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Rupert, Rupert & Rupert (2019)
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- And action. - Jesus Christ, that's a suicide vest. He's wearing enough plastic explosives to vaporize the plane. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What do we do? Can I try that again? - No. That's okay. I've got what I need. Thanks for coming in. - I'm Dr. Dale Rumsfield, veterinary surgeon. I'm Dr. Dale Rumsfield, veterinary surgeon. I'm a man who loves animals, but I've seen so many die that my love has become trapped deep in my chest. There's a broken marriage behind me and a childhood wound that haunts me in the small hours. But I won't permit such distractions to enter my surgery. They remain outside the door, lurking just beyond view, where such things always lurk. - You have a new message. First message. - Rupert, it's Dolores. You won't be surprised to hear you didn't get the part in Death at 30,000 feet. Somehow, I'm managed to get you an audition for another small role this afternoon. They liked you in the pizza commercial. I'm emailing you the script. - She left me, Patty. She packed her bags last night and walked out the door. When the latch clicked shut, my life ended. My love was gone. She left me, Patty. She packed her bags last night and walked out the door. She left me, Patty. She packed her bags last night and walked out the door. And when the latch clicked shut, my life ended. My love was gone. - That's your mark. Uh, lose the hat. - But it's part of my character's-- - Just lose the hat, buddy. And action. - She left me, Patty. She packed her bags last night and walked out the door. And when the latch clicked shut, my life ended! The fucking bitch was gone now! How was that for you, cocksucker? - Uh, thanks for coming in. - You have a new message. - I've had it with you. If they want sadness, you give them rage. And if they want rage, you give them eroticism? You haven't managed a proper performance since you played a chef in that pizza commercial, and that was 18 months ago. You are not commercially viable. Consider yourself fired. - I know. I've gotta do something. Angus McFadden. Dr. Dale Rumsfield recommends against strenuous activity whilst convalescing. If you want to fly again, you must avoid agitation. It dulls you, doesn't it, putting a lid on all things, good and bad. - Angus McFadden. - How are ya, Angus? I was wondering if you could help me out. A pal of mine suffers from bouts of amnesia which can last for anything up to a few hours. The only problem is he often misbehaves during those periods and then has absolutely no memory at all of what he's done. He's getting it all arse ways, and I'm hoping you can help put the poor fellow straight. - Well, sure, I can help. What's your friend's name? - Rupert. - Would you like to make an appointment for him? When's a good time? - How soon can you manage? - Tomorrow afternoon at three. - That soon? - Too early? - No, no. No, tomorrow afternoon's grand. - Rupert. - Yes? - Looking forward to meeting you. Olga! Yeah, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know. - Stand on the garbage truck. - Olga, I really have to go to work now. So what sort of misbehavior are we talking about? - It's hard to say really. - Because of the bouts of amnesia? But if you can't remember, how do you know there's a problem? - It's ruining my career. - Are you aware of anything you've done during these moments? - Well, I know I punch walls sometimes and break things in my flat. I see the damage afterwards and know no one else has been there. - That must be pretty scary for you. Are you aware you're rubbing your lips? - So I'm rubbing my lips. So fucking what? - So I was wondering if you're feeling anxious about having said too much. What happened there? - Lips, lips, lips. Lips. Lips. Lips. - What happened there? - What happened where? - Dolores Joe. - Hi. Hi, Dolores. It's Rupert Lindsay here. Now listen, I got your voicemail. And the thing is I was actually mugged on the way to the audition. Yeah, two huge Russian men. It was, it was brutal. So not surprisingly, I was a little distraught when I went to casting-- - Oh, fuck off, Rupert! - You have a new message. First message. - I was just about to delete your file, but for some strange reason, Trudy at Britannia Casting has specifically asked to see you for the title role of The Fatal Blasphemy of Jeremiah Ulysses's Boundless Rage, a previously undiscovered Christopher Marlowe play. It's about a puritan who's always furiously angry, so right up your street. Duncan Barnes has just pulled out, so looking for someone to go straight into dress rehearsals. Whoever gets the part will be co-starring with Tamsin Hollonby, the queen of method. This is the chance of a lifetime. Tamsin is huge. Fuck it up like your last audition and you might just get the role. - Fuck it up? I'll fuck you up, you old bent! Fuck! Thou scorns sweet innocence and chastity. Thou art wholly wanton and lascivious-- - Shut up. - I have to listen to thy drum and bass at all hours, so thou can fucking well listen to a bit of literature! Marriage is a sacrament to our divine father and gives thee not permission for wantonness! - Marriage is a sacrament to our divine father and gives thee not permission for wantonness! Thou are corrupted. - I'm seeing anger and I'm hearing anger, but I'm not feeling anger. There's nothing here to hold a flickering candle to Tamsin's artistry. - Thanks for coming in, Jack. Uh, David Myers. - I was here first! - He's next on my list. - I don't give a fuck about your list! First come, first served. - This isn't a restaurant. - Let's see what he's got, Trudy. I'm Geoffrey Morton, director of Queen of the Commons. - I'd keep quiet about that if I were you. What do you want me to say? - Well, what do you feel like saying? - You wouldn't wanna hear what I feel like saying. - Well, actually, I would. Go for it. - I detest auditions. I fuckin' hate them! It's not the acting. That's not a problem, no, no, no, no. What I can't stand are all the pompous, arrogant, small-minded cocksuckers who sit in their fat asses and judge my art! Is that the sort of thing you had in mind? - How long did it take you to work up the rage? - About half a second. - And what did you use to provoke it? - Your face. - Can you say a line from the play? - Marriage is a sacrament to our divine father and gives thee not permission for wantonness. Thou are corrupted by thy vain fancies. The God thy service is thy own appetite. Thou scorns sweet innocence and chastity. Thou art wholly wanton and lascivious! What else do you want? - I think I'd want you to sign a contract and come to lunch. We've got a lot to talk about. - Let's go to the office and check we've got all your contact details. - Are you sure about this? He seems slightly unhinged to me. - It was authentic, Oliver, still resonating in me. - Everything is riding on him-- - We're gonna knock this out of the ballpark. - Curtain goes up in 10 days. - He's got enough anger to hit the ground running. I can feel it. Look, will you sort out the contracts, talk to the press while I take him to lunch? Thanks, Oliver. I appreciate your support. - What do you think? - Multiple personality disorder. - Seriously? - He's an actor. - So was it the Cambridge on to the BBC? - Have you been reading my biog? - It's written all over you. - I spent six wonderful years at the Beeb before leaving to direct Queen of the Commons, which took $42 million at box office. I was only 28. - Prick. - And now, here we are with The Fatal Blasphemy of Jeremiah Ulysses's Boundless Rage. The dialogue was impenetrable. Some of the stage directions are very confusing, but I think we've knocked it into shape. - Does the BBC breed that kind of arrogance, or was that there from prep school? - Look, I studied Marlowe at Trinity, and the fact is none of his original scripts survived. Most of them were copied down from memory. So who's... So who's to say what was actually on the page. - You? - How many of us admit to being really angry with God? That's what Marlowe was exploring. To rage against God in 16th England was great blasphemy. It may well be the reason why he was murdered. In any case, it's a hell of a part. Jeremiah Ulysses is the method actor's dream. - I don't do method. - What would you call your approach? - Anger. - So why have you and Morton switched to theater? - Who could resist a lost play by Christopher Marlowe? - Your last two films sank without a trace. - Kit Marlowe was the foremost tragedian of his age. Some say his death was faked and that he is the main author of all the poems and the plays attributed to William Shakespeare, who only came into preeminence after Marlowe's supposed passing. - And Hollywood's treating you like you have wet leprosy. - Shortly before his recorded death, 1593, Marlowe is arrested in connection with a manuscript he had written said to contain vile heretical conceit. We are staging that manuscript for the first time ever. - You're very good to Morton. - So did daddy fund the tranny film? - My father's in hospital, so it's a bit of a sensitive subject for me right now. - Did he get pissed and fall over again? - He has stage four cancer. - So he fund the fag film or not? - I'm not getting this. Is this unpleasantness part of your preparation, or is this just how you are? - I'm just trying to make conversation. - What, so you immerse yourself in your rage, and your malice, and your bitterness, and you don't mind if other people-- - We haven't talked money. I'm gonna need quite a lot to put up with this kind of bullshit. - Look, I want you to be as furious as you possibly can be for the role. I really do. And I know that when you go that deep, there's gonna be some spillover. But as your director, I'm gonna need a little bit of respect. Is that okay with you? - How much? - I'm aware we're asking a lot. Duncan pulling out meant we had to cancel our previews. That means you'll have to learn the lines over the weekend and then go into a week of dress rehearsal starting on Monday. You get the Sunday off, and then the last rehearsal is on the Monday, with the press performance that night. It's a tall order, which is why we're paying you 30,000 pounds for the rehearsals and the press night performance. Conditional on good reviews, we're guaranteed a speedy transfer to the West End. And obviously, there'll be more money for you at that point. - He's evil. - See, I didn't notice that. Angry, yes, but not evil. - He's a freak. - A freak? Have you ever been called a freak, Rupert? - Fuck you! - Welcome back. That question a little too close to the bone? Do you feel you need to protect him from it? - You're just as fucked up as everyone else. - You're mostly right. - So what's your story, Angus? - I'm not sure my story would get a fair hearing at the moment. - Keep it secret. - Speaking of secrets, what's yours? - The brilliant psychotherapist turns the tables. In a moment of blinding inspiration, he sees that what the client has said about him must in fact be about, wait for it, folks, yes, it must in fact be about the client himself. - Must be hard. - What, being a successful psychotherapist? - Finding love when nobody likes you. - Just seen it in the papers, The Blasphemy of Ulysses with Tamsin Hollonby no less. You've hit the big time, just what you always wanted. - Hello, dad. - Any chance of a drink? - Tea? - Anything stronger? - Coffee? - What's that? - You know what, now's not really a good time. I need to study my script and prepare myself for the role. - I should have brought champagne, be the first to celebrate. Tell you what. When I get my giro, I'll buy a bottle, bring it down, raise a glass. Next week sometime. - Let me know when you're coming. Dare thee speak of morals, thou common hussy. Is thy persona entirely barren of abashment? Whence stem these shameless desires? Surely, thou art fallen into the serpent's pit. How am I gonna do this without him? Ideas, please? Fuck! Fucking table! - Drunkard! Harlot! Wanton whore! - What? - Good morning, Mr. Lindsay. This is your car service. I'm waiting outside to take you to the theater. - Tamsin. - Tamsin? No, I'm Meghan Ulysses. - Pleased to meet you, Meghan. I'm Stevie. Okay. Is it sore? - Don't worry about that. Just glue the scars on top. Make me suffer. - Sorry. - Oh. I'm sorry to put you through makeup for rehearsals, but I think it's important. - You behold them as the scarred tracks of my husband's oft used whip, but I beseech you to look again for truly, they are open wounds. - Brilliant. I love it. Ah, I thought you'd gone missing. Your driver couldn't track you down. - Much better chance and faith in public transport. - Now, as I told you, everything is minimal with this production, simple set design and simple costumes, all of which will focus the audience's attention on the physical manifestations of Jeremiah and Meghan's inner lives. Look at this. - Good day, Jeremiah. How fare thee? - Has she fuckin' lost it already? - There's method to her madness. - Wankers. - You don't remember me, do you? - No. - I'm Stevie, the hair and makeup on the pizza commercial. Oh, it was only a bit of lipstick and powder, less than five minutes. - Yeah, whatever. - Is that alright? Just let me know if it hurts. - It's more humiliating than painful. - Oh, don't worry. Your natural good looks will shine through. - According to Orson Welles out there, the warts are the symbols of the guilt beneath Jeremiah Ulysses's rage, the outgrowth of the shame he tries to make others feel. What a load of bollocks! - Poor Jeremiah. - Ah. That is just a little reminder that our time here is limited. Now Tamsin, we need you to get down on your knees. - Don't tell us you haven't really don't that before. - And Rupert, if you just stand in front of her there. That's it. That's great. That's great. Tamsin, feel your scars. Feel the history of abuse on your skin. Rupert, become aware of the ugliness of your warts. Action! - What are you doing, you filthy slut? What are you-- - Rupert, it's what vile practice doth now endeavor. - Whence stem these shameless desires? Surely, thou art fallen into-- - What vile endeavor doth thou now practice? Whence stem these shameless desires? Surely, thou art fallen into the serpent's pit for thou manifest the manners of a harlot! - 'Tis but the day of the groom's matrimony, which hath in store the bride's maidenhood. - Marriage is a sacrament to our divine father and gives thee not permission for wantonness. - I meant to please. - Thou pleases me better with thy modesty. - Cut, cut. Now I think we're going in slightly the wrong direction. Jeremiah Ulysses is always a volcano. He's either erupting or he's about to erupt. Wrath, annoyance, vexation, exasperation, crossness, irritation, outrage, indignation, resentment and fury, that's your palette, buddy. - What vile endeavor doth thou now practice? Whence stem these shameless desires? Surely, thou art fallen into the serpent's pit for thou manifest the manners of a harlot! - 'Tis but the day of the groom's matrimony, which hath in store the bride's maidenhood. - Marriage is a sacrament to our divine father and gives thee not permission for wantonness! - I meant to please. - Thou pleases me better with thy modesty! - You seem different today. - Sex is in the air. I can smell it. - Where does it smell strongest? - The makeup room. - Who's in there? - Stevie. - And you like Stevie? - She certainly put a spring in my shorts. - Oh, I'm so sorry, Angus. - You mustn't come in here, Olga. You have to leave immediately. - Vilim has soaked me with his water pistol, and now I have nothing to wear. - Look at my wife's wardrobe. Now please leave. I'm sorry about that. - My pleasure entirely. Absolutely terrific pair of tits. I bet you have some fun with them when the kids are asleep. - I'm happily married. - Nothing wrong with a threesome. - Would you like threesomes? - Is that an invitation? - When was your first sexual encounter? - Blowjob behind the cricket pavilion when I was 19. - Nothing before that? - No, no, no, no. She got right down to it. - No, I meant no sexual experiences before that? I just thought someone as sexual as you would have been active from an earlier age. - And how old were you, Angus? And sex with relatives doesn't count. - What are you angry about, Rupert? - You trying to make out that I couldn't-- - Couldn't what, couldn't get a girl? - I can get any fucking girl I want, including yours. - Who are you competing with? Who was it who called you a freak? - Harvey is flying in from New York for the press night. - I'm Jackie. Stevie's got stuck in traffic. - That's a shame. I was hoping to get stuck into Stevie. You've got a lovely touch. - Not too hard? - No, but I'll tell you what is. - I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. - Okay, and I'll pretend you're not giving me a boner. - They have sexual harassment laws in the theater too, you know. - Well, that's good. Everyone should get a chance to experience it. - I'm serious. - I know. Suddenly things aren't so hard anymore. I'm gonna close my eyes and think about Stevie. Yeah. You have lovely eyes. Do you like my warts? - Very becoming, my lord. - That dress really suits you. It makes you look like a wanton whore. - Thou knows very well that thou disapproves of such things, Jeremiah. - Me disapprove of that? - Thou was disapproving on our wedding night. - Well, give me another chance. I beseech ye, give me another chance. - Nice improv, but wrong direction. Let's just take it from the top. And action. - Thou art corrupted by thy vain fancies. The god thy service is thy own appetite. Thou scorns sweet innocence and chastity. Thou art wholly wanton and lascivious. - Cut. Are you still on the improv? What's with the big sex thing? I'm sorry, it's wrong. - What's wrong? - It's completely inappropriate. Where's the anger? Wake up, Rupert. Wake up. Wake up! - Touch me again and I'll take your fucking head off! - That's it, that's it. Keep it there. - Fuck you! - Action. - Thou carnal transgression goes not unnoticed. Thy heap God's heavy wrath upon thy head. Thou art corrupted by thy vain fancies. The god thy service is thine own appetite! Thou scorns sweet innocence and chastity. Thou art wholly wanton and lascivious! - Oh! Rupert, that was brilliant. Tamsin, I love the blinking. It's inspired. - He thinks me corrupted by vain fancies. - The old man getting you down again? - I've been known to scorn sweet innocence and chastity. I sought nothing but love and companionship. - He's just angry. If it wasn't you, it'd be someone else. Don't take it personally. - And what of God's heavy wrath I heap upon myself? - I'm not sure you do heap it upon yourself. Maybe that's what he does and he wants to put it on you. - Thou art too kind. - People can be like that. - No, I mean it. Thou threatens to undermine my guilt and shame. - Ooh, let's talk about your journey to the new world. - You've never seen warts before? Here, have one. If that fucking asshole even thinks about slapping me again, I'm gonna break every bone in his fuckin' hand! - Or perhaps you could heap God's heavy wrath upon him. - For fuck's sake! - I'm so sorry. - Only kidding. Hey. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. - It's alright, don't worry. I know you have to be angry for your character. - It has to stop. - You became aware of what was happening almost while it was happening. Isn't that unusual for you? - I have to get rid of him somehow. - Your anger? - Yes. - No other parts of yourself? - No, him. - But without him, you wouldn't be in the play. - I'm an actor. I can build a character. I can't have him being horrible to Stevie. - So you want him dead, right, got rid of. - Yes. - You want him killed. - Whatever it takes. - So it's not just him who's angry. I mean, you said you want him dead. I've not heard him wish the same for you. - He wants to ruin my life. He's a f... - He's a what, Rupert? - It doesn't matter. - He's a freak? Are you sure he's a freak, Rupert, or is that really you? - What is this bullshit? - No bullshit. - You were bullying him. What the fuck is that all about? - Have you been bullied in the past? - Don't try and turn the tables, you fuckin' prick! You were bullying him. - I'm surprised you're so sensitive to her name. - I don't give a fuck about it, but he does. - So you jumped in. - You were bullying him. - He became vulnerable and you protected him. He does vulnerability, you do anger. - More penetrating insights from the great psychotherapist. - You hate vulnerability and he hates anger. - Why does the great psychotherapist have to bully his client? - You two need each other's help, badly! - Maybe it's you who needs help. We're doing just fine. - Oh, you're doing brilliantly. Why can't you admit you need help? - What, the kind of help you've been offering? - Well, you need somebody's. Without your anger, he will never survive. And without his vulnerability, you'll never feel loved. - It's okay to feel vulnerable. Taking risks and feeling exposed are an important part of a healthy lifestyle. Protect yourself if you need to, but you should take the risk first. It's easier said than done, eh. - Hello? - Hi, Stevie. It's Rupert, from the play. Listen, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about the way I was with you this afternoon. It's an acting thing. The part I play has all this anger, and sometimes it spills over. I know it's hurtful and deeply unpleasant, but I really didn't mean it. - It's okay. I was worried you didn't like me. - Oh, you don't need to worry about that. - Good. - Can I buy you a drink? - You seem different. - It's the electrifying effect you have on me. - Is this another role you're playing? - What's that gorgeous smell? Are you wearing perfume? - I put a little on my neck. - May I? Why, you smell good enough to eat. - Rupert. Not here. - Back to yours? - You need to go a little slower. - We can do that. - Generally. - You don't want me. - That's not what I'm saying. - You don't want me. - We both have Sunday off. Why don't you come over to my house. My parents are having this barbecue lunch thing, you know, burgers, hotdogs, beer. You could meet the family. What do you think? - I think I feel a bit uncomfortable about what I just did. - Oh, no, please don't. You were just being affectionate. I like that in men. Anyway, I was flattered. So will you come? To the party at my house on Sunday. - Yeah. Yeah, I'd really love to. - Just so you know, my mom likes younger men. So does my dad. But they won't bother you if you're with me. Are you okay? - Yeah, I'm fine. - Are you sure? - I just need to go to the little boys' room. My name is Rupert Lindsay. My name is Rupert Lindsay. My name is Rupert Lindsay. I'm 33 years old. I'm playing the lead role in The Fatal Blasphemy of Jeremiah Ulysses's Boundless Rage, soon to have a West End run, hopefully. I'm having a nice evening with Stevie, who's just invited me to a barbecue with her mom and dad who both like... I wonder how many tiles there are in here. - Are you okay? You look a bit ill. - Something didn't agree with me, but I'm fine now. I feel like myself again. - Have you had enough? Do you wanna leave? - I don't wanna spoil the evening. - Oh, it's okay. I understand. I had a really lovely evening. Thank you. Oh, you can be angry tomorrow, but please don't be angry on Sunday at the barbecue. - Which fucking idiot left the window open? Fucking table! Fucking bastard! Another right, another left. The ref's gonna have to stop it somehow. - Animals. - I'm telling you, this guy has got it. Yeah. Do you remember Tamsin, first time we saw her? Same thing, raw. There he is. There's my boy. - Twat. - Did you hear that? Yeah, that was him. Oh, he calls me all sorts of things. I don't care. Well, it's part of it. Listen, he's amazing, and I'm molding him. He's like clay, fresh clay, and I'm molding it. And I'm creating something, and I'm creating something wonderful. It's beautiful. About six-foot-two, buzz cut, mean eyes, Scottish, obviously. Alright, mother, I've gotta go. I'm in there in five minutes. - Thanks, Harry. Anything that you can do to drum up publicity will be greatly appreciated. I'm betting the farm on this one, and the house, and the outbuildings and 125 acres. - Good morning, handsome. - What's so fucking good about it? - Harvey's not gonna be able to make it. - Has anyone seen my pencils? Well, of course, we're approaching the climax of the rehearsals. This is always a very interesting time and time, I think, when the director really, really shows his work. - Get off my fucking ear! - Harvey is back on! I wish to Christ Harvey would make up his mind! - That's it. All ready, Mr. Ulysses. - Okay, let's pick it up from where we left off. And action! - Thy solace fulfills thy foul desires. I'm afraid that which I have long suspected. Thou art a wild drunkard and a wanton whore. Thou hath concealed thy shameless passions. - No. - Obscured them with thy fraudulent masks. Thy veneer of chastity and veil of rectitude, thy fallacious facade of religious propriety. - I respect your instincts, Rupert, I really do, but we are going to have to step this up. Now as I've said, Ulysses is always angry. His rage is infinite and inexhaustible, and it builds right through until the last scene of the third act, on the prow of the ship when he finally directs his anger at God and experiences God's wrath for him. - Who said God was angry with him? - Well, what other reaction can there be, hmm? This raging man is never redeemed. There's no character arc for Jeremiah Ulysses. And surely, this is Marlowe's point, the theme beneath the premise. Ulysses can rage all he likes. It only brings forth more of God's wrath. And this is why the ship sinks. Ultimately, his rage damns him. Well, let's leave it there for the day. I'm very happy with the first two acts. The third needs a little work, but we can tackle that on Monday. - Monday is press night. - Not until the evening. Enjoy your Sunday off. Relax, unwind, let it all sink in. Monday night's gonna be awesome. Hmm, okay, buddy. Yeah. - I've had this with all this therapy bullshit! It's not going anywhere. - Where do you want it to go? - I want it to go away. - And yet, here you are paid upfront and hanging on my every word. - In your fucking dreams. - On my every word, Rupert. You wait eagerly for it, cease it as soon as it emerges and try and turn it into something you could be angry about. You say you don't wanna be here, so why the fuck are you? - Is this a new psychotherapeutic tack, swear at me and shock me into a different response? Or is this the real Angus emerging, the frustrated, the uptight-- - Whatever. You want to be here, Rupert! Just admit it to yourself! No one made you come here today, and no one's making you stay! What do you want from therapy? - I'm sure you've got some penetrating insights about that. - That's all pretty obvious, really. You're not exactly the hardest book to read. You're wondering if perhaps you might be in line for a second chance. - At what? - I don't know, happiness maybe, a life where you can react to bad situations if they happen rather than always anticipating them. Or maybe it's love. Why else would you be so unpleasant to Stevie? - You are such a fuckin' loser. - Say that again. - Fuck off! - Tell me I'm a fucking loser. - I'm sure you know that by now. - Just do it! Why is everything so difficult with you? Tell me I'm a fucking loser! - Fuck you! - Protecting my feelings? - Yeah, right. - Digging your heels in. Just kidding. - Oh, that's fuckin' hilarious. - Thank you. So who was it who called you a fucking loser? - Jesus Christ, don't you have ever fuckin' let up? - Say that to me again. Don't you ever fucking let up? - You're not big enough to bully me-- - Who are you talking to, Rupert? Freak, fucking loser. Don't you ever let up. Leave me alone. He or a she? - He! - An older brother. - I don't have an older brother! - Father then. - Hi, sexy. My mom likes younger men. So does my dad. Rupert, this is my mom, Sheila. - I feel like I know you already. A star of the stage in my garden. - Hi, how are you doing? - This is my dad, Frank. - Ah, hello, mate. - Pleased to meet you. - Nice to meet you. - Let's get you a drink. You obviously needed that. I just have to go check on my Auntie Josie. Be back in a moment. - Look at him. Isn't he handsome? - Oh, messy boy. You spilled ketchup all down you. Would you like me to take that off and wash it for you? - No, it's okay. I'm fine. - No trouble. - I'm fine. What? Oh, oh, sorry, sorry. - Oh. I see you've met Jake then. Go on then. Show him your muscles. Whoa, look at them biceps. Look at that. Go on. He's shaping up very nicely. - Fuck! - Sorry. I got by my cousin Jacob. He keeps on talking about how he's been made a cavalier in his battle reenactment society. Are you alright? - I'm fine. - Come on. Let's go to my room. - Hey, has anyone seen Jack's bloody pants? - I've gotta go to the bathroom. - Don't be long. Anyone want kiddie porn? You fucking pedophiles! - What's going on? - Ask the child molesters! - What are you talking about? - Fuck you! - What's happened? - Fuck all of you! Time to put us all out of our misery for good. - Rupie! It's your dad. Are you hiding in there? I'm sorry. I haven't got the champagne. Check never came. Someone probably nicked it. So I'm wondering if you can lend me a couple of hundred quid. Not for your booze, no, no. Just essentials, getting by, surviving, you know. Rupie. Are you in there? - What the fuck do you want? - Oh, Rupert. I thought you'd like to know the word's got out that you're playing opposite Tamsin Hollonby. There's quite a buzz around you. People are asking for your reel and checking your availability. If you can get good reviews for this, it's all going to take off for you. Rupert? Rupert? Are you still there? - How am I supposed to pull this off? Rehearsals were a complete blank. I don't know what I'm doing. - Are you okay? You look terrible. - Dad died in the night. - You poor thing. - Cancel today's rehearsals. - What about the third act? - It'll be fine. - Yes. Of course it will. There's nothing to worry about. - Maybe I can ramp up my character's motivation. Marlowe let himself down a bit there. Father was a pastor who was angry with God but too devout to admit it. So he fathered a son to absorb the father's rage. Papa was always bullying and manipulative. He twisted everything 'round to make his problems my fault. I must be wrong because papa was possessed of a great fondness for lashing my bare buttocks with his belt. The lashes stung terribly. I can feel their bite still. But there was worse to come. Papa was aroused by the beatings sexually. And then one day, it happened. After a fierce belting, papa could no longer contain his vile urges! He bent me over a bale of straw and raped me in the cowshed, the low moans of the cattle merging with my own strangled cries of anguish! For shame, for shame! He was a man of God! You bullying, manipulative piece of shit! You utter fucking scumbag bastard! - Rupert, how are you? - I'm angry, dickhead. - Excellent. - Faggot. - Nice one. - Ass bandit! - That's the spirit. - Jackie, will you do this actor's makeup for me, please? - What's her fuckin' problem? - The critics are in the front row. Let's see if we can pull it off. - It's gonna be awesome. - What vile endeavor doth thou now practice? Whence stem these shameless desires? Surely, thou art fallen into the serpent's pit for thou manifest the manners of a harlot! - 'Tis but the day of the groom's matrimony, which hath in store the bride's maidenhood. - Marriage is a sacrament to our divine father and gives thee not permission for wantonness. - I meant to please. - Thou pleases me better with thy modesty! - One down, two to go. - laughed in the street, but thy scorn no joy with men. - These were thy dear friends, my lord, John Clayton, Henry Cuthbert and Darby. - Thou dares to answer thy husband back! - I beg thy kind forgiveness, my lord. I merely thought-- - You'd go into the tavern with these men? - I but supped the ale With thy kindred friends. - Thou shalt taste the leather of my whip! - Henceforth I deny mirth and ale in public. - As indeed thou shall deny them in private! Ale is the devil's brew, and mirth, his work. - Has there yet to be no solace for me? - Thy solace fulfills thy foul desires. I fear that which I have long suspected. Thou art a wild drunkard and a wanton whore! - No. - Oh, fuck. - Thy wicked carnal desires consume me. - what's he doing? - I don't know. - As they devour the sanctity of our marriage, why thou hath conceal thy shameful passions. - What's he looking at? - Obscured them with my fraudulent masks. - Am I so base, thou cannot cast thy gaze upon me? - What's she saying? - Good girl, Tamsin, good girl. - Thine eyes should follow thy castigation. - Thy veneer of chastity and veil of rectitude, thy fallacious facade of religious propriety. - Come on, Rupert. - Disguised as thy prurience and cupidity, dost have torment my afflicted soul. - Wake up, Rupert! You can do it, buddy! - You cunt! - Yes. Yes. It's gonna be alright. - Moment of truth. - And the truth will out. - The book of Hebrew admonishes us still. Let matrimony be held in honor among all. Permit not the marriage bed be defiled lest the wrath of God be thy judge of immorality! Yet, thou judge not my marriage bed! Virtue, righteousness, morality were mine. Thou bounteous rewards were covenanted me. Yet, thou hath recompensed me with betrayal. Treachery and scorn are my sorry return. I settled thy score with bitter wages. From the divine father came divine scorn. Thou rent from me free companions nor was fortunes to be withheld. Thou let my lying wife lie with. Thou hath brought ruin to my pure marriage. I shat upon thine own sacrament. I am glutted with loathing of all that is divine! Thou forsook me, and I forsake thee in return. Send forth thy four apocalyptic horsemen. Ride me into the deep for my blasphemy. wretched husband take her wretched soul. I only wanted to be close to you. - He's expressing the deep spiritual longing beneath his blasphemy. He reinterpreted the whole play. Only by allowing himself to rage at his God could Ulysses hope to reconnect with his authentic love for him. There is redemption after all. - Here we go. Oh, this one says, "Tamsin Hollonby was convincing "as the abused wife, but newcomer Rupert Lindsay's "tour de force performance was the only real highlight "in an otherwise dismal production." What? - Remember the early reviews for Queen of the Commons? They called it a gay pantomime. It went on to make $42 million. - They've savaged it. - The trade of the critic in music, literature and drama is the most degraded of all trades. Mark Twain. - It gets worse. This was an impressive diatribe by Rupert Lindsay but with no purpose or consequence. If Christopher Marlowe had a hand in this, which I very much doubt, then it was not a lost Marlowe but a discarded one. - We're a limited company. They can't take our houses. Well, not yours anyway. - Hello. - Do you have to go? - What you did at the barbecue was really, really weird. - I know. I want you with my sexuality. I push you away with my anger, and me, stuck in the middle, trying to hold it all together and failing miserably. - I'm sorry, Rupert. You're just too weird for me. Look, it's my fault. I should have known. I've been out with actors before, and they're all a bit odd. I need someone to love, Rupert, and it's hard to love a method. Thank you. - I don't do fuckin' method. |
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