(theme music playing)
NARRATOR: Man lives in the sunlit world
of what he believes to be reality.
But... there is,
unseen by most, an underworld.
A place that is just as real
but not as brightly lit.
A dark side.
MAN: Bernie, forget the front end.
The front end is a lock.
I have no problems with the front end.
This is strictly a question of points and percentages.
Huh?
Don't talk about integrity.
That's not the issue.
Integrity.
A cockroach has more integrity.
Mr. Smith.
Welcome to Hollywood.
Have a seat.
What's your problem?
I wish to speak to your client, Gil Hurn.
You know Gil? We've never met.
Uh-huh. But you have something you want to tell him.
Exactly. Pardon me.
What are you, some kind of a fan?
You want to express some personal sentiments?
I wish to make a business proposal.
But I must speak directly with Mr. Hurn.
(phone beeping) Huh?
Wait a minute.
Hello.
Grant! What?
London on the other line.
Why, of course I'll wait.
Listen, Smith, you look like a nice kid,
uh, under that suit.
Now, I don't want to hurt your feelings,
but I represent all my clients exclusively.
If there's any business to be done, it goes through me.
The networks go through me.
The studios go through me.
You're gonna go through me.
All I can say is it concerns the Max Paradise series.
Max Paradise.
The private detective show made in 1965.
Wait.
Is this some kind of gag?
The show was cancelled in mid-season.
A mercy killing!
That private eye garbage--
even back then it was dated.
Today, rest in peace.
Huh? No, no, not you, Grant.
No, that's all right.
I'm being amused here.
The show was created by Gil Hurn.
A giant in the industry.
He doesn't think about old turkeys, especially his own.
Of which there were very few.
I would like you to arrange a meeting with Mr. Hurn.
I will make suitable remuneration
regardless of the outcome of that meeting.
Smith.
Whose kid are you?
I represent a group of...
foreign investors.
Is that gold?
Do you know what that's worth?
About $35,000.
The gold is yours, Mr. Feldman,
when I meet Mr. Hurn.
Is this stuff hot?
Hot.
Go on, Mr. Feldman.
Touch it.
Pamela.
Hold my calls.
Get me Gil Hurn on the phone.
Right away.
(chuckles)
WOMAN (on TV): You're okay, Max.
Stay here with me.
MAN: Well, I don't know if I am, sweetheart.
Will you come back?
First I gotta find what I'm looking for.
I think you found it already.
And you don't know it.
Maybe.
But I still have to find that limping man.
So long, sweetheart.
I'll remember you, especially at night.
It was young-lived.
It's a great episode.
One of my favorites.
It's embarrassing.
I can't believe I actually wrote that stuff.
Gil...
I think we should at least
listen to Mr. Smith's proposal.
I want you to write and direct
six more episodes of Max Paradise--
including the final one
when the detective's identity is revealed at last.
For this I will pay you $2 million in gold.
Even if I wanted to help you, it couldn't be done.
Not now.
It's too late.
You can't repeat the past, Smith.
It's over, finished.
Of course you can repeat the past.
We have absolutely no doubt on that question.
The gold is there, Gil.
For this?
Why?
There are many fans waiting for the revival.
Max Paradise must finish his search.
Max Paradise is corn, dated.
SMITH: He cannot
be left wandering in limbo.
There's nothing original in the character.
He's cardboard.
He's mythic.
There're a hundred reasons
why you can't bring back Max Paradise.
For one: you need that actor, Van Conway.
Oh, yes.
He's the only one to play Max.
Well, he disappeared years ago.
Probably dead now.
Or dead drunk.
I have found him, Mr. Hurn.
You located Conway?
How?
The same way I located you two gentlemen.
By looking.
And you're quite right.
Van Conway is dead.
Dead, dead, dead.
The actor, Van Conway, is dead.
Oh, he had a brooding quality.
Uh, but he didn't have the staying power
for the long haul.
The TV Encyclopedia said that.
(laughing)
And they ought to know, huh?
So, here's to Van Conway the bartender.
Alive, well and drinking.
About Max Paradise...
Forget about Max Paradise.
He's dead! Geez.
You want to revive him, get some kid.
There's a million actors out there want a job.
I need you, Mr. Conway.
Production is starting soon.
(laughs)
You mind me asking what business you're in?
That's not important.
I invent things.
Technical things mostly.
(laughing): Well, you're sure...
you're sure as hell not in show business, that's obvious.
Let me give you a hot tip.
As an investment,
Max Paradise is a dead duck.
Are you afraid of working again?
Afraid? That's got nothing to do with it.
I mean, look at me. I'm not--
how can I go in front of a camera?
You are Max Paradise.
No!
No! I'm not!
I'm not an actor anymore, you understand?
I'm a bartender. I pour beers in the corner bar.
So go on, get out of here, leave me alone.
You'll have lots to do--
rehearsals, costume fittings.
You'll need your strength.
I want you to take one of these vitamin pills
three times a day.
Vitamin pills. Are you crazy?
Vitamin pills aren't gonna help me.
You must get control of yourself,
Mr. Conway.
You can.
You will.
I have faith in you.
(doors creaking)
It's the same dump, just older.
You actually made the series here?
Yeah, we were trying to save money.
It is a great privilege to enter this room.
It's a studio, pal.
It's not a shrine.
It's funny how you always remember the failures.
I was standing right here
when I heard we were cancelled.
Guess how many letters we got afterward?
Twelve.
For a network TV series-- nobody cared then,
nobody'll care now.
I believe I have a market for the series.
The work doesn't deserve it.
You're too critical.
In many ways, it was the height of televisual art.
You turned it into poetry.
Like that scene
where Max Paradise meets a girl in the bar.
The bar?
The place is dark.
A few customers sit in the shadows.
Max leans toward the girl and says,
"Imagine one morning you'll wake up
"in a city you recognize but don't remember.
"Your mind is blank.
"Everything seems familiar yet different.
"The very way the sunlight reflects
"off the white plaster walls.
"Taste of the air.
"The smell of the water.
"It all seems different.
"Strange.
Alien."
You know it by heart.
It had passion.
You must've been a kid when you saw that show.
I couldn't forget it.
And neither could you, Mr. Hurn.
When you wrote it, you cared.
And I know that, in some way, you still care.
So what?
Let me tell you--
failure's like poison in this town.
I had to forget Max Paradise
and pray that everyone else did, too.
There's something to be said for amnesia.
I saved my career when I buried that show.
Now you can finish it.
Just as you know you've always wanted.
What was in those pills?
That's not important.
You needed them after so many years of drinking.
Yeah.
You gotta patent 'em, you can make a million bucks.
Now, you tell me the truth now.
How do I look? Much better.
You can see for yourself.
(grunting) No, this is a mirror.
The camera sees things differently.
How will the camera see me?
The camera will be good to you.
Like the old days?
Oh, yes.
We'll shoot it in black and white,
like before.
It will help bring out your haunted look.
I've always looked that way.
Yes.
That's why you had to play Max Paradise.
Then and now.
This is strange.
This is all... very strange.
The fear doesn't show.
All I see is that dark, brooding quality,
like a cat ready to pounce.
The TV Encyclopedia said that.
They really liked you, Mr. Conway.
And they ought to know, right?
Well...
Come with me now.
We begin.
We're in a diner in Texas.
The highway outside heads south to Mexico.
It's 3:00 in the morning.
No one's in the joint except the night man behind the grill.
Max, you're staring down at your coffee,
staring down at your coffee.
You hear Loomis come in.
You want to look up, but no.
You make him move first.
You order a cup of coffee.
Now, look over to Max.
The name's Loomis.
First or last?
(chuckles)
Whichever way you like, buddy.
I'm Max Paradise.
LOOMIS: Never heard a name like that.
MAX: I found it on a license.
Driver's license?
A private detective's.
One name's as good as another, uh, so I kept it.
You had to drop your real name, huh?
I forgot it.
I forgot everything except, uh,
how to drive and drink and shoot--
something the man never forgets.
We hold on you, Max-- your mind is working-- then cut.
You remember fragments--
the limping man, the beautiful woman,
the bedroom, the struggle.
You remember caring about her so much, so much.
But who was she?
Suddenly you see a guy there in the shadows.
The guy fires, you stagger back.
He runs down the hall limping, escaping.
Back in the diner, you're shaking.
Bad memories are jumping in your head.
You turn to Loomis.
Haven't I, haven't I seen you around?
I'm a stranger here myself.
You look fami-- fam...
(stammering)
You all right, Van?
The line is "I'm all right."
Come on, Van.
Cue him again, Loomis.
I'm a stranger here myself.
I... I can't.
Forget it, forget it, forget it.
I can't do this!
(sighs)
(knocking)
(horn honking distantly)
(clears throat, sniffs)
(sighs)
Oh, go away.
Will you leave me alone?
Don't worry.
I know how it is.
I froze.
I didn't remember anything.
Your fear is natural under pressure.
(scoffs)
What are you, some kind of a shrink?
Shrink?
No.
Now, I want you to try and relax.
(sighs)
Hey, what are you doing?
This will affect your brain center
that controls your craving for alcohol.
Just leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
You won't think about your addiction anymore.
You won't be afraid.
Just leave me alone.
Okay?
You won't hurt anymore.
The pain and fear that you have fought all your life...
will be gone.
I'm draining them away.
(horn honking distantly)
You will come back to work clear-headed.
(sighs)
Who are you anyway, Smith?
I'm your greatest fan,
and I will not let you fail me.
AMY (on-screen): That limping man wants to kill you.
MAX (on-screen): Yeah, but first he wants to tell me who I am.
He's the only one
who knows, and it's eating him up.
That's why he didn't nail me back there at the diner
when he had the chance.
Oh, yeah, he's dying to tell me,
and I'm going to let him.
What if he shoots first?
Well, if that happens, angel,
you ask him what name to put on my tombstone.
I never thought he could do it.
We used the whole take, every word.
I saw yesterday's rushes, Van.
You were great.
Not too many wrinkles?
The black and white smooths out your face,
makes it look haunted.
Yeah, Smith told us to use black and white.
He knew.
And Smith made it all seem important, you know,
as if there were millions of people
out there waiting for us.
Eh, maybe there are.
Where?
Hong Kong, North Korea?
No U.S. network is going to run black and white today.
This whole production is bizarre.
Yeah, it's bizarre all right.
I don't know, am I on it?
And action.
I've been waiting for you.
I remember now.
You... remember?
All those years
of searching, not knowing what I was searching for.
I was looking for you.
You killed my Amy.
There's more, kid.
Something you can't remember,
something you never knew.
What are you talking about?
LOOMIS: You were a baby when they came to split us up.
Mr. and Mrs. Paradise picked you out because you were cute.
They didn't want a gimp,
so they took my little brother and left me.
Brother?
All those years I dreamed about you, kid,
married, having a home, while I just drifted,
looking for you.
You never should have found me.
When I did, I hated you both.
You and your pretty Amy.
I never had a thing.
So I killed her
and I thought I killed you, too.
Yeah, I tried.
I thought I'd done it,
and then I saw you.
You were alive.
(chuckling): And you didn't remember a thing.
I remembered your limp.
You stay away.
I had to remember you; I had to find you or go insane.
One more step and I'll kill you.
Remember, brother, I'm the only one that cared.
Oh, no...
If you kill me now... you'll be alone forever.
What are you going to do?
You're better off.
It's... perfect.
Well, it works.
More than works, Mr. Hurn, much more.
It's mythic.
The wanderer remembers his past, brother slays brother--
very symmetrical, very pleasing.
I'll be leaving tomorrow, so let me tell you
it's been a great, great privilege to work with you.
Thank you, Gil.
Van... thank you.
VAN: Mr. Smith.
I can't help wondering when the show will air.
Oh, soon, very soon.
Where?
Not in this country, farther away.
I hate to press you...
Far, far away.
But have faith, gentlemen,
your work will be seen and loved by millions.
Your art will not be wasted.
Good-bye, my friends.
Someplace far, far away, hmm?
What's going on?
Tell me, Van.
You know something I don't.
Our little show isn't going to play here.
No, no, our little show is going
to play somewhere far, far, far away,
yeah, like 20 light-years away.
See, there's a star up there.
It's just way up there, way just up the side of Orion,
and it's a very special star
because it, it has a wandering orbit.
What are you saying?
Distant, distant signals.
They're watching a TV program from the 1960s,
and suddenly it stops before the story ends.
They don't like that.
Who?
Smith's people... his investors.
Why would they choose Max Paradise?
Why would they come all this way for Max Paradise?
Maybe because they're wanderers, too, like Max.
But who knows?
You got to be sure of one thing.
I mean, they-they've got different tastes, right?
He said...
it was the height of televisual art.
They're out there watching.
Wonder what they're like.
Well, he was here.
You saw him, you touched him, you talked to him.
He's just like us.
A nice guy... a real nice guy.
Good-bye, Hurn, I'll see you.
(chuckling)
NARRATOR: The dark side is always there.
Waiting for us to enter.
Waiting to enter us.
Until next time,
try to enjoy the daylight.