THE MAGICIAN – Well?
– What? – Find what you were digging for?
– No, not a thing. You and your mandrake
and your severed fingers… and other mischief.
– That’s right. Spirits used to howl
so loudly in this forest that no one dared enter
after sundown. I remember it well. You and your spirits! Albert, why do you keep
Tubal on as your assistant? You should get rid of him. You hear what
your grandmother’s telling you? How would Vogler’s
Magnetic Health Theater manage without Tubal?
I ask you. Who bailed us out
in Copenhagen at night, and at risk to his own life, after our Danish tour
went to hell? I ask,
but no one answers. And who brews our potions? You’d have been
strung up long ago if people found out
what you put in them. “What’s good isn’t always tasty,”
Mother always said. In any case,
I take the responsibility. And the profits. Careful, Granny. I happen to know something. You hear that? It was a scream.
I heard it very clearly. That’s a fox. A fox? A fox on two emaciated legs, covered in blood,
with its head hanging by a few sinews. A fox with no eyes and a rotten hole for a mouth. I’ve seen them, and I know what I know. Damned if I’ll sit up there with ghosts and ghouls
howling around my ears! “Gash in the eye, blood in the mouth,
fingers gone, and broken neck. He calls you down, he calls you out,
beyond the dead, beyond the living, the living dead,
with their upraised hands…” Good day, sir. My name is Johan Spegel. I am very ill,
as you can see. Would you alleviate my suffering
with a little brandy? For brandy is my infirmity
but its remedy too. I am an actor. In fact, a member
of the famous Stenborg troupe. But my illness has put
an end to my career. Are you an actor too? Then why this disguise? Your beard is fake,
and your eyebrows and hair are dyed. Are you a swindler
who must conceal his true face? Let us rest a moment… and breathe. Twilight is falling… and this is the last day of life. I’ve always longed for a knife… a blade to lay bare my entrails… set my brain and heart free… free me from my substance… and cut away my tongue
and my manhood. A sharp blade… that would scrape out
all uncleanliness. Then the so-called spirit… would rise up
from this meaningless carcass. What are you reading, sir? A novel about swindlers. – Colleagues of yours?
– There are no swindlers here. No? An interesting book,
in any case. “Deception is so prevalent
that those who speak the truth are usually branded
as the greatest liars.” The author presumes there’s
a great general thing called truth somewhere out there. That theory is pure illusion. So much for your reading,
Mr. Aman. Mr. Tubal shouldn’t speak
with his mouth full. I find this business about truth
devilishly interesting. Yes, it’s a beautiful passion. If I say one’s rump is behind
and one’s head is on one’s neck, that’s an absolute truth,
and I like such truths. One’s rump behind
and one’s head on one’s neck? A rather dubious truth.
– I don’t follow. It appears to be
just the opposite in your case. You’re very amusing.
Almost a pity you’re dying. You’ll die too.
You just don’t believe it. A matter for the future, and the future interests me
as little as the past. Can’t you see
I’m a lily of the field? He’s dying. You want to record
the precise moment. Observe carefully. I will keep my face open to your curiosity. What am I feeling? Fear… and well-being. Now death has reached my hands… my arms… my feet… my belly. I can’t see anymore. I’m dead. You’re wondering. I’ll tell you. Death is — Most interesting and informative. Ruined financially,
wanted by the police, and now a corpse in our carriage. We might have made
a better entrance into the capital. Get inside. VOGLER’S MAGNETIC
HEALTH THEATER All of you keep quiet.
I’ll do the talking. I must especially ask Granny
to keep her trap shut. And another thing:
Granny can make things jump around. Granny knows what I mean. Tables go flying,
chairs fall over, lights go out. We all know Granny’s tricks.
But be good and behave… for all our sakes. I understand… perhaps. God, this old woman
makes me nervous. Remember what you did
in Ostend? No, I don’t believe I do. Granny’s tricks are out of date. They’re not amusing,
as they can’t be explained. Granny ought to be dead. Ah, those were merry times
in Ostend. I was thrown in the clink,
Vogler was fined, and Granny was flogged
in the square. Yes, those were merry times
in Ostend! Perhaps we should
introduce ourselves. Of course. I am Consul Abraham Egerman.
Welcome to my house. I, and particularly my wife, have
a great interest in spiritual matters, so we asked Police Chief Starbeck
to arrange this meeting here. Frans Starbeck, chief of police.
I arranged this meeting. I hope my men treated you
with all due respect. Vergérus,
Royal Medical Adviser. It’s only proper that
we introduce ourselves as well. First and foremost,
our leader, Albert Emanuel Vogler, a big name on the continent. Mr. Vogler has ingeniously developed and perfected
the science of animal magnetism. Most pleased to make
Mr. Vogler’s acquaintance. This is Mr. Vogler’s young ward
and foremost pupil, Mr. Aman. He’s displayed
the most remarkable gifts. This venerable old lady
is Mr. Vogler’s grandmother, once a celebrated opera singer. Who does not recall
Countess Agata de Macopazza? I myself count for nothing here. My humble self
has found its life’s work in serving the great spirit bearing
the name Albert Emanuel Vogler. Would Dr. Vogler object
to discussing certain general questions
concerning his activities? Well then… kindly be seated. Dr. Vogler, in our town’s chronicles
you advertised a performance promising
all manner of thrills. “Sensational marvels
never seen before. Magical acts derived from
the philosophies of the Orient. Health-giving magnets,
and spine-tingling thrills for the senses.” Is that your announcement? Sir, these ostentatious formulations,
offensive to any educated mind, are not the work
of Dr. Vogler’s hand. We’d be grateful if the doctor
himself would answer the question. Mr. Vogler is deprived
of the gift of speech. He is mute, gentlemen. Is Mr. Aman deprived
of the gift of speech as well? No. You’ve said nothing so far. I haven’t been addressed,
Mr. Chief of Police. So you hold magic séances? – We didn’t say that.
– Your friend, Mr. Tubal — We use apparatus,
mirrors, and projections. It’s simple
and perfectly harmless. Another question:
Does Mr. Vogler heal the sick? We didn’t say that. Mr. Vogler recently toured Denmark
under another name, posing as a doctor and holding
consultations in local inns. “Patients were placed
in a dim room and magnetized following
Mesmer’s principles. This led to spasms
and nervous attacks of various types. Some lost consciousness.” Why ask if you already know? There seems to be a most remarkable
dichotomy in Mr. Vogler’s activities. What do you mean? There’s the idealistic
“Doctor” Vogler, who practices medicine using
Mesmer’s dubious methods. Then there’s the rather less savory
Vogler the magician, who performs all sorts
of homemade hocus-pocus. If I understand correctly, Vogler’s
activities fluctuate unscrupulously between these two… extremes. Tell me: Does Mr. Vogler
claim supernatural powers? This pointless interrogation
is degrading to all parties involved. If we’ve acted unlawfully — That’s precisely
what we mean to find out. Forgive me. I didn’t know. Come sit down, my dear child. Gentlemen, may I introduce my wife. Mr. Vogler, I’m sorry to say that what we’ve heard so far hardly inspires confidence. Bring that lamp over here. Hold it right there. Look at me, Mr. Vogler. Why such a furious look? You have no reason to hate me. I only wish to ascertain the truth.
That should be your wish as well. Open your mouth. Stick out your tongue. I’m sorry, Mr. Vogler, but I find no reason
for your muteness. Your advertisement
further states that you can “provoke terrifying visions
among your audience.” Sir, that’s our magic lantern,
a silly and harmless toy. I’m not so certain
a toy is the issue here. Can you provoke visions? – I protest.
– Why, may I ask? Dr. Vogler is a great man
and an eminent scientist. You’re treating him
like a charlatan. It’s those around him that
make one doubt his scientific merit. Do you provoke visions?
– I protest — Silence or I’ll ask you to leave! Well, Mr. Vogler? Yes or no? Yes or no? So it’s yes. Can you induce this state
in anyone? Me, perhaps? Let’s conduct an experiment.
I’m at your disposal. No, you mustn’t. Why not, Mrs. Egerman? Forgive me. No other arrangements needed? No magnets?
No mysterious dimmed lights? No strains from a glass harmonica
hidden behind the curtains? What would you have me see? Something frightening or exciting? They must be weak vessels. Weak vessels and weak souls. You’re straining.
Careful. Try no more. You think I hate you.
You’re wrong. I’m interested in one thing only: your physiology, Mr. Vogler. I’d like to perform
an autopsy on you: weigh your brain,
open up your heart, study your nervous system… take out your eyes. Stop before it’s too late. Too late? Too tedious, you mean. You failed, Mr. Vogler, but you should be grateful
for your fiasco. You’re harmless. Why are you lying? – I don’t understand.
– We can see you’re lying. Something frightened you terribly,
but you don’t dare say what it was. Sorry, Mrs. Egerman.
I have nothing to hide, no prestige to protect. Who knows? Perhaps I regret
the fact I felt nothing. Everything’s all right, then? Then you only need my permission to hold your “magnetic entertainment.” But sir — Mr. Vogler will perform privately at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow
in Mr. Egerman’s drawing room. Just as a check. In broad daylight.
Any objections, Mr. Tubal? Splendid. – Supper will be served in an hour.
– It is a great honor — I’m sorry. Mr. Vogler and company
will eat in the kitchen. Mrs. Garp will show you
your quarters. Rustan, show our guests
to the kitchen. Perhaps we’d prefer
to stay in town. The police chief insists that Mr. Vogler
and company be our guests. – Quite an amusing game.
– What do you mean? Isn’t it amusing to humiliate
defenseless people? You don’t understand. Mr. Vergérus and I made a wager
on a question of great scientific interest. – A wager?
– That’s right. Your husband maintains that intangible,
inexplicable forces really do exist. And you deny that possibility? To accept the inexplicable would be
a catastrophe for science. A grotesque thought. By all logic we’d be suddenly
forced to reckon with — – A god.
– If you like. How out of date! Science today is
better equipped than ever to penetrate all seeming mysteries.
– Seeming? – Everything can be explained.
– You’re very optimistic. Think of electricity,
steam engines. Then our wager stands? We shall see tomorrow. Your wife seems agitated.
Is the child’s death still — We’re going abroad this fall,
and I hope — Cheers, gentlemen. To Dr. Vogler
and his magnetic troupe. A troupe with an exceptionally
troubled conscience! We must be on our guard.
They look ghastly. You’re too young
to understand, Sanna. The magician is mute.
He hasn’t said a word. Rustan says he’s pretending. That’s even worse.
I’m so frightened. Anyway, they have no money.
You need only fear the rich. It’s ghastly that they’re poor. What if they kill us
and steal the master’s money?Good evening…little maids. My name is simply Tubal,
simple as a folk tune. Let’s see now. That’s Sara and this is Sanna. Is that so? Now I know. That’s Sanna… and this is Sara. – You think so?
– We’ll find out. In a word,
we’re invited for supper. Here are the preparations,
and here are the guests. Shall we sit down? My lady. Sofia Garp, the cook. I am delighted, flattered,
and overwhelmed, not to mention captivated. Delighted. Charmed. Can Mr. Tubal tell fortunes? Mr. Tubal can indeed. Read my palm! My dear child, you’re much too young
and full of hope. I wouldn’t want
to stifle your curiosity, your joy in life,
your childish faith. One can sense
Mr. Tubal’s supernatural powers. Yes, indeed. It’s a wonderful gift. But heavy
and hard to bear, Sofia. Gracious, Mr. Tubal! It makes one hot
under the corset, yet cool at the same time. Dear Mr. Tubal,
do tell my fortune. That’s Antonsson, the coachman. At your service, Antonsson.
We’ve met. Evening. Quiet.
He’s predicting the future. Quiet, quiet, quiet… I see a light. Now it’s been put out.
It’s dark. I hear sweet words of love. No, I can’t repeat them.
My sense of decency forbids me. A young man rides
at full gallop. It’s beautiful. Sara, my child… before you go celebrate
your feast of love, take a few drops
of our love potion. Your delight will be
multiplied sevenfold. It’s a gift from Venus Aphrodite. Tubal is but her humble messenger. A love potion! – Is it expensive?
– It is costly, for it’s well-nigh
impossible to procure, and only then
under the greatest hardship. And yet you dared! In the name of science…
and of love. Might I buy a bottle? Impossible. Your means
are far too modest, Sofia. These potions are only affordable
for princesses, countesses, and a leading actress or two. But for you, Sofia,
because of your beauty, and your great hospitality
and courtesy, let’s say 13 shillings,
or two bottles for 20. It smells so strong! It is thefluidumitself. Passion in material form,
to speak scientifically. – Is it good for men too?
– Not merely good. Venus Aphrodite touches their hearts with her fingertips
and sets the devil loose! Dear God, if Mother was here! We’re out of love potion.
What now? Take this one,
for colic and bunions. What matters is
how the bottle looks and how the potion tastes. – You’re a fraud, of course.
– Of course, Sofia. But you must admit
I have a certain something. I was just thinking that myself.
You’d make a good preacher. – My faith is shaky.
– Perhaps you’re right. This calls for a private discussion. I’m going to my room. In a few minutes, go outside,
then around to the right. There’s a small door there.
I’ll let you in. You’re a real woman, Sofia. Perhaps. My husband died eight years ago. Don’t you want your bottles? Keep them. You can sell them again. Marry Sofia? Hallelujah,
brothers and sisters. It’s a possibility.
The main thing isn’t faith but power. Sofia felt the power. What can I get for this shilling? A night of love
you’ll never forget, you big dolt. No, that’s rat poison. It won’t kill the boy. Drink it in one gulp
and enjoy greater bliss than Solomon frolicking
with his thousand concubines. Why do you cry, my little ant? Are you a witch? Perhaps I am. I’m so scared
of all that’s happening, and you’re so old and ugly. You’ll be ugly too
when you’re almost 200 years old. – Are you really that old?
– Yes, indeed. – Can you cast spells too?
– On occasion. But nowadays
no one believes in my secrets, so I must be careful. Tubal says you mustn’t
offend the new faith or you’ll end up in a madhouse. How did you become a witch? I can’t tell you that. Did you sell your soul? Yes, perhaps I did. Now I’m frightened again. There, there.
Go climb into bed, and the witch
will bring you a present. Do as I say, little ant. I only want the best for you. Go on now. What are you staring at? When I passed the laundry room,
I peered into the darkness there. In the corner hung a body with a rope around its throat. I went closer
to see who it was… and I recognized him. I’m not scared of you. It was a murderer
hanging from that hook. Yes, that’s how it is. One sees what one sees, and one knows what one knows. It just doesn’t pay
to talk about it. What a life you lead, Mr. Simson. Travel, performances, parties — a life of luxury. And you meet
beautiful woman, of course. Women are drawn to magic, Sara. Especially beautiful,
hot-blooded women of instinct. Sometimes we even have
to fight them off. I remember a Russian princess with green eyes
and a lily-white bosom. But let’s change the subject. You come to know women. Just one glance,
and everything is revealed. And to think
I’m sitting here with you. You’re cute. – You think so?
– And I know what I’m talking about. You have a lovely mouth, beautiful eyes,
and a very nice figure. Mother, help me! Why are you shouting? I don’t know.
I felt a strange feeling. Especially in my tummy.
Maybe I’m sick. – It’s the love potion.
– You think so? What are you doing? Let’s each take a swallow, and Venus Aphrodite
will come and touch us. She’s the goddess of love.
Then everything will be bliss. “One does what one does, and one knows
what one knows,” as Granny says. – I think you’re teasing me.
– Not at all, my child. I’m preparing a wonderful
amusement for us both. And the Russian princess? Is your bosom any less white? No, I don’t think so. But her eyes were green. She used to close her eyes.
You can do that too. Then let’s drink. Now what happens? Now… we just wait. Here? Well, perhaps not right here. I know!
Let’s go to the laundry room! There are nice, big baskets there
full of clean linen. Maybe… we should just wait here. For what? Mr. Vogler might want something.
I think he — You’ve turned so pale. Don’t you feel well? I just remembered that this potion
can affect people very differently. It can turn some men
into raging lions. At times I’ve almost
ripped women apart. How dreadful! But I don’t want to harm you. – I won’t break.
– I see. Anyway, it affects
people differently, like I said. It can even make you nauseous. I’ve heard of people who’ve died. I think Venus Aphrodite
just touched me the right way. Maybe so,
but I’m a lot more sensitive. Don’t be so afraid, little Simson. I won’t eat you up. Look at that.
He just trotted off with her. She’s usually so standoffish. Drink. You’ll feel better. It’s so warm in here. Doesn’t it smell nice? It’s the freshly ironed linen and the apples stored for winter. There’s a bird’s nest in the window. Well, it’s very warm. You’re trembling. It’s so hot. Then take off your coat. I see Rustan and Antonsson
still sitting in the kitchen. And there’s a light on
in Mr. Aman and Mr. Vogler’s room. Sara. Where are you?
I can’t see you. Here, in the laundry basket,
where you said we should be. Well? Of course it would be easy
to seduce you. – You think so?
– Certainly. But the years make one older
and more considerate, you understand? Yes, if I try really hard. One learns not to run around
picking every flower by the wayside. You can at least smell them. I just bend over the fragile petals
and then move on. Why do you talk so much? I’m afraid of thunder!
– Calm down. You have me. That’s very reassuring. What is it?
– The love potion. Is the effect really strong? I’m sweating like a camel! More thunder!
Hold me tight. This knot is so tight. I’ll help you. No, don’t look. Another button to undo? This is a lot of bother. You don’t seem very experienced,
dear Simson. Well, I’ve been abroad
most of the time. Hush now. You mustn’t be sad, little one. It will soon be your turn. But first Granny
has a gift to console you. Is it an ear? Yes. Whisper all your wishes into it and you’ll receive
what you ask for, but on one condition.
– What’s that? You must wish
for things that live, that are alive
or will come to be. I don’t understand. No, not right now,
but it doesn’t matter. Hush now, little one, and I’ll sing you a song.The soldier stood with his gunIn the howling wind
and blinding sunIt was war
and by the enemy stalkedOn tired legs the soldier walkedThe enemy charged
from the woods that dayOur man stood
in the thick of the frayKnives flashed
and blood was spilledMany a warrior there was killedThe soldier’s face
with victory was brightHeavy poured the rain that nightThe soldier sat
by himself and wroteTo his dearest a lengthy noteLove brings solaceLove brings restLove brings strengthTo the weakest breastLove is oneCan ne’er be twainLove is simpleYet hard to explainDid you hear that, little ant? I’m falling asleep. Yes… It’s going to thunder. Far, far away. I’m not afraid of thunder. “I call you down, I call you out,
beyond the dead, beyond the living,
the living dead, with their upraised hands…” That Vogler… People like that
should be flogged. There’s something peculiar
about conjurors. Their faces set you on edge. – Their faces?
– That’s right. A face like Vogler’s
makes you furious. You want to bash it in. Vogler’s face… There’s something peculiar
about a face like that. Know what I mean, Antonsson? Someone oughta stomp on it. Faces like that… Vogler’s… the old lady’s… and Aman’s… – A ghost!
– Or the devil himself! Where’s the brandy? The jug’s gone! Is it on the floor? – No.
– Where is it? The ghost took the brandy! What are you doing? Getting ready for the performance
in the morning. One sees what one sees,
and one knows what one knows. I don’t like the smell of this. You have only yourselves
to blame. I hope they fed you
properly in the kitchen. I’ll go unpack. Perhaps you wonder
why I’m dressed in black. My daughter died this spring. Mr. Vogler… you must forgive them
for humiliating you. They hate you because
they don’t understand you, but I do. Just who are you? I recognized you the moment I saw you.
It unnerved me terribly. Forgive me for being so frank,
but I so rarely speak. No, I won’t cry.
We have no time for tears. I’ve longed for you. My thoughts have been constantly
with you. I’ve lived your life. Yet today’s the first time
I’ve laid eyes on you. Perhaps you’re silently
laughing at me. It doesn’t matter. My love is strong enough
for both of us. Now I understand
why you’ve come. Feel how my heart is beating. You’re here to explain
why my child died. What God meant. That’s why you’ve come. To ease my sorrow… and lift the burden off my shoulders. My poor husband
doesn’t know anything. How could he understand? Isn’t it terribly warm tonight? I’ve felt such anguish. My husband
will go to bed in an hour. He’s a heavy sleeper, and I put
a sleeping potion in his drink. Come to me at 2:00. I’m just across the hall
from your room. Let me kiss your hand. No… I want to. Just be still. You hurt yourself. My husband and I have had separate
bedrooms since our daughter died. I didn’t really die… yet I’ve already begun
haunting people. Actually, I think I make
a better ghost than human being. I’m finally… convincing. Something I never was
as an actor. A shadow… of a shadow. Don’t be concerned
for my sake, sir. I’ve already begun to decompose. I’ve prayed
for just one thing in my life. “Use me.
Make me your servant.” But God never understood what a strong
and devoted slave I was. So I went unused. That’s a lie too, by the way. One goes step by step by step by step into the darkness. The movement itself
is the only truth. When I thought I was dead… I was tormented
by horrible dreams. You look pale around the gills.
Seen a ghost? – Just a little tired.
– Of course. I bid you good night. My respects to Mrs. Egerman.
– Can you find your room? I’ve been the Egermans’
honored guest before. Let’s have another drink!
Come sit down! When the police chief
gives an order, you obey. What a singular magnetic marvel! Dr. Vogler’s talents
have my greatest esteem. I’m his wife. Then why the disguise? We’re wanted.
We mustn’t be recognized. Why not leave
the whole business? Where would I go? I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve struggled all evening
with an inexplicable sympathy for you and your husband. – That doesn’t sound likely.
– I took an immediate liking to you. Your faces, your silence,
your natural dignity. I only admit the deplorable fact
because I’m tipsy. Then leave us alone. – I can’t.
– Why not? Because you represent
what I despise most of all. The inexplicable. Then you can cease
your persecution. Our entire act is a fraud
from start to finish. Fraud? Pretense, false promises,
double bottoms. A miserable, rotten lie
through and through. We’re the most pathetic rabble
you could find. Does your husband
share your opinion? – He doesn’t speak.
– Is that true? Nothing is true. He has no secret powers?
No, perhaps not. I felt nothing but a certain
cool excitement. He failed. – It’s meaningless.
– So I can put my mind at ease? Yes, put your mind at ease. We can demonstrate our incompetence
as often as you like. You seem to regret that fact… and wish it were otherwise. But there are no miracles. It’s always the props and the patter
that must do the work. The clergy’s in the same sad boat.
God is silent while men babble on. If just once… That’s what they all say.
“If just once…” For the nonbelievers,
but especially for the believers. “If just once…” If just once… It’s true. You say you’re afraid? Of me too?
– Especially of you. That’s flattering. One can tolerate
your manner and intelligence. Then what frightens you? Your smile. Your kindness. You’re probably the only sensible one
in the whole troupe. Why continue down this road
to disgrace and prison? It hasn’t always been this way? No. Perhaps you once believed… that there was some point,
that it had some meaning? A long time ago. Why not stop
while there’s still time? It’s no use. – You mean that your husband —
– I mean it’s no use. There’s no way back or sideways.
Not for us. Nevertheless,
I have a proposition. When you tire of your magnets,
you can look me up. I promise to help you one way or another. And my husband? I’m very grateful. I’m just leaving. One last question:
Any more masks to come off, or has Dr. Vogler’s Magical Theater
exhausted its resources? You do me far too great
an honor, Doctor. Your wife’s faithfulness
borders on madness. Go now, for God’s sake. You think your husband
wants to kill me? Do you want to kill me,
Mr. Vogler? You hate me. I like you.
Quite stimulating. – Won’t you kindly leave.
– I shall leave. Good night, madame. Good night,Doctor!Remember in Lyon
when we earned lots of money, bought a country house,
and intended to stop traveling? Then we sold the property
and bought the carriage and horses. That’s when
you started acting mute. Remember the grand duke in Köten
who was so taken by me that he promised to recommend us
to His Majesty in Sweden? You thought I’d been unfaithful,
and you gave the duke a thrashing. We sat in prison for two months
until he forgave us. He was very magnanimous and promised to recommend us
to the Swedish court anyway. Do you think he did? No, I don’t think so either. I hate them. I hate their faces, their bodies, their movements, their voices. But I get frightened too,
and then I lose my power. What if I left you? Go on, if you want. It makes no difference. Albert… Emanuel… Vogler. You came after all. What are you going to do? It wasn’t my doing. It was him who seduced me. Are you going to strike me? No, you wouldn’t dare.
You’re a coward. It’s bleeding. Forgive me. I’m sorry. No. Don’t go. We thank you for your applause and hope you’re enjoying
our little tricks. And now,
for an unprecedented number that’s won worldwide acclaim wherein Mr. Vogler’s extraordinary
powers give even more tangible proof of the diabolical powers
behind our world order. Will one of the ladies
step forward? A woman of pure heart
and beautiful thoughts. Madame Chief of Police? This is the absolute and unprecedented
moment of truth. Through the power
of these magnets, Mrs. Starbeck will be freed
of all pretense, and every word she utters
will be the purest truth. Mrs. Starbeck, how much pocket money
does your husband give you? I object to this prank! Just a moment, sir. Don’t forget
this is in the service of science. What year did you marry? I’m not married.
How frightful! I’m far too young! – You’re not married?
– Mr. Starbeck is a carrot. Stop this disgraceful performance! He goes to a whorehouse
every Saturday. He eats like a pig
and farts at the table. Didn’t you hear me?
Stop her! He wears a wig.
He’s smelly and repulsive. Couldn’t you at least think
of our poor children? I’ve often wondered how many of them
are really Starbeck’s, though a few
are indeed stupid and ugly. Mr. Starbeck is a pig! I must go home at once.
I have a roast in the oven. You stay, dear. You need a little diversion. I didn’t say anything silly, did I? These magicians are remarkable. You’ll be home for dinner,
won’t you? I’m not a spiteful woman.
You mustn’t think that. I can see myself out. Our final number is called
the Invisible Chain. Would one
of the gentlemen volunteer? The stronger the better. Antonsson. – I’d rather not, sir.
– It’s an order. Bravo, my good man. Nothing dangerous,
nothing harmful. Just breathe calmly. Antonsson is a colossus, but his physical might is nothing compared to
Mr. Vogler’s spiritual power. Assistant, bind that man
in the invisible chains. Your hands are chained together… and your feet are also bound. And the chains
are fastened to the wall. After him! The man is dead.
No doubt about it. My report will emphasize
that Antonsson bears little or no guilt in this matter. Nor can any penalty be expected,
as no relative has pressed charges. Should that change, the matter
will be carefully investigated, with special attention
to any claims against Mr. Vogler in connection
with his activities here, claims that could amount
to considerable sums. Any objections? If no one finds cause to challenge
the aforementioned report, the case will be closed. May I ask what all that means? It means that you can go to hell —
if you so please, Mr. Tubal. I thank you for your advice, sir. But what happens to Vogler? Pursuant to the statute re autopsies
in private and public institutions, an autopsy will be performed
on the said Vogler in accordance with the decision of Medical Adviser Vergérus
and myself. Said autopsy will be performed
at once at the city’s expense and in the service of science. We’re very grateful. I thought you would be. Then it’s time to carry
Mr. Vogler up to the attic, where the autopsy will take place. For scientific reasons, Mr. Vergérus
wishes to begin as soon as possible. Like at executions? Perhaps so. We can take him up
in that black trunk you’re sitting on. Should Mrs. Vogler have difficulty
earning a livelihood, I can recommend an excellent house
where I enjoy some influence. I appreciate your concern. My wife had some amusing ideas,
don’t you think?So we carried the coffin
up to the attic.The medical adviser
and the police chief came in and lifted Vogler’s body up
onto a big table and started undressing him. What are they actually doing? They cut up the body,
pull out the innards, cut off the head,
and peek into the brain. Blood gushes everywhere. Just think if he woke up,
rose up from under the knife, got off the table,
and came downstairs. Just think if he came in and looked
at us with bloody eye sockets. There he is!
– Don’t say that! Don’t be afraid, Sanna.
I’ll protect you. The best thing is to sing
a song of trust in the Lord. You’re so right, Sofia.
What shall we sing? – Having second thoughts?
– Second thoughts? I made no promises. You sure seemed eager last night. You trying to embarrass me? Yesterday was yesterday,
and today is Sunday. “…and have not found,
as a result of the autopsy, any physiological peculiarities
or abnormalities, and must therefore characterize
the phenomena that occurred in connection with said Vogler
as incidental and meaningless, or at any rate
of such little importance as to merit no further
scientific attention.” Is that all?
Thank you for your help. I’ll send along a copy
as soon as it’s ready. Are you coming?
I’d like your signature on my report. – I’ll stop by tomorrow.
– Good day, then. Well, what’s to become
of old Granny now? Fat little pigs
shouldn’t grunt too loud. They could become bacon. I don’t bear grudges,
but I do have a good memory, especially for faces. “That was the first time the fly farted
without losing its rump” — so my mother used to say. Careful. There are homes and institutions
for riff-raff like you. You understand what I mean?
– Oh, yes. My regards to your wife,
by the way. Would you do me a favor? Please stop the clock. Hear how quiet it is? Yes… it’s very quiet. Why did you let it happen? Me? You wanted revenge. I don’t know
what you’re talking about. Vergérus surprised me.
I had no say in the matter. You wanted revenge. A strange sort of revenge! Yes… very strange. Revenge! I can’t bear it any longer.Manda?Don’t turn around.Go and lock the attic door.Don’t ask questions.
Do as I say.It’s hot up here. A momentary nausea. A tool of some kind… Either this is a dream
or I’m losing my mind. Since it’s inconceivable
that I’ve lost all reason, I’ll just wait till I wake up. Very interesting indeed. Leave him alone. You induced
a momentary fear of death. Nothing more. Nothing else.
– Leave him alone, I say. May I have a little money?
We don’t have a shilling. We’re broke. At least a few coins
for our performance. You stare like
you’ve never seen me before, yet we were soul mates. I’ve never seen you before. I don’t know you. I was in disguise.
Does that make any difference? Ask your husband.
We don’t need a lot. Don’t touch me! Mr. Vergérus! Will you help me? Convince the police chief
to let us leave. I promise we won’t come back. I’d like to know
just whom I dissected. A poor actor whose greatest wish
was to be cut open and scraped clean. So you were never dead —
perhaps not even unconscious. Yes, it was a cheap trick. – Are you even sure you’re Vogler?
– I think so. Not some actor
or someone else? Mock me if you like,
but help me. You said
you’d taken a liking to us. I liked his face more
than I like yours. Put on your disguise again
so I recognize you. Then perhaps
we can discuss your situation. You are ungrateful, sir! Didn’t I do
everything in my power to allow you to feel
something? It was a miserable performance,
but of course you should be paid. Take a good look at that man, then tell me if I won our bet. You’re right. I lost.Simson, go hitch up the horses.
We’re leaving.Would you help us pack,
Mr. Tubal? I’m staying here. My path leads elsewhere. One should live for the hereafter,
as Sofia says. A higher goal, you understand. More meaning
and fewer apparatus. No, I’m not going with you. You’re looking at my pouches and wondering, aren’t you?
Go ahead and look. There are 6,000riksdalerhere that Granny collected
over the years and buried here and there. Granny’s potions. People will pay anything for love. Didn’t know that, did you? Good-bye, Albert. I’m off. I’ve always said you were
a foolish and reckless man. One should know one’s limitations. Help me down. There goes the rabble.
I won’t miss them. – Nor will I.
– Me neither. – Come along, Tubal.
– What? Again, Sofia? But — I’m coming, Sofia. May I please go with you? I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
I must be crazy. It must be that love potion. I can’t think the way
I told myself to. Go get your things.
Hurry now! Thank you so much! Simson, I’m coming with you!
– I’ll help you! What’s taking them so long? We have to get away. If we can just get out of town. Too late… too late. You were lucky, Tubal. Who are you, sir? This is the mesmerizer
Albert Emanuel Vogler, whom we thought
we autopsied a few hours ago. Mr. Vogler deceived us
in his own special way. I can’t be sure,
but it’sprobablyMr. Vogler who stands there,
wrapped in a blanket. Congratulations. “I have the pleasure
to inform you as follows: His Majesty the King has expressed
his desire to witness one of Vogler’s
magnetic performances. I am hereby ordered to conduct
the said Vogler to the royal palace so that arrangements may be made
for the evening’s entertainment. Issued at the Royal Palace, July 14, 1846.
Marshal of the Royal Court.” I trust you won’t mention
a word of what’s transpired. For your own sake. It’s high time you be off,
Dr. Vogler. Gather my apparatus
and send them to the palace. But be careful.
They’re very valuable. My darling Simson! Not now, for God’s sake!