[theme music]
[lightning crashes]
[birds fluttering]
[lightning crashes]
[music continues]
[lightning crashes]
[instrumental music]
[Clyde] Well, I can see I.. Oh.
Hold still. Hold still.
You are.. Oh! Ah, ah. Oh!
Bang, bang, Mr. Umney. You better skedaddle.
I got a big, bad gun, and it's smokin'.
Oh, don't shoot. I'll do anything.
[Arlene] Oh, just you wait, Mr. Umney.
[Umney] Boy, you're awfully slippery.
Ah. I like 'em slippery. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
You're nothin' but a high-class gigolo.
Low-class, baby.
[laughing]
Oh, gosh, you're fun.
You think so?
Mrs. Sternwood. Uh, have a drink?
Clyde, you stinker.
Mr. Sternwood was the stinker, remember?
And I got you out of it clean and square.
Oh, Clyde, I thought we had something special.
We gave it a go.
Right. Well, no more daydreaming.
I know you don't love me. You've made it more than obvious.
So, I am going to end my life.
- What is that? - Drain cleaner.
Drain cleaner? Somehow, I don't think so.
You know, Mrs. Sternwood, I don't believe
I've ever really seen you the way I'm seeing you now.
- What do you see? - You're lovely.
Cunning.
You are, Mrs. Sternwood, the last eternal mystery.
Scorching, beautiful..
...built for love.
Not the kind of woman who would ever
clean her own drains.
- Aah! Oh, my God! - Sugar crystals.
- Just as I suspected. - Oh, my God.
[phone ringing]
Clyde Umney, private investigator.
Oh, I'm a fool.
And you're awfully sweet.
Trouble at blondie's. I've gotta go.
But-but, Mr. Umney, I.. Wait, wait, wait.
Get some coffee for her sugar, will you, doll?
[instrumental music]
- Worries, Mr. Umney? - Not my style.
What have you got here, Vernon?
Why.. Why, that's Jesus walkin' on the sea of Galilee.
And my wife dressed up like sweetheart of the rodeo.
- Nice fringes. - Hm.
Vernon, you've invented something here.
We are standing in the world's first
moving-up-and-down picture gallery.
Why, it's art for the modern age.
Efficient, cost-effective..
Look out! He's got a gun!
Oh, God.
[grunting]
[clattering]
[elevator dings]
Oh, my gosh.. Officer, quick.
You're a tough old bird, aren't ya?
- No worries, Mr. Umney. - He's right in there.
[instrumental music]
[indistinct chatter]
That's it. I'm leaving.
- Where do you think you're... - Don't.
I have to turn you in.
What's your problem, Ardis?
You got popcorn for brains?
I saw what you did, Dunninger. I couldn't help it.
I was on that street corner waiting for the bus
when you pulled up and shot three innocent people.
Now, don't go soft. They were double-dealing dope addicts.
- I can't just forget it. - You can if you're smart.
If you turn yourself in to the police, they'll go easy on you.
That's right. They'll fry me nice and slow.
When my little sister was lost
drowning in sin
I just waited, thinking God will protect her
that she'd come to her senses
and it'd be alright.
You know what, Mr. Dunninger?
God is out to lunch.
Go the police, and they'll be scraping
your little sister's face off the pavement and shoveling it
in one of blondie's homemade mincemeat pies!
Let her go, Dunninger.
Bow-wow. The talented Mr. Umney.
[intense music]
Clyde, look out!
[gunfire]
[glass shattering]
Stay here!
[male #1] Behind the bar!
[gunfire]
[instrumental music]
[groaning]
[female #1] Oh, my!
[whispering] Clyde?
[distant siren wailing]
- You okay, doll? - I am now.
Come home with me.
I can't. Mother's waiting.
Run away to Mexico with me, just you, me, and the road.
It's not like that, Clyde.
- You know it never is. - It's different for us.
We're one and the same.
We belong together and someday
I'll prove that to you.
- Come on, folks. - Stan!
- Yeah, Clyde? - Do me a favor, will ya?
See that Ms. McGill gets home.
You betcha.
Stay out of the rain, kid.
[instrumental music]
[indistinct chattering]
[Gloria laughing]
[dog barking]
Shut up, Buster. Get a job.
[Gloria] Whoo!
Whoo! Ha-ha-ha-ha!
Swell.
[instrumental music]
[Gloria] Go on. One more time.
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
Wait. Come here. Come back.
There. Oh! Ha-ha-ha!
- George. - That's my...
[Gloria] Wait, wait. Now. Go!
Ohh! Ha-ha-ha!
[Gloria] Whoa. Okay, one more.
[instrumental music]
[music continues]
[whirring]
[indistinct laughing]
[dramatic music]
[ticking]
[birds chirping]
[horn blaring]
[birds chirping]
Boys, this is one perfect day.
Somebody should slap a little "R" inside a circle symbol
right smack in the middle of this day
a registered Los Angeles morning
a Louis B. Mayer production.
Hmm.
What do you say, George and Gloria?
Something okey-pokey?
Heh-heh-heh. Feeling an itchy-wincy hangover?
[cat meows]
Look! Buster, a cat!
Hey, what's the beef?
Why don't you yap when I need you to
you ignorant mutt?
[instrumental music]
- Vern. - Mr. Umney.
What happened to Jesus walkin' on the sea of Galilee?
Where's the sweetheart of the rodeo? What is this?
[Vernon] Remember, the party is on Friday.
Wait a damn minute. What party? What's going on?
[coughs] Retirement.
[scoffs] To hell you say.
Mr. Landry's coming.
Mr. Sam Landry, owner of this building.
If you don't wanna come, fine.
You've been acting crazy as a loon
for the past six months anyhow.
- What's gotten into you? - You know what.
It's the big C.
Terminal cancer? Since yesterday?
I'm retiring to Arizona.
Gonna live with my sister for as long as I have.
Ha, let's face it
I don't expect to wear out my welcome.
You're supposed to be here, right here sittin' on your stool
with Jesus and your wife over your head. Not, not this.
For how long, Mr. Umney?
And since you know everything
you could probably tell me.
How long do I have to keep driving this damn car?
[coughing]
Well... forever.
Forever, Vernon.
- You can't retire. - No?
Oh, the way it looks to me
I really ain't got a choice.
[elevator dings]
This isn't right.
You know it isn't right, Vern.
What's not right, Mr. Umney?
[laughing]
Bye, Mr. Umney.
[instrumental music]
[Vernon laughing]
Get me the file on the Mavis Weld case
will you, doll?
[instrumental music]
[Arlene] "Dear Clyde, I have had all the groping
and sneering I'm going to take from you.
Life is too short to be pawed
by a washed-up divorce detective with bad breath.
You did have your good points, Clyde
but they are getting drowned out by the bad ones.
Do yourself a favor and grow up.
Yours truly, Arlene Cain.
P.S. I'm going back to my mother's in Idaho.
Do not try to get in touch with me."
She liked it.
She said she liked it.
[Sam] Bad day, Clyde?
[intense music]
[airplane droning]
Samuel D. Landry at your service.
Sam Landry?
You're the..
You're the one that owns the building.
It's all my fault.
I'm sorry, Clyde, I really am, but, uh..
...meeting you has been, well..
...not what I expected.
For one thing..
...I like you a lot more than I thought I would.
But I've got business here..
...and there's no going back.
Yeah, y-y-you're not like any businessman
I have ever seen.
You call that a briefcase?
It's a computer, a typewriter with a brain.
Ah. Ha-ha. Okay.
I'm gettin' it now.
You carry a brain around in your briefcase.
You wear shoes that look like
Boris Karloff's Frankenstein get-up
What are you, some sort of a horror-movie guy?
No. Clyde, I'm a literary guy.
What's the writing on your shoes?
- Reebok. - Reebok?
Sounds like a dish on a Chinese carryout menu.
Oh, you like that, huh?
I know all your ideas, Clyde.
- After all, I'm you. - Yeah.
I noticed the resemblance.
Not familiar with the Cologne, though.
It's called Aramis.
It won't be invented for another 40 years or so
just like my sneakers.
The devil you say.
Ah, the devil might come into it.
Where are you from?
I come from the future, Clyde..
...just like a..
...a pulp-magazine story.
Yeah, you come from Sunnyland Sanitarium, more like it.
But not like a science-fiction story.
Not exactly.
What was your father's name, Clyde?
What has that got to do with the price of cucumbers on Monday?
You don't know, do you? What about your mother's?
Here's a couple of easy ones across the plate.
Where'd you go to school?
What was the name of the first girl
you ever went all the way with?
Okay, stop playin' games.
Where'd you grow up?
Carmel? Dusty bottom, New Mexico?
- Cut the crap. - Do you know? Do you?
Yeah. It was, um..
[Samuel] "San Diego! Born and raised."
San Diego. That feels right.
It feels right because I wrote it.
What's a Sony?
Some sort of a side dish you get with a Reebok dinner?
[chuckles] It's a Japanese electronics company.
Oh, now you're kiddin' me, mister.
The Japs can't even make a windup toy.
Not now.
Tell me, Clyde, when is now?
- Do you know the date? - 1938.
W-w-wait, wait a minute. Uh, 1939.
Don't feel badly. You don't know, because I don't know.
I've always kept the timeline vague in my novels.
Going more for a feeling. Call it Chandler American time.
- Works for my readers. - Okay.
Tell me what's goin' on here.
[instrumental music]
You're beginning to know, aren't you?
Maybe I don't know my dad's name or my mom's name
or the first girl I went to bed with because..
...you don't know. Is that it?
You're getting warm.
You don't just own this building..
...you own everything.
Hot, hot, hot.
Hot as a hot potato.
You see the picture on the wall to the left of the door?
Don't do it.
"On the wall to the left of the door
a revered leader hangs, but always slightly askew.
That's my way of keeping him in perspective."
[music continues]
You're a writer. You made me up.
When? Or is that even the right question?
You first appeared in a mystery
called "Requiem for a Lady" in 19... 77.
You've grown a lot more complex and interesting since then.
You were pretty one-dimensional at the beginning.
Yeah? What a pisser for me.
Your latest was called "How Like A Fallen Angel."
I started that in 1995. Took me five years to finish.
My life's been interesting, Clyde.
Yeah? Well, you screwed up big-time with this one.
I didn't wanna scare you any more than I had to.
Yeah? Well, you're scaring me plenty, mister.
If you created me
and you can turn George Washington
into Franklin Delano Roosevelt..
...then you can do anything.
[instrumental music]
[keys clacking]
[wind howling]
[intense music]
Buster. Here, boy.
[whistling]
George? Gloria?
It's me, Clyde, from next door.
[intense music]
[wind howling]
[intense music]
Here's to you, George and Gloria.
No more parties.
No more trips to Palm Desert.
No more Basie and Ellington
blowin' through the open window in spring.
No more of that Welsh Corgi bark
that goes through your head like slivers of glass.
[instrumental music]
You did this.
You made George kill his wife, you stinkin' bastard!
You're a clever boy, Clyde
but readers love nasty murders
because secretly they wanna be the killer
shoot the annoying neighbor.
Strangle that whining girlfriend.
Make-believe is a great healer.
Yeah? Well, it didn't heal the Demmicks.
They were good people.
You think you're god, but you're just a two-bit bully.
Why, I've beaten wise guys tougher than you
in your own books!
"His revelations hit me like some kind
of debilitating drug.
All the strength went out of my muscles.
My legs felt like a couple of strands of al dente spaghetti.
All I could do was flop back in my chair
and look at him."
That's not very good, but rapid composition
has never been one of my strong points.
You son of a bitch.
Yeah.
I suppose I am.
You know your client, Mavis Weld?
She was a character in a novel
called the "Little Sister" by Raymond Chandler.
- Ring a bell? - No.
No. Of course not.
In your world, Chandler never even existed.
But he's the man
for every mystery scribe since then.
Clyde Umney was the name of the lawyer in "Playback."
I did it as a... um, a tribute.
- An hommage. - Hommage?
Sounds like a fancy word for stealing, if you ask me.
So what did you come here for? What's the heist?
I came for you, Clyde.
- For me? - Sorry.
I'm afraid you're gonna have to think of your life
in a new way from now on, Clyde
as a, um..
...well, as a pair of shoes.
You're stepping out, and I'm stepping in.
Oh. How fascinating.
And, uh, what happens to Clyde Umney?
I want you to see something.
This is my personal diary.
Don't even think about it.
[breathing heavily]
This is stuff I didn't make up.
This is my life..
...the interesting part.
Why did you come for me?
There.
[Clyde] It's..
It's about a cemetery.
[Sam] Linda and I went to see our son's grave every week.
[Clyde] I'm sorry for you, Landry.
I can't come here anymore.
Why? Are you behind on writing the book?
How can you say that?
Because the book is all you do.
Yes, I write
in order to stay relatively sane.
But coming here is like
ripping out stitches over and over.
Well, I'm not gonna leave Danny.
Nobody's leaving him.
It's just so cold in the ground
and he's all alone.
How long do we go on blaming ourselves?
Just give me a minute, will you, hon'?
[instrumental music]
[children screaming]
Mom! Dad! Look at me!
- Yeah, they're gonna win. - Don't you dare.
- Go! Go! - Oh, yeah!
[clamoring]
[instrumental music]
[splashing]
- You owe me! - Get outta here.
Danny.
Danny!
[cheering]
Danny's at the bottom of the pool! Come on!
Sam! Sam! Sam!
Danny's at the bottom of the pool!
Somebody help!
[instrumental music]
[Linda] Dan! Danny! No!
- Get him out! - Help Danny!
Get him out!
[Linda] Where are you?
Uh, page 187.
No. Not what freakin' page you're on.
Where are you? How are you?
'Cause you're not here with me.
I'm working.
You're escaping.
Off in your own private universe.
Oh, God.
You know what? That's great for you, Sam.
Why don't you just live in your fictional world
because that way, you never have to face the fact
that we've lost our son.
I'm aware of the facts.
God. You know what?
Maybe I'm as nutty as you, but sometimes..
...sometimes I wish Clyde Umney were here.
He's definitely younger.
I mean, remember when he saved Ardis McGill from going crazy
when she lost her little sister to a life of prostitution
and, and how he consoled Mrs. Norris
and how like a fallen angel, h-he gave her hope.
He brought her back to life.
He screwed her brains out.
You just sit there staring at that screen.
Linda didn't know it, but..
...she gave me the idea to come here.
She's given me a lot of good ideas.
Not only do you steal from that guy Ray Chandler
you steal from your own wife.
I've heard of low, but that's bargain basement.
Are you getting this news flash?
Writers are the most shameless
self-centered bastards in the world.
We lie, we seduce, we'll steal your soul.
Anything to look good on the page.
Eh, you won't get any tea and sympathy from me.
I'm a bestselling author
and I don't have the words to console my own wife.
You're my alter ego.
You can do what I can't do.
- Go to Linda. Help her. - You are nuts!
Like the way you saved Mrs. Sternwood
from swallowing drain cleaner, if that'd been me..
...I would've had a panic attack. But you were great.
I'll stay right here in my own shoes, thanks.
As you say in your world, I am the man.
What the hell does that mean? We're all men.
Here. Take a powder. I got work to do.
Don't get snotty. I made you.
Oops. Did we make daddy mad?
Is that how you talked to your little boy?
Damn you.
Ah, what are you gonna do?
Turn me into a barking dog?
"Dunninger's boys knew they couldn't touch me
without bringing down the heat.
So they took it out on my girl.
Well, not her, exactly
but her little sister."
Don't do this, Landry.
"And when Ardis found the poor kid
she looked like she'd been attacked
by a circus of crazed monkeys
with Samurai swords."
Stop it, you stinkin' pervert!
"And they carved her face into monkey meat."
They killed her, Clyde, my poor little sister.
- I know. - Why did she have to suffer so?
Ardis, get the hell out of here.
I told you it would never be good.
This world of ours is a heartless maze
of greed and hate, and there's no way out.
You're wrong. The world is bright because you're in it.
Why do bullies always win?
"She was already over the edge.
And there was nothing I could do to stop her."
They don't always win. You know why?
Because there's love.
"She had taken things into her own hands."
I hear you, my darling.
Ardis, listen.
No!
[grunting]
I wish you all the love in the world.
[gunshot]
You didn't have to do that.
It's a new chapter, pal.
You think you're pretty slick
Mr. God almighty.
But you're a bush-league version of god.
I'm not your puppet. You can't control me.
"My will ebbing
I pushed on."
- "This was it." - You're dust.
- And your stories are dust. - "Final adversary.."
- It's the characters... - "The last gun battle.."
Nobody'll remember your clever...
"...coming at me
like a bullet to the gut."
But they'll remember Clyde Umney.
Ah, that's right.
Make everything stop so you can do anything you want.
Clyde Umney would never do that.
He'd call it the coward's way out.
Let me live.
This is my life.
Too late.
[swooshing]
It's my name on the windows.
I have always wanted to be a private eye.
Ever since I was a little kid.
To live in a world I could understand.
Where sweet little boys don't drown..
...and husbands and wives don't stop loving each other.
That place is here.
My place, my time, Los Angeles, 1938.
And that private eye is me.
Is this the end of Clyde Umney?
I don't exactly know what's coming.
Close your eyes.
I'll try to make this quick.
I hope it doesn't hurt, old buddy.
But you could care less if it does, you arrogant prick.
"And so I left town.
And as to where I finished up
well, mister
I think that's my business. Don't you?
The end."
[intense music]
[breathing heavily]
[Linda] Sam.
I'm Clyde Umney.
Gosh, Sam, what did you do?
You grow a mustache while I'm mopping the floor?
I'm Clyde Umney, Mrs. Landry, from 1938.
This is a little early for Halloween, honey.
Can I come in? The pool is cold.
[shivering]
What do you expect?
Nobody's used it in months.
I guess nobody would.
Not since your son drowned.
Danny. He was six years old.
Sam told me all about it.
And I'm sorry. It was a tragic accident, ma'am
and you don't need to be shoulderin' the blame.
When did you talk to Sam?
When he came into my office and stole my damn life.
So..
...this is the house imagination built.
Sam was big on imagination.
Yeah, I can imagine him.
In cement shoes at the bottom of a lake.
Sam talked about this.
He called it the big rewrite.
He was gonna write you out of your world
and write himself back in.
I just thought it was another one of his daydreams.
But..
Wait, you're..
You're as real as can be.
We swapped lives.
That's what must've happened.
What did it feel like?
There was a... a lot of bright, green light, and then..
I guess I came in through the machine.
Like a keyhole between two worlds.
But it feels alright.
Hm.
That thing is..
...black-magic voodoo.
On a good day.
Does this mean that Sam is gone?
He's probably got his heels up on my damn desk right now.
Fleecing my clients and chasing my girl.
Only, she's dead.
He probably brought her back to life, the selfish bastard.
- Do you want a drink? - You oughta know.
Oh, hold the phone.
[instrumental music]
[pop]
Hmm. Ahh.
You're a lot more fun in person.
In the novels, you're very grim.
Murder is grim, Mrs. Landry.
What the hell are we supposed to do now?
Well..
you're a hard-boiled detective and I'm a dame.
We could always find some lonely, gullible type
and shoot him for the insurance.
Irony. You didn't have that in your world.
You mean talkin' uppity in order to sound smart?
Yeah.
We had it.
[instrumental music]
Sam Landry, private investigator.
Sam Landry here.
Jes.. Ring.
Landry here.
Doll, I told ya, don't call me at work.
This is gonna be alright.
[beeping]
Ah. That's swell of you, Mrs. Landry.
Well, I want you to feel at home.
Say, uh..
Ahh.
You know how to work that machine?
Not if you keep calling me Mrs. Landry.
Couldn't be any harder than flyin' an airplane.
Like you did in wings of deceit.
You know, that was not Sam's best.
He had some success, and then he got fat and lazy.
Are you gettin' this news flash, Mrs. Landry?
Your husband cared for you, he didn't want you
to suffer anymore, because of the kid kickin' off.
That's why I'm here.
That's why everything's loused up
and somehow I gotta get back.
But you can't, because that's not the way Sam wrote it.
Well, screw him.
Sam was right, though.
Being with you is having a very positive effect.
- Yeah? - Yeah.
Well, I call it hell.
Frozen dinners you cook in a box.
Sneakers that look like Frankenstein shoes!
Music that sounds like crows
being steamed alive in a pressure cooker.
There's a lot to recommend in this world.
The sushi.
Caller ID.
Three hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets
available by catalog.
Wait a minute.
Bite me, Clyde. I'm just a tramp.
I know who are. You're Cora Papadakis.
The hellcat from requiem for a lady.
You know, Sam stole that name
from a man called James M. Cain.
He was a greedy little thief.
- You're no good. You're a bum. - Oh, God.
Oh, just relax, will you? We're a married couple.
If you and my husband are the same person
then technically, we must be married.
Ardis McGill was always supposed to be my one true love.
But wait. We don't have to play by his rules, Clyde.
We can write our own story.
Oh, let's just drive to Mexico, baby
just you, me, and the road.
Let's make a baby.
I know it's gonna look..
...just..
...like you.
When did you open shop, Detective Landry?
A few chapters ago.
[grunts]
I see.
So.. What up?
[chuckling]
Um..
You suspect your wife of fooling around?
[bell ringing]
- Hi, Mr. Landry. - Candy?
No, thanks.
I'm here to clean your pool.
Oh. So that's what they're callin' it these days.
[chuckling] Yeah.
So, you look good.
How's the writing going?
Peachy.
[instrumental music]
I'm home, honey!
- Bang bang! - No! Whoa!
- Ah! - Ho-ho! No! No.
- Yeah, you better run. - Ha-ha!
I got a big, bad gun, and you're gonna get it.
Don't shoot. Don't shoot. I'll do anything.
Danny's at the bottom of the pool!
Danny's at the bottom of..
[Linda] Sam! Sam! Go! Sam! Go!
Mom!
Don't shoot. I'll do anything.
- Get out! - Whoa!
- Whoa! Wai.. - Leave my boy alone!
- Lousy, two-faced.. - Alright, calm down. Calm down.
Washed-up divorce detective with bad breath.
Calm down. Calm down, Mrs. Landry.
I just want Sam and Danny.
Get ahold of yourself, Mrs. Landry.
I thought we could start over.
I thought we could have a baby
and it would look just...
Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh, shh.
No.
I bought clothes.
I was gonna surprise you with a second honeymoon.
Or first, or whichever, but..
You're with her.
It's never gonna change, Mrs. Landry.
This is who I am. This is how it's written.
No. No.
Because Sam changed the ending.
Sam thought he was god, but he forgot one thing.
Character is destiny.
Clyde Umney's never gonna change.
If it makes you feel any better, I don't wanna be here either.
In this groaning world of yours
with its freight of disease and senseless violence.
[instrumental music]
Oh.
Just go.
Just go back to wherever it is you came from.
In a snap, Mrs. Landry.
Only, God didn't leave the directions.
- I know she is. - How do you know?
- I saw them together. - You saw them together.
So that's how you..
...put it together.
- Yes. In the toolshed. - Mm-hmm.
What, may I ask..
[sighs] Of course, you may ask. You ask him.
What were they doing in the toolshed?
Is it necessary to go into such personal details?
That's why they say "Private"
in private eye, Mr. Woolrich.
That's pretty good.
[instrumental music]
[siren blaring]
- We need a nurse in here. - Right there.
His pupils are fixed and dilated.
- Okay. Let's move him. - Yes, doctor.
One, two..
We're losing him.
[instrumental music]
[thunder rumbling]
[music continues]
[wind whooshing]
[screaming]
- No. - Detective Landry.
No. No.
- What on earth? - No.
[crashing]
[car alarm blaring]
[instrumental music]
What have I done?
What didn't I do?
[music continues]
[Clyde] "Ardis McGill was a really great gal.
I mean, really great.
In the sense that you'd never met anyone like her before."
Take me back.
Through the looking glass.. now.
Wow.
Honey, that's really bad.
Okay, okay, it isn't perfect.
[scoffs] It sucks.
- But who says you can't learn? - God.
I guess it's a one-way thing. You can't just type the words.
You gotta be a real writer.
Which is what?
A writer wakes up with his mouth full of pity.
Hemingway said that.
How did I know? I didn't. It was Sam.
Sam's the real writer.
I'm just me.
Forget it, baby.
No. I'm gonna get better at this.
Did you read that, Sam?
I'm comin' after you.
I found my way in.
I can see you, but I don't think you'll be able to see me.
Not until I wrap my hands around your neck.
[chuckling]
Until next time, pal.
[instrumental music]
[music continues]