Original subtitles

♪♪

♪♪

[ Insect buzzing ]

♪♪

[ Buzzing stops ]

♪♪

[ Footsteps ]

[ Door opens ]

♪♪

ROBERT: Me, me, maw, maw, me, me, maw.

Me, maw, me, maw, me, maw, me maw, me, maw,

me, maw, me, maw, me, maw, me, maw.

Da, da, da, da, da, da, da, da, ga, ga, ga, ga, ga, ga, ga.

Da, da, da, bah, bah, bah, ma, ma, ma, ma,

rah, rah, rah, rah, fah, fah, fah, fah,

da, da, da, da, da, bah, bah, bah, bah, bah,

buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, me, me, me, me, moo.

[ Vocalizes ]

[ Exhales deeply ]

Do daily deeds diligently.

Do daily deeds diligently.

Do daily deeds diligently.

I am the king.

I am the king.

I am the king!

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

[ Inhales deeply ]

[ Exhales deeply ]

Don't ask "Who am I?"

In those late night, too much tequila, self-serving,

introspective moments with your eyes glazed over

and your hands gripping the side of the sink

and your forehead pressed against the mirror,

don't you dare ask, "Who am I?"

Ask "Who are you?"

Because you means there is no awareness of self,

and only through a total and complete

lack of awareness of self can you find truth.

And what is truth?

And what is truth?

MAN: Uh, reality?

Reality is no more truth than truth is reality.

Truth is an illusion,

a contrivance designed to make you believe

there is only one absolute answer.

That's a reference to the Meisner technique, isn't it?

No.

This is not "I have a blue shirt,

you have a blue shirt, I have a blue shirt,

you have a fucking blue shirt" bullshit.

No! This is not Meisner.

This is not acting.

This is hell.

And hell is where you are.

Today we birth the monster.

The monster that populates all of us.

Stand.

Show me.

What?

I'm sorry. I guess I wasn't clear.

-I'm sorry, I didn't -- -No, no, no, please.

It's my fault.

I take full responsibility for your utter

and complete lack of comprehension.

Let me try again. Slowly.

Show me the monster.

Oh. Okay.

[ Roars ]

Rarr! Rar.

Terrifying.

Don't bother.

Take the stage.

Don't waste my time

with your childhood memories of the bogeyman

or some Hollywood rubber suit abomination.

I am not interested in that.

I want more.

I want you to plant your feet solidly

on the rotting surface of this earth

and allow the flames from the pits of hell

to lick at your heels.

I want the hot breath of a thousand rapists and murderers

to enter you.

Your legs grow heavy.

As the filth rises higher,

your knees swell with pain

as the burning passes through and up,

ripping and tearing at your genitals.

This is getting weird.

Silence!

Your guts fill with the putrid stench

from the bowels of Satan himself.

And it feels wonderful.

Your chest is hollow.

A cavern,

echoing the cries of every widow, slave, and cripple

since the dawn of time.

Your heart is black.

A lifeless tumor.

Yes. Yes.

This is the monster I'm asking for.

This is the monster I crave!

Your neck is a snake

choking on a carcass twice its size,

stretched and bubbling over with the hot blood of its victim.

Your face and head drip with slipping flesh.

Only chips of rotten teeth and bulging blind eyes

hang on a skull that is infested with maggots

that have come to eat what's left of the empty,

useless, pathetic souls of humanity.

[ Screams ]

[ Scattered applause ]

[ Laughs ]

Whoo!

Yeah. Whoo-hoo.

What's wrong, sweetheart?

Too much for you?

Prefer the Meisner technique?

I need you to look at me when I'm speaking.

I said look at me.

[ Bones crunch ]

[ Shrieks ]

ROBERT: [ Groaning ]

[ Shrieking ]

[ Shrieking stops ]

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Hm.

[ Cellphone rings ]

Hm.

Okay.

[ Cellphone rings ]

What?

Marcus, it's Benny.

Just calling to check on the status of the latest piece.

It's Friday, and the client's getting pretty fucking antsy.

Marcus?

Marcus, can you hear me?

MARCUS: I can hear you.

BENNY: Okay. Yeah, well, it's Friday,

and you said that you would have it done by Friday.

I'm sorry,

I didn't realize my soul was punching a time clock.

BENNY: Hey, hey, come on.

Don't act like you don't know how this works.

Marcus?

[ Sighs ] Marcus.

Have you ever seen

"The Harrowing of Hell" by Swanenburg?

BENNY: Uh, what's -- what's that? Is that on Netflix?

Why don't you go back to counting your pennies

and let me finish?

BENNY: Okay. Okay.

But just make sure that it's big.

The client said they wanted something big.

Apparently they have a lot of wall space,

-you know what I mean? -Fuck off.

BENNY: Cha-ching, cha-ching, baby.

-Fuck off. -BENNY: I love you.

[ Sighs ]

[ Mumbles indistinctly ]

[ Liquid pours ]

[ Cellphone rings ]

What?

BRODY: Wow. As always, could you sound a little more excited?

I'm having a difficult night.

BRODY: Okay.

Well, I just wanted to tell you I got into that acting class.

Cool.

BRODY: Yeah. It's tomorrow.

He only, like, accepts a handful of people,

so it's actually a pretty great deal.

Why are you wasting your time with that shit?

It's not art.

It's pretend, really, I mean, you know.

I'm over here struggling to sketch

the flow that's already intact within the mind.

And you're playing dress-up.

BRODY: Yeah, and you're a fucking snob, so...

Well, if a snob is someone who pours their soul out

onto the ground to be stepped on

by zombies or dullards, then yeah, you know,

I'm a -- I'm a snob.

BRODY: Whatever.

Marcus, I just want to act.

You want to be famous.

BRODY: [ Sighs ] Alright, yeah, I'm gonna --

I'm gonna go.

Okay.

[ Scoffs ]

[ Panting ]

Fucking fraud.

Who are you, man?

Who are you, man?

Fuck. Who are you?

Fuck!

Others have seen what is.

And they ask why?

No, no, no, no.

Others have seen what it is and ask why?

I have seen what could be and ask why not?

Others have seen what it is and ask why?

I have seen what could be and ask why not?

Yeah.

Others have seen what it is and ask why?

I have seen what could be and ask why not?

[ Grunts ]

Ah, f--

Fuck.

♪♪

♪♪

[ Groans ]

♪♪

Ah, fuck!

[ Groaning ]

Oh, fuck.

[ Groaning ]

♪♪

What the fuck?

[ Groaning ]

[ Panting ]

♪♪

♪♪

[ Line rings ]

BENNY: Marcus, baby, talk to me.

He can pick up the painting tomorrow.

BENNY: Really? Oh, that's great.

I knew if I was a pain in the ass, I;d get my way.

Yeah. Yeah. Pick it up tomorrow.

♪♪

BENNY: Are you okay? You seem kind of out of it.

MARCUS: I'm fine.

BENNY: Okay. Well, whew, yeah,

I'm just glad we could get this piece out.

I have some other pieces I want to talk to you about.

I'll give you the weekend before I drive you crazy with that.

Let's just say... [Speaks indistinctly]

all last year is suddenly calling me

and straight-up kissing my ass.

You remember that soap opera actor

in NYC I introduced you to.

Get a load of this -- his mom, the rich one,

she wants to meet with you.

Yeah, baby. My numero uno.

Oh, by the way, I don't think you ever sent me

the commission check for that art piece

in San Francisco that we did over the bridge.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

EDDIE: [ Thinking ] Interior, house, night.

Janice and her boyfriend, Steve,

run through the living room towards the stairs.

They slip and bump into furniture in a mad panic.

A lamp falls to the floor.

The light bulb shatters, making the room dim to a dark blue.

The young couple reach the stairs and look back.

They know The Whistler can't be far behind.

Steve -- "Upstairs!"

He grabs Janice's hand and pulls.

Janice -- "No, he'll find us."

Then a crash in the next room. It's him.

He's in the house.

Steve -- "Come on. We have to go now."

Interior, hallway, night.

The couple runs, looking back with fear.

Interior, bedroom, night.

Janice and Steve crashes into the bedroom

and slam the door behind them.

Steve -- "Get in the closet."

Janice -- "What? What about you?"

Steve -- "Just trust me. I have an idea."

A sobbing Janice goes to the closet and shuts the door.

Then a loud bash at the bedroom door that shakes the room.

He's at the door.

Steve drops to the floor and slides under the bed.

The door crashes open.

The silhouette of The Whistler fills the frame.

A slice of moonlight bounces from the blade of his knife.

Eddy Park, you are a fucking genius.

[ Thinking ] The Whistler steps into the bedroom.

The floor creaks beneath his weight.

He takes a few more steps towards the bed,

just inches from where Steve is hiding.

Two Whistler slowly scans the room and breathes in.

Then, as he always does before killed,

he leans his head back

and whistles those four sinister notes.

[ Whistles ]

Though before the last note has a chance to trail off

into the night, Steve lunges his arm forward.

He's gripping a box cutter.

Steve lets out a war cry.

Aaah!

He slices through The Whistler's Achilles heel.

The tendons pop and blood sprays across the floor

and across Steve's face.

The Whistler grabs at his heel and slips in the pool of blood.

He hits the floor with a thud.

His knife slides across the room.

Steve pulls himself out from under the bed

and rushes to the closet.

He swings the door open and Janice dives at Steve.

They embrace.

It's then she sees The Whistler on the floor.

She gasps.

Janice pushes off Steve and moves across the room.

She grabs The Whistler's knife from off the floor.

Janice goes cold.

She leans her head back

and whistles those four notes.

In a flash, she plunges the knife

deep into The Whistler's chest.

He stiffens and expels his last breath.

He is dead.

And fade to motherfucking black.

Well, my friend, you did it again.

Ahh.

THE WHISTLER: Worthless.

Fucking.

Trash.

♪♪

What?

I said,

"Worthless fucking trash."

I -- I don't understand.

Clearly, there's a lot you don't understand,

like how to write a decent, fuckin' violent bloodbath.

What?

First of all,

we need to discuss this whistling bullshit.

Is that really the best you can do?

Whistling?

It's -- It's just like a-a-a gimmick, you know?

Like -- Like -- Like whistle while you work.

This is whistle while you kill.

Th-That's gonna be the tagline on the poster.

[ Laughs ]

"Whistle while you kill."

[ Laughs ]

I hate it.

You hate it.

I have a few other thoughts.

Let's imagine that the boyfriend character --

-What's his name? -EDDIE: Steve.

Steve. Let's imagine that before Steve

makes it under the bed, I get to him first,

and I grab him by the back of his stupid

Steve boyfriend head like this and smash it as hard

as I can against the wall.

Or a desk. A desk will work fine.

[ Eddie groans ]

Oh, and the box cutter scene.

I have an idea. Please stand.

[ Groans ]

This isn't happening.

This can't be happening.

Of course it's happening, Ed. It's 100% happening.

Now shut the fuck up and hear me out.

Now, what if the little Stevie pulls out his box cutter,

he swings, but misses, and I go for his wrist.

-No. -Yes.

And I squeeze it with such force that it...

-[ Bones crack ] -[ Screams ]

THE WHISTLER: ...breaks.

And little Stevie falls to the floor

like the sack of shit that he is.

Yes. Just like that.

I really feel like you're getting the idea.

Really opening up to my vision.

Oh, that's right.

The girl.

I almost forgot about the girl.

[ Groans ] No.

THE WHISTLER: [ Singsong voice ] Janice.

Oh, God, please. [ Crying ]

Don't hurt me, please.

[ Crying ]

THE WHISTLER: Now, what if, while little Stevie

lies there helplessly on the ground,

I take out my knife...

[ Gasps, crying ]

THE WHISTLER: ...and gut this poor little thing like a fish.

-No, please, no, please. -"Please, no. Please, no."

Didn't seem to have any problem doing the same to me.

Isn't that right, Janice?

With my own knife, no less.

Fucking disrespectful!

[ Gasps ]

♪♪

♪♪

[ Body thuds ]

♪♪

We could end there,

but I feel like we need a button.

Something to bring it all home.

♪♪

This might be a bit much, a little bit too gratuitous,

but let's give it a shot.

What if I reach deep into her body...

[ Squelching ]

...and pulled out her heart?

EDDIE: No.

Yeah, you're probably right.

Too much.

[ Sighs ]

Hey, you know what?

This was fun. I feel like we got ourselves

a pretty good first draft going here.

-You agree? -[ Groans, wheezing ]

♪♪

Yeah, I hear you.

Well, Ed, it's been a blast.

[ Sighs ] Great working with you.

And I got to say,

I'm already excited to get going on the sequel.

♪♪

♪♪

Sure it's not, um --

not too late to keep hanging out?

It's 8:30.

Well, this is it.

-Nice neighborhood. -JOHN: Yeah.

Yeah. It's pretty quiet, actually.

Oh.

-[ Chuckles ] Way cool. -Yeah?

It's a lot neater than I thought it'd be.

-What? Really? -Yeah.

Yeah, I thought you'd be a complete slob

from the way you ate your popcorn.

-JOHN: Are you serious? -[ Laughs ] I'm kidding.

Oh. I'm actually a bit of a neat freak.

Yeah. I can tell.

[ Clears throat ]

Hmm. Comfy.

Can I get you something to drink?

Like a glass of water or something?

-IVY: Do you have any wine? -Wine? Yeah. You want wine?

-Fuck yeah, I do. -JOHN: Yeah, I got wine.

Wine it is.

Ivy's an interesting name.

Is there a, um -- like a story behind it or --

Satan's daughter.

What?

Really?

Do you believe everything that you're told?

No, I don't believe everything that I'm told.

But I do believe some things.

Mmm.

Thanks.

-Cheers. -Cheers, big ears.

What is that?

Oh, it's just something stupid I say.

It's funny, because when I was a kid,

people -- you know what, forget it.

Never mind.

So, what'd you think of the movie?

-I thought it was okay. -Yeah.

I don't know about the whistling thing.

That whistling thing was really scary.

-Really? -Uh-huh.

I mean, do you really want to give that much warning

right when you're about to murder somebody?

I mean, whistle a tune?

Shouldn't it be like, wham, surprise,

and then you all slit their throats or whatever?

Wow. You have really thought this through.

You have no idea.

You are very funny and very cool.

I'm having a very good time. And I'm very glad you said yes.

-Mm, yeah. -I'm actually surprised you did.

I'm pretty much way out of your league, so --

You are way out of my league.

-Oh, shut up. -You are.

-You're -- You're funny. -Yes.

-And nice. -Mm.

Why wouldn't I say yes?

Um, because -- because you are -- are deeply cool

and -- and beautiful.

And I am funny and nice.

I'm just me.

-You're like an artist? -Mm-hmm.

That's so cool. What does that mean?

Does that mean you paint or you -- What do you do?

Uh, no, mostly sculpting.

-Sculpting? -Mm-hmm.

Oh, like with clay?

No, not exactly. Well, yes, sometimes I do.

So you're like Demi Moore in the movie "Ghost," right?

I love that movie.

Uh, I'm pretty sure that was pottery.

-Oh. That's different? -Mm-hmm.

-Okay. -Yeah, I'm --

I think that's as, uh, different as it gets.

-Oh. -Yeah.

Well, I would -- I would love to see your work sometime.

-Yeah? -Mm-hmm.

Well, I have some pictures if you want to see them.

Yes, yes. Bring them out right now.

It's right -- Oh, there they are.

-These Polaroids? -Yeah.

I shoot all my work on Polaroids.

I like the way it looks.

It's like, uh, capturing a dream from a different time.

♪♪

You know?

♪♪

[ Clears throat ]

♪♪

I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting that.

Yeah, it's not for everybody.

No, it's -- I get it. It's just, um...

-Can I ask you a question? -Mm-hmm.

What is this?

-A man's head. -Yeah. Where's the body?

I don't know. Does it matter?

I'm -- I'm sorry. They're just very realistic.

Anyway, that is what I do.

No, no, no. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.

I don't -- Look, I don't know anything about art.

About, like, visual art and stuff.

Painting, I don't know. I'm not an expert.

Music I know. Music I love.

When I was a kid,

I wanted to be a rock star when I grew up.

Can you believe that? I really did.

I thought that was gonna be -- You're mad. You're mad at me.

You're offended. I can tell.

-I feel like I've offended you. -No, no, no.

I can't get back. There's nothing I can do.

I'm completely 100% not offended.

-Really? -Yeah.

Really.

[ Breathes deeply ] Okay.

You know, the thing about art

is that it is really simple.

It's not about what you see.

It's about what you feel.

Don't want to leave a stain.

I believe that art is in

everything and everyone.

It's just that not everything and everyone

is being used properly to transmit its power.

I -- I have no idea what you're talking about.

Okay. For instance, this table.

-Mm-hmm. -Give me your hand.

You see it as a table

because you treat it that way.

♪♪

And you are afraid of this wine stain,

but maybe this wine stain is exactly...

what this table needs to express a feeling

and in turn transform this meaningless object

into art.

So I should -- I should just spill wine all over the table,

because that's the thing? I mean, I just --

It's expensive, so I didn't want to ruin it.

It's not about the table.

It's about how you feel.

Okay. Come on. Come here.

-Yeah? -I'll show you.

Okay.

IVY: [ Clears throat ]

Now look at me. You tell me what you feel.

I feel like you are pretty.

Interesting.

Smart. Funny.

I don't -- I feel like I'm doing this wrong.

Okay. Hang on. Um...

Now tell me how you feel.

What are you doing?

Tell me how you feel.

I feel like I don't like it.

I feel nervous and scared. Can -- I'm anxious.

I don't like it. C-Can you stop, please?

Can you put the knife down, please?

Can you put the knife down? Don't do that.

Can you please stop, please?

Please.

See?

I just transformed into art.

I went from a girl to a feeling.

And you instantly had a visceral,

emotional response to me.

That is what good art does.

I guess.

And I could transform you if you let me.

What was that?

[ Laughs ] Relax.

I was just trying to make a point.

I wasn't gonna cut open my throat on your kitchen floor.

I know that. It just -- I-I got, um --

I got a little freaked out.

I got little scared.

Oh, no.

I don't want you to be scared.

I want you to be the best that you can be.

I see great things in you.

You could be a rock star.

My rock star.

And you could be art.

If you let me help you.

Really?

Yeah. Really.

Oh.

Ah, I should go.

No, no, no, no. I'm sorry. I didn't --

-No, no, it's fine. -No, I thought --

I mean, come on. We were, weren't we?

-I'm not crazy. -No, we -- we -- we were.

We are. It's just it's getting late.

Hey. Is it okay if I call you?

I'd be pretty pissed if you didn't.

[ Sighs ]

Fuck it.

[ Knock on door ]

JOHN: Wow. You're back.

Yeah.

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪♪

Rock star.

[ Both panting ]

-This is all your fault. -What? How is this my fault?

You were his babysitter.

Oh, I was a great babysitter.

And that was like 15 years ago.

Well, apparently, he has a great memory.

You know, come to think of it, he was a really bright kid.

-BIG BABY: Waaaah! -Oh, fuck.

Oh. Oh, no.

We've got to make a run for it.

No, wait, you've got to stay here.

-He's close. He'll see us. -You can stay here all you want,

-but I'm gonna get the fuck out. -No!

Waaah!

WOMAN: [ Screams ]

♪♪

♪♪

Waaah!

♪♪

[ Panting ]

♪♪

[ Screaming ]

♪♪

[ Laughs ]

BIG BABY: Waaaaah!

I just want popcorn.

♪♪

Please! Please! Somebody help me! Oh, please!

There's a man-sized baby thing out here

and he's trying to kill me!

Please let me in!

[ Screams ]

This might be the greatest movie ever created.

Are you serious?

[ Laughs ] It's so stupid.

WOMAN: Somebody help me!

♪♪

BIG BABY: Waaah!

WOMAN: [ Screams ]

No, Big Baby, no!

Waaah!

No, please, Big Baby! No!

[ Crying ] No, no, no.

Please don't. Please. No, no!

Who's the big baby now?

[ Screams ]

♪♪

♪♪

[ Television shuts off ]

Okay, so he was so angry about being left in his crib

while his babysitter had sex with her boyfriend

that, like, 20 years later, he goes on a killing spree?

Yeah. Childhood trauma runs deep.

How would he even remember that?

I don't know. Just -- I really felt his pain.

When he cried out like that, it was just --

Oh, it hit a nerve with me.

-Holy shit. -What?

-Holy shit. -What?

Hold on.

No, you can't say "holy shit" like that twice

and the follow up with a "hold on."

What is it?

I got in. To that acting class.

That Robert Anderson Wright acting class.

-I fucking got in. -Oh, my God! Holy shit!

-Yeah, holy shit! -Oh, congrats!

Oh, that's amazing.

Oh! Oh, my God.

This is, like, so fucking cool.

Yeah. You deserve it.

[ Squeals ]

I don't know. I mean, maybe I shouldn't do it.

What do you mean?

What if I'm terrible?

You're not terrible. You're great.

Remember that Burger Barn commercial you did?

-Yeah, I was 12. -Yes, 12,

but it was a masterful performance.

I believed it.

I'm kidding. You're great.

And you shouldn't get into your head.

I should call Marcus.

That's gonna be a real confidence booster.

Why do you hate him so much?

Uh, I don't know, it's --

He's a dick.

Okay. He's not a dick.

He's just -- He's sensitive, okay?

And he has trouble communicating in a normal way with, like,

normal people.

HOPE: Yeah. That really explains it.

Besides, you know what? I'm good for him.

I keep him grounded.

His ex, Ivy, remember I told you about her?

She was a total psycho.

Like, spent time in prison total psycho.

He needs me.

HOPE: Do what you got to do.

I'm gonna get more popcorn.

-Get me some. -HOPE: No.

[ Line rings ]

MARCUS: What?

Wow.

As always, could you sound a little more excited?

MARCUS: I'm having a difficult night.

Okay.

Well, I just wanted to tell you I got into that acting class.

MARCUS: Cool.

Yeah. It's tomorrow.

He only accepts, like, a handful of people,

so it's actually a pretty big deal.

MARCUS: Why are you wasting your time with that shit?

It's not art.

[ Sighs ]

MARCUS: It's pretend, really, I mean, you know.

I'm over here struggling to sketch the flow

that's already intact within the mind,

and you're playing dress up.

Yeah, and you're a fucking snob, so...

MARCUS: Well, if a snob is someone who pours their soul

out onto the ground to be stepped on

by zombies or dullards, then yeah, I'm a snob.

Whatever, Marcus. I just want to act.

MARCUS: You want to be famous.

Alright.

Yeah, I'm -- I'm gonna go.

-MARCUS: Okay. -[ Line beeps ]

[ Muffled ] That's your man.

What?

[ Clears throat ] And that's your man.

Hey.

Let's go and celebrate.

I can't. I have band practice.

No.

HOPE: But when I get back, we can.

And I'll get you ready to act the shit out of

that acting class tomorrow.

Promise?

HOPE: Promise.

[ Sighs ]

♪ One, two, three, four ♪

♪♪

♪♪

♪ If I were an insect ♪

♪ I'd be a spider ♪

♪ Crawling down the wall ♪

♪ Trying to bite ya ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ If I were an insect ♪

♪ I'd be a spider ♪

♪ Crawling down the wall ♪

♪ Trying to bite ya ♪

♪ If I was a spider ♪

♪ I'd be an insect ♪

♪ Living underground ♪

♪ A human reject ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪ Eight legs, eight legs ♪

♪♪

♪♪

Whoo!

Goddamn fucking music, right?

I mean, have you ever really examined music?

I mean, fucking really examined it, like it's true power?

Here we go.

MAN: No, no, no, no, no. It's cool.

It's cool if you guys refuse to go deep like I do.

I just happen to choose to think about shit

like how music is the soundtrack between good and evil,

and how good and evil are, like, inextricably linked

in a metaphysical battle.

I'm sorry, but did you not finish high school?

No. No, I didn't finish high school.

I would expect someone like you to judge me on whether or not

I completed some antiquated educational system

that teaches kids more lies than truth.

-Preach. -Let me ask you this.

What's the happiest chord?

Oh, don't ask me. I play bass.

-D fucking Major. -MAN #2: Says who?

It doesn't matter who says, but you can't deny

that certain chords or chord progressions

can make you feel happy or sad or mad. Correct?

Yeah, well, isn't that the whole point of music?

Yeah, dude. That really isn't all that deep.

I'll get deep. I'm just dipping my toe in right now

so you won't fucking drown.

How did I end up in a band with you?

I fucking love you guys.

Yes, yes, it's a given that music can produce emotions.

Everyone knows that. But have you ever really thought

about the magical mechanics of that process?

Dude, we should call the band

-Magical Mechanics. -HOPE: I love that.

I arrange my flesh and bones in a certain pattern

and press them against steel strings,

and these strings have been tightened or loosened

to such a degree that it creates a blending of sound

that somehow, over thousands of years,

we as humans have decided made sense.

And then that sound travels through an electric cord,

through a wooden box, and then out a manmade speaker.

And then the sound travels through the air

and into your ear,

vibrating a piece of fucking cartilage,

sending signals instantaneously through millions,

no, billions of neurons

where -- where nerve cells connect to synapses

and then stimulates a fucking emotion.

An emotion, you guys.

I cry every time I hear "Nothing Compares to You."

She cries every time she hears "Nothing Compares to You."

Okay. You still haven't said anything

I didn't already know.

MAN: Okay, class. What if I told you that stimulating an emotion

was just the beginning, the most rudimentary of functions?

You guys ever heard about the brown note?

Supposedly it makes you shit your pants.

I'm serious. The military discovered it or something.

What if I told you that the power of music in sound

is limitless and I've figured out how to harness it?

Then why aren't we famous yet?

I'm not talking about writing a three-minute pop song.

I'm talking about note combinations

that can transform consciousness,

notes that can infiltrate the psyche of a sane human being

and unravel them into madness.

Dude, how fucking high are you?

Wait, how did you figure all this out?

Okay, well, I-I haven't figured it out completely,

but I have figured out how to exactly --

MAN #3: There it is. I call bullshit.

I have figured out a sequence of six notes

that if played it correctly will manifest evil.

I think Black Sabbath figured that out like 50 years ago.

HOPE: That's funny.

Alright. I got to get out of here, guys.

I'm fucking beat.

I'm with you.

It's been interesting, as always, bro.

-Mm. -MAN #2: [ Groans ]

Lightning.

So what are the six notes?

It's not that easy. I mean, it's complicated.

You have to be -- They have to be played in a particular way.

Like I said, bullshit.

Come on. Just tell me what the notes are.

Please. Please.

Anybody home?

Brody.

-Hey. -HOPE: Jesus.

What the fuck are you doing sitting in the dark?

Nothing.

I was, um...

I was just sitting.

What's wrong?

I, um, haven't been able to get ahold of Marcus.

He's not answering his phone all night.

Surprise, surprise.

Okay, look.

What if something's wrong? What if he's hurt or something?

What if he's just being a petty little bitch?

Hey, don't let him do this to you, okay?

He's just trying to fuck with your head

because you have something important going on tomorrow

that, God forbid, doesn't revolve around him.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're right. Yeah.

Hey. I'm still down to celebrate.

Actually, I think I'm just gonna go to bed.

Okay. Suit yourself.

But just a heads up, I will drink all the beer

and eat all the Froot Loops.

You always do. Like, every night.

-Mm. Mm? -No.

-Mm. Mm? Mm? -No.

[ Laughs ]

-Good night. -Night.

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[ Rustling ]

[ Bubbling ]

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[ Gasping ]

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[ Snarls ]

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[ Roars ]

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[ Groans ]

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Stupid.

BRODY: [ Wheezes ]

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[ Water running ]

[ Water stops ]

[ Sighs ]

[ Slice, snarl ]

Brody?

Jesus, Brody.

Are you okay?

I'm fine.

Why?

HOPE: I don't know. I thought I heard a noise.

Are you sure you're okay?

Are you okay?

Yeah.

Maybe you were just dreaming or something.

I wasn't dreaming.

I wasn't doing anything.

HOPE: Okay.

Well...

Sorry to bug you.

Hey.

You know, I don't think we'll be seeing Marcus anymore.

No?

No.

HOPE: Why do you say that?

I think something bad happened to him.

What are you talking about?

Hope,

do you know who Gabrielle Berlatier was?

She worked

in a whorehouse in southern France as a maid.

She was working there

to earn money to pay off her medical bills

after being savagely attacked by a rabid dog.

O...kay.

She was also the reason

Vincent Van Gogh chopped off his own ear.

HOPE: Why are you telling me this?

He thought if he offered her his own flesh,

it would help her heal.

That's crazy.

Is it?

Tomorrow,

at the acting class,

I really feel like I'm gonna shine.

Do something special.

HOPE: Yeah.

That's -- That's great.

Yeah.

I prepared a monologue.

Do you want to hear it?

HOPE: Well, I mean...

Yeah. O-Okay. Sure.

"The Debt," Ryan Knightley.

At the foot of my bed,

reaching,

but just out of reach,

my flesh

covers bone

shadowing the breaks and cracks.

But not the scars that rest on top.

Left behind by otherworldly creatures

masquerading as civilized men.

Death needs more yet,

but needs me more.

I am an allegoria of nothing.

A reflection that refuses to look back.

A human vampire

with endless time

that's about to run out.

HOPE: Okay.

Well...

Good night.

Good night.

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[ Keyboard playing notes ]

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[ Both panting ]

-This is all your fault. -What? How is this my fault?

You were his babysitter.

Oh, I was a great babysitter.

And that was like 15 years ago.

Well, apparently, he has a great memory.

You know, come to think of it, he was a really bright kid.

-BIG BABY: Waaaah! -Oh, fuck.

Oh. Oh, no.

We've got to make a run for it.

No, wait, you've got to stay here.

-He's close. He'll see us. -You can stay here all you want,

-but I'm gonna get the fuck out. -No!

Waaah!

WOMAN: [ Screams ]

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Waaah!

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[ Panting ]

-BIG BABY: Waaaah! -Oh, shit.

♪♪

[ Whinnies ]

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Oh, no. [ Screams ]

Waaaaah!

♪♪

Please! Please! Somebody help me! Oh, please!

There's a man-sized baby thing out here

and he's trying to kill me!

Please let me in!

No. No, no.

[ Panting ]

♪♪

[ Screams ]

Waah! Waaah!

No! No, Big Baby, no!

-Waaah! -No, please, Big Baby! No!

[ Crying ] No, no, no.

Please don't. Please. No, no!

Who's the big baby now?

[ Screams ]

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