The Collector

Synopsis: Freddie, a socially withdrawn bank clerk and butterfly collector, decides to expand to collecting human specimens. That's where art student Miranda Grey comes in. Miranda matches wits with Freddie the icy psychopath.
Genre: Drama, Thriller
Director(s): William Wyler
Production: Microcinema International
  Nominated for 3 Oscars. Another 5 wins & 7 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.6
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
UNRATED
Year:
1965
119 min
431 Views


/ sippose it was

the loneliness...

and being far away

from anyplace...

that made me decide

to biy the hoise.

And after / did, / told myself

/'ll never go throigh with the plan...

even thoigh /'d made

all the preparations...

and knew where she was

every minite of the day.

Bye.

It looks just like him.

See?

See you. Bye.

- Miranda, Miranda, stop.

- Have a jug.

Just one. Just one jug.

Psst!

Freddie, come over here.

Freddie!

Come over here quick.

Come on, Freddie.

Get a move on.

Aunt Annie,

what are you doing here?

- This came for you in the post.

- I told you never to come to the bank.

Read it, Freddie.

Read it!

He won the football pools!

He's won 71,000 pounds

on the pools!

Open the door, please!

Is there anyone there?

Please let me out!

Let me out, please!

I hope you slept well.

I brought you some cereal.

You'll have to tell me

what you like.

I'll get anything you want.

Where is this? Who are you?

I had to take the nail file

and the scissors out of your bag.

Why have you brought me here?

This is your room.

- Get out of the way!

- Please...

don't oblige me

to use force again.

I demand to be released at once!

It's no good shouting.

You can't be heard.

And anyway,

there's never anyone to hear.

I don't know who you think I am.

If you think I'm someone's rich daughter

and you're gonna get a huge ransom...

you got a shock coming.

I know who you are.

You're Miranda Grey.

Your father's Dr. James Grey

of Reading.

And I know he's not rich.

I know a lot about you,

more than you think.

How do you know that?

Look, what am I doing here?

I hope the clothes fit.

I didn't know your size exactly.

But I've seen you wear

those colors.

You looked very nice in them.

Wait! No, wait! Don't go!

Wait! Come back!

Please come back!

Please open the door!

Don't leave me, please!

Open the do...

Please!

Do you mind telling me...

where we are...

and who you are?

You've gone to a lot of trouble.

All those clothes in there,

all those art books.

I'm your prisoner, but you want me

to be a happy prisoner.

Why?

Since you know my father isn't a rich

man, it isn't for ransom, as you say.

The only other thing is sex.

It's not that at all.

I shall have

all the proper respect.

Then why am I here?

I want you to be my guest.

Your guest?

I don't want to be your guest!

Let me go!

I love you.

Funny thing is...

I told myself a dozen times...

I wasn't going to tell you.

I was going to let it

come natural on both sides.

But I touched you just then.

It came out.

You see...

at home in Reading...

we used to travel

on the same bus together.

I even sat next to you

once or twice.

I used to watch you all the time.

And then, when you

got the scholarship...

and went to London...

I thought I'd forget you.

From the first time

I saw you, l...

I think I knew

you were the only one.

I don't understand all this.

I don't understand why

you brought me here.

I want you to get to know me.

But you don't kidnap people

so they'll get to know you.

Don't you realize the trouble

that you could get into?

I don't care.

It must be in the papers.

I haven't looked.

You could go to prison for years.

But it'd be worth it...

be worth going for life.

If you won't think of yourself,

think of me.

And my parents.

Think how frightened they must be.

- I'm sorry.

- And my school.

I can't stay away from school.

I worked very hard for that scholarship.

I can't afford to lose it.

You want to go back to that chap.

What chap?

The la-di-da one in the pub.

You love him, don't you?

Oh, God!

This is like a lunatic asylum.

Look, people must be

searching for me.

All of England must be

searching for me.

Sooner or later,

they're going to find me.

Never.

Because, you see...

they're looking for you,

all right...

but... nobody's looking for me.

Wait, wait, wait!

Look, I'll make a promise.

Let me go now.

I won't tell anyone.

We could be friends.

I could help you.

Look, if you let me go now,

I shall begin to admire you.

I'll think, he had me at his mercy,

but he was chivalrous.

He behaved like a real gentleman.

I'll make up some story.

Nobody will know about this except us.

No, I can't let you go.

Help! Help me!

Help me, somebody!

Help! Help, help, help!

Please help me!

How long are you

gonna keep me here?

I don't know.

It depends.

On what?

On my falling in love with you?

Because if that's what you want,

I'm going to be here until I die!

Now, go away.

Go away!

Think it over.

What happened?

What's the matter?

I don't know.

I thought I'd die last night

with the pain.

I told you this would happen.

I told you you'd get sick.

- I told you you should have eaten.

- It's not that.

It feels like my appendix.

You must get me a doctor.

Look, take me to the hospital.

- It'll be safer for you.

- It'll be the end for me.

There's a phone box

down the lane.

All right.

I'll make a bargain.

I'll tell you when you can go...

but only on certain conditions.

You have to start eating...

and talk to me...

and don't try to escape like that.

You still haven't said

when you'll let me go.

- Six weeks.

- Six weeks?

You must be mad.

- Five weeks, then?

- No, never!

I was only trying to be nice.

Wait, wait.

Five weeks?

I'll stay for one week

and not a day more.

No, I couldn't agree to that.

Please be reasonable.

Can't you see I haven't made

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John Kohn

John Kohn (1925 – May 4, 2002) was an American writer and producer who also served as head of production for EMI (1979-1983). more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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