom you cast as a nurse
in charge of his care.

The person your husband
was cheating on you with

became a malevolent archetype.

I didn't hate her.

I mean...

there were some feelings
of bitterness, but...

that woman is a goddamn saint

to deal with Marshall
all those years.

I mean, God only knows
what would've happened

if I would've had to
deal with him by myself.

Maisie, who worked
as your housekeeper,

you board her as
well, I believe?

What about Maisie?

In your dream...

she murdered children.

I find it interesting that,

of the many people who
incurred your wrath...

she wasn't one of them.

You helped Maisie, got
her to the hospital,

empathized with her.

And in return, she helped
you catch the killer.

You know how we
met, Maisie and I?

Choose life! Choose life!

Choose life! Choose life!

She chained herself
to an abortion clinic.

- Choose life! Choose life!
- Choose life! Choose life!

I got called to the scene.

They cut her loose, and...

she was yelling in my face,
all this pro-life nonsense.

And the more she wailed...

the more I saw myself.

Under the...

layers of grandstanding

was the same stuff.

Love.

Fear.

Hope.

Most of all, hope.

And what about today?

Do you still feel hope?

It comes and it goes. Hope.

A very wise conclusion.

To be continued.

Yup.

I got it. I got it.

Thanks.

Do you know why nobody
was there to pick you up?

I got a pretty good guess.

The affairs.

Everyone was interviewed by
the brilliant Dr. Witticomb

so you know something
about my dreams.

That and my general
unpleasantness.

Let me set you straight
on a few things.

I'm not your enemy.

I have only respect for you.

I idolized you.

You want to turn me into a
killer, that's your business.

Jesus Christ.

They were the dreams of
a woman in a coma, okay?

They're not binary
representations

of real feelings.

Oh, you don't resent me?

You don't feel I pushed
you out of your position?

Usurped you?

Look, kid, I have enough
to feel shitty about

for things that I did
in my waking life.

Let's not make me responsible
for my subconscious, too.

Y-You think, if you had
a glimpse into your mind,

you'd like what you saw?

Really like what you saw?

That's exactly the response
of your entire generation.

"We're not responsible
for anything."

And you millennials blame us
for everything around you.

Such fucking professional
victims, all of you.

E-Entitled,

outraged at-at
real grown-up shit.

It's the real world.

Not something we did to you.

Well, let's count them.

The selfishness acts.

Doing nothing to tackle
the problems you create.

Leaving us to clean
up all your messes.

The way you left me to clean
up the Andrea Salana mess.

Okay.

That's what this is about.

You resent me for that case.

It's not about global
warming or whatever the fuck.

I was your partner.
I looked bad, too.

And I trusted you.

And I'm named in
her family's lawsuit

against the department
because of you.

But I'm not your enemy.

Clearly, you're not.

I mean, you were kind
enough to pick me up today,

to give me lessons
in your virtues.

Typical millennial
self-righteousness.

Surprised you ain't
sued me and my dreams

for emotional distress.

I should.

Grow the fuck up.

And one more thing.

You may have heard in
my dream coma state

that you were possessed,
foaming at the mouth.

Fascinating. I
did not know this.

Also in my dream state,

I distinctly remember
you having bruises.

Much like you do right now.

Then, like now, subconscious
or motherfucking reality,

let me be clear, baby girl.

You are being possessed.

Break free while you can.

I see you.

Maisie?

Welcome home, Mrs. Tryon.

Maisie.

I said to that doctor,

"Mrs. Tryon is the
person who helped me.

That's who she was and
that's who she has been."

He didn't want to hear it.
Kept digging for darkness.

I said, "She saved me
and gave me a job."

And who can blame someone for
what they see in their dreams?

Everyone has a shadow.
Don't they know that?

Why isn't anyone here for you?

You are.

But...

dreams, they are...

the closest you get
to truth, I think.

Maybe all my anger
at everyone...

Maybe that is my deepest truth.

That's good.

Ten.

Okay, good.

11, good.

One more, one more.

12. Good job.

One more, one more. Come on.

It's too heavy.

Okay, okay, that's good.

You know, you could only
do five when you started.

You're up to 12.

I feel like a kindergartener.

Don't be so quick to
compliment me, Jill.

Lois, you are the only
patient that I've ever met

that scoffs at
positive reinforcement.

Because I know
it's manipulation.

It's how I used to get
my suspects to confess.

One day, you're gonna
confess to me, too.

Didn't you hear it when
I was in that coma?

I heard everything.

♪ It ain't necessarily so ♪

♪ It ain't necessarily so... ♪

This is not a very
good idea, Mrs. Tryon.

Are any of my ideas good?

Hiring me.

That's the only one.

Okay.

I got to do this, Maisie.

I have to.

♪ David was small but... ♪

Hey.

I figured I'd hear from you.

You been out, what, a day now
and you rush over and see me?

We need to talk.

Are you sure you
want to talk to me?

Might want to talk to
my husband instead.

I can write down
his address for you.

If you're looking to pick
up where you left off.

Sucking his dick.

Get it all out now.

So we can talk.

You know, there's something

I've been needing
to say to you, so...

avante.

I have an idea about what
you want to talk about.

The main thing you want to
discuss, and I don't care.

You really think I'm
that unsophisticated?

I mean, your dreams
are your dreams.

I'm not gonna castigate you
for how you see me in them.

The shut-in slob living at home,

depending on you?

Desperate to go on a
reality television show

for the sclerotic obese, right?

Did I... I got
that right, right?

That's how you picture
me in your dream life?

Well, Mom, I have two postdoc
degrees in biochemistry,

and I am perfectly
prepared to accept the fact

that in order for
you to deal with me,

you had to reduce
me to a fat freak

because you're so
fucking insecure.

Look, I hate that
I felt that way.

I know how wrong it
is. How wrong it was.

But all I can say is that...

"W-We're not responsible
for our dreams"?

I know that.

I agree!

But that is not
your crime, lady.

That is not your
unforgivable sin.

You know that.

So can we please just cut
the deflective bullshit

and have a real come-to-Jesus?

- Okay.
- Please.

You want to talk about

how I could have possibly
slept with your husband.

Okay, it was...

misplaced aloneness.

It was...

It was self-pity and...

booze and...

finding myself alone in life.

I mean, your father had
basically abandoned me...

This was not about sex, Merritt.

Okay? It was about...

emotion.

It was about connection.

Most women will find someone
suitable to cheat with.

Someone outside of their orbit.

Their child's own partner?

Most women would find
that to be taboo.

But not you.

You're not like
most women, are you?

You are... something
else entirely.

You see, all that time spent

around killers and psychopaths,

it's rubbed off on you.

Consider that.

They were contagious and
you caught their diseases.

Why not?

You see, I-I remember...

I remember when you weren't
a fucking insane person, Mom.

I remember when you
were a good mother.

Walking me to school,

waiting there until I
felt safe before you left.

I remember all the good parts.

All of them.

And that's what makes
this even worse.

Please allow yourself
to understand that...

my husband's betrayal
is totally predictable.

But yours?

Yours broke my heart.

You broke my heart, Mom.

And I wake up every
day stunned by it.

Amazed by it.

S-Still unable to process it.

I could only hope that
you feel the same.

But I know you don't.

Get the fuck out of my house.

We should go get a
vanilla milkshake.

I did tell you that
it was a bad idea.

Yeah.

It was a new beginning.
It's what I need to...

go on.

Let's get a milkshake.

Ow.

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