The Spoils of Babylon (2013) s01e03 Episode Script

1 And they had these enormous thungsten lights pouring down heat on the whole cast for hours upon hours until I believe one of the extras dropped dead.
It was more than a disast-- Hello, I'm Eric Jonrosh, author of many best-selling novels including The Spoils of Babylon, which I have adapted for tonight's teleplay.
Murder, and addiction, and carnal desire are the ingredients for this spectacular episode.
I controlled every aspect of the production, sometimes violently so.
I demanded perfection on myself, and so to the cast.
I shot roughly six lines of dialog a day from hundreds of angles, and many, many takes.
The cast staged a revolt, at one point, but I was prepared for this for I knew to carry a gun.
I would not allow the film to be shut down, although I did take a two-month hiatus while I found out where my head was at.
When I returned, I shot much of tonight's episode based in part on my experimentation with hallucinogens.
The particular drug I used was an early synthetic drug Called hamelply-biphorphine developed by the good folks at Astrazeneca.
What? So now I can't say that? Your--your viewers? Who are your viewers? Who's watching this garbage? What is going on? Not only here, but generally speaking.
I'm especially proud of the acting in tonight's installment.
I hope you will agree.
"I hope you will agree.
" That doesn't seem right at all.
I hope-- why am I hoping that they will-- Previously on The Spoils of Babylon My name is Devon Morehouse.
My story is an epic one.
It's been so long since you kissed me.
Don't you want to? What does it mean? It means war, Cynthia.
I'm joining up.
Morehouse to squadron leader, I'm taking enemy fire.
It's Devon.
Something's wrong.
It's unlikely any man could survive that kind Of burning destruction.
Welcome home, son.
I want to introduce you to the new Mrs.
Devon Morehouse, Lady Anne York.
It looks like a carburetor.
It runs on steam.
I get 200 miles a gallon with this.
No one must know about this until we are ready.
Devon will be mine.
And not as my brother, but as my lover.
This is my life.
Or what remains of it.
My return home after the war was one of the happiest times of my life.
Lady Anne gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Marianne Abigail Morehouse.
She brought such joy and light into our lives.
It seemed happiness was finally mine.
Oh, there you are.
Have you been hiding from me? Thank you so much for your hospitality.
Oh, yes, of course.
You are too nice.
I feel like we are getting closer now.
Oh, well, you're always welcome.
I know it was a bit awkward in the beginning, But now look at us.
I took the liberty of building a fire.
I don't mean to be a burden.
Oh.
I don't mind.
You can build a fire any time you want.
I was just feeling a tad cold.
Well, I would hate for you to be cold at all.
In any event, Devon should be home soon.
He can warm me with his love-making.
-Did you really think that you could get away with it? Did you really think you could come into this house And take the only person that I love? What on earth are you doing? You're putting your hand in the fire.
Please Put on your 3D glasses now! What are you doing with that fire? It's coming right at me.
My face is melting! She's dead.
Lost.
Everything is lost.
She's gone.
- Devon.
- Oh, Cynthia, Lady Anne.
My love, she's gone.
I-I saved the child.
How can I go on? I tried to tell her not to start a fire.
I told her.
She must have done it anyway.
It makes no sense.
Um, see, fires are very dangerous.
Not to be blunt, but it makes total sense, scientifically, I mean.
I'm all alone now.
You have me.
I still love you.
Oh, she was my world.
No.
This head, this inanimate, yet beautiful thing, I shall carry it forth like a badge of woe, a constant reminder of a world without hope, - without love.
- But I love you.
Without a dream! I am lost now, maybe forever.
Cynthia, you keep the child.
- What? - You raise her.
I shall have only this head.
No, why don't we raise her together? - Together we can.
- No.
I must wander the Earth, My head and I.
- No.
- This compass father gave me, I will no longer need it.
But if you're wandering the world, isn't that when you need a compass? Isn't that kind of the point of the compass? - It is for the child.
- Devon, you can't leave with that head.
You're gonna walk around with that? It's still smoking.
Devon.
Devon! I will not be left! I will not be left! Cynthia, we need a decision.
Will there be a merger? There will be no merger.
Morehouse Conglomerated will be going at it alone.
But, Cynthia, really, with your father's illness getting worse and Devon off running around the country, you can't possibly run this company alone.
Be reasonable, Cynthia.
You're a woman.
It's too much for a woman to handle.
You just don't have a head for figures.
Gentlemen, the subject is closed.
I have been running this business since the end of the war, and I will continue to run it until Devon returns.
Or is found dead.
Let's face it.
The war has been good to us.
I believe the military will be expanding their need for oil.
Nonsense.
The war is over.
More than likely, there will be a massive scale-down of our armed forces.
Well, I have it on some authority there will be a massive buildup.
What authority? Your woman's intuition? Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.
Cynthia, be careful here.
Cyrus, you're a dear old friend of the family.
Tell me I'm doing the right thing.
Have you consulted with your father? Father is very ill.
He's been babbling on and on about some invention he thinks is his gift to mankind.
He's been calling out for Devon.
- Where is Devon? - He hasn't been seen in over a year.
Oh, I've looked for him.
I've looked for him everywhere.
They say that, when men return from the war, they become lost.
search for something.
I wish I could find him.
I hit the road with only my thumb and a beat-up Olivetti typewriter.
I didn't know what I was looking for-- God, love, death, kicks.
I knew I needed to go and never stop going.
My head bent to the railroad Earth.
I wandered forth into the electric negro dawn.
cold water flats and boxcars booming through cities.
Cleveland, Davenport, Denver, and the sound of mad jazz piercing through back alleys and flophouses.
New adventures and miles between desire and hope.
Desire and hope spread out like one long ribbon across the land, engines into the madness.
Charlie Parker with his doo doo tu roo.
Miles and Dizz.
Old Al Bevins cracked his skull on the Wabash El in cold downtown Chicago.
Quivering like a madman, laughing under the noise and the clang of all that American music.
Fixing and shooting in gloom shadows, like innocent angels in supication.
Wither and hither I went, like a nomad lost on the desert of no self.
A mooning dynamo slipping through the fog.
Always, "Hey, man, go," And "Where's it at?" And too often the search for love in loveless love dens where loveless girls not even acquainted with love or Buddha or Karl Marx or Hume leave love behind for kicks and commerce.
One night the sad, old Moon hung over the Golden Gate Bridge like Dick Powell in some Hollywood musical.
I was out in the dark bay mist, down in Sausalito on big Jim Lardner's boat, Dexter Gordon wailing on the radio.
When Moon-faced Dick Powell opened up to me and asked me if I knew who I was, really knew the essential soul within.
Dick Powell, I'll always see your pictures for that.
- Devon.
- Go away.
- Devon.
- Go away.
Devon, it's Cynthia.
Oh.
Oh, hey, sis.
Hey, you're right on time.
Want to watch me shoot up? Oh, Devon, what's wrong with you? Why haven't you written? I've been busy.
I got a habit now.
It takes up a lot of time.
Devon, come home.
Will you make yourself useful and hand me that spoon over there? That spoon? Yeah.
- Oh, yeah.
- I have to tell you something.
You got to make it quick, sis.
It's father.
He's dying.
- Dying? - Yes.
And he needs you.
And he loves you very much.
He wanted me to give you this compass so you had it again.
Oh.
I do love him.
And I need you too, Devon.
Oh, Cynthia, I've got a monkey on my back, and I can't shake it.
We can beat it together.
Together.
I can help you.
It won't be pretty.
What can I do? Just-- Just be here.
for me and And what? Lock the door.
Oh, I'm scared, sister.
Well, I told you that wasn't going to be easy.
But now you can come home.
Everything's settled.
Oh, Devon, I've been running the business so well.
We're very rich.
Oh, I'm afraid.
It's okay.
You've done it.
You've kicked it.
I kicked heroin.
I can't kick you.
You don't have to.
You are my sister.
We are lovers.
Oh.
Ohh! Now was that wrong? If that was wrong, then I always want to be wrong.
Never leave again.
No, I shall never leave again.
I'm gonna go get us some wine.
But I'm an addict.
It could lead to heroin all over again.
- It'll be fine.
- Okay.
Are you sure that's a good idea? What is true happiness? After a lifetime of missing it, I had finally found it in Cynthia, my own sister.
Our love was forbidden by men, but sanctioned by the angels.
We deserved our share of love, but could we keep it? Stop here, Devon.
I want to talk to you about something.
Oh, anything, father.
I'm dying, Devon.
Not so fast, old man.
We still have big plans.
Nah, I'm dying.
We don't have any time for plans.
I'm dying.
You stop it.
- You kidder.
- It's not a joke.
- I'm dying for sure.
- Yeah, well, we're all dying.
No, seriously, I am dying.
- Yeah, me too.
- No, it's not a joke.
- I'm dying.
- I'm serious-- I'm seriously - joking with you.
- I am telling you that I'm dying.
I love how you keep going.
Ow.
Sh Seymour Lutz.
The man who was working on the carburetor? He's very close.
You must not tell anyone.
His invention will change everything.
The oil companies, my company, will be ruined.
But it'll be good for the world.
Only you and I know, Devon.
Wow, that's pretty expository.
But, yes, of course.
Of course, it will-- it will be a legacy you can be proud of.
You are the legacy I am most proud of, son.
Father, Cynthia-- You can't let her run the company.
Devon, she's unethical.
And as crazy as a dog underneath a tire.
Well, we are in love.
What? We're in love.
I'm in love with my s-- I mean, Cynthia.
- And she's in love with me.
- I forbid it.
We love each other.
It is not gonna happen.
That's what "I forbid it" means.
But, father, we're in love.
Father.
- I forbid it.
I forbid it.
No.
Stop.
Father! - Forbid it! Hey, are you okay? Mama.
Pop? Papa? Father.
Papa? No! How could he? How could he deny us our love? Cynthia, he knew.
He always knew, and he knew it was wrong.
Wrong? Howsoever? Love that hearts hath honed hear no objections.
Coarse is that knot that binds and twists limbs from aspiring heavenward.
If such limbs be thusly inspired, then not any adjudication can forestall their lofty zeal, it is true.
But no such innocent bliss Is here on our shared ground.
Not true.
Not true.
Never speak it.
The ground was green when first we ambled conjoined.
Our ground was never so green.
It has marred our souls like sneal worms in a hooper's frowl.
To compare our love thusly is a pauper's accounting.
And to declare otherhow is vainglorious folly.
'tis not folly to flower in God's full sunshine.
Devon, I love you.
And I you.
Then please forsake all arguments and let Nature decide what is fair.
Oh, you're so right, but this is so wrong.
No, Devon.
I must make my leave of you.
Come near, my love, in a bower of clover Wend thy way from Under and over Merry we play In a field of clover Hidden we stay Lover to lover There it is.
Another ending.
Fear not.
There is more to come Next time-- more story, More music, more gaiety and color.
For isn't that what moves us? The excitement of life, The thrill of being bitten By a snake.
Isn't there something in the mystery Of many particles forever dancing In the chaos of our vision? You don't even know what I'm talking about, so shut your mouth.
How old are you? What? 22? It's not even an age.
Stop lying to me.
I've no intention of continuing on.
No, I don't.
I'm through for the day.
I, for one, have read my contract