The Collector (1965 film)

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Think of all the living beauty you've ended.

The Collector is a 1965 British/American psychological crime/thriller film about a man who kidnaps a woman and holds her captive in his cellar, just for the pleasure of having her there.

Directed by William Wyler. Written by Stanley Mann and John Kohn, based on the 1963 novel The Collector by John Fowles.
Almost a love story. taglines

Freddie Clegg[edit]

  • I suppose it was the loneliness... and being far away from anyplace that made me decide to buy the house. And after I did, I told myself I'll never go through with the plan — even though I'd made all the preparations ... and knew where she was every minute of the day.
  • I kept thinking perhaps it was my fault, after all, that she did what she did and lost my respect. Then I thought, no. It was her fault. She asked for everything she got. My only mistake was aiming too high. I ought to have seen I'd never get what I wanted from someone like Miranda with all her la-di-da ideas and clever tricks. I ought to have got someone who would respect me more. Someone ordinary. Someone I could teach.


Don't you see what's happened? You've had this — this dream with me in the center of it. It's not love
You could do so much! You could travel, learn, meet people. You could have a wonderful life! But this is death, don't you see? Nothing but death!
Miranda: 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.
Freddie: It's not that at all. I shall have all the proper respect.
Miranda: Then why am I here?
Freddie: I want you to be my guest.
Miranda: Your guest? I don't want to be your guest! Let me go!
Freddie: [grabbing her, he softly declares] I love you. [shocked, she freezes, and turns to face him] 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.
Miranda: I don't understand all this. I don't understand why you brought me here.
Freddie: I want you to get to know me.
Miranda: But you don't kidnap people so they'll get to know you. Don't you realize the trouble that you could get into?
Freddie: I don't care.

Miranda: 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.
Freddie: Never. Because, you see — they're looking for you, all right — but nobody's looking for me.

Miranda: How long are you gonna keep me here?
Freddie: I don't know. It depends.
Miranda: 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!

Freddie: I've been collecting all my life. I'm an entomologist. I won a hobby prize for this setting. And most of these come from Central America. I correspond with a monk who sends me larvae, and then I incubate them myself. You see that? This is a leaf butterfy. Looks just like two leaves. These are my chalkhills. And... these are my Adonis blues. I bred that aberration myself. And it's better than any they've got in the Natural History Museum. These are my fritillaries. That's the silver-washed and that's the medium brown beckerwood, red admiral, swallowtail, peacock.
Miranda: They're beautiful — but sad. How many butterfies have you killed?
Freddie: You can see.
Miranda: Think of all the living beauty you've ended.
Freddie: That's silly. What difference does a few specimens make to a whole species? [She picks up a jar with a living butterfly inside] Be careful. It's very rare.
Miranda: Let it go.
Freddie: You're joking. [Stops her from opening the jar] Don't do that! I may never get another one.
Miranda: And now you've collected me, haven't you? Don't you see what's happened? You've had this — this dream with me in the center of it. It's not love — it's the sort of dream young boys have when they reach puberty, only you've made it come true.
Freddie: I'll tell you something. There'd be a blooming lot more of this if more people had the time and the money!
Miranda: We all want things we can't have.
Freddie: We all take what we can get! I never had your advantages. My father wasn't a la-di-da doctor. I never went to a posh school. I was just a clerk in a bank.
Miranda: "Reading." … Of course! You won a fortune on the pools! You had your picture in the paper! I remember now! You could do so much! You could travel, learn, meet people. You could have a wonderful life! But this is death, don't you see? Nothing but death! These are dead. I'm dead. Everything here is dead. Is that what you love? Death?

Freddie: That's a good painting, isn't it?
Miranda: Yes, it's a Picasso.
Freddie: People don't look like that.
Miranda: Well, of course they don't. He's not trying to draw a face as it is. He's trying to express a face as he sees it and feels it.
Freddie: Him seeing it that way makes it good?
Miranda: But it's not a photograph.
Freddie: What's wrong with photographs?
Miranda: Nothing wrong with photographs.
Freddie: Photographs don't lie!
Miranda: Neither does this. … It's a face from all different angles. It's a character behind the face.
Freddie: It's just a joke, that's all it is! It's just a bad joke!
Miranda: Because you can't grasp it right away...
Freddie: Well, how do I grasp it? I'll tell you something about this. It doesn't mean anything! Not just to me. To anybody else. You just say it does because some professor somewhere told you it did! It makes you so superior — you and all your friends. I don't think one-in-a-million, decent, ordinary people would say this was any good. [throwing the art-book] It's rubbish! Rubbish, that's all it is! And the book, too, that's just as bad. [tearing apart The Catcher in the Rye] It's filthy! Oh, you're so blooming clever, aren't you? You and all your friends. I can just see me with the lot of you. I'd be a right laugh, wouldn't I? Well, you're not gonna get me in that position. Not... Not you, not anybody, ever!

Miranda: I've stayed the four weeks.
Freddie: I just have to have you here a little longer.
Miranda: Why? What more can I do? What more can you want?
Freddie: You know what I want... it's what I've always wanted. You could fall in love with me if you tried. I've done everything I could to make it easy. You just won't try!


  • Almost a love story.
  • She is young and innocent. He is young...and not so innocent.
  • You won't dare open your mouth, but you'll be screaming for her to escape!


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