Shock Corridor Page #2

- Formal complaint?

Now what can you expect from a stripper?

Sis, come in here and explain how

you dreamed this whole thing up.

Please. Mr. Barrett, please.

- Sit down.

- Uh -

Please?

- Your father living?

- No.

- Did you like him?

- Of course.

- Any brothers?

- No.

- Any other sisters?

- Just Cathy, and that's enough.

- Mother living?

- No.

- Did you ever want your mother?

- What?

What are you saying?

That's a filthy thing to say to me!

Please.

We're here to help you.

You, uh -

- You love Cathy, don't you?

- She's my sister.

- You love her like a woman, don't you?

- I would never let a meathead have her, no.

Mothers and fathers have the same fears.

- You understand me, don't you?

- Of course. Of course.

Tell me, when was the first time

you felt differently toward your sister?

Well, there must have been a first time.

When I was 14.

Look at the way his eyes lit up.

He's got me talkin'.

He's a happy little rascal.

Maybe younger, when I was 10.

Now if you'd just ask me

what made me feel different...

this story will write itself!

What made you feel differently toward her?

Her braids.

Tell me about her braids.

I caressed them...

kissed them.

Did you pull on them?

I'd never hurt her.

The next question's gotta be

about fetishist, according to Doc Fong's script.

Oh, I don't like this.

He's stalling too much.

If he doesn't come through with that question,

I'll fall right on my typographical face.

Do you know what a fetishist is?

There's no contest in this.

Sure, I know.

As a reporter, did you ever cover a story...

where a man became intensely excited

whenever he saw a woman with long hair...

long, loose hair?

Yes.

- Did he make love to her?

- Yes, he killed her.

You don't want to wake up some fine morning

to learn you killed your sister.

Oh, now, Doctor, I'm no epileptic

with some kind of fetish for hair!

- Of course, Cathy - Now, her hair is different.

- I understand.

- I figured you would. Yes.

- I understand.

Didn't you threaten to commit suicide

if she ever got married?

Didn't you threaten your sister

if she wouldn't let you make love to her?

- That's different.

- Why?

- Because she's different.

- Why is she different?

- Because!

- Because why?

Because I want her,

and nobody's gonna keep her from me!

I want her, Doc!

Cathy! Cathy!

Cathy! Cathy!

Cathy! Cathy!

Cathy!

Cathy! Cathy!

Cathy! No!

Overlapping Voices]

Personality synthesis. Test emotional state.

emotional tendencies.

personality synthesis.

Emotional state.

You were a healthy lover,

until you started this crazy idea.

And now it's consumed you.

You made a nervous wreck out of me.

Well, reverse the situation, Johnny.

What if I -

I were going away on a trip

that could separate us for weeks...

or months?

Would you help me...

put a gap between us?

The drama critic on your paper...

said my "Chablis-tinted hair...

"is like a soft halo...

"over wide-set...

inviting eyes."

And my mouth -

my mouth was a lush tunnel...

through which golden notes came.

Stop it, Cathy.

And my movements...

evoke the most inflammatory passions...

in all -

I miss you, Cathy.

My yen for you goes up and down

like a fever chart.

- I love you, Cathy.

- I don't like being alone, Johnny.

But you made me be alone, Johnny.

And I have a right...

to find another Johnny.

No!

Let me have his frequency table.

Yeah. Yeah. Mm-hmm.

Shows a culmination of

internal sexual conflict...

generally of old standing...

and based on a constitutionally determined

chaotic sexual pattern.

There's no doubt.

"His pattern of symptoms...

"in a mental disease is familiar.

"We've got to resolve the underlying...

"sexual conflict.

"Whenever he wants his sister physically...

"he is taking the form

of a mental breakdown...

an acute schizophrenic episode."

Well, what does it mean?

Means I'm a pretty good teacher,

and Johnny's a smart student.

- So far, so good.

- I don't mean that.

Aren't either of you

concerned about his breakdown?

What breakdown?

Well, taking all those tests

is bound to make him sick.

You're right.

That is something to worry about.

On the contrary,

I think he's caught the perfect mood -

a borderline psychosis,

exactly as we rehearsed.

And if the superior court judge buys

his performance, he'll be committed.

140 I.Q. classification.

Very good, Mr. Barrett.

Means superior intelligence.

Oh, my name's Wilkes. I'm sorry.

You'll have to get used to no belt, no shoelaces.

New patient. John Barrett.

Barrett, eh?

Barrett, put it back.

Barrett -

Ward B, bed 2.

Come on, Mr. Barrett.

Come on.

Barrett, uh?

So you're a 140 I.Q. journalist.

- Where's your typewriter?

- Easy, Lloyd.

The last reporter I had on this floor

was Ben Franklin.

- And that egghead gave me more trouble than -

- Come on, Mr. Barrett.

Born phonies, all you newspapermen.

You came at the make-friends hour.

Patients who behave are permitted

to congregate in this corridor.

They call it "the street."

Gives 'em a chance to make new friends.

The women have their "street" too.

I used to work in the female wing,

but the nympho ward got too dangerous for me.

Well, this one's yours, Mr. Barrett.

Am I the only loony in this ward?

No, Mr. Barrett.

Your roommates are in the street.

Oh, if you don't mind,

we never use words here like...

"nuts," "bugs," "screwy," "goofy," "loony."

We'd like it very much

if you didn't use them either.

I'm sorry.

I'm a greenhorn inmate.

- You're a patient, not an inmate.

- This is an insane asylum, is it not?

Not exactly. This is a mental hospital,

and we're dealing with mental hygiene.

After Dr. Cristo takes you in hand,

you'll be a different man.

He has one of the finest records

in the country.

- I really don't belong here.

- I understand.

You won't cause any trouble though, will you?

As you did when you attacked

the county hospital psychiatrist.

- I forgot myself.

- We're here to help you to remember not to forget.

- I phone my sister?

- No. I'm sorry.

I'm hungry!

Lloyd will show you your place

in the dining room.

- Lloyd?

- What's the matter?

Lloyd, the keeper that called me a phony?

Well, he's no keeper.

He is an attendant like me.

Lloyd doesn't like me.

Don't mind him. He doesn't mean anything

with that chip on his shoulder.

It's just his way of fighting everybody

because he can't cure the patients.

Well, make yourself at home, Mr. Barrett.

I made it! I'm in!

Ever since my voice changed, I wanted to be

in the company of the newspaper greats.

And this long corridor is the magic highway...

to the Pulitzer Prize.

Maybe I'm looking at the killer right now.

Three witnesses -

Stuart, Trent, Boden.

- How do you do? I'm Pagliacci.

- Johnny Barrett.

Welcome to Ward B, Mr. Barrett.

If you expect a demonstration of insanity -

forget it.

What are you in here for, Mr. Barrett?

Stuart.

Farm boy from the Bible Belt.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes