Paramount+ original film Sleepy Hollow was released November 17th, 1999.
#SleepyHollow made $206M at the international box office.
rottentomatoes: 70%
metacritic: 65
imdb: 7.3
oscars: 1 win
Ichabod Crane
Constable Crane is summoned to Sleepy Hollow, New York to investigate a series of murders.
“Help here! Lend a hand here! Anyone. None other. Not only me. I have found something, which was lately a man. Just a moment, if I may, we do not yet know the cause of death. Possibly so, if there is water in the lungs. But by pathology, we might be able to determine whether or not he was dead before he went into the river. I will need to examine the body.” — Ichabod Crane
“The millennium is almost upon us. In a few months, we will be living in the 19th century. Yet our courts continue to rely on medieval devices of torture. I stand up. For sense and justice. Our jails overflow with men and women convicted on confessions worth no more than this one. I beg pardon. But why am I the only one who sees that to solve crimes, to detect the guilty, we must use our brains to recognize vital clues using up-to-date scientific techniques. I have not. Lopped off? I shall.” — Ichabod Crane
“My pardon, miss. I’m only a stranger. I’m looking for Baltus Van Tassel. I’ve not said it. Excuse me. Thank you, sir. I am Constable Ichabod Crane sent to you from New York to investigate murder in Sleepy Hollow. Thank you. Please tell Mr. Van Tassel I will be down in a moment. And you, sir? Thank you. So… three persons murdered. First, Peter Van Garrett, and his son, Dirk Van Garrett. Both of them strong, capable men. Found together. Decapitated. One week later, the widow Winship. Also… decapitated. Now, I will need to ask you many questions. But first, let me ask: is anyone suspected? Only that the three were slain in open ground, their heads found severed from their bodies. The heads are… gone? Pardon. I don’t– yes. Are you saying–? Is that what you believe? I see. Reverend Steenwyck. Gentlemen. Murder needs no ghosts to come from the grave. We have murders in New York without benefit of ghouls and goblins. The assassin is a man of flesh and blood, and I will discover him.” — Ichabod Crane
“He should do just fine, Mr. Killian. Thank you. Much appreciated. All right, Gunpowder, we’re off. Come on. No, no. Come on, the other way. No, no. Turn around. Good Horsey. It’s all right. I’m here now. I see. And… the head? Taken. Interesting. Very interesting. In headless corpse cases of this sort, the head is removed to prevent identification of the body. Precisely. So why was the head removed? Right. You have moved the body? You must never move the body! Because. The stride is gigantic. The attacker rode Masbath down, turned his horse. Came back. Came back to claim the head. Yes. There’s a chemical reaction. It shows there was a powerful, singular thrust to the neck. Now. Interesting. The wound was cauterized in the very instant. As though the blade itself were red-hot. And yet, no blistering, no scorched flesh.” — Ichabod Crane
“Ah. You’re young Masbath. Well, one and only Masbath, I thank you very much, but, your mother will need you more than I. Yes, and a brave one too. But I cannot be the one to look after you. I’m sorry for you loss, young Masbath. Mr. Philipse. The fifth? Young Masbath! Find a place in the Van Tassel’s servants’ quarters. Wake me before dawn. I hope you have a strong stomach.” — Ichabod Crane
“Peter Van Garrett. Dirk Van Garret. Jonathan Masbath. Five victims, four graves. The widow Winship. Bring the widow in. I should hope so, doctor, but in this case, necessary. We need to operate immediately. When we say ‘operate,’ we mean, of course, I will need the operating table. once more, the neck wound cauterized. The… sword thrust to the stomach, the same. But to what purpose? Some of my own design. All right, then. Step outside, young Masbath. Thank you very much for you help, Mr. Killian. And if you don’t mind, Doctor. My concentration suffers greatly when I’m observed.” — Ichabod Crane
“I am finished. We are dealing with a madman. The widow Winship was with child. Who’s there? Oh. Pardon my intrusion. I saw a light. To read books which you must hide? There was something else, too. Why did no one think to mention that the Van Garretts are kin to the Van Tassels? I see. Yes. No, I have no use for it. It was your mother’s. Are you so certain of everything? I’ve had them since I can remember. Yes, thank you. Well, then, I… have something for you. Cardinal on one side. An empty cage. And now– it is no magic. It is what we call ‘optics.’ Separate pictures which become one in the spinning. It is truth, but truths is not always appearance.” — Ichabod Crane
“What are you running from, Magistrate Philipse? You had a mind to help me? Of what? How did you know the widow Winship was expecting a child? Then I deduce you are the father. Did she tell you the name of the child’s father? You believe that the father killed her? How often do I have to tell you? There is no horseman. Never was a horseman, and never will be a horseman. What is that thing? You, a magistrate and your head full of such nonsense. Now, tell me the name of–” — Ichabod Crane
“It was a headless horseman. But it was a headless horseman. No, you must believe me. It was a horseman, a dead one. Headless! You don’t know because you were not there! It’s all true. I… saw him. Gentlemen, I need able men to go with me into the western woods. I have faced my fears and come out determined to locate the horseman’s grave. In short, to pit myself against a murdering ghost. Who’s with me? The Van Garretts. Widow Winship. Your father, Jonathan Masbath. And now Philipse. Something must connect them. Did your father have dealing with the Van Garretts? An argument between father and son. After which the elder Van Garrett sent for his servant Masbath. I hear nothing. Quicken pace.” — Ichabod Crane
“Pardon our intrusion. But perhaps you could help us. Yes, in a way. I should like to say that I, make no assumptions about your occupation. Nor your ways, which, which– which are nothing to me, whatever you are. Each to his own. Oh. What might he hear that he must keep away from? Do you? Well, I’m here to find him and make him stop. What are you doing? The other? Madam? Madam, do you hear me? We’re leaving. We’re leaving now. We take the Indian trail to the tree of the dead. Without difficult, I rather fear. Then climb down to the horseman’s resting place. His grave. Stay here. Halt and turn. I have a pistol aimed. Katrina. I might have killed you. Why have you come?” — Ichabod Crane
“I am now twice the man. It is your white magic. Blood. Stay where you are. Just stay where you are. Don’t move. This tree is a gateway. A gateway between two worlds. This ground has been disturbed. The soil is loose! Bring the shovel. The skull is gone. Taken. That is why the horseman returns from the grave. To take heads till his own is restored to him. Hyah! Hyah!” — Ichabod Crane
Katrina Van Tassel
“The pickety witch. The pickety witch. Who’s got a kiss for the pickety witch? The pickety witch. The pickety witch. Who’s got a kiss for the pickety witch? Is it Theodore? Then have a kiss on account. I’m his daughter, Katrina Van Tassel. Brom!”
“It is no intrusion. I come here to read when I am wakeful. They were my mother’s books. My father believes tales of romance cause the brain fever that killed my mother. She died two years ago come midwinter. The nurse who cared for her during her sickness is now Lady Van Tassel. Because there is hardly a household in Sleepy Hollow that is not connected to every other by blood or marriage. This land we’re looking at was Van Garrett land, given to my father when I was in swaddling clothes. The Van Garrets were the richest family around these parts. When my father brought us to Sleepy Hollow, Van Garrett set him up with an acre and a broken-down cottage. My father worked hard for his family, and prospered and built this house. I owe my happiness to him. I remember living poor in the cottage. Should I show you? Take this. It is my gift for you. Are you so certain of everything? Keep it close to your heart. It is sure protection against harm.”
“This is strange. These markings. What are they? I used to play by this hearth as a child. It was my first drawing school. And my mother was my teacher. Look. See? Carved into the fireback? The archer. I’d forgotten it. This was from long before we lived here. Are you all right? A cardinal. My favorite. I’d love to have a tame one, but I wouldn’t have the heart to cage him. You can do magic. Teach me.”
“Because no one else would go with you. Ichabod?”
Baltus Van Tassel
“Come, come. We’ll have no raised voices. It is only to raise spirits during this dark time that I and my dear wife are giving this little party. Young sir, you are most welcome, even if you are selling something. Well spoke, dear. Come sir, we’ll get you settled. Play on. Ah, excellent! Come in. Leave us, my dear. We are joined by Dr. Thomas Lancaster, Reverend Steenwyck, our able Magistrate Samuel Philipse, and lastly, this fine fellow is James Hardenbrook, our Notary.”
“A simple farmer who has prospered. The town looks to me as friend and counsel. How much have your superiors explained to you, Constable? Perhaps you had better sit down. The horseman was a Hessian mercenary sent to these shores by German princes to keep Americans under the yoke of England. But unlike his compatriots who came for money, the horseman came for love of carnage. When battle was joined, there you’d find him. He rode a giant black steed named Daredevil. He was infamous for riding his horse hard into battle, chopping off heads at full gallop. He had filed his teeth down to sharp points to add to the ferocity of his appearance. This butcher didn’t finally reach his end until the winter of ’79. Not far from here, in our western woods. They chopped off his head with his own sword. Even today, the western woods is a haunted place where brave men will not venture. For what was planted in the ground that day was a seed of evil. And so it has been for 20 years. But now the Hessian wakes. He’s on the rampage, cutting off heads where he finds them. You’re a long way from New York, Constable.”
“Mr. Miller, ride back for the coffin cart. The rest of you, keep a sharp lookout. What is? But we know this was Jonathan Masbath. Why? What is it?”
“Constable Cane? Constable Crane? Has he not come out at all? You must not excite yourself. Of course it was. That’s why you’re here. I know. I know. Of course it is. I told you. Everyone told you. All right, this time I’ll get to New York myself. I won’t be fobbed off with an amateur deductor. This time, it’s a magistrate that’s dead– you? We thought you’d shot your bolt.”
Magistrate Philipes
“And landlord, and banker. Can we proceed?”
“Taken. The devil’s fire.”
“Constable Crane. Something you should know. Jonathan Masbath was not the fourth victim, but the fifth. Aye. Five victims in four graves. To what is your purpose, is the question. What manner of instruments are these?”
“What did you find out, Constable?”
“Damn you, Crane! Yes, and it’s put me in mortal dread of– of powers against which there is no defense. She told me. I’m not the father. Yes, she did. She came to me for advice as town magistrate to protect the right of her child. I was bound by oath of office to keep the secret, but– the horseman killed her. My talisman. It protects me from the horseman. Oh, my God!”
Reverend Steenwyck
“Their heads were not found severed. Their heads were not found at all. They tell me that you’ve brought books and trappings of scientific investigation. This is the only book I recommend you read.”
“‘Be vigilant,’ as it sayeth in the Book of Peter, chapter 5, verse 8. ‘Because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.’ God rest, Jonathan Masbath.”
“What, in the name of God, have you done to her?”
Notary Hardenbrook
“Taken. Taken by the headless horseman. Taken back to hell. Seeing is believing.”
Lady Van Tassel
“Then Sleepy Hollow is grateful to you, Constable Crane. And we hope you will honor us by remaining in this house.”
Doctor Lancaster
“Excuse me, please.”
“The fourth victim, Jonathan Masbath. I did. Why not?”
“This is most irregular, Constable. Operate? She’s dead.”
Brom Van Brunt
“And who are you, friend? We have not heard your name yet. You need some manners.”
“Split up. Glenn. Theodore.”
Young Masbath
“Mr. Constable, sir. I was young Masbath, but now the only one. Masbath, at your service. In honor bound to avenge my father. My mother is in heaven, sir. She has my father now to care for her. But you have no one to serve you. I am your man, sir.”
“I suppose it’s back to the city then? Me. He worked for them. We lived in the coach house. It’s nothing. But there was something that happened one night, a week before the murder. An argument upstairs between father and son. And my father was later sent for by Mr. Van Garrett. Listen. Nor I. No birds. No crickets. It’s all gone so quiet. Do you know the horseman, ma’am? That’ll be him, ma’am.”
“What happened. His camp? Pardon my intrusion. I think you’d better come and look at this. The tree of the dead. What is it?”
The Headless Horseman
“Aah! Aah! Aah! Aah! Shh.”
Ichabod’s Mother
“Ichabod. Ichabod.”
New York City
“Constable Crane! Ichabod Crane! Is that you?”
“Burn it. Yes, sir. When you find them in the river, cause of death is drowning. Cut him up. Are we heathens? What happened to him? Nothing. Arrested for burglary. Good work.”
“Stand down! Constable Crane! This is a song that we have heard from you more than once. Now, there are two courses open to me. First, I can let you cool your heels in the cells… until you learn respect for the dignity of my office. Which brings me to the second course. There is a town upstate, two days’ journey to the north, in the Hudson Highlands. It is a place called Sleepy Hollow. Have you heard of it? An isolated farming community, mainly Dutch. Three persons have been murdered there, all within a fortnight. Each one found with the head… lopped off. Clean as dandelions heads, apparently. You will take these experimentations of yours to Sleepy Hollow, and there you will detect the murderer. Bring him here to face our good justice. Will you do this? Remember, it is you, Ichabod Crane, who is now put to the test.”
Sleepy Hollow
“Run!”
“I will, sir. Thank God you’re here.”
“Come out, devil.”
“His name’s Gunpowder. Good luck, sir. If you need any help, call my name.”
“Now, don’t you worry about a thing. Everything’s going to be just fine. Thomas! Inside! Hop. Run along for your breakfast. Kiss your mother, once for you and twice for me. Murder! The horseman’s killed again! Hyah!”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re from the Hollow. The Hessian? You, come with me. Go out child. Keep away. Whatever you hear, keep away. He rides… to the Hollow and back. I hear him, I smell the blood on him. You knowledge of the netherworld? I can show you. Don’t move or speak. When the other comes, I will hold him. Silence. He comes now.”
“You seek the warrior bathed in blood. The headless horseman. Follow the Indian trail to where the sun dies. Follow it to the tree of the dead. Climb down to the horseman’s resting place.”
“Don’t pick your teeth. You’ll teach Thomas bad habits. I am a bad habit. There’s nothing for it. Oh, isn’t there? Come on, let’s get ready for bed. Yes.”
