- He had a live-in nurse but...
- She was nothing but a bother.
I not like her.
Mr. Jimmy not like her.
It be better if you
live in again, Mr. David.
- Hanna, stop it.
- Shh.
If there's any emergency,
you call me in New York.
Yes, I call.
- Uh, Mr. Jimmy, more coffee?
- What?
Oh, well, yes.
Why not?
Just half a cup, Hanna.
Isn't Hanna a peach, hmm?
But she tells me that you haven't
been sleeping very well.
Well, it's these ridiculous
pills they prescribe.
For instance, the Luminal.
If I take it the next day I go
around as stupid as a stone,
and if I don't take it then my mind's
going off in a hundred directions at once.
Then take the Luminal.
Well, yes, but today I wanted
to be alert for your visit,
particularly as I saw so
little of you at the hospital.
Jimmy, look, I'm sorry, but with
this picture and two difficult stars...
Dear David.
It's no pleasure making you feel guilty.
Go on, off you go.
You don't want to
miss your aeroplane.
- I like your new Cezanne.
- Oh.
Well.
Good-bye, Hanna.
I get the door.
Who is this new yard man?
Mr. Boom... I, I don't...
Something "B. "
I hire him while you
were in the hospital.
He came cheap.
Bells of hell go
ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me
O death, where is thy
sting-a-ling-a-ling
Grave
where thy victory
Good morning.
My name is Whale.
This is my house.
- And your name is?
- Boone. Clay Boone.
I couldn't help but
notice your tattoo.
That motto... "Death before dishonor. "
What does it mean?
- It just means that I was a marine.
- Ah, the Marines.
- I suppose you served in Korea.
- Yeah.
Well, I'm gonna
get back to work.
Well, when you're through
feel free to use the pool.
And we're quite
informal here.
No need to worry
about a bathing suit.
I got another lawn
to do this afternoon.
Oh, well,
then some other time.
Yes,
keep up the good work.
Jimmy!
- Privy needs cleanin'.
- I have me class tonight.
Don't get above yourself.
Leave the drawing to the artists.
Quite so, Mum.
To the privy.
"Quite so"?
Jimmy Whale.
Who are you
to put on airs?
Jimmy Whale.
- Is there iced tea, Hanna?
- Yes, Mr. Jimmy.
- Ah, cucumber sandwiches.
- Mmm.
An interview, after so many years.
Very exciting.
Oh, don't be daft. It's just a
student from the university.
Mm-hmm.
This way, please.
- Mr. Kay, sir.
- Huh?
Oh, yes, of course.
Mr. Kay.
I'd almost forgotten.
My tea-time guest.
Mr. Whale,
this is such an honor.
You're one of my favorite
all-time directors.
I can't believe I'm meeting you.
No, I don't
suppose you can.
And this is your house.
Ah!
The house of Frankenstein.
I thought you'd live in a
great big villa or a mansion.
Ah, well,
one likes to live simply.
I know. People's movies
aren't their lives.
"Love dead. Hate living. "
That's my favorite line in my favorite
movie of yours: Bride of Frankenstein.
- Is it indeed?
- Yes.
Hanna, I think we're going to take
our tea down by the swimming pool.
Would that be good
for you, Mr. Kay?
Sure.
- Well, lead on, won't you.
- Mm-hmm.
I love the great horror films,
and yours are the best.
The Old Dark House.
The Invisible Man.
They have style,
and they're funny!
So, Mr. Kay,
what do you want to know?
Everything.
Just start
at the beginning.
Well, I was born
just outside London,
the only son of a minister
who was also a schoolmaster.
Grandpapa was a bishop,
Church of...
Stop lagging behind, Jimmy.
We'll be late for church.
Come on!
Stop lallygagging!
Straighten up, son.
They'll think you're a Nancy boy.
Mr. Whale?
Your father
was a schoolmaster?
Yes, of course.
And I was going to go up to Oxford.
But the war broke out
and I never made it.
You cannot imagine what life
was like after the Armistice.
The '20s in London.
A break with everything
dour and respectable.
I had a knack
with pencil and paper,
so I was hired to design
sets for stage productions.
Ah.
Yes.
Help yourself.
Cucumber sandwiches.
Thank you, Hanna.
And you can go now.
There was one play
in particular,
a beautiful, grim study of
war called Journey's End.
Every experienced director
turned it down. Not commercial.
So I offered myself.
Journey's End made the careers
of everyone associated with it.
It was only a matter of time
before Hollywood beckoned.
How much longer before
we get to the horror movies?
Am I right in assuming, Mr. Kay, that
it is not me that you are interested in,
but only my
horror pictures?
No, but it's the horror movies
you'll be remembered for.
I'm not dead yet, Mr. Kay.
No.
Uh, I never said you were.
Or will be soon.
So, Journey's End brought
you to Hollywood.
I've got a little proposal.
This line of questioning
is getting old.
- Don't you think?
- I don't mind.
Well, I do.
Let's make it more
interesting for me.
I will answer truthfully any
question that you put to me,
and in return, for each answer you
will remove an article of clothing.
I thi...
That's funny, Mr. Whale.
Yes, it is, isn't it?
My life as a game
of strip poker.
Shall we play?
So the rumors are true then.
Oh?
What rumors would those be?
That you were
forced to retire...
because of,
um, a sex scandal.
A homosexual scandal,
you mean.
For me to answer a
question of that magnitude,
you'll have to remove
both your shoes and socks.
You're a dirty old man.
Oh.
Oh, it is kind of you to indulge
your elders in their vices,
just as I indulge
the young in theirs.
No, there was no scandal.
My only other vice.
I expect you'd like a fuller
answer to that question.
It'll cost you your jacket.
Too warm for
a jacket anyway.
You must understand how
Hollywood was 20 years ago.
If you were a star nobody cared
a tinker's cuss who you slept with,
so long as you kept
it out of the papers.
As for us directors, well, outside Hollywood
who even knows who George Cukor is,
much less what he gets up to with
those boys from the malt shops?
George Cukor?
Who made A Star is Born?
Take off your shirt,
and I'll tell you all about it.
George is famous for his
Saturday dinner parties.
Great writers, artists,
society folk,
all rubbing elbows
with Hollywood royalty.
But how many of those
oh-so-proper people...
know about the Sunday
brunches that follow?
Armies of trade
eating up the leftovers,
followed by some strenuous
fun and frolic in the pool.
Can we talk about
the horror movies now?
Certainly.
Is there anything in particular
that you want to know?
Will you tell me
everything you remember...
about making Frankenstein?
Ohh.
Can that count
as one question?
- Of course.
- I can't believe I'm doing this.
Just like going swimming,
isn't it?
Well, maybe you'd like a swim
when we're through.
I don't swim myself,
so the pool tends to go to waste.
Okay.
Frankenstein.
Who came up with the
monster's makeup and look?
Oh, my idea, mostly,
from my sketches.
Big, heavy brow.
The head flat on top so you could take
out the old brain and put in the new...
like tinned beef.
He's one of the great
images of the 20th century,
more important
than the Mona Lisa.
Oh, don't be daft.
It's just makeup and padding
and a big actor.
It's hardly the Mona Lisa.
Boris Karloff.
How did you ever think of
casting him as the Monster?
He'd never even starred
in a movie before that.
Mr. Whale?
Is something the matter?
Mr. Whale?
Please excuse me.
Are you all right?
Just...
need to lie down.
Studio. There's a day
bed in the studio.
Oh, my God. Mr. Whale,
what's wrong? Is it your heart?
No, head, not heart.
Water.
Glass is in sink.
Which ones?
I bring them all.
Luminal.
Mr. Kay,
you're not dressed.
I was gonna go swimming.
So you were.
Mmm.
You should probably go home.
You must think
I'm terrible, Hanna.
I don't think you're
anything anymore.
Just back from the hospital,
already you're chasing after boys.
Oh, shut up.
All we did was talk.
Perhaps I should get you uphill
before the pills knock you cold.
No, no, no, no, no.
Please, no.
Let me stay here.
Thank you.
Quiet on the set, please.
- You're a disgrace!
- Mr. Whale?
- Jimmy, privy needs cleanin'.
- Mr. Whale.
Open your eyes.
Now look left.
That's right.
And breathe out.
Good.
Let's see what we've got.
You're a lucky man,
Mr. Whale.
Whatever damage was
done by your stroke,
it left your motor abilities
relatively unimpaired.
Yes, Dr. Payne, but what about
from the neck upwards?
- What's the story there?
- That's what I'm trying to explain.
The central nervous
system selects items...
from a constant
storm of sensations.
Whatever was killed
in your stroke...
seems to have short-circuited
this mechanism.
So you're saying there's an electrical
storm going on inside my head.
Well, that's as good a
way as any to describe it.
- I've seen far worse cases.
- What about all the rest?
The killing headaches.
The phantom smells.
My inability to
close my eyes...
without thinking of a hundred
things simultaneously.
I've never encountered the
olfactory hallucinations before,
but I'm sure they're related.
- So, what do I do?
- Take the Luminal to sleep...
and whenever you feel
an attack coming on.
What you're saying is that this isn't
just a case of resting until I'm better,
but that my condition will continue
to deteriorate until the end of my life.
You will take them all,
Mr. Jimmy.
Yes.
Don't you worry, Hanna.
- Good night.
- Thank you.
Ohh!
Oh!
Ohh!
Shit.
Everything all right, Mr. Boone?
Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.
It got away from me.
I was just going to buzz Hanna
to bring down some iced tea.
I'd like it very much
if you'd join me.
I kinda stink to high
heaven right now.
Let me ask Hanna
to bring tea for two.
Or would you prefer a beer?
Uh, no. Thanks.
But tea is fine.
Splendid.
Come in, Mr. Boone.
This is my workshop, my studio.
Hardly somewhere where a sweaty
workman should feel out of place.
- Are these your paintings?
- Uh, yes. Yes.
Excuse me,
but, uh, are you famous?
Oh, well, you know what they say:
If you have to ask...
Look, I'm just a guy
who cuts lawns, but, uh,
some of these
do look familiar.
That's because they were
familiar when I painted them.
The one you're looking at is
a copy of a Dutch still life...
done nearly 300 years ago.
And there's a Rembrandt
here somewhere.
Yeah, copies.
I, I... I got ya.
But before I retired, you might
say I had my time in the sun.
Fame, as it were.
- Tell me, do you like motion pictures?
- Yeah, sure. Everybody does.
- Why? Were you an actor?
- Oh, good Lord, no!
No... Well, actually,
I was, in my youth.
But never in Hollywood, no, no.
No, here I was
merely a director.
Really?
- What were some of your movies?
- Oh, this and that.
The only ones you may have heard
of are the Frankenstein movies.
Frankenstein? And, um, uh,
Bride of Frankenstein?
- And Son of, and the other
ones too? - Uh, no.
I, I just directed the first two.
The others were done by hacks.
Yeah, but still, I mean,
those were big movies.
- You must be rich.
- Merely comfortable.
Look, Hanna's here with our refreshments.
Could you get the door?
Yeah.
Uh...
How are you feeling,
Mr. Jimmy?
How's your mind today?
My mind is lovely.
And yours?
Uh, remember what
the doctor tells us.
Yes, yes, yes. I have invited
Mr. Boone in merely for a cup of tea.
We'll have a brief chat,
and then he'll finish the yard.
I am not forgetting
your last "brief chat. "
Will you go away?
We can manage.
He looks plenty big.
He won't need my help
if anything goes "flooey. "
Go.
Avaunt.
Comic maid.
No, she's a love, Hanna. But when
they're in your employ too long,
servants begin to think
they're married to you.
Please sit down,
and do help yourself, Mr. Boone.
So, what did she mean by
things going all "flooey"?
I'm recently returned
from a spell in hospital.
- What happened?
- Nothing serious.
Touch of stroke.
Huh.
You must excuse
my staring,
but you have the
most marvelous head.
- Huh?
- To an artistic eye.
- Have you ever... modeled? - What,
you mean, like, posed for pictures?
Sat for an artist?
Been sketched?
Mmm, n...
What's to sketch?
You have the most...
architectural skull.
And your nose, it's...
very expressive.
- Broke is more like it.
- Mmm.
Oh, sorry to go
on like this.
It's just the Sunday
painter in me.
I quite understand
your refusal.
It's a great deal
to ask of anyone.
You mean, you really
want to draw me?
I would pay for the privilege
of drawing that head.
It's just my head you want
to draw? Nothin' else?
And what are
you suggesting?
That you'll charge extra if I include
a hand or a bit of shoulder?
No, I mean,
you don't wanna...
draw pictures of me in
my birthday suit, do you?
I have no interest in
your body, Mr. Boone.
I can assure you of that.
Well, uh...
Yeah.
Why not?
I mean, hell,
I could use the money.
Excellent.
Here are the trade
papers you wanted.
Hello? Hi.
I know you already paid me.
- I'm just here to...
- The master is waiting for you.
He's down in his studio.
Here.
Take this with you.
Uh, I'm sorry, lady.
You're gonna have to take this.
I'm just here so he
can draw my picture.
I'm keeping away. What you
are doing is no business of mine.
- What are you talking about? - What kind
of man are you? Are you a good man?
Yeah. Something about me
make you think I'm not?
- You will not hurt him? - I'm gonna sit in
a chair, and he's gonna draw my picture.
Is that gonna hurt him?
No.
I'm sorry.
Forget everything I said.
I will take the tray.
Yeah, you do that.
Ah, Mr. Boone.
Come into my parlor.
Ah, Hanna.
Good.
Thank you.
And, Hanna, good-bye.
Now, I'm sure you'd like to wet
your whistle while I work. Hmm?
Oh.
Beer.
And we'll take it, uh,
slowly today...
because this is your
first time modeling.
- Oh, hey, did you see this?
- Hmm?
- They're showing one of your movies
tomorrow night. - You don't say.
- Which picture?
- Uh, Bride of Frankenstein.
Ah.
Mmm.
No, I much prefer
The Invisible Man or Showboat.
Right.
Now, shall we begin?
Yeah. I'm, uh...
I'm ready when you are.
- Oh, that shirt, Mr. Boone.
- Hmm?
Oh, it's new.
Yes, I, I am sorry. It's just too white.
It's too distracting.
Would it be asking you
too much to take it off?
Well, I'm not wearing
an undershirt today.
Oh, pish posh.
I'm not your Aunt Tillie.
You did say that you just
wanted to draw my face, right?
Oh, well, if it's going to make
you feel uncomfortable,
perhaps we can find
something else for you to wear.
Now, um...
Yes, we could drape this
across your shoulders like a toga.
Would that help you overcome
your schoolgirl shyness?
All right, all right.
I'll take the shirt off.
Kinda warm in here anyway.
Oh, yes.
That's better.
Now...
And if you'd like to sit
slightly sideways... to me.
That's right. And then just put
your arm on the box there.
Just so.
Why don't you take a picture?
It'll last longer.
That's exactly
what I'm going to do.
Yeah.
Mm-hmm.
It's just like
being at the doctor.
You have to remain perfectly still
while I examine and scrutinize you.
Dripping.
Huh?
Do you ever eat dripping
in this country?
The fats from roast
and such...
kept congealed in a jar...
and then used like butter
on bread and toast.
Sounds like something
you'd feed the dog.
Yes, it is. Only the poorest
families ever et it.
We used to keep ours
in a large, blue crockery jar.
Your family ate,
uh, dripping?
Oh, of course not.
No, no.
As I said,
only the poorest families.
Oh, God, it's ironic.
What is?
I've spent much of my life
outrunning the past,
and now it floods
all over me.
There's something about
the openness of your face
that makes me want
to tell the truth.
Yes, our family
ate dripping.
Beef dripping.
And four to a bed.
And a privy out
back in the alley.
Are you also from the slums,
Mr. Boone?
Well, we weren't rich,
but we weren't poor either.
No, well, you were
middle-class, hmm?
Like all Americans, hmm?
Well, I don't know. I guess you could say
we lived on the wrong side of the tracks.
Well, in Dudley,
in the north of England,
there were more sides to the tracks
than any American could imagine.
Every Englishman
knows his place,
and if you forget, there's always
someone to remind you.
Our family had no doubt
about who they were,
but I was an aberration in that
household, a freak of nature.
I had imagination,
cleverness, joy.
Now, where did I get that?
Certainly not from them.
They took me out of
school when I was 14...
and put me in a factory.
They meant no harm.
They were like a family of farmers
who've been given a giraffe...
and don't know what to do with the
creature except to harness him to the plow.
Hatred was the only thing
that kept my soul alive...
in that soul-killing place.
And amongst
the men I hated...
was my own poor,
dear, dumb father,
who'd put me into that
hell in the first place.
Mr. Whale?
I apologize, Mr. Boone.
I...
Since my stroke,
I am often overcome
with nostalgia.
Well, I'm not that crazy about the
old man myself. You know what I mean?
Um...
Shall we just have a break
for five minutes, hmm?
Spooky movie.
Just what this place needs tonight.
Couldn't get any deader,
doll. Set me up.
Your friend want one?
Yeah. One for
what's-his-name here.
Thanks, doll.
I say we let lover boy
watch his movie...
and be grateful he's not
cuttin' Shirley Temple's lawn.
- Why is everyone breakin'
my balls tonight? - Jesus, Boone.
You walk in here
proud as a peacock...
'cause some old coot
wants to paint your picture.
We're just bringin'
you back to Earth.
Sounds screwy to me.
Can't imagine a real artist wanting
to spend time lookin' at that kisser.
Oh?
Yeah?
Well, this kisser wasn't so bad that you
couldn't lay under it a couple of times.
I bet he's just some fruit
pretending to be famous...
so he can get into
the big guy's pants.
- What makes you say that?
- Just thinkin' out loud.
Well, just keep your dirty
thoughts to yourself.
All right, then. He's interested
in you for your conversation.
We all know what a
great talker you are.
Fuck you.
Not anymore, you don't.
We're watching the
damn movie, Harry.
- We're gonna watch the movie.
- Calm down.
We'll watch it.
James Whale!
Right there. Huh?
What'd I tell ya? Huh?
What should I do then?
No!
This looks corny.
If you don't wanna watch it,
just go wash some glasses.
Good old Una.
Gobbling like a turkey hen.
Oh, that monster.
How could you be working with him?
Don't be daft, Hanna.
He's a very proper actor.
And the dullest
fellow imaginable.
To a new world of
gods and monsters.
The creation of
life is enthralling.
Simply enthralling,
is it not?
These old movies
were such a hoot.
They thought they were being scary,
but they're just funny.
Maybe it's
supposed to be funny.
Scary is scary. Funny is funny.
You don't mix them.
Woman.
Friend.
Wife.
Sick stuff.
Necrophilia.
The monster's lonely. He wants a friend.
A girlfriend, somebody.
What's so sick
about that?
Do you know who Henry Frankenstein is,
and who you are?
Made me from dead.
I love dead.
Hate living.
You are wise in
your generation.
It's beating perfectly.
Oh, she's horrible.
The bride of Frankenstein.
She's beautiful.
Friend?
- You don't want him.
- I can't leave them!
Yes. Go.
You live!
Ugh.
I'm sorry, Mr. Jimmy.
Your movie is not my teacup.
Still, glad it has
a happy ending.
The bad people are dead,
and the good people live.
My God!
Is the audience to presume that
Colin and I have done her hair?
I thought we were mad scientists,
not hairdressers.
Only a mad scientist could've
done this to a woman..
Oh, no, my dear.
You look absolutely amazing.
There's no way I can compete with you.
The scene is yours.
In the sequel, James,
two lady scientists
should make a monster,
and our monster
would be Gary Cooper.
I'd have thought Mr. Leslie Howard
would be more your line.
More your line, I think.
My line nowadays
runs to Rin Tin Tin.
Colin! Here!
It's time!
- How is he tonight?
- Stiff as a board.
Yes, Colin, come see what
they've done to our Elsa.
I'm not quite myself today, Jimmy.
A touch of the flu, you know.
Now, you just relax, dear boy.
You can do this scene
in your sleep.
Hmm?
Yes.
I gather we not
only did her hair,
but dressed her.
What a couple of
queens we are, Colin.
Yes, that's right.
A couple of flaming queens.
Pretorius is a little bit in love
with Dr. Frankenstein.
You know?
Hmm?
Uh-huh?
Yes.
I think we're pretty close.
Mm-hmm.
- Shall we give it a go?
- Why not?
Okay.
Thanks.
Quiet on the set, please.
Lights!
Sound!
- Okay for sound!
- And camera.
Scene 215, take one.
Action.
The bride of Frankenstein.
Well, that was
a weird movie.
Let's take
a little walk, huh?
What do you say?
A little walk and talk?
I really feel like
talking tonight.
This old guy's exactly the sort of person
I expected to meet when I moved here.
He's really done
things with his life.
Do you realize you're more interested
in this old goober...
than you ever were in me?
That's different... he's a man. Besides,
you got no business callin' him a homo.
- It never crossed your mind?
- He's an artist.
But he's too old to
be thinkin' about sex.
All the old men I know
think about nothing but sex.
Hey, hey, hey.
What is eating you tonight?
- You picked up that girl right in front
of me. - I didn't mean anything by that.
No, I'm actually glad
it happened.
It made me wonder what the
hell I was doin' with my life.
I still have time to get things right,
get married again.
You don't mean...
You're not
marriage material.
You're not even
boyfriend material.
You're a kid.
A big, fun,
irresponsible kid.
- No, I'm not a kid.
- No? What are you, then?
What'll you be ten years from now?
Still cuttin' lawns?
Still bangin' horny divorcees
in your trailer?
Huh?
So I guess this means
you don't want to fuck.
Is that all this conversation means
to you? Whether I put out or not?
Yeah, you're damn straight.
I'm tired of playin' games.
Hey. Hey, Betty.
This is comin' out all wrong.
- Betty!
- Forget it, Boone.
From now on, you're just another
loser on the other side of the bar.
Hey. Hey!
Hey, Betty!
Oh...
- We are friends, you and I.
- Hurt my poor friend.
Isn't the monster dead yet?
- Alone... - Perfect night
for mystery and horror.
...bad.
Friend good.
Friend! Friend!
The air itself is filled
with monsters.
Does the yard man
come today?
Of course.
This afternoon.
Hey!
- Can I do something for ya? - The master
wants to know if you are free for lunch.
I tell him you'll be having
other plans, but he insists I ask.
Well, I do have a lawn this afternoon,
but I'm free until then.
Expect nothing fancy.
The master is dressing.
I'm to offer you a drink.
There is whiskey.
There is iced tea.
Yeah, tea's fine.
No, no, you're a guest now.
Go sit in the living room.
Um, I'm more comfortable
in here, Hanna.
It is Hanna, isn't it?
So, uh, Hanna, how long have you
worked here for Mr. Whale?
- Oh, long enough. Fifteen years.
- Yeah?
You have people, Boone?
Yeah. They're all back
in Joplin, Missouri.
- Oh, your wife?
- Uh, I'm not married.
Why?
I don't know. I guess because, uh,
no girl in her right mind would have me.
A man who is not
married has nothing.
He is a man of trouble.
You need a woman.
Are you proposing what
I think you're proposing?
I'm a little bit
young for you.
Oh, men! Always pulling legs.
Everything is comedy.
Oh, how very amusing.
How marvelously droll.
So, uh, have you
ever been married?
- Of course. I'm married still.
- What does your husband do?
He's dead now.
Twenty years.
- Then you're as single as I am. - No,
I have children, and grandchildren too.
I visit when I can.
Of course, now Mr. Jimmy
cannot be left alone for long,
so I do not get out much.
Poor Mr. Jimmy.
There is much good in him,
but he will suffer the fires of hell.
- It's very sad.
- You sure of that?
That's what the
priests tell me.
His sins of the flesh will
keep him from heaven.
- Hell, everybody's got those.
- No.
His is the worst.
The unspeakable.
The deed no man can
name without shame.
What is the good English?
All I know is "bugger. " He's a bugger.
Men who bugger each other.
A homo.
Yes!
You know.
That is why he
must go to hell.
I do not think it's fair,
but God's laws is not for us to judge.
So, what you're telling me is,
Mr. Whale is a homo.
You did not know?
Uh... Ye... I...
No. I wasn't very sure.
You and he are not...
Oh, no, no, no.
Hanna.
That's what I hope.
I did not think you
were a bugger too.
Hanna?
Oh.
You must go in quickly.
He would not like to think
I've had you in the kitchen.
Oh.
How are you, Mr. Boone?
- I'm all right, I guess.
- I'm so glad you could come for lunch.
Princess Margaret.
"Her Majesty's loyal subjects
in the motion picture industry. "
"Cordially invited to a reception
at the home of Mr. George Cukor. "
The pushy little...
Horning in on the
Queen's little sister,
and then offering to share
her with the whole damn Raj?
This is a world I
finished with long ago.
I've paid them no mind, and I expect
them to return the compliment.
Cheers.
I, uh, I watched your movie the
other night with some friends.
- Did you, now?
- Yeah.
Did anyone laugh?
- No.
- Pity.
People are so earnest
these days.
- Why? Was it supposed to be funny?
- Yes, of course.
A picture about death, I had to make
it interesting for myself, you see.
So, a comedy about death...
The trick is not to spoil it for
anyone who's not in on the joke.
But the monster never
receives any of my jibes.
He's noble.
Noble and misunderstood.
In Korea, Mr. Boone,
did you kill anyone?
I don't like to
talk about that.
It's nothing to
be ashamed of.
In the service of one's country,
something to be proud of.
Any jerk with a gun
can kill someone.
Well, that's true, yes.
Hand-to-hand combat
is the true test.
- Did you ever slay anyone
hand-to-hand? - No.
But I could have, though.
Yes,
I believe you could.
How free is your
schedule this afternoon?
Well, I gotta trim the hedges, and then
I got another lawn out on La Cienega.
Suppose we say "phooey"
to the hedges.
Can you spare an hour
after lunch to sit for me?
Um...
I can't.
I'll pay you our going rate, plus whatever
you would have got for the hedges.
I, I just don't feel like
sittin' still today.
All righty.
I understand.
You ever been married,
Mr. Whale?
No.
Well,
not in the legal sense.
What other sense is there?
Well, one can live as husband and wife
without getting the law involved.
So then you did
have a wife?
Or a husband, depending on
which of us you asked.
- My friend David lived here
for many years. - Oh.
Does that surprise you?
No, um...
You're a homosexual.
Mmm!
If one must use
the clinical name.
I'm not, you know.
I never thought you were.
You don't think of me
that way, do you?
And what way
would that be?
Well, the way that
I look at women.
Oh, don't be ridiculous.
I know a real
man like you...
would break my neck if I so
much as laid a finger on you.
Besides,
you're not my type.
So we understand
each other.
Hey.
Live and let live.
I hope this has got nothing to do
with your refusing to sit for me today.
Oh, no.
No, no.
What are you afraid of,
Mr. Boone?
Surely not a frail
old man like me.
Tell me more about yourself,
Mr. Boone.
Have you
a steady companion?
- Not at the moment.
- Oh? Why not?
Well, 'cause I guess you gotta
kiss ass just to get a piece of it.
Nicely put.
A man's gotta
make up his life alone.
A philosopher.
Mmm.
Thoreau...
with a lawn mower.
I like it.
Yes.
But do be careful,
Mr. Boone.
Freedom is a drug, you know,
much like any other.
Too much can be
a very bad thing.
Is that why you and, uh,
your friend split up?
- 'Cause he wanted to be free?
- Yes, I suppose.
I know it's why I stopped
making pictures.
You might not think it
to look at me now,
but there was a time when I was
at the very pinnacle of my profession.
The horror movies
were behind me.
I'd made Showboat.
Major success. Big box office.
So now I was to do
something important.
The picture was called
The Road Back.
It was an indictment of the Great War
and what it did to Germany.
It was going to be
my masterpiece.
- What happened?
- The fucking studio butchered it.
They took the guts
out of my picture.
They brought in another director
to add some slapstick...
and the movie
laid an egg.
A great, expensive bomb
for which I was blamed.
And after that
I was out of fashion.
I could no longer command the
best projects, so I walked away.
Why should I spend my time working
in this dreadful business?
- Do you miss it?
- Mmm.
Oh, it was all so long ago.
Fifteen years.
Making movies is the most
wonderful thing in the world.
Working with friends,
entertaining people.
Yes,
I suppose I miss it.
But I chose freedom.
David, of course,
was still in the thick of it,
a life chockablock with anxiety
and studio intrigue.
I didn't fancy spending my
golden years as "the friend,"
so I finally drew down the
curtain and closed the show.
And, um,
when the fetters
are loosened,
a certain hedonism creeps in,
don't you think?
Oh, there was a time when this
house was full of young men.
Some of them even posed for me,
right where you're sitting now.
Of course, they weren't
nearly so bashful.
Oh, no, this studio was full
of bare buttocks and pricks...
Mmm.
Hard, arrogant pricks.
Okay, just cut it out.
Okay?
Isn't it bad enough that you've
told me you're a fuckin' fairy?
- Now you're gonna rub my face in it?
- I assure you, I didn't mean...
Fuck this!
I can't do this anymore!
From now on, I'm just the
guy that cuts your lawn.
Got it?
Jimmy?
Come on, Jimmy.
Watch me dive.
Hey, Harry.
Set me up.
- Where's Betty?
- Took the night off.
Heavy date.
Some guy she's had
her eye on for a while.
Hey!
Hi!
Hello, Helen.
It's Clay.
No, I'm not in jail.
No, I don't need any money.
Thanks.
Is Sis there? Put her on.
There's this movie guy I met out here.
She'd get a real bang out of it.
Let me talk... Where is she?
You don't know.
I'd give you my phone number
if I had a phone, wouldn't I?
Put the old man on.
Yeah, you know, forget it.
Just let him sleep it off.
Yeah.
Time's up, Helen, now.
I'm out of dimes.
Uh-huh.
Have one for me.
Mr. Boone.
Thank you, Hanna.
I wanna sit for you again.
Only if you promise to ease up
on the locker room talk, okay?
Scout's honor.
I'm curious, Mr. Boone.
What convinced you
to come back?
I don't know.
I like your stories, I guess.
Oh, everyone's
got stories to tell.
Not me.
Hmm.
And the fear that you displayed at our
last session... how did you overcome that?
More like disgust.
Oh, same difference,
Mr. Boone.
Disgust, fear of the unknown... all part of
the great gulf that stands between us two.
Am I right in assuming that you have little
experience with men of my persuasion?
- No teammates in football?
- No.
No comrades in Korea?
You must think that
the whole world is queer.
Well, you know what?
It's not.
And war certainly isn't.
Oh, there may be no
atheists in the foxholes,
but there are,
occasionally, lovers.
You're talkin' through
your hat now.
- No, I'm not. I was in the foxholes myself.
- You were a soldier?
I was an officer
in the trenches.
- Was this World War I? - No, my dear,
the Crimean War. Well, what do you think?
The Great War.
There were trenches when I arrived and
trenches when I left two years later.
Just like in the movies,
only the movies, ahh...
They never get
the stench of it all.
The world reduced to mud and sandbags
and a narrow strip of rainy sky.
What were we talking about?
Oh.
Love.
Love in the trenches.
Barnett.
Was that his name?
Leonard Barnett.
He'd come straight to
the front from school.
From Harrow.
And he looked up to me.
Wasn't like the others.
He didn't care that I was a working-class
man impersonating my betters.
How strange to be
admired so blindly.
I suppose he loved me.
I remember one morning
in particular,
a morning when
the sun came out.
It's odd how, even there,
there were days when the weather
was enough to make one happy.
He and I stood
on the fire step.
I was showing him the sights of
no-man's-land. It was beautiful.
Beautiful.
And I was shoulder-to-shoulder with a tall,
apple-cheeked schoolboy who loved me...
and trusted me.
You will not do this to me again,
Mr... Mr. Boone.
- You will not set me on another
walk down memory lane. - I...
I won't.
I absolutely refuse.
Why do I tell you all this?
I never told David.
- I never even remembered it till you
got me going. - You started in on this...
You can't understand.
You just sit there. You let me talk.
"Yes, the poor old man," you're thinking
to yourself. "The crazy old poof. "
Why are you here? Let's get this straight.
What do you want from me?
You wanted me to model.
Remember?
Well, of course I remember. What do
you think I am, so fucking senile?
Uh, uh, Mr. Whale?
Oh, I'm so stupid.
Stupid, stupid.
Mr. Whale, you all right?
What was I thinking about?
Oh, would you go?
I'm sorry.
Please.
Why don't you just go?
I just don't get it.
First you creep me out
with this homo shit.
Then you hit me
with war stories.
And now you're upset with me because
I listened to you? What do you want?
I want...
More than anything else,
I want a glass of water.
Sick.
Thank you.
I do apologize.
I'm...
No harm done.
I have no business
snapping at you.
It was foolishness to start
this portrait, you know.
You don't want me to
sit for you anymore?
No.
Would you like to come
to a party with me?
A reception for
Princess Margaret.
I thought you said
you weren't gonna go.
If you don't mind driving,
I'd like to take you as my guest.
Yeah, sure, I'm game.
Why not?
Very good, Clayton.
May I call you Clayton?
Clayton?
Yeah, sure.
Clayton's fine.
Mr. Boone,
he's an interesting friend.
I'd hardly call our
yardman a friend.
Oh, no, but someone
you can talk to.
That needs pressing, hmm?
Do you miss having someone
to talk to, Hanna?
I have my family.
Also our Lord, Jesus Christ.
Ah. Tell me, how is
the old boy these days?
We need a hat with that.
There's a panama.
Maybe in your old room.
No, no,
in the storage closet.
Hello.
Oh, Eva. Mmm.
Hmm.
Gas masks on!
Oh, Mr. Jimmy.
That is my daughter.
She and her husband are
coming to town this afternoon.
Here.
I'm sorry, Mr. Jimmy.
I will make it short.
I will be out myself this afternoon.
Remember?
I suppose you'd
like the top down.
If that's all right
with you.
Nothing would
please me more.
Oh, good old George.
He loves to put
on the dog.
Slim pickings.
Mind you,
it's early yet.
Perhaps this is a good time for us
to go and pay our respects, hmm?
Thank you.
Thank you for coming.
Charming.
I had no idea
you'd be here.
- How are you?
- Fine.
I'm just fine.
And Your Royal Highness?
Splendid, now that I know
that you're around.
Can we get together
while I'm in town?
- I so badly want to sit
for you again. - Sit?
I've changed my hair, you see,
since our last session.
Those old snaps look
rather dowdy now.
Oh, dear.
Have I made a blunder?
The pleasure is mine.
James Whale.
I am such a goose.
I mistook you for Cecil Beaton.
It's the hat.
You're wearing one of
Cecil's hats, you know.
- George, James Whale.
David Lewis's friend. - Oh.
- I used to make pictures myself, ma'am.
- Yes, of course.
One can't throw a
rock in this town,
without hitting one of
us old movie directors.
Ma'am, may I introduce
Mr. Clayton Boone.
My gardener.
- How do you do? Clay... Clay Boone.
- Quite.
I adore gardens.
He's never met
a princess.
Only queens.
Well, George, ma'am,
this has been an honor,
and one that I shall remember
for the rest of my life.
- Great place.
- Mmm.
Hello.
- What was that all about? - Oh, don't
worry. Nothing of any importance.
Just two old men slapping
each other with lilies.
I'm sorry.
- Who's that?
- David.
- The friend I thought was in New York.
- No, I, I... The girl.
- Oh, it's Elizabeth Taylor.
- Oh, thank you.
Yes, David produced
her last picture.
- What are you doing here? - I was just
going to ask you the same thing.
Thought you were
still in New York.
I was, until last night.
I was going to call.
- David Lewis.
- Hey. Clay Boone.
Our yardman, who's been kind
enough to serve as my escort...
to George's little do.
Should you be drinking
in your condition?
Oh, David, will you
stop being a nanny.
I think I'm gonna go
and get another beer.
You should've seen George's
face when he saw Clayton. Oh!
- You didn't, Jimmy.
- I did.
Mind you, Princess Margaret's
an absolute doll.
Well, we're all equals in her eyes,
as commoners, I presume.
You only
embarrass yourself.
- Oh, dear. I'll never work in this
town again. - You know what I mean.
- Your reputation.
- I have no reputation.
I'm as free as the air.
But the rest of us aren't.
- Can't you remember that?
- No.
I never could.
I suppose you regret
having got me invited here.
I didn't ask George
to invite you.
Oh.
Well, then, who did?
I have people here
I need to speak to.
- You'll be all right on your own?
- Yes, yes, perfectly.
I'll drop by tomorrow
for breakfast.
Oh, yes.
Oh.
Oh, I say.
Thank you very much.
Just the one.
Mr. Whale!
Mr. Whale!
- Mr. Whale.
- Mr. Kay.
Bet you never thought
you'd see me again.
- I didn't know if you'd be well enough
to come to this party. - You didn't?
I'm the one who got you
on Mr. Cukor's guest list.
You, Mr. Kay?
But how do you know
George Cukor?
I interviewed him
after I met you.
I'm his social secretary now.
Well, assistant
to his secretary.
Yes, I commend you.
If you're going to
pursue poofs,
go after those who
can do favors for you.
You just waste everyone's time
when you court dinosaurs.
Don't think like that,
Mr. Whale.
I love your movies.
That's why I wanted you to come,
so I could see you with your monsters.
My monsters?
Don't go away.
- Uh, excuse me. Miss Lanchester, I...
- Yes?
Elsa.
Jimmy!
Elsa.
- How are you?
- Mmm.
I saw Una O'Connor
a few weeks ago.
She said you'd been
under the weather.
Oh, well, nothing out of
the ordinary. Getting old.
Nonsense! Ah, what's our
pesky friend up to now?
Mmm?
Is that Boris?
- Our little chum appears to be
arranging a reunion. - Oh, dear.
- Boris, darling.
- Elsa. Elsa!
And James.
James.
- How good to see you.
- I didn't know you were here.
These public revels are
hardly up your alley.
Actually, I'm here for
the sake of Miranda,
my great-grandniece.
Koochie-koo.
And what do you make
of our royal visitant?
Perfectly charming.
A real lady.
What did you expect,
a hussy in tennis shoes?
Hey, you, with the camera.
We got a historical moment here.
Come, get a picture of it.
This is Mr. James Whale, who made
Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein,
and this... forget the baby a second,
is the Monster...
and his bride.
Oh, Karloff.
Right.
Don't you just love
being famous?
To a new world of
gods and monsters.
- Are you all right, Jimmy?
- Yeah. Yeah.
Got it.
Mr. Whale.
- Are you okay?
- I'm tired. I'm a bit tired.
Are you
enjoying yourself?
No. Actually, I... I feel
a little out of place here.
Well, neither of us
really fits in here.
That must've been funny for you,
seeing your monsters again.
Monsters?
The only monsters are here.
Oh, fuck.
We left the top down.
- You wanna run for it?
- "Run for it"?
It's raining.
- Hurry! Hurry!
- Whoo!
Mr. Whale?
Mr. Whale.
Let's get out
of this fuckhole.
You sure you don't
want to wait it out?
We aren't made of sugar.
We won't melt.
"Oh, that this too,
too solid flesh would melt. "
I'm getting you home before you
catch your death of pneumonia.
Catch my death?
Are you okay,
Mr. Whale?
Jimmy, please, hmm?
Call me Jimmy.
Hanna, we need some towels!
We're soaked to the bone!
Oh, blast it.
Well, if we soil your floors,
it's your own bloody fault!
Oh, I don't believe it.
Don't worry, she'll be back.
She just can't say "no" to her daughter.
Well, you certainly have better things
to do than to baby-sit an old man.
I didn't have
anything planned.
Well, go get a shower upstairs and
I'll get you something dry to wear.
Well, what do you think?
Hmm?
Mr. Whale?
Where are those clothes
you promised?
Mr. Whale?
He trusts me, you know.
Mr. Whale?
Jimmy?
Oh, yes.
- Mr. Whale?
- Huh?
Yes, of course, uh, Clayton.
Do come in.
Now, I promised to get you some dry
clothes. The trouble is, you're so large.
You wouldn't want to attempt
to get into my pants.
- Uh, no. Definitely not.
- Very good, Clayton.
Now...
Oh, I know!
This... This absolutely
swims on me,
so that should deal
with your upper half.
And now we just need to deal
with the rest, don't we?
- Do you have any baggy shorts
or pajama bottoms? - Uh, no.
I'm sorry. Uh, my pajamas
are all tailored.
Would it be too distressing for
you to continue with that towel?
It's hardly more immodest
than a kilt, you know.
- Yes? How very sporting of you, Clayton.
- Say, is this, um, the...
Yes, it's the only
memento I ever kept.
My original sketch
for the Monster.
- Uh, shall we?
- Yeah.
When we've finished eating, if Hanna's
not back, shall we try a few more sketches?
I thought you'd given
up on my drawing.
Yeah, but I'd like
to try again.
It'll give us something
to do while we wait.
Tell me something, Clayton.
Do you believe
in mercy killing?
I never really gave
it much thought.
You must've come across
such situations in Korea.
A wounded comrade,
or perhaps even an enemy.
You know, someone for whom
death would be a blessing.
I never went to Korea.
I never even made it
through boot camp.
- But you said...
- That I was a marine, which is true.
You filled in the rest.
Oh, I see.
My old man was a marine.
Lied about his age,
and he enlisted.
- Is this the Great War?
- Yeah. Yeah.
By the time he was ready to ship out,
all the fighting was over,
so he felt like
he'd missed out.
- Well, it was a very lucky thing he did.
- That's not the way he saw it.
To him it was like his life
never really got started.
Nothing else
seemed to matter.
Certainly not his family.
Is that why you became a marine,
for your father's sake?
I figured it'd be
the next best thing.
I mean, but I loved it too.
I really... I did.
It was a chance to be a part
of something important,
something that's bigger
than yourself.
So, what happened?
Didn't have the guts for it.
- Hmm?
- Literally.
My appendix burst.
They gave me
a medical discharge.
The only thing I can think is,
how the hell am I gonna tell my father?
And you know what happened
when I finally did tell him?
He laughed at me.
Well, them's the breaks, huh?
So...
No war stories for this pup.
That's where
you're wrong, Clayton.
You just told me one.
A very good story indeed.
Whew.
This storm is
getting worse.
"A perfect night for
mystery and horror.
The air itself is filled
with monsters. "
- That's from one of your movies, right?
- Very good.
"The only monsters
are here. "
Don't remember that one.
James Whale.
This afternoon at the party when
you said, "The only monsters are here,"
I was wondering which
"here" that was.
No, I, I don't recall.
Memories of the war, perhaps.
Barnett.
Barnett on the wire.
Your friend.
Yes.
He caught his one night coming
back from reconnaissance.
I wouldn't take him,
but McGill did,
"just to give the
laddie a taste. "
They were nearly home when
a Maxim gun opened fire.
Barnet's body landed on this
wire that was as thick as briers.
It was hanging there
the next morning.
It was only a hundred
yards from the line,
but too far...
for anyone to fetch it.
So we saw him every morning stand-to
and every evening stand-to.
"Good morning, Barnett,"
we used to say to him.
"How's Barnett looking today?" "He seemed
a little peaked. Looks a little plumper. "
And he hung there...
well, at least until
we were relieved.
We introduced him to the new
unit before marching out,
speaking highly
of his companionship.
God, we were a witty lot.
Laughing at our dead,
feeling that it was
our death too.
But I tell you, for each
man who died I thought,
"Better you than me,
poor sod. "
You know, a whole generation
was wiped out by that war.
You survived it.
Can't hurt you now.
- No good to dig it up.
- Oh.
Friend, it's digging itself up.
There is nothing in the here
and now to take my mind off it.
The parties...
Well, you were there.
Reading... I can't...
I, I can't concentrate.
There's no work, of course,
and, uh, love and, uh,
painting and, uh...
Drawing, I mean.
Look.
Your portrait, Clayton.
It's all gone for me now.
All gone.
They're nothing but the
scribblings of an infant.
There's nothing.
Nothing.
You said you wanted to
draw me like a statue.
Okay.
It's going to
happen after all.
What did you say?
No, it won't do.
- What won't do?
- You're much too human.
Well, what do
you expect, bronze?
Don't move.
- I want you to wear this.
- Why?
So I can see
the artistic effect.
Your very human body
against the inhuman mask.
- Oh! Very striking. Mmm.
- I don't know.
Oh, come on, Clayton. Just for a minute,
so I can see the effects.
- From the first World War, isn't it?
- Mmm, yes.
Fasten this around the back.
Let me help you.
There.
Hmm?
Uh...
now what?
All right,
let's take it off.
Uh, it's too tight.
I can't breathe.
Oh, no, I, I, leave it.
I'll help.
Leave it to me.
Wha...
Can you...
I'm still here.
All right.
Mr. Whale.
Oh, what steely muscles
you've got there.
Just take the fuckin'
mask off me now, okay?
- What a solid brute you are.
- Hey... Oh...
Hey... Hey, just get your
fuckin' hands off me!
It's no use, Clayton. I can't
hear you. I can't hear a word.
Oh, well, then, maybe this.
Hey, hey, hey, hey!
- Ohh!
- Yes!
- Now I've got you! How will you ever
get yourself back? - Get off me!
I told you, I'm not that way! Get it
through your fuckin' head, all right?
You feel so good,
Clayton.
Didn't even sting!
Wait till I tell my friends about this.
Won't they be surprised.
I haven't done
anything with you...
You undressed for me. I've been
kissing you. I even touched your prick!
- How will you ever be able to live with
yourself? - What do you want from me?
I want you to kill me.
What?
Break my neck.
Come on, strangle me. It'll be so
easy to choke the life out of me.
Oh, God.
We've come this far.
I'm losing my mind.
Every day a new piece of it goes,
and soon there'll be none of it left.
But if you kill me,
death will be bearable.
You could be my
second monster.
Come on.
Please, do it now.
Make me invisible.
I am not...
your monster!
You're a bloody pussycat.
My deepest apologies.
Can you ever forgive me?
No, I suppose not.
I've got to go to bed.
Are you okay?
Oh, Clayton.
Do you need some help?
Pray you undo this button.
I don't seem to be able to
manage it when I'm tired.
Do you believe people come
into our lives for a purpose?
Okay, I can manage now.
Oh.
When you die, make sure that your
brain is the last organ to fizzle.
You'll feel better tomorrow.
Good night.
Good night.
Hello?
Oh, hello, Mr. David.
No, he did not tell me, but that's
no problem. I make the breakfast.
10:00. Yes, very good.
Good-bye.
Hanna, this is not
what you think it is.
Aah!
I brought you your clothes. Get dressed
and go. We have guest for breakfast.
I need to talk to you
about Mr. Whale.
Nothing you could say
would surprise me.
Maybe, but I still need to talk to you
about him. Let me have a cup of coffee.
I blame my daughter for
keeping me out so late.
I only hope you did
not get him excited.
You could give
him new stroke.
- Why do you do it, Hanna?
- What I do?
Why do you take care of him like
he was your own flesh and blood?
It's my job. I did it when
he was happy; it was easy.
It's only fair I do
it now he is ill.
Oh, enough of this talk.
I must go wake the master.
Mr. Jimmy,
good morning.
Mr. Jimmy?
What have you
done with him?
- You look for him.
- I put him to bed last night.
Mr. Jimmy?
Mr. Jimmy!
Mr. Jimmy!
Oh!
Mr. Jimmy!
Mr. Jimmy!
You son of a bitch!
Oh!
No! No! No!
Mr. Jimmy! Jimmy!
Jimmy!
He wanted me to kill him,
and then he did it himself!
I didn't do this!
Mr. Jimmy.
Ohh.
It says here, "Good-bye. "
I find in his room.
Sorry, he says.
He's had wonderful life.
Oh, my Mr. Jimmy.
Poor, foolish man.
You could not wait for God
to take you in His time?
You must leave.
You were not here this morning.
Look, I did not do this.
- Police will not know that. They will
want to investigate. - We got a note.
You want them to question
you about Mr. Jimmy?
Please, Clayton, it's better
that I find the body alone.
How are you gonna explain how
you got him out of the water?
You're right.
Uh, we must put him back.
W...
Uh...
Oh, Mr. Jimmy, we do
not mean disrespect.
- You will keep better in water.
- God.
Who are you?
I think you're a
stranger to me.
I cannot see you.
I cannot see anything.
You must please excuse me,
but I'm blind.
Perhaps you're afflicted too.
We shall be friends.
It's very lonely here,
and it's been a long time since
any human being came into this hut.
I'll look after you,
and you will comfort me.
No, no.
This is good.
Smoke.
You try.
Smoke.
Mmm!
Good! Good!
Good...
I was all alone.
It is bad to be alone.
Alone bad.
Friend good.
Friend good!
Time for bed, sport.
What did you think
of the movie?
Pretty cool.
- Better than most monster movies.
- Yeah?
I knew the guy who made it.
- Come on, Dad. Is this another
one of your stories? - No.
It's the original sketch
of the Monster.
Is this for real?
Clay, the trash,
before it rains.
Come on.
sync, fix: titler