Theatre of Blood (1973) Movie Script
That damned editors cut
the best part of my review.
So I noticed, dear.
You ought to have a chat with him.
- (phone rings)
- Oh.
My most provocative comment, too,
where I said the leading lady
attacked her role with both hands
and strangled it to death.
Maxwell here.
Yes, lm the chairman of the Bermondsey
Housing and Redevelopment Committee.
Really, Constable,
you dont need me for that.
Oh. Well, if you feel that
lm the only one who can handle it, yes.
Yes, lll be there within the hour. (sighs)
Apparently squatters have settled in the
ruin of that tenement were tearing down.
- I have to throw them out.
- Must it be you?
- They need someone with authority.
- But you have the Critics Circle meeting.
- I can handle this in a very few moments.
- Please dont go. Let someone else do it.
- Why? Whats worrying you?
- I had such a bad dream last night.
We were at the zoo. There was a storm
and lightning broke open the lions cages.
- Well?
- We ran from the animals, but you fell.
Before I could help,
they tore you to pieces.
Im not going anywhere
near the zoo today, my dear.
You might ring Perry Devlin and tell him
lll be a bit late for the Critics meeting.
George, I read your horoscope
this morning.
It said March is a difficult month.
Avoid unexpected engagements.
The ides of March, eh?
Well, we must not put our faith in dreams
and horoscopes, must we, my love?
Ill call you later.
(thunder rumbles)
(clap ofthunder)
- Very good of you to come, sir.
- Not at all.
Only too happy to help the police.
Theyre a stubborn lot, sir. Im afraid
youre going to have to be very firm.
Yes, well, lets get on with it, then.
All right, all of you.
This is private property.
Out.
Out!
Come on, do you hear me? Get out!
I want all of you out of here.
Come on. Get up.
Come on, then. You heard.
Get out!
Get up, there. All of you!
Youve got to get out.
You heard me.
Come on, then.
Lets have no trouble here.
Come on!
Constable! Constable!
A little help here.
Help!
Help!
(cries)
(squeals oflaughter)
O, pardon me,
thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle
with these butchers.
You!
Its you.
- But youre dead.
- No.
No. Another critical miscalculation
on your part, dear boy.
I am well. It is you who are dead.
Friends,
Romans,
countrymen,
Iend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
Come I to speak in Caesars funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me.
But Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought
many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did
the general coffers fill.
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
(unruly cheering)
Stop!
Stop! I havent finished yet.
Stage manager. Discipline
in the theatre is your responsibility.
Please to enforce it immediately.
(cheering continues)
You drunken bum!
You should treasure
this opportunity to listen to a master.
The worlds greatest living actor.
Wisdom and goodness
to the vile seem vile
Filths savour but themselves.
Here, filths.
Put money in thy purse.
(cheering)
(woman) Always late.
Why cant George ever be on time?
Do lets start. Im interviewing
that divine young actor at the Apollo.
I dont want to miss tea with him
for pompous old George Maxwell.
As were six weeks away from the awards
ceremony, I must insist we get under way,
especially as I have to leave shortly.
Come off it, Sprouty.
Your wifes picking you up in half an hour
and doesnt like to be kept waiting.
- Thats uncalled-for, Merridew.
- Would you look after Georgie?
- She gets so nervous in committee.
- Take that revolting animal away.
Lets put it to the vote, then.
Three of you want to begin.
- What do you say, Psaltery?
- I say wait. Its only courtesy.
- Dickman?
- I say get on with it.
And let your gorgeous secretary send him
the minutes of our profound deliberations.
Great idea, Dickman, but lm afraid
that glorious secretary isnt with us.
I say wait, and lets have another glass
of this splendid Chteau Latour 52.
Rosemary, you all right?
Ive come from the newspaper.
They want you to go to Bermondsey.
- Were starting the meeting.
- Youll stop it when you hear this.
Good heavens, darling.
What an entrance. What suspense.
- Tell us. Whats happened?
- George Maxwell is dead.
Hes been murdered.
They say hes been cut to ribbons.
- Good God! I cant believe it!
- Good heavens!
How? I dont understand.
I dont know. They just say
hes been hacked to pieces.
The editor wants you to write an article
as a tribute to a fellow critic.
At last, a headline.
Instead of a by-line.
- Sure you want to see this, Mr Devlin?
- Ill have to if lm to write a report.
All right, Sergeant.
I havent seen a man cut like that
in all my 20 years in the police force.
Nor me. And thats only his head!
Any idea who did this?
We know by the different weapons used
there were at least six,
but weve yet to discover
who they were.
Found something interesting, Mr Devlin?
No, only this old poster.
Oh, yes. I saw him once.
Hes a very, um... very vigorous actor.
Thats a good description.
- I take it you didnt like him.
- No, I didnt.
I could never write
anything good about him.
Funny, but you begin to resent an actor if
you always have to give him bad notices.
Edward Lionheart alive! lncredible.
Quite incredible. I can hardly believe it.
Very much alive, sir.
Very anxious to see you, sir.
Oh, the old Burbage Theatre.
I thought it had been burnt down.
There was a fire, sir.
Mr Lionhearts fixed the place up.
- Hes preparing for a comeback.
- Oh, most interesting.
Wonderful old building.
Astounding! Quite astounding.
(Lionheart) Look, Hector,
how the sun begins to set.
How ugly night comes
breathing at his heels
Even with the violent darkening of the sun
To close the day up,
Hectors life is done.
Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable.
Those were the days.
- Well, where is he?
- Hes down there, sir.
What?
But I cant see him.
Hello?
Hello?
Oh.
Oh.
(clatter)
Lionheart.
Oh, my dear sir, what a pleasure
to see you well and alive.
Yes, it was a remarkable resurrection,
as you shall hear.
What a great honour you should choose
me to tell your stories to the world.
Well, lve always admired you
as a critic, Snipe.
Your clever turn of phrase,
your use of analogy and metaphor.
One always felt that
you were striving to be complimentary.
- Most generous...
- But not always complimentary.
Critics make errors.
After all, were all human.
An opinion I find myself
incapable of sharing.
You must admit I was most enthusiastic
about your performance as Achilles.
Oh, yes. Yes, now that you mention it,
I vaguely recall you wrote some review.
I remember it very well. I wrote
Edward Lionhearts Troilus and Cressida
must be considered as
a brilliant theatrical achievement,
and his own performance
as Achilles unsurpassed.
- Well, something of that sort.
- A splendid review, my dear Snipe.
- What else did you say?
- More, in the same vein.
Let me refresh your memory.
Achilles unsurpassed...
This clearly is Lionhearts own view.
That actors oft-expressed desire
for solitude is well known.
He must derive much satisfaction
in knowing that he is absolutely alone
in his opinion
of this lamentable production.
- Did I write that?
- Your name is Hector Snipe?
I can only say that you were one actor
who could always accept criticism.
Criticism is one thing, my dear Snipe.
Then there is the little matter
of the Critics Award Presentation.
I cant accept blame for that.
Devlin was president of the Circle,
and you know how persuasive he can be.
Devlin?! Do you think
you can hide your guilt behind his?
Maxwell thought so, too.
Its all right, sir. No need to worry, sir.
Youre among friends here, sir.
Oh, thank you, my dear man.
I was getting a little bit nervous.
We were rehearsing Troilus and Cressida.
The scene where Hector,
believing he was among friends,
was brutally murdered by them
without warning,
and his body dragged from
the battlefield tied to a horses tail.
Lionheart, I came here for an interview,
not for a lecture on Shakespeare.
Now, tell us this remarkable story
of your resurrection.
Its a grave tale, Snipe,
and difficult to write,
but I am sure
you can rise to the occasion.
Stand back! Get out of the way!
The dragon wing of night
oerspreads the earth,
My half-suppd spear,
that frankly would have fed,
Pleased with this dainty bait,
thus goes to bed.
(evil laughter)
In the midst of life, we are in death.
We therefore commit
his body to the ground.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
in sure and certain hope
of the resurrection to eternal life
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Man that is born of a woman hath but
a short time to live and is full of misery.
He cometh up
and is cut down like a flower.
He fleeth as it were a shadow
and never continueth in one stay.
Almighty God, Father of all mercies
and giver of all comfort,
deal graciously, we pray thee,
with those who mourn,
that casting every care on thee, they may
know the consolation of thy love,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
- Amen.
- Whos that girl?
- Sh!
- Im sure I know her from somewhere.
Do be quiet, Perry.
..be with us all ever more.
(all) Amen.
Imperious Caesar dead and turnd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O! That that earth
which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall
to expel the winters flaw.
Come, tie his body to my horses tail.
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
- Shall I be seeing you at the club?
- (whinnying)
Oh, no!
Whoa, there.
(all gasp)
- Know him?
- Yeah.
Yeah. Hector Snipe.
- A critic?
- Yeah.
But hes supposed to be
one of the mourners.
George Maxwell, Hector Snipe -
both dead, both critics. Now, why?
Who hates you enough
to want to kill two of your circle?
Critics are likely
to make enemies, lnspector.
You might call it an occupational hazard.
But, darling boy, they wont start killing
people for writing bad notices, will they?
Well, why not? A play fails,
directors, writers, actors, careers ruined.
Plenty of motivation there, I should think.
Are you saying some lunatic in the theatre
might be trying to kill us all?
Its a distinct possibility.
Id like you all to give it some thought.
If you have any ideas,
get in touch with me... at once.
Take me home. I think lm going to be ill.
Oh, my God.
I think Georginas going to faint.
- I know who it is.
- What?
That girl. Edwina Lionheart.
Hello, Edwina. I thought it was you.
Well, the brilliant Peregrine Devlin.
Wielder of the brutal aphorism.
Master of the killing phrase.
My fathers murderer.
- Thats a bit melodramatic, isnt it?
- Oh, forgive me. I forgot.
It was your reverence and admiration
that drove him to take his own life.
- You dont understand.
- I understand the greatest ever actor
never earned your approval
for one single performance.
Never. Not one good review.
In his entire career your father refused
to appear in anything but Shakespeare.
A truly great actor illuminates
the present as well as the past.
I attacked him in order to goad him
into the 20th century.
What do you want, Devlin? lnformation
for a vicious posthumous attack on him?
No. Look, Edwina,
your fathers body was never found.
My father is as good as under that granite.
You and your pack neednt fear
hes come back to haunt you.
(hippy) Fear no more the heat o the sun
(Lionheart) No exorciser harm thee
- (hippy) Nor the furious winters rages
- (Lionheart) Nor no witchcraft charm thee
(hippy) Thou thy worldly task has done
(Lionheart) Ghost unlaid forbear thee
(hippy) Home hath gone
and taen thy wages
(Lionheart) Nothing ill come near thee
(hippy) Golden lads and girls all must
(Lionheart) Quiet consummation have
(hippy) Like chimney sweepers
come to dust
(Lionheart) And renowned be thy grave.
(crowd) Bravo!
Thank you, thank you.
An excellent dress rehearsal.
But tonight we shall play Cymbeline
as it has never been played before.
(excited murmurs)
I simply dont understand
these modern playwrights.
What we saw this evening
didnt make sense at all.
(Sprout) lm not so sure about that, dear.
It was incomprehensible rubbish,
and you know it.
Yes, lm sure youre right.
Good gracious.
According to Agnes, it came this evening.
What to do with it, she does not know.
You must remove it, Horace. I cant
have a thing like that in my bedroom.
Well, dont just stand there.
Why dont you open it?
- I cant without a key and tools, can l?
- Well, deal with it in the morning, then.
Yes, dear.
(Sprout snoring)
Horace, youre snoring.
- (mumbles) Oh, dear. Was l?
- How many more times?
- (whispers) Hypodermic.
- Hypo.
Ooh!
(moans)
- Sheet.
- Sheet.
(mutters)
- Lipstick.
- Lipstick.
- Scalpel.
- Scalpel.
(tearing)
(gushing)
Basin.
Basin!
- Saw.
- Saw.
(cutting)
Horace! How many more times?
Youre snoring again.
- Hypodermic.
- Hypodermic.
Ooh!
(knock at door)
Morning, maam.
Good morning, Mr Sprout.
Heres your breakfast.
Aaargh!
Horace!
Horace!
Mr... Mr Sprout...
Aaargh!
All right, thats enough.
Get that thing out of here.
Constable.
Dyou have that list of your colleagues?
My remaining colleagues, yes.
You wouldnt have a match on you
by any chance, would you?
Thanks very much.
Sergeant, get every one
of these people on the phone,
tell them to stay where they are
until a constable picks them up
and delivers them here for a meeting.
And stress that on no account
are they to go out alone. Right?
Well, Mr Devlin.
Theres no doubt about it now.
Hes after you all.
Mr Dickman?
Yes. Trevor Dickman.
Your secretary told me
I might find you here.
Really? That was
terribly considerate of her.
- Have you heard the news?
- No. What?
His head cut off? I cant believe it.
Isnt it simply awful? Poor Mr Sprout.
But how did you know this?
I havent seen anything in the papers.
Sprouty decapitated.
I was to take him to our rehearsal this
morning, but when I called at his house...
There, there, my child.
- Can I get you a brandy?
- Oh, no. No, thank you.
Its just that Mr Sprout
was such a good friend to our group.
He took such an interest in me.
Im not surprised, my dear.
Old Sprouty always had an eye for talent.
- You are an actress?
- Yes, but only an amateur.
Mr Sprout was kind enough
to say hed watch us rehearse
and give us the benefit
of his professional opinion.
Can you imagine how brave it was of poor
Mrs Sprout, even in her terrible distress,
to suggest that I come to you,
his best friend,
and ask you to substitute?
- Right now, you mean?
- Oh, but could you?
Could you?
Well, ld do anything for old Sprouty.
Perhaps after rehearsal,
we could have a little supper together?
And then you could tell me
what you think of me.
About your performance, you mean?
Yes. Shall we go?
(sirens)
So from now on
until this madman is apprehended,
you will all be protected
day and night by one of our men.
Thank goodness for that. Dyou hear that?
This nice policeman is going to see to it
that were all, all, all of us, all right.
Oh, God, Merridew. Dont be so
disgusting. I need another drink.
What about our families?
What about my wretched wife?
- Were the targets. Not our families.
- Yes, youre right, Mr Devlin.
- What is it, Sergeant?
- Mr Dickman, sir.
His office said he was at lunch,
so I sent a car to the restaurant right
away, but lm afraid we missed him.
- Missed him?
- Only just.
- Come on.
- (dogs whimper)
I think well all have a drink.
( fanfare)
I do hope youll enjoy this, Mr Dickman.
Its our most ambitious production.
Really?
- Put the prisoner in the dock.
- Hear! Hear!
Its living theatre
with audience participation.
Living theatre! How very interesting.
A unique conception.
(Lionheart) You call me misbeliever,
cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine.
Well, then, it now appears
you need my help.
Shall I bend low,
and in a bondsmans key,
With bated breath and
whispering humbleness say this:
Fair sir, you spit on me
on Wednesday last,
You spurnd me such a day;
another time you calld me dog...
- Ah, were doing The Merchant of Venice.
- And you are Antonio.
Me Antonio? lm no actor. Im just a critic.
Youll find weve made
several slight alterations in the text
and one rather large cut.
Thou calldst me dog
before thou hadst a cause,
But, if I am a dog,
beware my fangs.
I have possessd your Grace
of what I purpose;
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
Psst! Psst!
Oh, its me.
- Its your cue.
- Oh.
Make no more offers?
Make no more offers,
use no further means;
But with all brief and plain conveniency,
Let me have judgment
and this man his will.
No, no, no, with more feeling.
Let me have judgment
and this man his will!
I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
Here tis, most reverend doctor; here it is.
Why, this bond is forfeit;
And lawfully by this
Shylock may claim a pound of flesh
To be by him cut off
Nearest the merchants heart.
Be merciful.
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me.
I stand here on my bond.
Oh, thats me again.
Most heartily I do beseech the court
To give the judgment.
Why then, thus it is:
You must prepare your bosom
for his knife.
Tis very true. O wise and upright judge.
Therefore lay bare your bosom.
(Dickman chuckles)
Now, look here...
Lay bare your bosom.
Living theatre, yes,
but isnt this going a bit too far?
(drum roll)
Come, Merchant,
have you anything to say?
Repent not you
that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not
that he pays your debt;
For if he do but cut deep enough,
Ill pay it instantly with all my heart.
Now we come to the part where Portia,
with a mean pettifogging little piece
of legal trickery, saves your life.
But we have revised the script.
No! Argh! Argh! Argh!
Lionheart...
Do you still think that
my Shylock was inadequate?
That is the adjective you used,
I believe - inadequate.
No, no. The best. The best!
I always said you were the best.
No, the best is given the Critics Award.
Why did you vote against me?
I didnt. It was Devlin.
Now let me go, please. Let me go!
Devlin? You craven scum.
Youre hardly worth the trouble
and expense of this special performance.
Oh, no, no, no!
Aaargh!
- It was a pound exactly, was it not?
- A pound, no more, no less.
This is two ounces over.
16 ounces exactly.
Art thou content?
I am content.
(rapturous applause)
(inspector) There they go.
Mr Larding and Miss Moon.
Well, they should be nicely taken care of.
Yes.
Now, Mr Devlin, you had something
to say to me in private.
Ive an idea who might be
responsible for the killings.
Indeed. Thats what
we want to hear, Mr Devlin.
Are you familiar with
the plays of William Shakespeare?
Ive been to the Old Vic once or twice.
I wouldnt call myself a scholar.
No, no. Well, take a look at this.
Ah, Edward Lionheart again.
Well, what about him?
Julius Caesar was stabbed to death by
several assassins on the ides of March -
the 1 5th of March.
Thats very interesting.
- What date was Maxwell murdered?
- 1 5th of March, sir.
- And the cause of death?
- 28 lacerations of the...
Yes, fine, fine.
- Multiple stab wounds.
- Right.
In Troilus and Cressida
Hector is murdered with a spear
and his body is dragged away
tied to the tail of a horse.
In Cymbeline, lmogen wakes up
and finds the headless body
of Cloten in bed with her.
Yes, well, thats all very provocative,
Mr Devlin, but what would his motive be?
I think I know only too well.
The Critics Circle Awards two years ago.
You see, Lionheart was totally convinced
the Best Actor Award was going to him.
In fact, hed even
risen to his feet to accept it.
But, by a unanimous decision, it went to a
brilliant newcomer - William Woodstock.
There you are.
(Devlin) After the awards we came back
here for drinks prior to our annual dinner.
By the way, Perry, I brought
the awards back for safekeeping.
Thank you. What arrangements
have you made about the engravings?
The goldsmith will have them
engraved within the week.
Fine.
Well, I think this calls for a toast, hm?
- I think it all went well, dont you?
- (all murmur in agreement)
- I felt the caterers did very well...
- Very good, yes.
Hm?
Lionheart, what the hell
do you want here?
This!
My just reward.
The whole world knows
that it is mine by right.
But you deliberately withheld it from me.
You deliberately humiliated me
before the press, my public and my peers.
It was the culmination of
your determined denial of my genius.
Weve denied you nothing.
For 30 years the public has acknowledged
that I was the master
and that this year my season of
Shakespeare was the shining jewel
in the crown of the immortal Bard.
- Quite insane.
- He must be drunk.
But you,
with your overweening malice,
give the award
to a twitching, mumbling boy
who can barely grunt his way through
an incomprehensible performance.
No, no.
It is mine!
Father.
Father, please come away.
You mustnt do this.
Youre only helping them
to hurt you more.
Edwina...
Oh, my God!
What have I done?
Father.
My God, weve got the entire family!
Look at him. Really!
To be, or not to be:
that is the question.
Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?
To die: to sleep;
No more.
And, by a sleep to say
we end the heartache
and the thousand natural shocks
that flesh is heir to.
Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wishd.
To die,
To sleep;
To sleep:
perchance to dream:
Ay, theres the rub;
For in that sleep of death
what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off
this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
Butchers!
Theres the respect
that makes calamity of...
so long life!
Its all our faults. We took advantage
of the occasion to humiliate him.
Yes, well, thats very moving, Mr Devlin -
thank you, miss - but just one question:
how does a dead man
commit three murders?
Obviously hes not dead, lnspector.
All right. Accepting your theory...
Sergeant, whats the next play on the list?
The Merchant of Venice.
- Whats the murder in that, then?
- There is no murder in that.
Excuse me, lnspector.
This just arrived for Mr Devlin.
lm sorry to have missed the meeting,
but my heart is with you. Dickman.
Open that.
Ugh!
Horrible!
You said there was no murder
in The Merchant of Venice.
The pound of flesh
Antonio owed to Shylock.
Its Lionheart all right.
Only he would have the temerity
to rewrite Shakespeare.
Ah, splendid. Thank you so much, Officer.
Excuse me, sir.
How long will this wine tasting take?
Oh, well, ld say within the hour.
- Ill be waiting for you right here, sir.
- Thank you so much, Officer.
- May I see your invitation?
- Oh, yes.
Ah, yes, Mr Larding.
Were honoured. This way, please.
- Thank you.
- I suggest you try a sip of wine.
(Lionheart)
Now is the winter of our discontent.
Made glorious summer
by this sun of York;
And all the clouds
that lourd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound
with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms
hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums
changed to merry meetings.
He capers nimbly in a ladys chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
Well, now, Larding.
(hippy) Ladies and gentlemen,
if you will follow me now.
This way to the wine cellar.
How do you do? Hello.
So my performance of Richard the Third
cast such a spell upon the audience
that it put this reviewer into a
deep sleep from which he awoke much
refreshed and relieved by the knowledge
that he had been spared the ordeal
of attending to the ageing matine idols
ranting and posturing.
Well, we shall see if we cannot stir you
to more rapt attention
with todays performance.
(door opens)
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:
here Clarence comes.
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence
be closely mewd up.
But soft.
Here come my executioners.
I believe you have a passion
for our Chteau Margaux 59.
Oh, rather!
Mm! Oh, yes.
Thats absolutely my favourite Mdoc.
Oh, rather.
Mm. Oh, yes, its a fine,
robust conditioned wine, yes.
Sirs!
Be sudden in the execution.
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Larding is well-spoken,
And perhaps may move your hearts
to pity if you mark him.
Hello, hello? Whats all this, eh?
This is supposed to be wine tasting.
(all laugh drunkenly)
(gasps) Lionheart.
- Impossible!
- No!
No, Larding. Not impossible.
It is I - Lionheart.
You disgusting winebibber.
So this reviewer slept through
my Richard, did he?
Because you had guzzled so much wine
beforehand you slept like a drunken hog
through one of my finest performances!
But you will recall that
the Duke of Clarence,
and I would like you to try out
for that part, Larding,
was drowned in a butt of wine.
Look behind you, my lord.
Oh, no, no, please, please. Oh, please...
No, no! No, dont! No, please dont!
Argh!
(gasps and screams)
Excellent, Larding. Excellent.
I shall make an actor of you yet.
Argh!
I thought you might enjoy
that Chambertin 64, Larding.
Its a vintage that comes on very well.
And, uh, dont hesitate to complain
if it isnt sufficiently chambr.
I wonder if hell travel well.
Good. That seems to work OK.
Now, dont move your head too much.
Im busy, Devlin.
Edwina, four of my colleagues
have been murdered.
Their deaths relate directly
to your fathers last repertory season.
If you were as imaginative in your
reviews, Devlin, youd be a better critic.
Before another murder is committed...
My father was incapable of harming
anyone, let alone killing four people.
Five, Miss Lionheart.
Better make that five.
Lardings just been found dead.
He was drowned.
It seems his lungs
were filled with Chambertin 1964.
Oh, my God. Richard the Third.
Clarence drowned in a butt of malmsey.
Miss Lionheart, will you accompany us
to the police station to make a statement?
Sergeant.
Its not her, lnspector. Its her father.
Look, when two people have the same
motives for murder and one is still alive,
who would you arrest?
Just go about your normal life
and leave the rest to us.
Hello, there. Where is everybody?
(man with German accent)
De Toqueville had a death in the family.
Oh.
Well, since you have no worthy opponent,
perhaps you would be good enough
to have a bout or two with me, huh?
Id be delighted.
I fence twice a week,
but lve never seen you before.
No, this is my first visit.
Im afraid lm not very good.
No, I have been very ill.
I had a serious accident.
- I broke a few limbs.
- Im sorry to hear that.
No. Everything is all right now.
(chuckles) Ja.
Im splendid.
En garde!
Just a minute.
Your sabre. Theres no button.
Oh, so you noticed that, eh?
Well, then.
There. Now you do not have one either.
You see!
- Lionheart!
- Alive and triumphant.
And you thought me slain.
Lionheart is immortal.
He can never be destroyed.
Never! Never!
Up! Up!
I thought you were alive, but how?
I mean, how did you survive?
Theres no longer any reason
why you shouldnt be told what happened.
(shouts)
(all scream and shout excitedly)
(Lionheart) O, brave new world,
That had such lovely creatures in it.
Ive nothing against you. Why dont you
get away while you still have a chance?
Do you recall what play of the masters
comes next in our repertoire?
Hm?
Let me prick your memory.
All right, then! Romeo and Juliet.
Good.
Good.
Then even an unpolished oaf like you
must be familiar with the duel scene.
You did kill Larding
and the others, didnt you?
How many actors have you destroyed,
as you destroyed me?
How many talented lives
have you cut down with your glib attacks?
What do you know of the blood,
sweat and toil of a theatrical production?
Of the dedication of the men and the
women in the noblest profession of all?
How could you know, you talentless fools,
who spew vitriol
on the creative efforts of others
because you lack the ability
to create yourselves?
No, Devlin, no! I did not
kill Larding and the others.
Punished them, my dear boy,
punished them.
Just as you shall have to be punished.
Well, get it over with, then.
So long as you dont make me have to
listen to that demented rubbish of yours.
- Go on, kill me, then.
- Ill kill you when I am ready.
Next week, next month,
perhaps next year.
Oh, I am going to make you suffer
as you have made me suffer.
Argh!
You didnt have to go to such pains
to prove Lionheart was still alive.
Pains!
Or someone else is impersonating him.
Ive seen Lionheart in the theatre
hundreds of times. It was him.
Actually, Mr Devlin, were convinced
youre right. Its Lionheart. Hes our man.
Naturally, we had to release his daughter.
Id keep an eye on her, if I were you.
Shes a devoted daughter.
Dont worry.
Shell be under constant surveillance.
Now, the next play is Othello.
Whats that all about, then?
(clears throat)
A malicious man persuades his
benefactor that his wifes been unfaithful
and drives him into murdering her.
Mr Psaltery, sir.
This is a friend speaking, sir.
(hippy) It may be wise ifyou were to leave
the office and go home early tonight, sir.
You might learn something
very interesting about your wife.
(woman) Yoo-hoo!
Here I am.
Im so glad youve come. You know
how I look forward to your visits.
(Scottish accent) And how is wee
Maisie Psaltery this bonny day, hey?
Dont keep me waiting,
you naughty man. Im ready.
(moans)
I felt so wonderful after the last time.
But, you know, I had a slight pain
after one of your visits.
Do you think I may have a slipped disc?
A wee rubll make it feel better.
Mmm.
Ooh!
You see, my husband and I
Iead a very active s...ocial life.
(Maisie moaning)
(Maisie) Ooh! Oh!
- (fingers crack)
- Ooh! Ooh!
Does that hurt?
- Hm?
- Beautiful.
(moans in pleasure)
- (creaking)
- (Maisie moans intermittently)
- Maisie! Maisie! Open this door!
- Oh, my God! lts him.
- Whatll he think?
- Open up! I know youre there.
Let me go! Hes insanely jealous.
Hell kill me.
(Maisie screams)
Oh, let go! Let go! Argh!
Damn adulterous bitch!
- Ill choke the living daylights out of you.
- (Maisie screams)
Youll be outnumbered, Psaltery, at least
20-1 . Thats how many lovers shes had.
Dont. Dont, please.
You dont understand.
No! No! No!
(chokes)
Down, strumpet!
Officer, if lm not mistaken,
Mr Psalterys murdering his wife.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Poor devil. Lionheart certainly
knew what his weakness was.
- Jealousy?
- Yeah.
Its incredible.
I gather from the constable on duty
outside that hes been coming for weeks.
But how does this fit in
with Lionhearts scheme?
Mrs Psaltery is dead, not Psaltery.
Well, hes as good as dead, isnt he?
At his age hell never leave prison alive.
No. Lionhearts destroyed him
just as surely as if hed murdered him.
I read the next play on the list last night.
Henry the Sixth, Part One.
- Theres more than one murder in that.
- Inspector, there are only three of us left.
- Miss Moon, Merridew and...
- And yourself.
Myself.
Surely the entire might of the London
police force can stop us being killed.
Hopefully, Mr Devlin.
Hopefully.
Hey!
Sorry, darling, youre too late.
Were closed.
Yes, but Henri called me.
He changed the appointment to seven.
Oh.
What name is it, then?
Miss Moon.
Oh, yeah. Thats cool.
Shampoo, set, pedicure. Right.
- Henris had to go, but Butch is still here.
- Henri always takes care of me.
Butch is very chic. Does Princess
Margarets hair - chicks like that.
Oh, well. In that case...
Hello. Im Butch.
Hey, dishy, dishy hair.
Cant wait to get my hands on it.
Whos this great big, beautiful thing
with you? ls he yours?
Only just.
Come on, baby. Let me get to it.
Let me get at it, huh?
You just sit there, baby, and relax, huh?
She wont be long.
I wish youd let me do something camp
with the colour, darling.
I mean, like, well...
Iike flame with ash highlights.
These are very funny rollers, Butch.
Naughty, naughty. Dont touch.
Butch knows best.
Theyre something new from Gay Paree.
What are you doing?
You know, lm very uncomfortable.
I cant move.
Bring forth that sorceress
condemned to burn.
Thats from Henry the Sixth,
ducky, Part One.
Its a very interesting play,
dont you think so, Miss Moon?
Especially that scene where
Joan of Arc dies at the stake.
Though lm afraid you might find
our novel version of it a bit of a shock.
(cries)
And hark ye, sirs, because she is a maid
Spare for no fagots, let there be enow:
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortened.
Yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
Break thou in pieces
and consume to ashes,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell!
- Dyou mind if I talk to her in private?
- No, certainly.
Thank you for coming.
- As you can see, I couldnt get away.
- What do you want, Edwina?
Well, this morning before I left the house
to come here, the phone rang.
It was my fathers voice.
I couldnt believe it. To hear
his voice again, to know hes alive.
- What did he say?
- You were right all along. Hes alive.
- Where is he?
- I cant tell you. Not yet.
For Gods sake! There was
another murder last night. Miss Moon.
Yes, I know. I read it in the papers.
He admits to the killings.
Hell give himself up.
Then take us to him.
Ill call lnspector Boot.
No. If he sees me with the police,
hes bound to disappear again.
- Hes a frightened man.
- Hes frightened?!
Hes frightened that
the police might shoot him on sight.
Do you want me to come with you?
- But... would you?
- Where is he?
He promised hed phone me
and tell me where later.
All right. When he does,
lll pick you up in my car.
- Promise well be alone.
- Right.
Dont try and trick me, Devlin.
He is my father.
No matter what hes done,
I must play fair with him.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Thank goodness
no one can get near enough to notice
the dazed, glazed, drunken,
idiotic expression in his eyes.
- You are to obey my orders. Dyou hear?
- Yes, sir.
Now, let us see what that stupid cretin
Mr Meredith Merridew had to say
about my Titus Andronicus.
Mr Lionhearts rendering of the role
can only be described as villainous.
Laid between the delicately
underplayed performances
of Miss Lillywhite as Lavinia
and Miss Mole as Tamora,
one is irresistibly reminded of
a ham sandwich.
My reputation.
Hark, villain!
I will grind your bones to dust,
And make two pasties
of your shameful head.
Now you know what he looks like, so
keep your wits about you and eyes open.
Well, Sergeant, weve got four police cars
in front of Devlins home
and three here at Merridews.
Theyll be bringing him home by
armoured car from work in ten minutes.
That should discourage our Mr Lionheart.
Yeah, whats the next murder, lnspector?
Intended murder, you mean, Sergeant.
Its Titus Andronicus.
Two chaps are mutilated and beheaded,
another stabbed and thrown in a pit,
and to cap it all some queen
is made to eat her children baked in a pie.
Its hardly a comedy, Sergeant.
Still, I think well be able to hand...
Thats him! After him.
Thats him! After him, all of you!
(sirens)
Move it!
Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh!
Where are my babies, eh?
Daddys home!
Ooh-ooh!
Where are my doggy-woggies?
My doggy-woggies?
Ooh.
Come to Daddy.
I know where you are. (chuckles)
I know where youre hiding.
Meredith Merridew,
this is your dish!
( fanfare)
Oh! Oh!
What a divine surprise.
Ive often thought
What if I was on This is Your Dish?
And now that I am,
I cant think of anything to say,
except this is a very great honour.
Merci. Please be seated, monsieur.
There. Now, we will
make you comfortable.
There we go.
- Which is the camera?
- That one right over there, monsieur.
For what we are about to receive, may
the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.
Ooh.
(siren)
Keep your eyes on the road!
What are you trying to do,
Sergeant? Kill us all?
Come on, Sergeant!
(Lionheart)
This is the best vintage, monsieur.
Soixante-six.
Oh!
Oh, I hope everything
is to monsieurs satisfaction.
- Simply delicious.
- Bon daccord.
I wonder where my babies have got to.
My doggies, you know.
I always think of them as my babies.
Of course you do, monsieur.
And so do we.
That is part of your surprise.
I wish they were here
to share this with me.
Why, there they are,
both baked in that pie;
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed
Eating the flesh
which she herself hath bred.
Oh. Mm.
(tuts)
What was that? Where are my dogs?
Where are my babies?
Well, if Monsieur cannot do without
his dogs, then he shall have his dogs.
- Props!
- (all whistle)
You see, monsieur, two dogs...
two pies.
We knew that Monsieur would be hungry.
Oh... oh...
You do remember, monsieur,
how in Titus Andronicus,
the Queen Tamora was served
her own children baked in a pie.
Of course, in your case
weve used only the tenderest morsels.
Do have some more.
Now, will you ever again ruin
the reputation of an honest man?
- No.
- Ah-hah.
- Have you learnt your lesson?
- Yes.
Can I be certain
you will never again offend me?
Yes!
Youre quite right, I can be sure.
Thou detestable maw,
Gorgd with the dearest morsel
of the earth,
Thus I enforce
thy rotten jaws to open,
And, in despite,
lll cram thee with more food!
(Merridew chokes)
Pity.
He didnt have the stomach for it.
This is Hamlet calling Fortinbras.
Hamlet calling Fortinbras.
- Can you hear me?
- This is Fortinbras.
Youre loud and clear, Hamlet. All right?
Yes. Ive reached the rendezvous.
She should be here any moment.
Fine. Lets have a check
on the homing device.
Right.
(beeps)
Good. As long as that signal
keeps coming in, we cant lose you.
Come in, Horatio.
Come in, Horatio. Are you receiving me?
Receiving you, Fortinbras.
Is my signal clear?
Were tied to your tail, Horatio.
Shes just coming. Im signing off now.
- Hes not far from here. Shall we go?
- Edwina, I have to be honest with you.
Theres a homing device in the car.
The police will follow us.
- But you gave me your word!
- Look, the mans homicidal.
Im not tackling him on my own.
Yeah, youre right.
But youll have to let me drive.
- Why?
- If he sees you, he wont give himself up.
Yeah, all right.
Dont worry, I can handle him.
Ooh!
Horatio to Fortinbras.
Hes started up the engine now.
Right.
(beeps)
Horatio to Fortinbras.
We are stopping. They are getting out.
- (whistling)
- I hear a train whistle.
Yes, I can definitely
identify it as a train. T-R-A...
(crash)
Good day, Mr Devlin.
Welcome to the Critics Circle
Awards Presentation.
You will remember it, of course.
It was a memorable occasion for all of us.
Today, however, we are going to restage
it and you will again present the awards.
Nothing you can do will sway me
from my original judgment.
Your judgment was
ill-considered and irresponsible.
It was neither!
We gave the award to William Woodstock
because your performances
lacked originality.
Lacked originality?!
My Julius Caesar - cut down by a drunken
mob in an abandoned warehouse.
My Titus Andronicus -
This is your dish, Meredith Merridew.
My Othello - one of the greatest
performances in the history of the theatre.
Nothing you can do or say
will alter my decision.
We shall see.
No! Not one drop,
until you tell us where he is.
Be fair, lnspector.
Think what hed do to me if I told you.
Hell do nothing! Well put him away
where hell never harm a soul again.
- Dyou want a drink or dont you?
- Yes, please, lnspector.
- Im just dying for a drop.
- First tell us where Lionheart is.
You will recall, Mr Devlin, that the last
play in my repertoire was King Lear.
And lm sure you will remember
the fate that befell Gloucester.
He was blinded, Mr Devlin,
to improve his vision of events.
Perhaps a similar adjustment
will rectify your critical faculties.
Lionheart, think of your daughter.
Think of what youve done to her
with this insane vendetta of yours.
My daughter?
What have I done to you, my daughter?
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lovd me:
I return those duties back
as are right fit;
Obey you, love you, most honour you.
Give him the award.
- Forgotten the words, Mr Devlin?
- I remember them, but I wont say them.
You will repeat after me, Mr Devlin.
With this award we not only honour
a consistently brilliant interpretative artist,
but we also recognise his outstanding
contribution to the English theatre.
Therefore it is my privilege to announce
the Best Actor of the Year Award goes to...
- William Woodstock!
- (applause/cheering)
No! Present me the award, Gloucester,
or you will lose your eyes and have to
smell your way through the world.
As Lear said at his greatest moment:
Never, never, never, never, never!
Never, never, never, so be it.
- Edwina, you will give me the award.
- Yes, Father.
It will be the last thing
that Mr Devlin will ever see.
The Critics Circle is happy to present
this award for Best Actor of the Year
- to Edward Lionheart.
- (applause/cheering)
(sirens)
Ladies and gentlemen,
it is always a nostalgic moment
when we come to the end of a season,
especially one that has been
as successful as this one.
Will you join me in the toast
to the immortal Bard?
William Shakespeare!
(all) William Shakespeare.
Shakespeare!
(brakes screeching)
Burn.
Burn.
Come, fire.
Consume this petty world.
And in its ashes.
Let my memory lie.
Help him.
Help your master!
Help!
This is your masters glorious hour.
Please. Please help.
A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
O, my daughter.
How does my royal lord?
How fares your Majesty?
You did me wrong
to take me out of the grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss;
But I am bound upon a wheel of fire,
that mine own tears do scald
like molten lead.
We are not the first
Who, with best meaning,
have incurrd the worst.
For thee, oppressed king,
am I cast down.
Stay!
Stay awhile.
Howl.
Howl, howl, howl!
O, you are men of stones!
After him!
Look, hes heading for the roof!
There he is!
Fool. If he doesnt come down,
hell be burnt alive.
Had I your tongues and eyes,
Id use them
so that heavens vault should crack.
Shes gone for ever!
I know when one is dead,
and when one lives;
Shes dead as earth.
Aaargh!
Were those lines from King Lear?
Yes. Yes, it was
a fascinating performance.
But, of course,
he was madly overacting as usual.
But you must admit
he did know how to make an exit.
ENHOH
the best part of my review.
So I noticed, dear.
You ought to have a chat with him.
- (phone rings)
- Oh.
My most provocative comment, too,
where I said the leading lady
attacked her role with both hands
and strangled it to death.
Maxwell here.
Yes, lm the chairman of the Bermondsey
Housing and Redevelopment Committee.
Really, Constable,
you dont need me for that.
Oh. Well, if you feel that
lm the only one who can handle it, yes.
Yes, lll be there within the hour. (sighs)
Apparently squatters have settled in the
ruin of that tenement were tearing down.
- I have to throw them out.
- Must it be you?
- They need someone with authority.
- But you have the Critics Circle meeting.
- I can handle this in a very few moments.
- Please dont go. Let someone else do it.
- Why? Whats worrying you?
- I had such a bad dream last night.
We were at the zoo. There was a storm
and lightning broke open the lions cages.
- Well?
- We ran from the animals, but you fell.
Before I could help,
they tore you to pieces.
Im not going anywhere
near the zoo today, my dear.
You might ring Perry Devlin and tell him
lll be a bit late for the Critics meeting.
George, I read your horoscope
this morning.
It said March is a difficult month.
Avoid unexpected engagements.
The ides of March, eh?
Well, we must not put our faith in dreams
and horoscopes, must we, my love?
Ill call you later.
(thunder rumbles)
(clap ofthunder)
- Very good of you to come, sir.
- Not at all.
Only too happy to help the police.
Theyre a stubborn lot, sir. Im afraid
youre going to have to be very firm.
Yes, well, lets get on with it, then.
All right, all of you.
This is private property.
Out.
Out!
Come on, do you hear me? Get out!
I want all of you out of here.
Come on. Get up.
Come on, then. You heard.
Get out!
Get up, there. All of you!
Youve got to get out.
You heard me.
Come on, then.
Lets have no trouble here.
Come on!
Constable! Constable!
A little help here.
Help!
Help!
(cries)
(squeals oflaughter)
O, pardon me,
thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle
with these butchers.
You!
Its you.
- But youre dead.
- No.
No. Another critical miscalculation
on your part, dear boy.
I am well. It is you who are dead.
Friends,
Romans,
countrymen,
Iend me your ears.
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,
Come I to speak in Caesars funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me.
But Brutus says he was ambitious,
And Brutus is an honourable man.
He hath brought
many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did
the general coffers fill.
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
(unruly cheering)
Stop!
Stop! I havent finished yet.
Stage manager. Discipline
in the theatre is your responsibility.
Please to enforce it immediately.
(cheering continues)
You drunken bum!
You should treasure
this opportunity to listen to a master.
The worlds greatest living actor.
Wisdom and goodness
to the vile seem vile
Filths savour but themselves.
Here, filths.
Put money in thy purse.
(cheering)
(woman) Always late.
Why cant George ever be on time?
Do lets start. Im interviewing
that divine young actor at the Apollo.
I dont want to miss tea with him
for pompous old George Maxwell.
As were six weeks away from the awards
ceremony, I must insist we get under way,
especially as I have to leave shortly.
Come off it, Sprouty.
Your wifes picking you up in half an hour
and doesnt like to be kept waiting.
- Thats uncalled-for, Merridew.
- Would you look after Georgie?
- She gets so nervous in committee.
- Take that revolting animal away.
Lets put it to the vote, then.
Three of you want to begin.
- What do you say, Psaltery?
- I say wait. Its only courtesy.
- Dickman?
- I say get on with it.
And let your gorgeous secretary send him
the minutes of our profound deliberations.
Great idea, Dickman, but lm afraid
that glorious secretary isnt with us.
I say wait, and lets have another glass
of this splendid Chteau Latour 52.
Rosemary, you all right?
Ive come from the newspaper.
They want you to go to Bermondsey.
- Were starting the meeting.
- Youll stop it when you hear this.
Good heavens, darling.
What an entrance. What suspense.
- Tell us. Whats happened?
- George Maxwell is dead.
Hes been murdered.
They say hes been cut to ribbons.
- Good God! I cant believe it!
- Good heavens!
How? I dont understand.
I dont know. They just say
hes been hacked to pieces.
The editor wants you to write an article
as a tribute to a fellow critic.
At last, a headline.
Instead of a by-line.
- Sure you want to see this, Mr Devlin?
- Ill have to if lm to write a report.
All right, Sergeant.
I havent seen a man cut like that
in all my 20 years in the police force.
Nor me. And thats only his head!
Any idea who did this?
We know by the different weapons used
there were at least six,
but weve yet to discover
who they were.
Found something interesting, Mr Devlin?
No, only this old poster.
Oh, yes. I saw him once.
Hes a very, um... very vigorous actor.
Thats a good description.
- I take it you didnt like him.
- No, I didnt.
I could never write
anything good about him.
Funny, but you begin to resent an actor if
you always have to give him bad notices.
Edward Lionheart alive! lncredible.
Quite incredible. I can hardly believe it.
Very much alive, sir.
Very anxious to see you, sir.
Oh, the old Burbage Theatre.
I thought it had been burnt down.
There was a fire, sir.
Mr Lionhearts fixed the place up.
- Hes preparing for a comeback.
- Oh, most interesting.
Wonderful old building.
Astounding! Quite astounding.
(Lionheart) Look, Hector,
how the sun begins to set.
How ugly night comes
breathing at his heels
Even with the violent darkening of the sun
To close the day up,
Hectors life is done.
Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable.
Those were the days.
- Well, where is he?
- Hes down there, sir.
What?
But I cant see him.
Hello?
Hello?
Oh.
Oh.
(clatter)
Lionheart.
Oh, my dear sir, what a pleasure
to see you well and alive.
Yes, it was a remarkable resurrection,
as you shall hear.
What a great honour you should choose
me to tell your stories to the world.
Well, lve always admired you
as a critic, Snipe.
Your clever turn of phrase,
your use of analogy and metaphor.
One always felt that
you were striving to be complimentary.
- Most generous...
- But not always complimentary.
Critics make errors.
After all, were all human.
An opinion I find myself
incapable of sharing.
You must admit I was most enthusiastic
about your performance as Achilles.
Oh, yes. Yes, now that you mention it,
I vaguely recall you wrote some review.
I remember it very well. I wrote
Edward Lionhearts Troilus and Cressida
must be considered as
a brilliant theatrical achievement,
and his own performance
as Achilles unsurpassed.
- Well, something of that sort.
- A splendid review, my dear Snipe.
- What else did you say?
- More, in the same vein.
Let me refresh your memory.
Achilles unsurpassed...
This clearly is Lionhearts own view.
That actors oft-expressed desire
for solitude is well known.
He must derive much satisfaction
in knowing that he is absolutely alone
in his opinion
of this lamentable production.
- Did I write that?
- Your name is Hector Snipe?
I can only say that you were one actor
who could always accept criticism.
Criticism is one thing, my dear Snipe.
Then there is the little matter
of the Critics Award Presentation.
I cant accept blame for that.
Devlin was president of the Circle,
and you know how persuasive he can be.
Devlin?! Do you think
you can hide your guilt behind his?
Maxwell thought so, too.
Its all right, sir. No need to worry, sir.
Youre among friends here, sir.
Oh, thank you, my dear man.
I was getting a little bit nervous.
We were rehearsing Troilus and Cressida.
The scene where Hector,
believing he was among friends,
was brutally murdered by them
without warning,
and his body dragged from
the battlefield tied to a horses tail.
Lionheart, I came here for an interview,
not for a lecture on Shakespeare.
Now, tell us this remarkable story
of your resurrection.
Its a grave tale, Snipe,
and difficult to write,
but I am sure
you can rise to the occasion.
Stand back! Get out of the way!
The dragon wing of night
oerspreads the earth,
My half-suppd spear,
that frankly would have fed,
Pleased with this dainty bait,
thus goes to bed.
(evil laughter)
In the midst of life, we are in death.
We therefore commit
his body to the ground.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
in sure and certain hope
of the resurrection to eternal life
through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Man that is born of a woman hath but
a short time to live and is full of misery.
He cometh up
and is cut down like a flower.
He fleeth as it were a shadow
and never continueth in one stay.
Almighty God, Father of all mercies
and giver of all comfort,
deal graciously, we pray thee,
with those who mourn,
that casting every care on thee, they may
know the consolation of thy love,
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
- Amen.
- Whos that girl?
- Sh!
- Im sure I know her from somewhere.
Do be quiet, Perry.
..be with us all ever more.
(all) Amen.
Imperious Caesar dead and turnd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O! That that earth
which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall
to expel the winters flaw.
Come, tie his body to my horses tail.
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.
- Shall I be seeing you at the club?
- (whinnying)
Oh, no!
Whoa, there.
(all gasp)
- Know him?
- Yeah.
Yeah. Hector Snipe.
- A critic?
- Yeah.
But hes supposed to be
one of the mourners.
George Maxwell, Hector Snipe -
both dead, both critics. Now, why?
Who hates you enough
to want to kill two of your circle?
Critics are likely
to make enemies, lnspector.
You might call it an occupational hazard.
But, darling boy, they wont start killing
people for writing bad notices, will they?
Well, why not? A play fails,
directors, writers, actors, careers ruined.
Plenty of motivation there, I should think.
Are you saying some lunatic in the theatre
might be trying to kill us all?
Its a distinct possibility.
Id like you all to give it some thought.
If you have any ideas,
get in touch with me... at once.
Take me home. I think lm going to be ill.
Oh, my God.
I think Georginas going to faint.
- I know who it is.
- What?
That girl. Edwina Lionheart.
Hello, Edwina. I thought it was you.
Well, the brilliant Peregrine Devlin.
Wielder of the brutal aphorism.
Master of the killing phrase.
My fathers murderer.
- Thats a bit melodramatic, isnt it?
- Oh, forgive me. I forgot.
It was your reverence and admiration
that drove him to take his own life.
- You dont understand.
- I understand the greatest ever actor
never earned your approval
for one single performance.
Never. Not one good review.
In his entire career your father refused
to appear in anything but Shakespeare.
A truly great actor illuminates
the present as well as the past.
I attacked him in order to goad him
into the 20th century.
What do you want, Devlin? lnformation
for a vicious posthumous attack on him?
No. Look, Edwina,
your fathers body was never found.
My father is as good as under that granite.
You and your pack neednt fear
hes come back to haunt you.
(hippy) Fear no more the heat o the sun
(Lionheart) No exorciser harm thee
- (hippy) Nor the furious winters rages
- (Lionheart) Nor no witchcraft charm thee
(hippy) Thou thy worldly task has done
(Lionheart) Ghost unlaid forbear thee
(hippy) Home hath gone
and taen thy wages
(Lionheart) Nothing ill come near thee
(hippy) Golden lads and girls all must
(Lionheart) Quiet consummation have
(hippy) Like chimney sweepers
come to dust
(Lionheart) And renowned be thy grave.
(crowd) Bravo!
Thank you, thank you.
An excellent dress rehearsal.
But tonight we shall play Cymbeline
as it has never been played before.
(excited murmurs)
I simply dont understand
these modern playwrights.
What we saw this evening
didnt make sense at all.
(Sprout) lm not so sure about that, dear.
It was incomprehensible rubbish,
and you know it.
Yes, lm sure youre right.
Good gracious.
According to Agnes, it came this evening.
What to do with it, she does not know.
You must remove it, Horace. I cant
have a thing like that in my bedroom.
Well, dont just stand there.
Why dont you open it?
- I cant without a key and tools, can l?
- Well, deal with it in the morning, then.
Yes, dear.
(Sprout snoring)
Horace, youre snoring.
- (mumbles) Oh, dear. Was l?
- How many more times?
- (whispers) Hypodermic.
- Hypo.
Ooh!
(moans)
- Sheet.
- Sheet.
(mutters)
- Lipstick.
- Lipstick.
- Scalpel.
- Scalpel.
(tearing)
(gushing)
Basin.
Basin!
- Saw.
- Saw.
(cutting)
Horace! How many more times?
Youre snoring again.
- Hypodermic.
- Hypodermic.
Ooh!
(knock at door)
Morning, maam.
Good morning, Mr Sprout.
Heres your breakfast.
Aaargh!
Horace!
Horace!
Mr... Mr Sprout...
Aaargh!
All right, thats enough.
Get that thing out of here.
Constable.
Dyou have that list of your colleagues?
My remaining colleagues, yes.
You wouldnt have a match on you
by any chance, would you?
Thanks very much.
Sergeant, get every one
of these people on the phone,
tell them to stay where they are
until a constable picks them up
and delivers them here for a meeting.
And stress that on no account
are they to go out alone. Right?
Well, Mr Devlin.
Theres no doubt about it now.
Hes after you all.
Mr Dickman?
Yes. Trevor Dickman.
Your secretary told me
I might find you here.
Really? That was
terribly considerate of her.
- Have you heard the news?
- No. What?
His head cut off? I cant believe it.
Isnt it simply awful? Poor Mr Sprout.
But how did you know this?
I havent seen anything in the papers.
Sprouty decapitated.
I was to take him to our rehearsal this
morning, but when I called at his house...
There, there, my child.
- Can I get you a brandy?
- Oh, no. No, thank you.
Its just that Mr Sprout
was such a good friend to our group.
He took such an interest in me.
Im not surprised, my dear.
Old Sprouty always had an eye for talent.
- You are an actress?
- Yes, but only an amateur.
Mr Sprout was kind enough
to say hed watch us rehearse
and give us the benefit
of his professional opinion.
Can you imagine how brave it was of poor
Mrs Sprout, even in her terrible distress,
to suggest that I come to you,
his best friend,
and ask you to substitute?
- Right now, you mean?
- Oh, but could you?
Could you?
Well, ld do anything for old Sprouty.
Perhaps after rehearsal,
we could have a little supper together?
And then you could tell me
what you think of me.
About your performance, you mean?
Yes. Shall we go?
(sirens)
So from now on
until this madman is apprehended,
you will all be protected
day and night by one of our men.
Thank goodness for that. Dyou hear that?
This nice policeman is going to see to it
that were all, all, all of us, all right.
Oh, God, Merridew. Dont be so
disgusting. I need another drink.
What about our families?
What about my wretched wife?
- Were the targets. Not our families.
- Yes, youre right, Mr Devlin.
- What is it, Sergeant?
- Mr Dickman, sir.
His office said he was at lunch,
so I sent a car to the restaurant right
away, but lm afraid we missed him.
- Missed him?
- Only just.
- Come on.
- (dogs whimper)
I think well all have a drink.
( fanfare)
I do hope youll enjoy this, Mr Dickman.
Its our most ambitious production.
Really?
- Put the prisoner in the dock.
- Hear! Hear!
Its living theatre
with audience participation.
Living theatre! How very interesting.
A unique conception.
(Lionheart) You call me misbeliever,
cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine.
Well, then, it now appears
you need my help.
Shall I bend low,
and in a bondsmans key,
With bated breath and
whispering humbleness say this:
Fair sir, you spit on me
on Wednesday last,
You spurnd me such a day;
another time you calld me dog...
- Ah, were doing The Merchant of Venice.
- And you are Antonio.
Me Antonio? lm no actor. Im just a critic.
Youll find weve made
several slight alterations in the text
and one rather large cut.
Thou calldst me dog
before thou hadst a cause,
But, if I am a dog,
beware my fangs.
I have possessd your Grace
of what I purpose;
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
Psst! Psst!
Oh, its me.
- Its your cue.
- Oh.
Make no more offers?
Make no more offers,
use no further means;
But with all brief and plain conveniency,
Let me have judgment
and this man his will.
No, no, no, with more feeling.
Let me have judgment
and this man his will!
I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
Here tis, most reverend doctor; here it is.
Why, this bond is forfeit;
And lawfully by this
Shylock may claim a pound of flesh
To be by him cut off
Nearest the merchants heart.
Be merciful.
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me.
I stand here on my bond.
Oh, thats me again.
Most heartily I do beseech the court
To give the judgment.
Why then, thus it is:
You must prepare your bosom
for his knife.
Tis very true. O wise and upright judge.
Therefore lay bare your bosom.
(Dickman chuckles)
Now, look here...
Lay bare your bosom.
Living theatre, yes,
but isnt this going a bit too far?
(drum roll)
Come, Merchant,
have you anything to say?
Repent not you
that you shall lose your friend,
And he repents not
that he pays your debt;
For if he do but cut deep enough,
Ill pay it instantly with all my heart.
Now we come to the part where Portia,
with a mean pettifogging little piece
of legal trickery, saves your life.
But we have revised the script.
No! Argh! Argh! Argh!
Lionheart...
Do you still think that
my Shylock was inadequate?
That is the adjective you used,
I believe - inadequate.
No, no. The best. The best!
I always said you were the best.
No, the best is given the Critics Award.
Why did you vote against me?
I didnt. It was Devlin.
Now let me go, please. Let me go!
Devlin? You craven scum.
Youre hardly worth the trouble
and expense of this special performance.
Oh, no, no, no!
Aaargh!
- It was a pound exactly, was it not?
- A pound, no more, no less.
This is two ounces over.
16 ounces exactly.
Art thou content?
I am content.
(rapturous applause)
(inspector) There they go.
Mr Larding and Miss Moon.
Well, they should be nicely taken care of.
Yes.
Now, Mr Devlin, you had something
to say to me in private.
Ive an idea who might be
responsible for the killings.
Indeed. Thats what
we want to hear, Mr Devlin.
Are you familiar with
the plays of William Shakespeare?
Ive been to the Old Vic once or twice.
I wouldnt call myself a scholar.
No, no. Well, take a look at this.
Ah, Edward Lionheart again.
Well, what about him?
Julius Caesar was stabbed to death by
several assassins on the ides of March -
the 1 5th of March.
Thats very interesting.
- What date was Maxwell murdered?
- 1 5th of March, sir.
- And the cause of death?
- 28 lacerations of the...
Yes, fine, fine.
- Multiple stab wounds.
- Right.
In Troilus and Cressida
Hector is murdered with a spear
and his body is dragged away
tied to the tail of a horse.
In Cymbeline, lmogen wakes up
and finds the headless body
of Cloten in bed with her.
Yes, well, thats all very provocative,
Mr Devlin, but what would his motive be?
I think I know only too well.
The Critics Circle Awards two years ago.
You see, Lionheart was totally convinced
the Best Actor Award was going to him.
In fact, hed even
risen to his feet to accept it.
But, by a unanimous decision, it went to a
brilliant newcomer - William Woodstock.
There you are.
(Devlin) After the awards we came back
here for drinks prior to our annual dinner.
By the way, Perry, I brought
the awards back for safekeeping.
Thank you. What arrangements
have you made about the engravings?
The goldsmith will have them
engraved within the week.
Fine.
Well, I think this calls for a toast, hm?
- I think it all went well, dont you?
- (all murmur in agreement)
- I felt the caterers did very well...
- Very good, yes.
Hm?
Lionheart, what the hell
do you want here?
This!
My just reward.
The whole world knows
that it is mine by right.
But you deliberately withheld it from me.
You deliberately humiliated me
before the press, my public and my peers.
It was the culmination of
your determined denial of my genius.
Weve denied you nothing.
For 30 years the public has acknowledged
that I was the master
and that this year my season of
Shakespeare was the shining jewel
in the crown of the immortal Bard.
- Quite insane.
- He must be drunk.
But you,
with your overweening malice,
give the award
to a twitching, mumbling boy
who can barely grunt his way through
an incomprehensible performance.
No, no.
It is mine!
Father.
Father, please come away.
You mustnt do this.
Youre only helping them
to hurt you more.
Edwina...
Oh, my God!
What have I done?
Father.
My God, weve got the entire family!
Look at him. Really!
To be, or not to be:
that is the question.
Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows
of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?
To die: to sleep;
No more.
And, by a sleep to say
we end the heartache
and the thousand natural shocks
that flesh is heir to.
Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wishd.
To die,
To sleep;
To sleep:
perchance to dream:
Ay, theres the rub;
For in that sleep of death
what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off
this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
Butchers!
Theres the respect
that makes calamity of...
so long life!
Its all our faults. We took advantage
of the occasion to humiliate him.
Yes, well, thats very moving, Mr Devlin -
thank you, miss - but just one question:
how does a dead man
commit three murders?
Obviously hes not dead, lnspector.
All right. Accepting your theory...
Sergeant, whats the next play on the list?
The Merchant of Venice.
- Whats the murder in that, then?
- There is no murder in that.
Excuse me, lnspector.
This just arrived for Mr Devlin.
lm sorry to have missed the meeting,
but my heart is with you. Dickman.
Open that.
Ugh!
Horrible!
You said there was no murder
in The Merchant of Venice.
The pound of flesh
Antonio owed to Shylock.
Its Lionheart all right.
Only he would have the temerity
to rewrite Shakespeare.
Ah, splendid. Thank you so much, Officer.
Excuse me, sir.
How long will this wine tasting take?
Oh, well, ld say within the hour.
- Ill be waiting for you right here, sir.
- Thank you so much, Officer.
- May I see your invitation?
- Oh, yes.
Ah, yes, Mr Larding.
Were honoured. This way, please.
- Thank you.
- I suggest you try a sip of wine.
(Lionheart)
Now is the winter of our discontent.
Made glorious summer
by this sun of York;
And all the clouds
that lourd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound
with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms
hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums
changed to merry meetings.
He capers nimbly in a ladys chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
Well, now, Larding.
(hippy) Ladies and gentlemen,
if you will follow me now.
This way to the wine cellar.
How do you do? Hello.
So my performance of Richard the Third
cast such a spell upon the audience
that it put this reviewer into a
deep sleep from which he awoke much
refreshed and relieved by the knowledge
that he had been spared the ordeal
of attending to the ageing matine idols
ranting and posturing.
Well, we shall see if we cannot stir you
to more rapt attention
with todays performance.
(door opens)
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:
here Clarence comes.
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence
be closely mewd up.
But soft.
Here come my executioners.
I believe you have a passion
for our Chteau Margaux 59.
Oh, rather!
Mm! Oh, yes.
Thats absolutely my favourite Mdoc.
Oh, rather.
Mm. Oh, yes, its a fine,
robust conditioned wine, yes.
Sirs!
Be sudden in the execution.
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Larding is well-spoken,
And perhaps may move your hearts
to pity if you mark him.
Hello, hello? Whats all this, eh?
This is supposed to be wine tasting.
(all laugh drunkenly)
(gasps) Lionheart.
- Impossible!
- No!
No, Larding. Not impossible.
It is I - Lionheart.
You disgusting winebibber.
So this reviewer slept through
my Richard, did he?
Because you had guzzled so much wine
beforehand you slept like a drunken hog
through one of my finest performances!
But you will recall that
the Duke of Clarence,
and I would like you to try out
for that part, Larding,
was drowned in a butt of wine.
Look behind you, my lord.
Oh, no, no, please, please. Oh, please...
No, no! No, dont! No, please dont!
Argh!
(gasps and screams)
Excellent, Larding. Excellent.
I shall make an actor of you yet.
Argh!
I thought you might enjoy
that Chambertin 64, Larding.
Its a vintage that comes on very well.
And, uh, dont hesitate to complain
if it isnt sufficiently chambr.
I wonder if hell travel well.
Good. That seems to work OK.
Now, dont move your head too much.
Im busy, Devlin.
Edwina, four of my colleagues
have been murdered.
Their deaths relate directly
to your fathers last repertory season.
If you were as imaginative in your
reviews, Devlin, youd be a better critic.
Before another murder is committed...
My father was incapable of harming
anyone, let alone killing four people.
Five, Miss Lionheart.
Better make that five.
Lardings just been found dead.
He was drowned.
It seems his lungs
were filled with Chambertin 1964.
Oh, my God. Richard the Third.
Clarence drowned in a butt of malmsey.
Miss Lionheart, will you accompany us
to the police station to make a statement?
Sergeant.
Its not her, lnspector. Its her father.
Look, when two people have the same
motives for murder and one is still alive,
who would you arrest?
Just go about your normal life
and leave the rest to us.
Hello, there. Where is everybody?
(man with German accent)
De Toqueville had a death in the family.
Oh.
Well, since you have no worthy opponent,
perhaps you would be good enough
to have a bout or two with me, huh?
Id be delighted.
I fence twice a week,
but lve never seen you before.
No, this is my first visit.
Im afraid lm not very good.
No, I have been very ill.
I had a serious accident.
- I broke a few limbs.
- Im sorry to hear that.
No. Everything is all right now.
(chuckles) Ja.
Im splendid.
En garde!
Just a minute.
Your sabre. Theres no button.
Oh, so you noticed that, eh?
Well, then.
There. Now you do not have one either.
You see!
- Lionheart!
- Alive and triumphant.
And you thought me slain.
Lionheart is immortal.
He can never be destroyed.
Never! Never!
Up! Up!
I thought you were alive, but how?
I mean, how did you survive?
Theres no longer any reason
why you shouldnt be told what happened.
(shouts)
(all scream and shout excitedly)
(Lionheart) O, brave new world,
That had such lovely creatures in it.
Ive nothing against you. Why dont you
get away while you still have a chance?
Do you recall what play of the masters
comes next in our repertoire?
Hm?
Let me prick your memory.
All right, then! Romeo and Juliet.
Good.
Good.
Then even an unpolished oaf like you
must be familiar with the duel scene.
You did kill Larding
and the others, didnt you?
How many actors have you destroyed,
as you destroyed me?
How many talented lives
have you cut down with your glib attacks?
What do you know of the blood,
sweat and toil of a theatrical production?
Of the dedication of the men and the
women in the noblest profession of all?
How could you know, you talentless fools,
who spew vitriol
on the creative efforts of others
because you lack the ability
to create yourselves?
No, Devlin, no! I did not
kill Larding and the others.
Punished them, my dear boy,
punished them.
Just as you shall have to be punished.
Well, get it over with, then.
So long as you dont make me have to
listen to that demented rubbish of yours.
- Go on, kill me, then.
- Ill kill you when I am ready.
Next week, next month,
perhaps next year.
Oh, I am going to make you suffer
as you have made me suffer.
Argh!
You didnt have to go to such pains
to prove Lionheart was still alive.
Pains!
Or someone else is impersonating him.
Ive seen Lionheart in the theatre
hundreds of times. It was him.
Actually, Mr Devlin, were convinced
youre right. Its Lionheart. Hes our man.
Naturally, we had to release his daughter.
Id keep an eye on her, if I were you.
Shes a devoted daughter.
Dont worry.
Shell be under constant surveillance.
Now, the next play is Othello.
Whats that all about, then?
(clears throat)
A malicious man persuades his
benefactor that his wifes been unfaithful
and drives him into murdering her.
Mr Psaltery, sir.
This is a friend speaking, sir.
(hippy) It may be wise ifyou were to leave
the office and go home early tonight, sir.
You might learn something
very interesting about your wife.
(woman) Yoo-hoo!
Here I am.
Im so glad youve come. You know
how I look forward to your visits.
(Scottish accent) And how is wee
Maisie Psaltery this bonny day, hey?
Dont keep me waiting,
you naughty man. Im ready.
(moans)
I felt so wonderful after the last time.
But, you know, I had a slight pain
after one of your visits.
Do you think I may have a slipped disc?
A wee rubll make it feel better.
Mmm.
Ooh!
You see, my husband and I
Iead a very active s...ocial life.
(Maisie moaning)
(Maisie) Ooh! Oh!
- (fingers crack)
- Ooh! Ooh!
Does that hurt?
- Hm?
- Beautiful.
(moans in pleasure)
- (creaking)
- (Maisie moans intermittently)
- Maisie! Maisie! Open this door!
- Oh, my God! lts him.
- Whatll he think?
- Open up! I know youre there.
Let me go! Hes insanely jealous.
Hell kill me.
(Maisie screams)
Oh, let go! Let go! Argh!
Damn adulterous bitch!
- Ill choke the living daylights out of you.
- (Maisie screams)
Youll be outnumbered, Psaltery, at least
20-1 . Thats how many lovers shes had.
Dont. Dont, please.
You dont understand.
No! No! No!
(chokes)
Down, strumpet!
Officer, if lm not mistaken,
Mr Psalterys murdering his wife.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Poor devil. Lionheart certainly
knew what his weakness was.
- Jealousy?
- Yeah.
Its incredible.
I gather from the constable on duty
outside that hes been coming for weeks.
But how does this fit in
with Lionhearts scheme?
Mrs Psaltery is dead, not Psaltery.
Well, hes as good as dead, isnt he?
At his age hell never leave prison alive.
No. Lionhearts destroyed him
just as surely as if hed murdered him.
I read the next play on the list last night.
Henry the Sixth, Part One.
- Theres more than one murder in that.
- Inspector, there are only three of us left.
- Miss Moon, Merridew and...
- And yourself.
Myself.
Surely the entire might of the London
police force can stop us being killed.
Hopefully, Mr Devlin.
Hopefully.
Hey!
Sorry, darling, youre too late.
Were closed.
Yes, but Henri called me.
He changed the appointment to seven.
Oh.
What name is it, then?
Miss Moon.
Oh, yeah. Thats cool.
Shampoo, set, pedicure. Right.
- Henris had to go, but Butch is still here.
- Henri always takes care of me.
Butch is very chic. Does Princess
Margarets hair - chicks like that.
Oh, well. In that case...
Hello. Im Butch.
Hey, dishy, dishy hair.
Cant wait to get my hands on it.
Whos this great big, beautiful thing
with you? ls he yours?
Only just.
Come on, baby. Let me get to it.
Let me get at it, huh?
You just sit there, baby, and relax, huh?
She wont be long.
I wish youd let me do something camp
with the colour, darling.
I mean, like, well...
Iike flame with ash highlights.
These are very funny rollers, Butch.
Naughty, naughty. Dont touch.
Butch knows best.
Theyre something new from Gay Paree.
What are you doing?
You know, lm very uncomfortable.
I cant move.
Bring forth that sorceress
condemned to burn.
Thats from Henry the Sixth,
ducky, Part One.
Its a very interesting play,
dont you think so, Miss Moon?
Especially that scene where
Joan of Arc dies at the stake.
Though lm afraid you might find
our novel version of it a bit of a shock.
(cries)
And hark ye, sirs, because she is a maid
Spare for no fagots, let there be enow:
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
That so her torture may be shortened.
Yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
Break thou in pieces
and consume to ashes,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell!
- Dyou mind if I talk to her in private?
- No, certainly.
Thank you for coming.
- As you can see, I couldnt get away.
- What do you want, Edwina?
Well, this morning before I left the house
to come here, the phone rang.
It was my fathers voice.
I couldnt believe it. To hear
his voice again, to know hes alive.
- What did he say?
- You were right all along. Hes alive.
- Where is he?
- I cant tell you. Not yet.
For Gods sake! There was
another murder last night. Miss Moon.
Yes, I know. I read it in the papers.
He admits to the killings.
Hell give himself up.
Then take us to him.
Ill call lnspector Boot.
No. If he sees me with the police,
hes bound to disappear again.
- Hes a frightened man.
- Hes frightened?!
Hes frightened that
the police might shoot him on sight.
Do you want me to come with you?
- But... would you?
- Where is he?
He promised hed phone me
and tell me where later.
All right. When he does,
lll pick you up in my car.
- Promise well be alone.
- Right.
Dont try and trick me, Devlin.
He is my father.
No matter what hes done,
I must play fair with him.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Thank goodness
no one can get near enough to notice
the dazed, glazed, drunken,
idiotic expression in his eyes.
- You are to obey my orders. Dyou hear?
- Yes, sir.
Now, let us see what that stupid cretin
Mr Meredith Merridew had to say
about my Titus Andronicus.
Mr Lionhearts rendering of the role
can only be described as villainous.
Laid between the delicately
underplayed performances
of Miss Lillywhite as Lavinia
and Miss Mole as Tamora,
one is irresistibly reminded of
a ham sandwich.
My reputation.
Hark, villain!
I will grind your bones to dust,
And make two pasties
of your shameful head.
Now you know what he looks like, so
keep your wits about you and eyes open.
Well, Sergeant, weve got four police cars
in front of Devlins home
and three here at Merridews.
Theyll be bringing him home by
armoured car from work in ten minutes.
That should discourage our Mr Lionheart.
Yeah, whats the next murder, lnspector?
Intended murder, you mean, Sergeant.
Its Titus Andronicus.
Two chaps are mutilated and beheaded,
another stabbed and thrown in a pit,
and to cap it all some queen
is made to eat her children baked in a pie.
Its hardly a comedy, Sergeant.
Still, I think well be able to hand...
Thats him! After him.
Thats him! After him, all of you!
(sirens)
Move it!
Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh!
Where are my babies, eh?
Daddys home!
Ooh-ooh!
Where are my doggy-woggies?
My doggy-woggies?
Ooh.
Come to Daddy.
I know where you are. (chuckles)
I know where youre hiding.
Meredith Merridew,
this is your dish!
( fanfare)
Oh! Oh!
What a divine surprise.
Ive often thought
What if I was on This is Your Dish?
And now that I am,
I cant think of anything to say,
except this is a very great honour.
Merci. Please be seated, monsieur.
There. Now, we will
make you comfortable.
There we go.
- Which is the camera?
- That one right over there, monsieur.
For what we are about to receive, may
the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.
Ooh.
(siren)
Keep your eyes on the road!
What are you trying to do,
Sergeant? Kill us all?
Come on, Sergeant!
(Lionheart)
This is the best vintage, monsieur.
Soixante-six.
Oh!
Oh, I hope everything
is to monsieurs satisfaction.
- Simply delicious.
- Bon daccord.
I wonder where my babies have got to.
My doggies, you know.
I always think of them as my babies.
Of course you do, monsieur.
And so do we.
That is part of your surprise.
I wish they were here
to share this with me.
Why, there they are,
both baked in that pie;
Whereof their mother daintily hath fed
Eating the flesh
which she herself hath bred.
Oh. Mm.
(tuts)
What was that? Where are my dogs?
Where are my babies?
Well, if Monsieur cannot do without
his dogs, then he shall have his dogs.
- Props!
- (all whistle)
You see, monsieur, two dogs...
two pies.
We knew that Monsieur would be hungry.
Oh... oh...
You do remember, monsieur,
how in Titus Andronicus,
the Queen Tamora was served
her own children baked in a pie.
Of course, in your case
weve used only the tenderest morsels.
Do have some more.
Now, will you ever again ruin
the reputation of an honest man?
- No.
- Ah-hah.
- Have you learnt your lesson?
- Yes.
Can I be certain
you will never again offend me?
Yes!
Youre quite right, I can be sure.
Thou detestable maw,
Gorgd with the dearest morsel
of the earth,
Thus I enforce
thy rotten jaws to open,
And, in despite,
lll cram thee with more food!
(Merridew chokes)
Pity.
He didnt have the stomach for it.
This is Hamlet calling Fortinbras.
Hamlet calling Fortinbras.
- Can you hear me?
- This is Fortinbras.
Youre loud and clear, Hamlet. All right?
Yes. Ive reached the rendezvous.
She should be here any moment.
Fine. Lets have a check
on the homing device.
Right.
(beeps)
Good. As long as that signal
keeps coming in, we cant lose you.
Come in, Horatio.
Come in, Horatio. Are you receiving me?
Receiving you, Fortinbras.
Is my signal clear?
Were tied to your tail, Horatio.
Shes just coming. Im signing off now.
- Hes not far from here. Shall we go?
- Edwina, I have to be honest with you.
Theres a homing device in the car.
The police will follow us.
- But you gave me your word!
- Look, the mans homicidal.
Im not tackling him on my own.
Yeah, youre right.
But youll have to let me drive.
- Why?
- If he sees you, he wont give himself up.
Yeah, all right.
Dont worry, I can handle him.
Ooh!
Horatio to Fortinbras.
Hes started up the engine now.
Right.
(beeps)
Horatio to Fortinbras.
We are stopping. They are getting out.
- (whistling)
- I hear a train whistle.
Yes, I can definitely
identify it as a train. T-R-A...
(crash)
Good day, Mr Devlin.
Welcome to the Critics Circle
Awards Presentation.
You will remember it, of course.
It was a memorable occasion for all of us.
Today, however, we are going to restage
it and you will again present the awards.
Nothing you can do will sway me
from my original judgment.
Your judgment was
ill-considered and irresponsible.
It was neither!
We gave the award to William Woodstock
because your performances
lacked originality.
Lacked originality?!
My Julius Caesar - cut down by a drunken
mob in an abandoned warehouse.
My Titus Andronicus -
This is your dish, Meredith Merridew.
My Othello - one of the greatest
performances in the history of the theatre.
Nothing you can do or say
will alter my decision.
We shall see.
No! Not one drop,
until you tell us where he is.
Be fair, lnspector.
Think what hed do to me if I told you.
Hell do nothing! Well put him away
where hell never harm a soul again.
- Dyou want a drink or dont you?
- Yes, please, lnspector.
- Im just dying for a drop.
- First tell us where Lionheart is.
You will recall, Mr Devlin, that the last
play in my repertoire was King Lear.
And lm sure you will remember
the fate that befell Gloucester.
He was blinded, Mr Devlin,
to improve his vision of events.
Perhaps a similar adjustment
will rectify your critical faculties.
Lionheart, think of your daughter.
Think of what youve done to her
with this insane vendetta of yours.
My daughter?
What have I done to you, my daughter?
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lovd me:
I return those duties back
as are right fit;
Obey you, love you, most honour you.
Give him the award.
- Forgotten the words, Mr Devlin?
- I remember them, but I wont say them.
You will repeat after me, Mr Devlin.
With this award we not only honour
a consistently brilliant interpretative artist,
but we also recognise his outstanding
contribution to the English theatre.
Therefore it is my privilege to announce
the Best Actor of the Year Award goes to...
- William Woodstock!
- (applause/cheering)
No! Present me the award, Gloucester,
or you will lose your eyes and have to
smell your way through the world.
As Lear said at his greatest moment:
Never, never, never, never, never!
Never, never, never, so be it.
- Edwina, you will give me the award.
- Yes, Father.
It will be the last thing
that Mr Devlin will ever see.
The Critics Circle is happy to present
this award for Best Actor of the Year
- to Edward Lionheart.
- (applause/cheering)
(sirens)
Ladies and gentlemen,
it is always a nostalgic moment
when we come to the end of a season,
especially one that has been
as successful as this one.
Will you join me in the toast
to the immortal Bard?
William Shakespeare!
(all) William Shakespeare.
Shakespeare!
(brakes screeching)
Burn.
Burn.
Come, fire.
Consume this petty world.
And in its ashes.
Let my memory lie.
Help him.
Help your master!
Help!
This is your masters glorious hour.
Please. Please help.
A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
O, my daughter.
How does my royal lord?
How fares your Majesty?
You did me wrong
to take me out of the grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss;
But I am bound upon a wheel of fire,
that mine own tears do scald
like molten lead.
We are not the first
Who, with best meaning,
have incurrd the worst.
For thee, oppressed king,
am I cast down.
Stay!
Stay awhile.
Howl.
Howl, howl, howl!
O, you are men of stones!
After him!
Look, hes heading for the roof!
There he is!
Fool. If he doesnt come down,
hell be burnt alive.
Had I your tongues and eyes,
Id use them
so that heavens vault should crack.
Shes gone for ever!
I know when one is dead,
and when one lives;
Shes dead as earth.
Aaargh!
Were those lines from King Lear?
Yes. Yes, it was
a fascinating performance.
But, of course,
he was madly overacting as usual.
But you must admit
he did know how to make an exit.
ENHOH