Frankenstein: Legacy (2024) Movie Script
1
- Captain Walton.
How's our visitor?
- I've never seen a man in
so wretched a condition.
He's dreadfully emaciated
by fatigue and suffering.
Lord knows how long
he was on the ice.
- Has he said anything?
- Only nonsense, in rare
moments of consciousness,
about a creature, a
demon, and a pursuit.
All we can offer him
now is rest and warmth
and hope by slow
degrees he will recover.
- Elizabeth?
- Do you
have it with you?
- That depends.
Have you got the payment?
- The diary.
- It's in me bag.
- Show it to me.
- Ah, knew you'd be keen
as soon as I saw it.
- Remarkable.
The author, this Frankenstein.
- Dead.
He won't mind it gone.
- You said you saw the
creature, his creation.
- Come on board after
I acquired the diary.
Big brute of a thing.
Tall as a man and
half, inhuman and foul.
Ugly as sin.
- You told no one
about our meeting.
- Man like me knows
how to be discreet.
Knows how to cover his tracks.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- As do I.
- Hmm.
- Breakfast, ma'am.
- You didn't need to
ring twice, Martha.
There's nothing wrong
with my hearing.
My love you, you've got
yourself up and dressed.
- It seemed the
thing to do, my dear,
with you working all night.
- I'm sorry I completely
lost track, my darling.
But you must take
care, you know, you,
you could do yourself an injury.
- God, there's nothing wrong
with the old boy really.
I firmly believe his
body's giving up on him
because you spend so much
time running around after him,
he's got nothing to do.
It's Mr. Darwin's theory
of evolution, you know.
- What are you
doing here, William?
Have you no food at your rooms?
- Actually I have, Mother.
I came to say goodbye to Clara.
She's your daughter.
She's, what is it
you're doing again?
A week in the sticks
with Aunt Mabel.
- We haven't got
an old Aunt Mabel.
I am taking a month in the
country with cousin Jane.
- And what pray are you
going to do for a month
in the country with
dear cousin Jane?
- Take long walks in the garden.
Discuss single men in
possession of good fortunes.
- Sounds wonderful.
- I'm looking forward to it.
- That's even worse.
- Perhaps you should give
some thought, William,
to your, your own romantic life.
I hear the Hardy girl
has returned from Paris.
Quite a pretty young
thing she is too.
- Hmm.
Perhaps I could marry
that lamp, Mother.
It's just as
pleasing to the eye,
but slightly more skilled
in the art of conversation.
- If only you would attend
the Montgomery Ball.
There are any number
of eligible debutantes.
- So you can hang a
number around their necks
and parade them like cattle.
- I would like to see
a grandchild on my knee
at some point in my life.
- Mother, when you
become a grandmother,
you'll hire a governess, put
her knee to work on your behalf
and see the child twice a
year like you did with us.
Kipper sandwich on the
bicycle, I'm afraid.
I'm late for work.
- Oh, that infernal contraption.
And let us not even start
on the subject of work.
A man in your position, it
really is quite beneath you,
you know, my darling.
- Do you know, I do so
enjoy our little talks.
Funny how you remember
them word for word.
Bye old girl.
Try not to have too much fun.
Father.
- I suppose you think
I said the wrong thing?
- No, not the wrong thing.
Just the same thing
over and over again.
Do you not wish for him the
happiness that we have had?
Oh, let him find a
love match as we did.
- My only wish is to restore
you to health, my darling.
And so I will.
- No, no, no no.
She will not listen to
reason, Dr. Browning.
Time and time again she
does only what she wants,
regardless of my clearly
stated preferences.
- Mr. Haddle, as I keep
trying to tell you,
we are not a training
ground for errant wives.
- She needs to be locked up.
She's absconded twice
from sanatoriums
and convalescent homes.
I mean, what do you call
that if not hysteria?
- I call it rather sensible,
if you try to have her
locked up for writing-
- What, poetry?
It's a nonsense!
- Your wife's frustrations
at the bounds you put on her
appear to me to be the
very definition of sanity.
Now if you will
excuse me, Mr. Haddle,
I have patients to attend to.
I fear in the hour
you've been here,
one of them might have
written a limerick.
- And sedate him, hmm.
Haddle.
Trouble, Browning?
- For some poor woman,
Mr. Brammings, yes.
- There's been another
complaint about conditions here.
A member of parliament
has taken an interest.
- What is it this time?
The food, the cold,
the general conditions.
- Do stop trying to guess.
They should be grateful
to be here at all.
They get bed and board.
- They get tied to a
bed and bored stiff.
We do nothing for them and
give them nothing to do.
Sir, right now, in Paris,
Pierre Janet is doing-
- Spare me another of
your theories, Browning.
We require no
newfangled nonsense,
we are in the business of
bed pans and sedatives,
babysitting cast outs
and ne'er do wells.
If you require an asylum
run by a more fanciful
superintendent,
there are many to choose from.
Though none, I believe,
that count your mother
among its trustees.
Perhaps you wouldn't
like your chances there.
- Ow!
- No you don't.
- Get off me.
- Lie down.
Settle down.
- Get, get off me.
- What's going on in here?
- Ah, here's a
young flap doodle.
- What does it look like?
He's as drunk as ever.
We come upon him with two
empty bottles in his arms.
- Well where the devil
did he get those from?
- One of the orderlies
would've brought them in.
On a bribe or a favor,
it shouldn't be allowed.
- Tell you all the ways!
- Keep the noise
down, you old fool.
- You can't speak to your old-
- Quiet!
You'll have Brammings down here.
- What's he in for?
- For his drinking.
He's supposed to be drying out,
and look what
you've done to him.
- I may have had one
or two little nips.
- I'll give you a little nip.
- Oh!
Liza.
- Now get to bed.
I hope your hangover blows
the top of your head off.
- Now look here, nurse.
We can't have you
assaulting patients.
- What good are
you doing him, eh?
I'd like to know.
He come in here to get well
and he's as drunk as ever.
- I'll have a word
with the orderlies.
Perhaps I should
just set you on them.
Might have a rather
greater effect.
- I'm sorry.
But is this supposed to
be a hospital or isn't it?
- That's what some of us
are aiming for, certainly.
- We're supposed
to be helping them.
- Indeed we are.
I say, are you new here, I don't
think I've seen you before.
- I started 10 days ago.
I'm Liza.
- I'm William.
Pleased to meet you.
- Yes.
I know who you
are, Dr. Browning.
It don't take 10 days for
our type to notice people.
- Ah, it's awfully quiet
here without old Clara.
- Yeah.
She's a bright young thing
and of course your mother
is hard at work downstairs.
- God only knows what
she's got planned for you.
You know, I half expect to see
you stretched out on a rack
every time I come home.
- She is a remarkable
woman, your mother.
If there is a cure for
me, she will find it.
Had she been permitted
to sit examinations,
she would've become an expert
renowned on the world stage.
- Yes, while I do agree with
the woman question in general,
Father, I fear in
my mother's case
the world is rather
the safer for it.
- Lady Charlotte North, sir.
- Colonel Browning, thank you
for seeing me unannounced.
I had hoped to see you alone,
this is rather a
delicate matter.
- May I introduce
my son William?
Do let him stay.
He may be of some use, I
am rather limited you know.
- Very well.
- Well this is
rather unexpected.
How may I help you,
Lady Charlotte?
- I shall get
straight to the point.
You have in your
possession a diary,
I wish to have it in mine.
- A diary?
- It is of little value really,
full of scientific fantasies,
but there's some novelty
to the PT Barnum crowd.
- Scientific fantasies.
Perhaps Milicent can-
- I represent a small group of
collectors of such novelties.
- I can't help you.
May I ask how you came to
believe it was in my possession.
- We have ways of getting
information, Colonel.
The group would be willing
to make you an offer,
a very generous offer, far
in excess of its value.
An offer unlikely
to be repeated.
- You seem very keen for
something of so little value.
- Well, you've been misinformed,
I'm afraid, Lady Charlotte.
I have no such diary and no
interest in any such diary.
Perhaps my wife-
- Your wife is unlikely
to be interested, Colonel.
It is not concerned with lace
making and letter writing.
- Oh, how little
you know my wife.
- I must say, the nobility
seem rather less noble
than we've been led to believe.
- That rather settles it.
I'm unable to help you.
- I shall have that
diary, Colonel Browning.
One way or another.
- What
was that about?
- Hmm?
Oh, haven't the foggiest.
I say, dear, you
haven't by any chance-
- Are you sure
you'll be all right
by yourself tonight, my love?
I really do feel most
dreadfully guilty.
William, could you
not stay the night?
- What's all this?
- Your mother has
an overnight trip
in aid of her experiments.
- I really must go.
A rather promising
contact who has an item
essential to my work.
- Eye of newt?
I've taken the night
shift, I'm afraid.
The old boy will have to
look after himself for once.
- Perhaps I should sleep
in the main house tonight-
- I shall be perfectly fine.
The only bother will
be how to occupy myself
with so little happening.
- The old boy go for your story?
- Did he cop for having it?
- We require an approach
with rather less subtlety.
- Right, you look in here,
I'll go check the library.
- I say!
Is someone there?
- Didn't mean to
disturb you, guv.
- What are you doing here?
Get out.
I'm armed, I tell you.
- No, no, old boy,
just be civil, man.
- Stay away or I shall fire.
- I've gotta get to
the door, haven't I?
If you're gonna chase
me from the house.
Me all terrified and regretful.
Where is it, old boy?
- Where's what?
- She says she wanted
something a bit less subtle.
I reckon we should
give it to him.
- Where is it?
- Oh, no, no.
- You know what we want.
- I don't!
- Where is it?
Where is it?
Where is it?
Where is it?
- Robert.
Oh my, my darling.
- They were.
- Ssh.
I know.
I never should have
left you alone.
I'm sorry.
We should never be parted again.
I promise.
I promise.
Please William, I won't have
you causing him any strain.
- Damn it, Mother, must
you guard him so jealously.
It's okay.
- Robert.
- You're all right,
Father, I've got you.
There we go.
All right.
You gave us a little bit
of a fright there, old boy.
You've been out
cold for three days.
- Sorry to have worried you so.
And Clara.
- She will arrive
in a day or two.
I try to dissuade her but she
insists that she should come.
- Just imagine the girl
wanting to see her father.
Good grief, you look
a hundred years older.
- Oh, I feel twice
that and more.
- What were you doing?
Taking the blaggards
on single-handed.
- Thought I could take them.
- At least you haven't
lost your fighting spirit.
- Ha ha, the last
of it, I think.
I feel rather closer
to the end of things.
- You mustn't be
so morbid, Robert.
- The old legs are done for.
One of them is
turning gangrenous.
I couldn't bear to lose it.
I've been so reduced
over the years I, well,
I want at least to remain whole.
Perhaps my time has come.
- No.
My work.
Robert, I am, I am so close.
So close.
- Let it be, Millicent.
Let me go.
- I won't hear it.
I forbid it.
- Oh, she loves me so terribly.
- Terribly indeed.
It's a selfish love.
A selfish, solitary
exclusionary thing
to the expense of
everything else.
- She loves you too,
you know, in her way.
- As if her way
is not to bother.
- I haven't told
you often myself,
how much I love you,
but I do, you know.
I am in awe of the man you've
become, a better man than I.
I'm so proud of you.
I'm so wonderfully proud.
Working when you needn't.
Helping your fellow man
when you could waste the day
on bridge, cigars, as
selfishly as the others.
- How thoroughly un-British.
The Queen will have
dispatched her troops.
- It felt the time to say it.
I fear this may
be my last chance.
- On the contrary.
I want more of the same please.
And regularly too.
It simply won't do.
You've got to stay with it.
We need you.
I'll be off then.
- Yes, yes, that's fine.
You may go too, Martha.
- Ma'am?
- Go home.
We shall require your
services no longer.
Yourself, the cook, the
housekeeper and the gardener,
the whole meddling lot of you.
I want you out by tonight.
- But.
But without notice, Ma'am.
- You shall be paid,
I'm sure you can find
yourself another situation
or a workhouse or an alleyway.
Now go!
Some warm milk to
help calm you my love.
I had to, my love.
I had to, you'll see.
- No, you couldn't have.
- I can save you!
- No!
- I can!
- Get out.
Get out!
- Robert!
No!
No!
- That he whose existence
appeared a part of us all
can have departed forever.
That the sound of a voice
so familiar and dear
can be hushed,
nevermore to be heard.
- That was a sin to have
only us at his graveside.
- She wouldn't be moved on it.
She wants him to
herself even now.
- I still can't
believe he's gone.
He'd been ill so long you
could almost forget about it.
- Yeah, I suppose the assault
brought things to a head.
- I'm glad he died in his sleep.
That it was peaceful for him.
- Hmm.
I wish we'd been able
to see him at rest.
Mother was so quick to
get him to the mortuary.
- Mother.
Mother and I are
just alone here now.
- Must you stay?
There's nothing
here for you, Clara.
Not with the old man gone.
He was the heart and
soul of this place.
What now remains?
Just an empty shell.
- I should remain, for
Mother's sake at least.
- Do you think she'd take
the same care of you?
Do you think she'd even notice?
Oh, go back to cousin Jane's,
go where there's some
warmth and feeling.
- I shall have to withdraw
from the ball, of course.
- Don't you dare.
Father would want you to have
every chance of happiness
you possibly can.
You can go from cousin Jane's.
You'll look lovelier than ever
next to that old wallflower.
- And what about you?
- Don't you worry about
me, old girl, I'll be fine.
- It's too awful.
It's too awful to
even contemplate.
- He cannot be gone.
He would never have left me.
- There's been a spate of body
snatches these last months.
There's money to
be made, I'm sure.
It's an outrage.
- Have you retrieved any
of the poor souls taken?
- Not that I'm
aware of, sir, no.
We'll endeavor to do
our best, of course,
but the truth of the matter
is he could be anywhere.
Anywhere at all.
- The Frankenstein
serum is working.
You are growing stronger
than ever you were,
but I have missed something.
I was rushed when reattaching
your leg, I was clumsy.
It will not heal.
You need a new leg.
A new body.
In which you can grow.
This too has failed.
What more do you want from me?
What am I missing?
Embalming fluid.
Were they using
formaldehyde a century ago?
No.
This may be it, Robert.
You need a clean body.
Clean and unpolluted,
a fresh body.
Freshly killed.
- I'm not sure there's
much point in going home.
Have to set off for the morning
shift as soon as I get in.
- I'm hoping for an
hour's sleep standing up
so I don't crumple my clothes.
- Could do with a shave and all.
- Old Bramming
said about as much.
No doubt the entirety
of Western civilization
would break down if
a man were to appear
with a bristle on his chin.
- Be like the last days of Rome.
- Yeah.
Well, um.
- Well.
- Goodnight.
- Night then.
- Is it true?
Alfred.
The girls said that
he, he passed away.
But I say that there
must be some mistake.
He was as healthy
as a horse, he was-
- No, no, no, no, it's
quite true, I'm afraid.
They found him this morning.
- No.
- His heart probably gave out.
He must have given it
dog's abuse over the years.
- There was nothing
wrong with his heart.
Not with his heart.
He would've been all
alone when he passed.
- Yes, it's, was
terribly sad, I suppose.
- You suppose?
That's just the problem
with this place.
There's no understanding here.
There's no kindness.
We have our troubles, our lot,
and we're whisked away
to the workhouse or here
or jail or worse.
No understanding.
No thinking about us as people.
No thinking about
what might help.
What we might be feeling.
- Liza, I had no idea you'd
formed such a bond with him.
Would you like to see him?
There may be an autopsy
but I would say given his
age and history he prob--
He's gone.
- What do you mean he's gone?
- God in heaven, can the body
snatchers have come here too?
- Body snatchers?
You mean he's been robbed?
You were meant to be
looking after him.
How could you let this happen?
How could you?
- You shouldn't be out
here at this time of night.
Ain't safe.
- I'm not sure I much care
what happens to me now.
- I didn't know that your father
had been taken too when I.
- Gave me a piece of your mind.
- Do you wanna hit me back?
- No, I suspect if we
were to come to blows
I'd be much the worse for wear.
- They said they'd
give me a plot.
The church did.
A pauper's patch.
Somewhere I could stand and
pretend his body was in there.
He was my father, Alfred.
I was too ashamed to say
and then ashamed of
how ashamed I was.
- Oh God, Liza, I'm so sorry.
- I know you are.
It weren't your fault.
He said,
he said you were
decent with him.
Treated him like a human being.
Like a man.
Which is what he was.
No need to walk me home.
I know these
streets well enough.
- Well then, let's say
you're walking me home.
How is it you've done so
well for yourself, Liza?
- We'd all do well,
given the chance.
These people aren't here
because they drink and do wrong.
They drink and do wrong
'cause they're here.
And it's not us
which puts us here.
You don't let us live, your lot.
Not the whole of our lives.
Not like we want them lived.
You use our men's
bodies for their work,
our women's bodies
for your amusement.
I've clawed my way up a little,
but a little's all it is.
- I think you're remarkable.
I mean to find the people
that did this to us.
To your father and to mine.
- I do and all.
I keep wandering around here
as if I might catch
someone at it.
- So do I.
We should go in on it together.
Have you seen
anything suspicious?
- Only you lurking in the dark.
- I, I hope you've eliminated
me from your inquiries.
- Might have done.
- Do you remember
when we were young?
When everything was new.
Before the children,
before setback and illness
and, and failure.
No one can have loved as we did.
It was ours.
We invented it.
We were why people sing,
why poets take up pen.
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Are you in there at all?
We have to find you new bodies
and bodies to replace
them when, when those rot.
Let the body's pile high.
- Mrs. Browning.
This is a surprise.
- I'd hoped
to see you, Brammings,
to talk over recent events.
- Of course.
Of course.
I was very sorry to
hear of your loss.
Of course you have
my condolences.
Young William appears to
be bearing up bravely.
- His loss is not on the
same scale as my own.
- Quite, quite.
Well, you wish to discuss?
- Recent events, Brammings.
- Well the
disappearing drunkard,
have the trustees some concerns?
I can assure you that-
- I can assure you
I have no interest
in the concerns of
the other trustees,
or in the disappearances
of the wastrels
that you house here.
Nor in their lives.
On that, I feel
sure we can agree.
- Well I,
of course I have, as you know,
been rather at odds with
your son on the matter.
As for the lives
of our patients,
I would agree that many
of them are better served
by the workhouse or the courts.
- Or the gallows?
- Well, in certain
cases, perhaps.
- You have always
struck me, Brammings,
as a man of ambition,
of advancement.
A man whose career would
not be slowed by idle gossip
regarding female patients.
- Now I really don't think-
- A man who knows the value
of a sympathetic ally.
- Indeed I was grateful-
- A man who looks
for opportunity
and yet knows when to look away.
Against your ambition,
against a considerable
rise in income,
what do these people matter?
What does one care
for the ants underfoot
as one advances
towards greatness?
What would it matter
if others were to
leave this establishment
earlier than expected?
- Quite, quite.
You, you said a rise in income.
- A considerable rise.
100 pounds for each of them.
- Their lives may be
worthless, but my cooperation,
however, is not.
- Very well, 500.
- And only the men.
- The women, Brammings,
shall remain untouched.
- And any more idle gossip.
- Will be silenced.
- How nice to have
things out in the open.
I must say, I thought
you only cold.
I could scarcely have imagined
that underneath all that
you were such a malignant bitch.
Now what do you require of me?
- An open door.
And a blind eye.
- So this is how you
lot spend your time.
- Less glamorous
than you expected.
- If I'd have known I would've
left my tiara at home.
- It's not all it's
cracked up to be, you know.
I feel like I've
spent my entire life
running away from money.
Finds you, somehow,
wealth and privilege.
Just becomes expectation
and boundaries.
I do realize how
spoilt that sounds
and I know I'm very fortunate
to have these as problems.
- Well it's better
than wondering
where your next meal's
gonna come from.
Though I am surprised
at how unspoilt you are.
You're the only
person of your class
who I've not wanted
to kick in the knee.
- You did punch me in the face.
- That's what I'm saying.
- My father was very
keen for me to understand
the true value of money.
Its limitations, that there
are many more important things.
- You really loved
him, didn't you?
Your father.
- Yeah, I did.
He was a very good man.
- Mine was flawed,
but I loved him all the same.
- I wonder where they are now.
- We'll find them.
Though whoever's took
them's getting themselves
a steady supply of bodies.
- I'd say that's a thing.
Where there's supply.
- There's demand.
Oh no, no.
Thank you very much.
Are, are you sure
he's going to turn up?
- He'll be here.
- I'm beginning to feel a
bit like Sherlock Holmes.
- I had someone else
in mind for you.
There he is.
Jasper!
Jasper.
- Liza!
- Good to see you,
you old pile of bones.
- I ain't seen you in a while.
- Been working.
- I'd heard.
That's a shame for you.
And I heard your
old man got took.
Ah, poor old Alfred.
He had many a time in here.
I'll say this for
whoever took him.
Whatever they're doing to
him, he won't need pickling.
Nah.
And who's this?
Are you moving up in
the world, my girl?
- This is a friend.
Dr. Watson, from my work.
- You've not come to
take me in, have you?
I'll fight you before you
put me in one of them coats.
I will.
- His dad got took and all.
- Did he now?
Was he in the loony
bin with old Alfred?
- No, he was-
- He got dug up.
Proper sacrilegious it was.
- I'd heard there was
some of that going on.
- Well that's why we're here.
There's nothing
goes on around here
without you hearing about it.
Or you having a
hand in it yourself,
if you get whiff of a coin.
- Oi, I hope you don't
think I'm involved
in none of that, my girl.
I've been known to buy and sell
the occasional item of interest.
Them what's dead should
be left in peace I say.
I may not go by
every law of the land
but the laws of God and
nature is different.
- Maybe you heard
something about it.
- Nothing.
- Then maybe you could
inquire among your associates.
- And ask them what?
Anyone in the
market for a spleen.
I'll tell you, I've
not heard a thing
and that means
something, don't it.
It means it ain't
one of ours doing it.
Last round of body
snatching a few years back,
they wasn't being taken for
food or for throwing on the fire
instead of coal, was they?
They was being taken
for men of science
picking over their bones,
seeing what made them tick.
Alfred got took from
your place, didn't he?
- Mm-hmm.
- You wanna find
them what took him?
I suggest you look
closer to home.
- Did you hear the
devil's footsteps.
Click, click, click,
click it goes.
I can keep traveling.
It's come to take me, hasn't it.
Sit with them cooking in pantry.
Walking in the square.
Meant to dance.
What a very nice time.
- There's been another
one on the fourth floor.
One here and all?
- Yes, I think so.
What do you mean another one?
- Do calm down.
Two patients have
simply chosen to leave.
- Two patients in restraints
have chosen to leave
from behind locked doors.
- Really, you must not
apply reason to madness.
Is there any blood?
Any disturbance?
Any signs of a struggle?
A struggle, Browning.
Not poor housekeeping.
- Mr. Brammings.
Mr. Brammings.
There's something desperately
wrong in this place, sir.
First Alfred Dobson,
now these two.
- I see no similarities.
What happened with the
drunkard was unfortunate.
But what you have this
morning are two empty beds,
no bodies, and an
overactive imagination.
- What you have
this morning, sir,
is patients disappearing
on your watch.
Now I know you
don't care anything
about these people
at all, you old fool,
but you do still have
a duty towards them.
- Now see here, you jumped up-
- Get off me.
We swore an oath to
these men, Brammings,
to do them no harm and to
see no harm done to them.
- And two empty beds aside,
there remain many more in here
in need of your fussy,
nannying bedside manner.
Now may I suggest
you learn your place
and get back to work!
- Now what?
What can we do?
What with old
Brammings in the way?
- Now we go over his head.
We go to the trustees.
Mother!
Mother!
Mother!
Mother!
- What
are you doing here?
- Are you quite
all right, Mother?
Where are the staff?
- I have dismissed them.
I no longer require
their services.
- It would appear you
have a very great need
of their services.
- I have been
rather preoccupied.
I will get to these
things this afternoon.
- Let me help you.
- I prefer to be alone.
- Of course.
But with Father gone.
- I asked you what
you're doing here.
- Fear not.
I come in a purely
professional capacity.
There's trouble at the asylum.
- Then I suggest you
speak to Mr. Brammings.
- I have.
There have been disappearances,
he shows very little interest.
- I can assure you I have less.
- And yet you have
a responsibility
towards our patients,
whether you care
for them or not.
- What would you have me
do, become a night watchman?
- I would have you call a
meeting of the trustees.
Demand Brammings explain
himself and if he cannot,
I would have you replace him.
- Very well.
- You will do so?
- Certainly I shall.
- I'm fine by the way.
And Clara too, she has written.
- You were well paid
for your information.
Information that came
to be quite incorrect.
I believed you were a
man who knew things.
- And so I am.
Only I never told
you nothing as fact.
Only what I'd heard.
I can't do no better than that.
- You must do much better,
I am not to be disappointed.
The man you claimed had
the items in his possession
is now dead.
His body stolen, his house
searched without result.
I believe we can rule him out.
- It wasn't him what got them.
It was him they was got for.
It was his wife
what bought them.
It was his wife, I tell you.
It was his wife.
- I thought a
disguise was in order,
if we're staking out the place.
- Right.
- Well now I feel stupid.
- I assure you, you've
never looked lovelier.
- We'd be for it if
old Brammings caught
us sneaking about.
- He's on his way to the ball.
This place and
its people will be
entirely gone from his thoughts.
I feel we're always one step
behind what's happening.
We hide in the cemetery,
they strike in the asylum.
We watch over the dead,
they take the living.
- Do you really think old
Brammings is in on it?
- It's hard to believe.
Yet he cares so little
for these people.
- But you do though, don't you?
You care for our lot.
- I care a very great
deal for your lot.
- That's old Manic.
Screams the place
down half the night.
- That's certainly
very helpful, isn't it.
- Quiet down now, love.
Everything's all right.
- I can't see a pattern here.
They're taking both
the living and the dead
with no discernible
buyer in sight.
- I'm with Jasper.
It's one of yours doing it.
Look at who they're taking.
It's only the poor, the
forsaken, except your father.
He doesn't fit in.
- No, I suppose not.
- The rich look after
themselves, even in death.
Their crypts are
locked up tight,
their graves are
covered in cages.
I'm surprised your
father didn't have one.
He was rich enough.
- Mother was dead
set against it.
She's gone rather
strange since he died.
A bit Miss Haversham.
She didn't, she didn't
want him penned in.
- She's been here more often,
wandering in a
daze sort of thing.
- My mother's been here?
- Some of the girls
have spoken to her.
She's looked clear through them
as if she's not
seen them at all.
- We use your bodies.
- Still you need more,
to find your way back.
- Oh God.
- Eh?
- You need fresh flesh.
Living flesh closer to your own.
- You said, "We
use your bodies."
- William.
- Oh Mother!
Father?
What in God's name has she done?
What in God's name
has she done to you?
- He doesn't know me.
His soul is lost.
- His soul is lost?
Yours will be damned, damned
forever for what you've done.
- He would wish this.
If I could revive
his intelligence,
he would wish to be
brought back to me.
You cannot begin to
understand the love we share.
- This isn't love.
And you didn't share it.
You kept it all to yourself.
- Just too great a cruelty
to have loved so deeply
and have lost so completely.
- This loss, this grief
is the debt we pay
for loving so richly and
being loved in return.
- I shall pay no such debt.
I struck no such bargain.
He didn't mean to die.
He would never have left me.
He acted rashly in a
moment of weakness,
and if I had not left
the morphia within reach.
- He took his life?
You said he died in his sleep.
Didn't, he couldn't have.
- I can still save him.
- Enough!
Stay away from him.
You're a monster, you murderer.
Ssh, ssh.
- He needs you.
The final sacrifice.
- Ssh, ssh.
- Son.
- My God, you've done it.
- You?
- Who the hell are you?
- I am your reckoning.
Kill them.
- Get off me!
- Father!
Ssh.
- He saved us.
He knows us.
- Mother.
No.
No!
- Robert!
- William!
What's gone on there?
- It's hard to summarize.
- Oh, your mother.
- Where is the creature?
You did not let it escape.
- Did you see anyone
when you came in?
Were you safe?
- Well, there's a riot
going on up there.
- But did you see anyone?
- Anything?
- What are you talking about?
Will someone tell
me what's happened.
- It was her.
My mother's committed
unspeakable atrocities.
She took my father
from his grave.
All those patients.
Alfred.
She tore them apart.
- Can't be.
She can't have.
- Who knows how many souls.
She assembled them into
a horror, a nightmare.
It moves.
It has life.
Do you have something
to do with this?
- Certainly not.
- Then what the hell
are you doing here?
Why did you attack us?
That book.
You said you thought my father
had a book in his possession.
- The diary.
The diary.
- What diary?
- The diary of
Victor Frankenstein.
- What's that?
- The Frankenstein diary
possesses knowledge
unimaginable to humanity.
Your mother had it
in her possession
and with it raised hell.
- Now you want it for yourself.
- For myself?
No, you fool, I
want it destroyed.
Man has forever
sought to cheat death.
To create life.
To assume the power of the gods.
The Frankenstein diary
knows their power.
It whispers its
secrets, makes promises,
and brings only death and
destruction and despair.
A century ago Victor
Frankenstein raised a demon.
His wife and brother were
murdered at its hand.
Frankenstein himself
died a pitiful wretch.
His diary lived on, its
trail of destruction resumed.
Down through the years our
collective has hunted it,
following every lead with
a necessary ruthlessness.
Bringing me finally to you.
- So what now?
- Now its work is alive
and out in the world
ready to kill and destroy
anything it comes upon.
- What about my father?
- He's dead.
- I saw him in there.
There's some part of
him that's still alive.
- You saw only what
you wish to see.
The creature he has become must
be destroyed with the diary.
I shall see it done.
- Wait.
My mother made that thing.
It's my responsibility too.
- I didn't see
nothing as I come in.
- Could he be hiding?
Does he have the intelligence?
- He is an it, it has only fury.
- Here.
What are you doing down there?
God almighty!
Get away from her.
Go on, get away.
- I dread to ask what
happened to this man.
- Dread is right, squire.
A demon straight
from hell it was.
Tore into him like
he was nothing.
- 10 foot tall it was,
if it was an inch.
- And the smell, lord.
- Which way did he go?
- Down into the
darkness it went.
We should go after it is what.
Bash its brains in before it
has a chance to go for us.
- Has it attacked anyone else?
- Well, not as such.
- Sort of cowered
when it seen us.
- But you could tell it would
go for us if it got a chance.
Got him cornered down there.
Just need-
- Just need someone to.
- Right.
Perhaps you should
stay here, Liza.
I don't wanna put you
in any more danger.
Let me try to reason with him.
- It has no reason,
it is not your father.
- At least let me try.
Just allow me a moment.
He appears to know me at times.
It's okay.
It's okay, Father.
Ssh.
- That was Alfred's tattoo.
That's Alfred's body.
- I'm so sorry, Liza, it is.
- That's him there,
rotten and spoiled.
- It's him, it's
my father, it's others too.
- She really did it.
As if he was worth any
more than any of us,
what she'd do to us.
Alfred.
- When you've quite finished.
- You're firing into dead flesh.
You're only making him angry.
He's panicked, overawed
with sights and sounds,
crowded out and shot at.
And he only has half a mind
to understand it all with.
- The noise and the lights,
like a moth to a flame.
- A moth doesn't
usually murder a flame.
- My God!
- That thing barely
made him blink.
- We need to come
up with something.
Some way of stopping him.
- Give me some room.
Father!
Ssh, ssh, ssh, ssh.
Hey, hey.
Hey, hey.
It's okay.
It's okay.
Ssh, ssh.
- Father?
- Clara.
- How can this be?
- No no, Clara, no.
- Can it really be him?
- Clara, get away from him.
- Stop!
- No!
No!
- The creature has escaped.
We must follow it
and destroy it.
Had you have done so sooner,
had you allowed me to do so,
she would be breathing still.
- How can he be destroyed?
What force can we
muster against him?
- It must be something his
strength can't overcome.
Something elemental.
- Drowning.
It appears to breathe, or
a fall from the cliffs,
if it can be herded there.
The coast road's a
mile and a half away.
- It must be done here.
Now.
- Those bumbling fools of
mine should have killed him
instead of beating him,
and your mother with him.
- You sent those thugs.
You had him beaten.
- We should burn the
house to the ground
and kill them both.
The diary with them.
- You did kill him, you
destroyed him completely.
- It was your
mother who did that.
- So help me, if you were a
man I would knock you down.
- Let me take care
of that for you.
We must do this, William.
Get away from these
people and end it.
Give him peace.
- Father.
You must know me.
I can still see you in there.
Forgive me.
- Go on, you have to.
- Son.
- Father.
- It's over.
It's all over now.
- Let's hope to God it is.
- Captain Walton.
How's our visitor?
- I've never seen a man in
so wretched a condition.
He's dreadfully emaciated
by fatigue and suffering.
Lord knows how long
he was on the ice.
- Has he said anything?
- Only nonsense, in rare
moments of consciousness,
about a creature, a
demon, and a pursuit.
All we can offer him
now is rest and warmth
and hope by slow
degrees he will recover.
- Elizabeth?
- Do you
have it with you?
- That depends.
Have you got the payment?
- The diary.
- It's in me bag.
- Show it to me.
- Ah, knew you'd be keen
as soon as I saw it.
- Remarkable.
The author, this Frankenstein.
- Dead.
He won't mind it gone.
- You said you saw the
creature, his creation.
- Come on board after
I acquired the diary.
Big brute of a thing.
Tall as a man and
half, inhuman and foul.
Ugly as sin.
- You told no one
about our meeting.
- Man like me knows
how to be discreet.
Knows how to cover his tracks.
- Yeah.
- Yeah.
- As do I.
- Hmm.
- Breakfast, ma'am.
- You didn't need to
ring twice, Martha.
There's nothing wrong
with my hearing.
My love you, you've got
yourself up and dressed.
- It seemed the
thing to do, my dear,
with you working all night.
- I'm sorry I completely
lost track, my darling.
But you must take
care, you know, you,
you could do yourself an injury.
- God, there's nothing wrong
with the old boy really.
I firmly believe his
body's giving up on him
because you spend so much
time running around after him,
he's got nothing to do.
It's Mr. Darwin's theory
of evolution, you know.
- What are you
doing here, William?
Have you no food at your rooms?
- Actually I have, Mother.
I came to say goodbye to Clara.
She's your daughter.
She's, what is it
you're doing again?
A week in the sticks
with Aunt Mabel.
- We haven't got
an old Aunt Mabel.
I am taking a month in the
country with cousin Jane.
- And what pray are you
going to do for a month
in the country with
dear cousin Jane?
- Take long walks in the garden.
Discuss single men in
possession of good fortunes.
- Sounds wonderful.
- I'm looking forward to it.
- That's even worse.
- Perhaps you should give
some thought, William,
to your, your own romantic life.
I hear the Hardy girl
has returned from Paris.
Quite a pretty young
thing she is too.
- Hmm.
Perhaps I could marry
that lamp, Mother.
It's just as
pleasing to the eye,
but slightly more skilled
in the art of conversation.
- If only you would attend
the Montgomery Ball.
There are any number
of eligible debutantes.
- So you can hang a
number around their necks
and parade them like cattle.
- I would like to see
a grandchild on my knee
at some point in my life.
- Mother, when you
become a grandmother,
you'll hire a governess, put
her knee to work on your behalf
and see the child twice a
year like you did with us.
Kipper sandwich on the
bicycle, I'm afraid.
I'm late for work.
- Oh, that infernal contraption.
And let us not even start
on the subject of work.
A man in your position, it
really is quite beneath you,
you know, my darling.
- Do you know, I do so
enjoy our little talks.
Funny how you remember
them word for word.
Bye old girl.
Try not to have too much fun.
Father.
- I suppose you think
I said the wrong thing?
- No, not the wrong thing.
Just the same thing
over and over again.
Do you not wish for him the
happiness that we have had?
Oh, let him find a
love match as we did.
- My only wish is to restore
you to health, my darling.
And so I will.
- No, no, no no.
She will not listen to
reason, Dr. Browning.
Time and time again she
does only what she wants,
regardless of my clearly
stated preferences.
- Mr. Haddle, as I keep
trying to tell you,
we are not a training
ground for errant wives.
- She needs to be locked up.
She's absconded twice
from sanatoriums
and convalescent homes.
I mean, what do you call
that if not hysteria?
- I call it rather sensible,
if you try to have her
locked up for writing-
- What, poetry?
It's a nonsense!
- Your wife's frustrations
at the bounds you put on her
appear to me to be the
very definition of sanity.
Now if you will
excuse me, Mr. Haddle,
I have patients to attend to.
I fear in the hour
you've been here,
one of them might have
written a limerick.
- And sedate him, hmm.
Haddle.
Trouble, Browning?
- For some poor woman,
Mr. Brammings, yes.
- There's been another
complaint about conditions here.
A member of parliament
has taken an interest.
- What is it this time?
The food, the cold,
the general conditions.
- Do stop trying to guess.
They should be grateful
to be here at all.
They get bed and board.
- They get tied to a
bed and bored stiff.
We do nothing for them and
give them nothing to do.
Sir, right now, in Paris,
Pierre Janet is doing-
- Spare me another of
your theories, Browning.
We require no
newfangled nonsense,
we are in the business of
bed pans and sedatives,
babysitting cast outs
and ne'er do wells.
If you require an asylum
run by a more fanciful
superintendent,
there are many to choose from.
Though none, I believe,
that count your mother
among its trustees.
Perhaps you wouldn't
like your chances there.
- Ow!
- No you don't.
- Get off me.
- Lie down.
Settle down.
- Get, get off me.
- What's going on in here?
- Ah, here's a
young flap doodle.
- What does it look like?
He's as drunk as ever.
We come upon him with two
empty bottles in his arms.
- Well where the devil
did he get those from?
- One of the orderlies
would've brought them in.
On a bribe or a favor,
it shouldn't be allowed.
- Tell you all the ways!
- Keep the noise
down, you old fool.
- You can't speak to your old-
- Quiet!
You'll have Brammings down here.
- What's he in for?
- For his drinking.
He's supposed to be drying out,
and look what
you've done to him.
- I may have had one
or two little nips.
- I'll give you a little nip.
- Oh!
Liza.
- Now get to bed.
I hope your hangover blows
the top of your head off.
- Now look here, nurse.
We can't have you
assaulting patients.
- What good are
you doing him, eh?
I'd like to know.
He come in here to get well
and he's as drunk as ever.
- I'll have a word
with the orderlies.
Perhaps I should
just set you on them.
Might have a rather
greater effect.
- I'm sorry.
But is this supposed to
be a hospital or isn't it?
- That's what some of us
are aiming for, certainly.
- We're supposed
to be helping them.
- Indeed we are.
I say, are you new here, I don't
think I've seen you before.
- I started 10 days ago.
I'm Liza.
- I'm William.
Pleased to meet you.
- Yes.
I know who you
are, Dr. Browning.
It don't take 10 days for
our type to notice people.
- Ah, it's awfully quiet
here without old Clara.
- Yeah.
She's a bright young thing
and of course your mother
is hard at work downstairs.
- God only knows what
she's got planned for you.
You know, I half expect to see
you stretched out on a rack
every time I come home.
- She is a remarkable
woman, your mother.
If there is a cure for
me, she will find it.
Had she been permitted
to sit examinations,
she would've become an expert
renowned on the world stage.
- Yes, while I do agree with
the woman question in general,
Father, I fear in
my mother's case
the world is rather
the safer for it.
- Lady Charlotte North, sir.
- Colonel Browning, thank you
for seeing me unannounced.
I had hoped to see you alone,
this is rather a
delicate matter.
- May I introduce
my son William?
Do let him stay.
He may be of some use, I
am rather limited you know.
- Very well.
- Well this is
rather unexpected.
How may I help you,
Lady Charlotte?
- I shall get
straight to the point.
You have in your
possession a diary,
I wish to have it in mine.
- A diary?
- It is of little value really,
full of scientific fantasies,
but there's some novelty
to the PT Barnum crowd.
- Scientific fantasies.
Perhaps Milicent can-
- I represent a small group of
collectors of such novelties.
- I can't help you.
May I ask how you came to
believe it was in my possession.
- We have ways of getting
information, Colonel.
The group would be willing
to make you an offer,
a very generous offer, far
in excess of its value.
An offer unlikely
to be repeated.
- You seem very keen for
something of so little value.
- Well, you've been misinformed,
I'm afraid, Lady Charlotte.
I have no such diary and no
interest in any such diary.
Perhaps my wife-
- Your wife is unlikely
to be interested, Colonel.
It is not concerned with lace
making and letter writing.
- Oh, how little
you know my wife.
- I must say, the nobility
seem rather less noble
than we've been led to believe.
- That rather settles it.
I'm unable to help you.
- I shall have that
diary, Colonel Browning.
One way or another.
- What
was that about?
- Hmm?
Oh, haven't the foggiest.
I say, dear, you
haven't by any chance-
- Are you sure
you'll be all right
by yourself tonight, my love?
I really do feel most
dreadfully guilty.
William, could you
not stay the night?
- What's all this?
- Your mother has
an overnight trip
in aid of her experiments.
- I really must go.
A rather promising
contact who has an item
essential to my work.
- Eye of newt?
I've taken the night
shift, I'm afraid.
The old boy will have to
look after himself for once.
- Perhaps I should sleep
in the main house tonight-
- I shall be perfectly fine.
The only bother will
be how to occupy myself
with so little happening.
- The old boy go for your story?
- Did he cop for having it?
- We require an approach
with rather less subtlety.
- Right, you look in here,
I'll go check the library.
- I say!
Is someone there?
- Didn't mean to
disturb you, guv.
- What are you doing here?
Get out.
I'm armed, I tell you.
- No, no, old boy,
just be civil, man.
- Stay away or I shall fire.
- I've gotta get to
the door, haven't I?
If you're gonna chase
me from the house.
Me all terrified and regretful.
Where is it, old boy?
- Where's what?
- She says she wanted
something a bit less subtle.
I reckon we should
give it to him.
- Where is it?
- Oh, no, no.
- You know what we want.
- I don't!
- Where is it?
Where is it?
Where is it?
Where is it?
- Robert.
Oh my, my darling.
- They were.
- Ssh.
I know.
I never should have
left you alone.
I'm sorry.
We should never be parted again.
I promise.
I promise.
Please William, I won't have
you causing him any strain.
- Damn it, Mother, must
you guard him so jealously.
It's okay.
- Robert.
- You're all right,
Father, I've got you.
There we go.
All right.
You gave us a little bit
of a fright there, old boy.
You've been out
cold for three days.
- Sorry to have worried you so.
And Clara.
- She will arrive
in a day or two.
I try to dissuade her but she
insists that she should come.
- Just imagine the girl
wanting to see her father.
Good grief, you look
a hundred years older.
- Oh, I feel twice
that and more.
- What were you doing?
Taking the blaggards
on single-handed.
- Thought I could take them.
- At least you haven't
lost your fighting spirit.
- Ha ha, the last
of it, I think.
I feel rather closer
to the end of things.
- You mustn't be
so morbid, Robert.
- The old legs are done for.
One of them is
turning gangrenous.
I couldn't bear to lose it.
I've been so reduced
over the years I, well,
I want at least to remain whole.
Perhaps my time has come.
- No.
My work.
Robert, I am, I am so close.
So close.
- Let it be, Millicent.
Let me go.
- I won't hear it.
I forbid it.
- Oh, she loves me so terribly.
- Terribly indeed.
It's a selfish love.
A selfish, solitary
exclusionary thing
to the expense of
everything else.
- She loves you too,
you know, in her way.
- As if her way
is not to bother.
- I haven't told
you often myself,
how much I love you,
but I do, you know.
I am in awe of the man you've
become, a better man than I.
I'm so proud of you.
I'm so wonderfully proud.
Working when you needn't.
Helping your fellow man
when you could waste the day
on bridge, cigars, as
selfishly as the others.
- How thoroughly un-British.
The Queen will have
dispatched her troops.
- It felt the time to say it.
I fear this may
be my last chance.
- On the contrary.
I want more of the same please.
And regularly too.
It simply won't do.
You've got to stay with it.
We need you.
I'll be off then.
- Yes, yes, that's fine.
You may go too, Martha.
- Ma'am?
- Go home.
We shall require your
services no longer.
Yourself, the cook, the
housekeeper and the gardener,
the whole meddling lot of you.
I want you out by tonight.
- But.
But without notice, Ma'am.
- You shall be paid,
I'm sure you can find
yourself another situation
or a workhouse or an alleyway.
Now go!
Some warm milk to
help calm you my love.
I had to, my love.
I had to, you'll see.
- No, you couldn't have.
- I can save you!
- No!
- I can!
- Get out.
Get out!
- Robert!
No!
No!
- That he whose existence
appeared a part of us all
can have departed forever.
That the sound of a voice
so familiar and dear
can be hushed,
nevermore to be heard.
- That was a sin to have
only us at his graveside.
- She wouldn't be moved on it.
She wants him to
herself even now.
- I still can't
believe he's gone.
He'd been ill so long you
could almost forget about it.
- Yeah, I suppose the assault
brought things to a head.
- I'm glad he died in his sleep.
That it was peaceful for him.
- Hmm.
I wish we'd been able
to see him at rest.
Mother was so quick to
get him to the mortuary.
- Mother.
Mother and I are
just alone here now.
- Must you stay?
There's nothing
here for you, Clara.
Not with the old man gone.
He was the heart and
soul of this place.
What now remains?
Just an empty shell.
- I should remain, for
Mother's sake at least.
- Do you think she'd take
the same care of you?
Do you think she'd even notice?
Oh, go back to cousin Jane's,
go where there's some
warmth and feeling.
- I shall have to withdraw
from the ball, of course.
- Don't you dare.
Father would want you to have
every chance of happiness
you possibly can.
You can go from cousin Jane's.
You'll look lovelier than ever
next to that old wallflower.
- And what about you?
- Don't you worry about
me, old girl, I'll be fine.
- It's too awful.
It's too awful to
even contemplate.
- He cannot be gone.
He would never have left me.
- There's been a spate of body
snatches these last months.
There's money to
be made, I'm sure.
It's an outrage.
- Have you retrieved any
of the poor souls taken?
- Not that I'm
aware of, sir, no.
We'll endeavor to do
our best, of course,
but the truth of the matter
is he could be anywhere.
Anywhere at all.
- The Frankenstein
serum is working.
You are growing stronger
than ever you were,
but I have missed something.
I was rushed when reattaching
your leg, I was clumsy.
It will not heal.
You need a new leg.
A new body.
In which you can grow.
This too has failed.
What more do you want from me?
What am I missing?
Embalming fluid.
Were they using
formaldehyde a century ago?
No.
This may be it, Robert.
You need a clean body.
Clean and unpolluted,
a fresh body.
Freshly killed.
- I'm not sure there's
much point in going home.
Have to set off for the morning
shift as soon as I get in.
- I'm hoping for an
hour's sleep standing up
so I don't crumple my clothes.
- Could do with a shave and all.
- Old Bramming
said about as much.
No doubt the entirety
of Western civilization
would break down if
a man were to appear
with a bristle on his chin.
- Be like the last days of Rome.
- Yeah.
Well, um.
- Well.
- Goodnight.
- Night then.
- Is it true?
Alfred.
The girls said that
he, he passed away.
But I say that there
must be some mistake.
He was as healthy
as a horse, he was-
- No, no, no, no, it's
quite true, I'm afraid.
They found him this morning.
- No.
- His heart probably gave out.
He must have given it
dog's abuse over the years.
- There was nothing
wrong with his heart.
Not with his heart.
He would've been all
alone when he passed.
- Yes, it's, was
terribly sad, I suppose.
- You suppose?
That's just the problem
with this place.
There's no understanding here.
There's no kindness.
We have our troubles, our lot,
and we're whisked away
to the workhouse or here
or jail or worse.
No understanding.
No thinking about us as people.
No thinking about
what might help.
What we might be feeling.
- Liza, I had no idea you'd
formed such a bond with him.
Would you like to see him?
There may be an autopsy
but I would say given his
age and history he prob--
He's gone.
- What do you mean he's gone?
- God in heaven, can the body
snatchers have come here too?
- Body snatchers?
You mean he's been robbed?
You were meant to be
looking after him.
How could you let this happen?
How could you?
- You shouldn't be out
here at this time of night.
Ain't safe.
- I'm not sure I much care
what happens to me now.
- I didn't know that your father
had been taken too when I.
- Gave me a piece of your mind.
- Do you wanna hit me back?
- No, I suspect if we
were to come to blows
I'd be much the worse for wear.
- They said they'd
give me a plot.
The church did.
A pauper's patch.
Somewhere I could stand and
pretend his body was in there.
He was my father, Alfred.
I was too ashamed to say
and then ashamed of
how ashamed I was.
- Oh God, Liza, I'm so sorry.
- I know you are.
It weren't your fault.
He said,
he said you were
decent with him.
Treated him like a human being.
Like a man.
Which is what he was.
No need to walk me home.
I know these
streets well enough.
- Well then, let's say
you're walking me home.
How is it you've done so
well for yourself, Liza?
- We'd all do well,
given the chance.
These people aren't here
because they drink and do wrong.
They drink and do wrong
'cause they're here.
And it's not us
which puts us here.
You don't let us live, your lot.
Not the whole of our lives.
Not like we want them lived.
You use our men's
bodies for their work,
our women's bodies
for your amusement.
I've clawed my way up a little,
but a little's all it is.
- I think you're remarkable.
I mean to find the people
that did this to us.
To your father and to mine.
- I do and all.
I keep wandering around here
as if I might catch
someone at it.
- So do I.
We should go in on it together.
Have you seen
anything suspicious?
- Only you lurking in the dark.
- I, I hope you've eliminated
me from your inquiries.
- Might have done.
- Do you remember
when we were young?
When everything was new.
Before the children,
before setback and illness
and, and failure.
No one can have loved as we did.
It was ours.
We invented it.
We were why people sing,
why poets take up pen.
Where are you?
Where have you gone?
Are you in there at all?
We have to find you new bodies
and bodies to replace
them when, when those rot.
Let the body's pile high.
- Mrs. Browning.
This is a surprise.
- I'd hoped
to see you, Brammings,
to talk over recent events.
- Of course.
Of course.
I was very sorry to
hear of your loss.
Of course you have
my condolences.
Young William appears to
be bearing up bravely.
- His loss is not on the
same scale as my own.
- Quite, quite.
Well, you wish to discuss?
- Recent events, Brammings.
- Well the
disappearing drunkard,
have the trustees some concerns?
I can assure you that-
- I can assure you
I have no interest
in the concerns of
the other trustees,
or in the disappearances
of the wastrels
that you house here.
Nor in their lives.
On that, I feel
sure we can agree.
- Well I,
of course I have, as you know,
been rather at odds with
your son on the matter.
As for the lives
of our patients,
I would agree that many
of them are better served
by the workhouse or the courts.
- Or the gallows?
- Well, in certain
cases, perhaps.
- You have always
struck me, Brammings,
as a man of ambition,
of advancement.
A man whose career would
not be slowed by idle gossip
regarding female patients.
- Now I really don't think-
- A man who knows the value
of a sympathetic ally.
- Indeed I was grateful-
- A man who looks
for opportunity
and yet knows when to look away.
Against your ambition,
against a considerable
rise in income,
what do these people matter?
What does one care
for the ants underfoot
as one advances
towards greatness?
What would it matter
if others were to
leave this establishment
earlier than expected?
- Quite, quite.
You, you said a rise in income.
- A considerable rise.
100 pounds for each of them.
- Their lives may be
worthless, but my cooperation,
however, is not.
- Very well, 500.
- And only the men.
- The women, Brammings,
shall remain untouched.
- And any more idle gossip.
- Will be silenced.
- How nice to have
things out in the open.
I must say, I thought
you only cold.
I could scarcely have imagined
that underneath all that
you were such a malignant bitch.
Now what do you require of me?
- An open door.
And a blind eye.
- So this is how you
lot spend your time.
- Less glamorous
than you expected.
- If I'd have known I would've
left my tiara at home.
- It's not all it's
cracked up to be, you know.
I feel like I've
spent my entire life
running away from money.
Finds you, somehow,
wealth and privilege.
Just becomes expectation
and boundaries.
I do realize how
spoilt that sounds
and I know I'm very fortunate
to have these as problems.
- Well it's better
than wondering
where your next meal's
gonna come from.
Though I am surprised
at how unspoilt you are.
You're the only
person of your class
who I've not wanted
to kick in the knee.
- You did punch me in the face.
- That's what I'm saying.
- My father was very
keen for me to understand
the true value of money.
Its limitations, that there
are many more important things.
- You really loved
him, didn't you?
Your father.
- Yeah, I did.
He was a very good man.
- Mine was flawed,
but I loved him all the same.
- I wonder where they are now.
- We'll find them.
Though whoever's took
them's getting themselves
a steady supply of bodies.
- I'd say that's a thing.
Where there's supply.
- There's demand.
Oh no, no.
Thank you very much.
Are, are you sure
he's going to turn up?
- He'll be here.
- I'm beginning to feel a
bit like Sherlock Holmes.
- I had someone else
in mind for you.
There he is.
Jasper!
Jasper.
- Liza!
- Good to see you,
you old pile of bones.
- I ain't seen you in a while.
- Been working.
- I'd heard.
That's a shame for you.
And I heard your
old man got took.
Ah, poor old Alfred.
He had many a time in here.
I'll say this for
whoever took him.
Whatever they're doing to
him, he won't need pickling.
Nah.
And who's this?
Are you moving up in
the world, my girl?
- This is a friend.
Dr. Watson, from my work.
- You've not come to
take me in, have you?
I'll fight you before you
put me in one of them coats.
I will.
- His dad got took and all.
- Did he now?
Was he in the loony
bin with old Alfred?
- No, he was-
- He got dug up.
Proper sacrilegious it was.
- I'd heard there was
some of that going on.
- Well that's why we're here.
There's nothing
goes on around here
without you hearing about it.
Or you having a
hand in it yourself,
if you get whiff of a coin.
- Oi, I hope you don't
think I'm involved
in none of that, my girl.
I've been known to buy and sell
the occasional item of interest.
Them what's dead should
be left in peace I say.
I may not go by
every law of the land
but the laws of God and
nature is different.
- Maybe you heard
something about it.
- Nothing.
- Then maybe you could
inquire among your associates.
- And ask them what?
Anyone in the
market for a spleen.
I'll tell you, I've
not heard a thing
and that means
something, don't it.
It means it ain't
one of ours doing it.
Last round of body
snatching a few years back,
they wasn't being taken for
food or for throwing on the fire
instead of coal, was they?
They was being taken
for men of science
picking over their bones,
seeing what made them tick.
Alfred got took from
your place, didn't he?
- Mm-hmm.
- You wanna find
them what took him?
I suggest you look
closer to home.
- Did you hear the
devil's footsteps.
Click, click, click,
click it goes.
I can keep traveling.
It's come to take me, hasn't it.
Sit with them cooking in pantry.
Walking in the square.
Meant to dance.
What a very nice time.
- There's been another
one on the fourth floor.
One here and all?
- Yes, I think so.
What do you mean another one?
- Do calm down.
Two patients have
simply chosen to leave.
- Two patients in restraints
have chosen to leave
from behind locked doors.
- Really, you must not
apply reason to madness.
Is there any blood?
Any disturbance?
Any signs of a struggle?
A struggle, Browning.
Not poor housekeeping.
- Mr. Brammings.
Mr. Brammings.
There's something desperately
wrong in this place, sir.
First Alfred Dobson,
now these two.
- I see no similarities.
What happened with the
drunkard was unfortunate.
But what you have this
morning are two empty beds,
no bodies, and an
overactive imagination.
- What you have
this morning, sir,
is patients disappearing
on your watch.
Now I know you
don't care anything
about these people
at all, you old fool,
but you do still have
a duty towards them.
- Now see here, you jumped up-
- Get off me.
We swore an oath to
these men, Brammings,
to do them no harm and to
see no harm done to them.
- And two empty beds aside,
there remain many more in here
in need of your fussy,
nannying bedside manner.
Now may I suggest
you learn your place
and get back to work!
- Now what?
What can we do?
What with old
Brammings in the way?
- Now we go over his head.
We go to the trustees.
Mother!
Mother!
Mother!
Mother!
- What
are you doing here?
- Are you quite
all right, Mother?
Where are the staff?
- I have dismissed them.
I no longer require
their services.
- It would appear you
have a very great need
of their services.
- I have been
rather preoccupied.
I will get to these
things this afternoon.
- Let me help you.
- I prefer to be alone.
- Of course.
But with Father gone.
- I asked you what
you're doing here.
- Fear not.
I come in a purely
professional capacity.
There's trouble at the asylum.
- Then I suggest you
speak to Mr. Brammings.
- I have.
There have been disappearances,
he shows very little interest.
- I can assure you I have less.
- And yet you have
a responsibility
towards our patients,
whether you care
for them or not.
- What would you have me
do, become a night watchman?
- I would have you call a
meeting of the trustees.
Demand Brammings explain
himself and if he cannot,
I would have you replace him.
- Very well.
- You will do so?
- Certainly I shall.
- I'm fine by the way.
And Clara too, she has written.
- You were well paid
for your information.
Information that came
to be quite incorrect.
I believed you were a
man who knew things.
- And so I am.
Only I never told
you nothing as fact.
Only what I'd heard.
I can't do no better than that.
- You must do much better,
I am not to be disappointed.
The man you claimed had
the items in his possession
is now dead.
His body stolen, his house
searched without result.
I believe we can rule him out.
- It wasn't him what got them.
It was him they was got for.
It was his wife
what bought them.
It was his wife, I tell you.
It was his wife.
- I thought a
disguise was in order,
if we're staking out the place.
- Right.
- Well now I feel stupid.
- I assure you, you've
never looked lovelier.
- We'd be for it if
old Brammings caught
us sneaking about.
- He's on his way to the ball.
This place and
its people will be
entirely gone from his thoughts.
I feel we're always one step
behind what's happening.
We hide in the cemetery,
they strike in the asylum.
We watch over the dead,
they take the living.
- Do you really think old
Brammings is in on it?
- It's hard to believe.
Yet he cares so little
for these people.
- But you do though, don't you?
You care for our lot.
- I care a very great
deal for your lot.
- That's old Manic.
Screams the place
down half the night.
- That's certainly
very helpful, isn't it.
- Quiet down now, love.
Everything's all right.
- I can't see a pattern here.
They're taking both
the living and the dead
with no discernible
buyer in sight.
- I'm with Jasper.
It's one of yours doing it.
Look at who they're taking.
It's only the poor, the
forsaken, except your father.
He doesn't fit in.
- No, I suppose not.
- The rich look after
themselves, even in death.
Their crypts are
locked up tight,
their graves are
covered in cages.
I'm surprised your
father didn't have one.
He was rich enough.
- Mother was dead
set against it.
She's gone rather
strange since he died.
A bit Miss Haversham.
She didn't, she didn't
want him penned in.
- She's been here more often,
wandering in a
daze sort of thing.
- My mother's been here?
- Some of the girls
have spoken to her.
She's looked clear through them
as if she's not
seen them at all.
- We use your bodies.
- Still you need more,
to find your way back.
- Oh God.
- Eh?
- You need fresh flesh.
Living flesh closer to your own.
- You said, "We
use your bodies."
- William.
- Oh Mother!
Father?
What in God's name has she done?
What in God's name
has she done to you?
- He doesn't know me.
His soul is lost.
- His soul is lost?
Yours will be damned, damned
forever for what you've done.
- He would wish this.
If I could revive
his intelligence,
he would wish to be
brought back to me.
You cannot begin to
understand the love we share.
- This isn't love.
And you didn't share it.
You kept it all to yourself.
- Just too great a cruelty
to have loved so deeply
and have lost so completely.
- This loss, this grief
is the debt we pay
for loving so richly and
being loved in return.
- I shall pay no such debt.
I struck no such bargain.
He didn't mean to die.
He would never have left me.
He acted rashly in a
moment of weakness,
and if I had not left
the morphia within reach.
- He took his life?
You said he died in his sleep.
Didn't, he couldn't have.
- I can still save him.
- Enough!
Stay away from him.
You're a monster, you murderer.
Ssh, ssh.
- He needs you.
The final sacrifice.
- Ssh, ssh.
- Son.
- My God, you've done it.
- You?
- Who the hell are you?
- I am your reckoning.
Kill them.
- Get off me!
- Father!
Ssh.
- He saved us.
He knows us.
- Mother.
No.
No!
- Robert!
- William!
What's gone on there?
- It's hard to summarize.
- Oh, your mother.
- Where is the creature?
You did not let it escape.
- Did you see anyone
when you came in?
Were you safe?
- Well, there's a riot
going on up there.
- But did you see anyone?
- Anything?
- What are you talking about?
Will someone tell
me what's happened.
- It was her.
My mother's committed
unspeakable atrocities.
She took my father
from his grave.
All those patients.
Alfred.
She tore them apart.
- Can't be.
She can't have.
- Who knows how many souls.
She assembled them into
a horror, a nightmare.
It moves.
It has life.
Do you have something
to do with this?
- Certainly not.
- Then what the hell
are you doing here?
Why did you attack us?
That book.
You said you thought my father
had a book in his possession.
- The diary.
The diary.
- What diary?
- The diary of
Victor Frankenstein.
- What's that?
- The Frankenstein diary
possesses knowledge
unimaginable to humanity.
Your mother had it
in her possession
and with it raised hell.
- Now you want it for yourself.
- For myself?
No, you fool, I
want it destroyed.
Man has forever
sought to cheat death.
To create life.
To assume the power of the gods.
The Frankenstein diary
knows their power.
It whispers its
secrets, makes promises,
and brings only death and
destruction and despair.
A century ago Victor
Frankenstein raised a demon.
His wife and brother were
murdered at its hand.
Frankenstein himself
died a pitiful wretch.
His diary lived on, its
trail of destruction resumed.
Down through the years our
collective has hunted it,
following every lead with
a necessary ruthlessness.
Bringing me finally to you.
- So what now?
- Now its work is alive
and out in the world
ready to kill and destroy
anything it comes upon.
- What about my father?
- He's dead.
- I saw him in there.
There's some part of
him that's still alive.
- You saw only what
you wish to see.
The creature he has become must
be destroyed with the diary.
I shall see it done.
- Wait.
My mother made that thing.
It's my responsibility too.
- I didn't see
nothing as I come in.
- Could he be hiding?
Does he have the intelligence?
- He is an it, it has only fury.
- Here.
What are you doing down there?
God almighty!
Get away from her.
Go on, get away.
- I dread to ask what
happened to this man.
- Dread is right, squire.
A demon straight
from hell it was.
Tore into him like
he was nothing.
- 10 foot tall it was,
if it was an inch.
- And the smell, lord.
- Which way did he go?
- Down into the
darkness it went.
We should go after it is what.
Bash its brains in before it
has a chance to go for us.
- Has it attacked anyone else?
- Well, not as such.
- Sort of cowered
when it seen us.
- But you could tell it would
go for us if it got a chance.
Got him cornered down there.
Just need-
- Just need someone to.
- Right.
Perhaps you should
stay here, Liza.
I don't wanna put you
in any more danger.
Let me try to reason with him.
- It has no reason,
it is not your father.
- At least let me try.
Just allow me a moment.
He appears to know me at times.
It's okay.
It's okay, Father.
Ssh.
- That was Alfred's tattoo.
That's Alfred's body.
- I'm so sorry, Liza, it is.
- That's him there,
rotten and spoiled.
- It's him, it's
my father, it's others too.
- She really did it.
As if he was worth any
more than any of us,
what she'd do to us.
Alfred.
- When you've quite finished.
- You're firing into dead flesh.
You're only making him angry.
He's panicked, overawed
with sights and sounds,
crowded out and shot at.
And he only has half a mind
to understand it all with.
- The noise and the lights,
like a moth to a flame.
- A moth doesn't
usually murder a flame.
- My God!
- That thing barely
made him blink.
- We need to come
up with something.
Some way of stopping him.
- Give me some room.
Father!
Ssh, ssh, ssh, ssh.
Hey, hey.
Hey, hey.
It's okay.
It's okay.
Ssh, ssh.
- Father?
- Clara.
- How can this be?
- No no, Clara, no.
- Can it really be him?
- Clara, get away from him.
- Stop!
- No!
No!
- The creature has escaped.
We must follow it
and destroy it.
Had you have done so sooner,
had you allowed me to do so,
she would be breathing still.
- How can he be destroyed?
What force can we
muster against him?
- It must be something his
strength can't overcome.
Something elemental.
- Drowning.
It appears to breathe, or
a fall from the cliffs,
if it can be herded there.
The coast road's a
mile and a half away.
- It must be done here.
Now.
- Those bumbling fools of
mine should have killed him
instead of beating him,
and your mother with him.
- You sent those thugs.
You had him beaten.
- We should burn the
house to the ground
and kill them both.
The diary with them.
- You did kill him, you
destroyed him completely.
- It was your
mother who did that.
- So help me, if you were a
man I would knock you down.
- Let me take care
of that for you.
We must do this, William.
Get away from these
people and end it.
Give him peace.
- Father.
You must know me.
I can still see you in there.
Forgive me.
- Go on, you have to.
- Son.
- Father.
- It's over.
It's all over now.
- Let's hope to God it is.