All language subtitles for Seneca.On.The.Creation.Of.Earthquakes.2023.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

Seneca was a senator,

and considered
the wisest man in Rome.

He also got the job
of tutoring Nero in all things,

and became the life coach
to our city's mass-murdering
president for life,

a terrible idea that
would later end Seneca's life.

"I understand the grief
at the departure of certain
members of our community."

I understand
the grief at certain members
departing our community.

No, no. "I understand the grief

at the departure of certain
members of our community."

You see how that flows?

"At," the," "of."
Very presidential.

Ha! Yes!

"However, if there are
any fishermen among us tonight,
or fishwives..."

However, if there are
any fishermen among us tonight,
or fishwives...

That is right. Be a friend
to the common people.

-You could be a fisherman.
-Yes.

"I feel your feelings.
I have your problems.

I'm just ever so slightly
ten million times
better than you."

"Fishermen know
that finding a decayed clam..."

Uh, fishermen know that
finding a rotten clam--

No, I wouldn't say "rotten."
"Decayed" suggests that
she's old, senile, has dementia.

So, "fishermen know that
finding a decayed clam
means that one must...

toss her from the batch
for dinner not to be ruined."

Fishermen know that finding
a decayed clam means that

one must toss her from the...

"Batch."

Uh, for dinner not to be ruined.

Excellent. All right,
now all together from the top.

I know it makes people sad,

sort of mad to isolate them
from the community.

But all fishermen know
that when you've got a...

rotten oyster,

you've got to toss
that thing in the...

batch for dinner.

All right.

Um...

Again, from the top.

- "I understand...
- " -Seneca was the establishment,

and Rome's ruling class stood
in line to pay him

extravagantly for his deep
thoughts,

which mostly told
his wealthy employers
just what they wanted to hear.

What is the happy life,
the life worth living?

Well, it is peace of mind
and tranquility.

And my dear fellows,
do not neglect the brain
that nature put inside you

by enslaving yourselves
solely to bodily enjoyments.

Eat less.

Not nothing, my good man,
by no means, no means at all.

But less.

Aim for virtue.
Happiness will follow.

Though married to Octavia,

Nero was besotted
with a woman of pleasure.

And yet it is reason
that orders the universe.

Reason beats back the passions,
leading to a good life,

a life lived simply
in accordance with nature.

It was rumored that
Nero shared with her a love
of potions ground from plants,

a vice of the lower classes,

one that often might ruin
a young girl's looks.

Mr. President,
you are my only teacher.

Seneca was brought in to teach
Nero the ways of the world.

But Nero, who owned the world,

had but a short honeymoon
with his teacher.

Sir, this is,
from a purely optical--

rather, ethical standpoints--
very shaky, sir.

I mean, harming your own wife?

Well,
a president must be feared.

There is one,
only one thing that
I ever wanted from this job,

and that is for
fear of my cruelty

to be on everyone's lips.

Sir, I understand the impulse,
and frankly, I admire it.

A person like you with
a nature that is so healthy

and so manly and so must be
expressed.

But, Mr. President, an average
captain commands with fear,

a solid one with respect,

but a great one,
a once-in-a-lifetime leader,

commands with mercy...

...demonstrating with
each gesture of gentleness

that he masters his domain
without fear.

So, you see, sir, the gesture
that wins immortality

is not the hand
choking the throat,

but rather
the fingertips caressing
the bloodstained feathers

-of the wounded dove.
-Be quiet!

Does anyone ever
say this to you? Hmm?

Does anyone ever demand
that you stop
your stupid life lessons

and just be quiet for once?

Don't look to me.

The boy is right in that
you do put on tremendous airs.

-Madam, I--
-Shh.

Fancy yourself a Socrates,
but in truth,

you possess no more
profound wisdom than
my son's wrestling coach.

Sir,
I'm afraid I must plead mercy

for your wife Octavia's sake.

She is an old
and treasured friend of mine.

Are you dumb?

Don't speak anymore.

I have forbidden it.

Hold your peace unless
you want your brain clouted in
for you with this stick.

See it?

-Yes, it's a stick.
-That's right.

So stop annoying me,
and maybe, just maybe,

you'll make it till morning.

Now, I'll do as I please if
you give your approval or not.

Listen up! All of you.

No one is going to
hurt this man today.

Now, this is
a very respected man.

You all know who this is.

Now, he believes
that mercy beats strength

because the man of noble spirit
respects mercy more.

Well...

I do not believe
in noble spirits,

and I do not respect mercy.

As of today, we will not
speak of these bad ideas.

Not ever again.

We're gonna play by some
different rules from now on.

Hey!

Nero's wife Octavia was chained

and all her veins were cut.

Nero sent her head to Poppaea,
his new bride,

as her wedding gift.

This man had the power
of life and death

over one in four people
living on Earth,

and Seneca knew the odds
were even at best that Nero,

this unstable bipolar child,

would soon take Seneca's life.

Yes!

Senator, I know you're
a student of history.

Surely you are familiar with the
stories of President Tiberius

traveling through Africa
with his teacher Vipsinius?

Vipsinius said to Tiberius,

"You must show yourself
as a leader physically.

Get in front of the caravan
and walk before the people,

showing them
that you lead the world.

Literally."

This flattered Tiberius,

and he got out in front
and marched,

and sure enough...

wham!

A fucking panther reared up,
bared its teeth.

Luckily, Tiberius's team
came in with 100 spears,

surrounded the panther,
turned him into a porcupine.

That night at dinner,

Tiberius spoke boastfully
of Vipsinius.

Vipsinius said, "Mr. President,
are you not angry?"

I put you in the way
of a panther!"

"On the contrary," he said,

"you taught me
the most important lesson.

Even for a leader,
overcoming fear and shame

is everything."

But...

after dinner, Vipsinius
was taken deep into the bush

where cannibals were waiting,

and it was their pleasure
to take the outsider,

pinion him to tree trunks,

and to consume him
while he lived,

slicing strip after strip of
his skin off him as he howled,

while they ate
and laughed and made merry

until he bled out and died.

Madam?

What lesson should
I derive from this?

You are an expert in survival.

You should know by now
that your only job is
to look my son in the eye

and say, "Yes, Mr. President."

Indeed, that is the wisest
choice one could possibly make.

And then go home
and count your money.

Don't make me regret
saving you from exile.

I do hope your kidneys
feel better.

Many, many years before,

Seneca was sent into exile

by a former president
for misspeaking.

This was a brutal sentence,
for exile did not mean

repairing to your beach house
to lick your wounds.

It meant you were
dropped down naked

more or less in a wilderness
and left to eat bugs.

Most exiles got sick,
starved, or killed themselves.

But Seneca survived,

and Seneca knew
he would not survive

a second round
of this kind of abuse.

Nero grew more and more
unhinged and unreliable.

He had killed his wife
and poisoned both his stepdad
and his half-brother.

All this was done
under the guidance of his mom.

But nothing could
save Agrippina

once Nero had hardened
his heart against her.

Nero plotted a shipwreck
for Agrippina,

but miraculously, she survived.

I survived.

My boy, I lived!

Seneca!

I saved you.

I saved you from exile!

Made you rich!

Please.

Don't act like
you're hard of hearing!

I bought you your first house!

Seneca grew unimaginably rich,

writing speeches
justifying Nero's crimes,

such as the killing
of his mother.

I'm Mommy. Don't hurt Mommy.

Mommy loves you.

He got the name
Seneca praedives:

fat cat Seneca.

As Nero grew debauched
and out of touch,

many ordinary Romans
fell into dire poverty.

The elites had
had enough of Nero.

They'd had enough, and finally,

Senator Gaius Piso gathered
his friends to kill Nero

and get the country
back to normal.

We've got to take
this fucking guy out right now.

But his
co-conspirators had big mouths.

Nero used his wipeout of the
conspirators to clean house,

and one face he'd be glad
never to see again
was Seneca's.

The president knew Seneca
had no part in Piso's plot,

but Nero felt a deep contempt
for this old man's
very high opinion of himself.

Along with his upbeat life
advice for Rome's wealthy,

-Seneca lived a double life...
-Mmm, figs.

...staging brutal
and nightmarish horror plays

for the chic upper crust.

Oh...

It's beautiful.

Oh...

I think beauty is good
for the soul, don't you?

Seneca knows this.

It's just his little boy
sense of humor

that twits us with all this...

ugliness.

Although we may
dream of justice,
we can't believe in it,

except as a kid's story our
grandmother might have told us.

If anyone has ever regarded
Argos with love or affection,

had a certain hometown loyalty,

well, let him come now,
for pity's sake,

to prevent a crime
beyond imagination.

Let fury know
no bounds nor shame,

just monstrous evil, like sparks
fanned into hateful flame.

Feast on this gory spectacular
I have prepared for you.

Feast on this explosion of evil
until your bellies burst.

I must dare
something atrocious!

This isn't gonna
be political, is it?

So monstrous that
my brother's spirit will break

as mine will heal.

Sir,
have you learned nothing from
your mistakes that violence,

physical violence perpetrated
on your own flesh and blood,

is the ultimate of sins?

A president must be feared.

Ah, shit, I knew this was
gonna be political.

He loves taunting the president.

He thinks he can bullshit
his way out of anything
with his bullshit factory.

Let the mob
worship what they fear.

His hot blood cannot be cooled.

Such irrational passion,
such anger, such rage

must lead to catastrophe.

When you force praise by fear,

hatred and fear
come back to you.

True glory, true respect

comes not from the lips,
but the heart.

I've been lusting
after revenge for years.

All right.
What weapon will it be?

Sword, fire?

My brother Thyestes himself
will be the weapon.

Let the father tear the flesh
from his boys' bodies.

Let him drink
the blood of his blood,

gnaw the bones of his bone

so he may hate himself
with the same hot hatred
as I have for him.

And you will make sure
nobody knows of our plans.

The world should crack with
cataclysms and earthquakes,

but we know how it is.

Everything marches on
like always,

and evil becomes the new normal.

Holy mackerel.
Talk about heavy-handed.

I don't get with
all the chic pessimism.

Everyone's harping on
the sins of the past.

He'd do better in awards season
if there was someone onstage
to root for.

Sorry!

No, no. No, please, no.

Ah, trapped. The whole brood.

The thought of their pain,
their hurt,

gives me
the whim-whams-delicious!

I am on fire with pleasure
and bloodlust, unbearably fine!

How nice to see my brother.

This is
the greatest happiness

for exiles to return
to their home.

Flow, my tears of joy!

I have never begged before,
but now I'm on my knees.

Take my sweet boys
as proof of my good intention.

Brother, wear this crown
while I perform the sacrifice
for your return.

They're gonna kill those
little slave wogs, aren't they?

I've barely eaten today.
I don't know if my stomach
can handle it.

No! No, please!

No. No. No, please, no!

Ha!

No! No!

No!

- Are they real?
- Best not ask.

Fuckin' Seneca.
Always goes over the top.

You're horrified?

If the crime had
only ended here,

it would've been a blessing!

And on that day,
the sun itself shrank from
what it saw and fled the sky,

but too late to avoid having
witnessed the noxious feast

Atreus prepared
for his own brother.

I know now how gods feel.

Their power surges
from my synapses.

My pure will rules the world.

It is good to be a man,
even better to be a king,

but a god, limitless in power?

That is best of all.

And so,

the people soup is served.

The father carves
his boys' bodies

and chews
the flesh of his flesh.

He takes a sip
of blood-laced wine

to wash down a piece of meat
stuck in his throat.

- The only mercy for poor
Thyestes is his total ignorance,

but that can't last.

The worm has turned,
and all that awaits him

is the agonized realization
of how the world is sick.

Mad and sick.

To be home at last,
safe and sound,

my exile past,
my misery forgotten.

All that remains
to make the evening perfect

is to have my boys
join my celebration!

I assure you,
your boys are here.

They cannot be taken
from you ever again.

I promise that you
and they shall never be parted.

Those boys will sustain you,
nourish, fill you up. I swear!

I happily accept this feast
my brother has laid out for me.

Let's pour some wine to honor
the gods and then be drunk!

Let's party down!

Wait.

What is this?
I can't get my hand to move.

Cup's like lead.
The wine won't pass my lips.

What's come over me?

Something's terribly wrong.

Oh, what is this?

I feel a tremor in my guts,
a trembling.

I hear a noise from my belly,
but it does not sound like me!

My heart is pounding in terror.

My children!

Beloved brother,
I've got what you want here.

I can't even take it.
What are we gonna tell him
when it's over?

How...

can the world go on
after this sort of evil?

How can all of this shit,
piss, and poison

not sink into Earth's belly
and blast it wide open?

"Aww,
I want my boys back!

Oh, God,
anything to get back my boys!"

Now you've got them.

So, hug 'em. Give 'em a kiss.
Nibble on their little lips!

Be decent, and just...

give me their remains so I can
give them a decent burial.

What is left of them, you have.

What isn't left of them,
you have that too!

What's this riddle?

Are they being
devoured by beasts?

There's only one someone here
who's eaten them,

and that is you.

You have eaten
your sons yourself.

Who ever saw such a crime? Huh?

Are there no limits?

Is there no decency
in this world, no humanity?

Who made the world be this way?

Where are those
to protect the innocent?

Whoever's in charge here,
for the sake of your honor,

the sake of the world you rule,

send down your final,
cleansing anger!

With fire, burn away this filth!

Do it, now! I beg--No!
I defy you. I dare you.

Go on! We all deserve to die!

Or...

forever admit
there's nothing there.

Nothing but black void,

in which case we must
worship night and cold,

and learn to love death,

corruption, lies, and hate,

for it is all that's real,
and the rest is delusion.

The gods have left, and Earth
is nothing but a stupid rock.

Why is beauty gone?

Why has dark night descended,
obliterating all
the light of midday?

Either we lost our sun

or we chased it away.

Could it be that we, of all
generations, are deserving of
the sky's collapse

and an Earth
knocked off its axis?

Could it be?

Clap, please.

March! March!

March, march, march!
March, march!

Go! Go! Go! You're a fucker!

Go! Go, you fuckin' idiot.

Go! Go, go, go!

March! March! March! March!

Do your duty!

Go, go, go! Go, go!

Fucker!

I told you to get up,
so now get your ass up!

Oh, you got to the count
of three to get on up now.

One!

Two!

Three!

You're a fuckin' coward!

Do your fuckin' duty!
Do your fuckin' duty!

- Love.
- Fuck you!

Love him.

- Chaps like him have their uses,
Mr. President.

But I worry a little bit
about this one.

Lot of energy.
Dishes out punishment good.

But I wonder if he's gonna
be able to put a lid on it.

Watch me, boys,
and you'll learn a thing or two.

See,
I know how to keep it tender.

You gotta use the time you have,
and you gotta do it right.

Listen.

I have a job of work for you.

You seem like a good boy.

You're not afraid
to hurt someone if you have to.

If they've done something,
you know...

bad.

Mm-hmm.

Do you know
who Senator Seneca is?

Mmm...

nope.

Oh, that's good.

Now let me get you a horse.

"Friends,
we serve up nightmares here."

A frisson, a cold shiver.
Not for fragile sensibilities.

Of course,
there is a lesson to our tale.

We're not indulging
in ugliness for its own sake.

So, what is required
of those allowed to dine
at the President's table?

What are the conditions
necessary for the good life--

all their benefits, the eating,
the drinking--to continue?

Exactly this: you must smile at
the slaughter of your loved ones

and say, "Thank you, boss.
Might I have another?"

You must eat the shit you are
told to eat and beg for more.

Like love, like relations,
all is transactional.

Alas, whether life is worth
living at such a price

is a whole other question.

Seneca, it's super clear
what makes you write these
gruesome, nihilistic sketches

that are so far from
the great advice
you give our city's achievers.

It's all the time you spend
with high-rollers,

counseling these
soulless aardvarks on
how to lead a righteous life,

telling them
what they wanted to hear.

-It makes you lash out.
-Mmm, don't mean to sound like
a know-it-all, Senator,

but I--I sense something
churning in you, pulling you
to make these, uh, events.

I can't put my fingers on it,
but it's not wholesome.

No matter.
Wouldn't read too much into it.

After all, we're not speaking
of present-day Rome, are we?

But rather ancient Greece.

You are so bad.

But I do worry about you.
All this political stuff.

You must tend your words
carefully when you approach
the subject of the president.

Nero would wrap your knickers
'round your head
before the intermission.

If he found out we were here
watching, he'd kill us too.

Keep going!
Let's go! Keep it up!

Keep it up!

Push! Push, now! Keep it up!

Don't stop!
Keep it going! Let's go!

There were rumors, tremors
that went through the capital

that Seneca was
out of favor with
the president.

But Seneca, Mr. Establishment,

could talk his way
out of anything,

and tonight's theatergoers,

the cream of the rich
and beautiful set,

were happy to be there at
the great man's side as guests
at his country estate,

the most in-demand
dinner spot in highbrow Rome...

at least, at first.

Remind yourselves,
we die every day.

Death is stalking us everywhere,

so it's useless
to fear or dread it.

Say a knot
strangles your throat,

or you fall off a cliff--
ahh, splat-- onto the rocks.

Well, however you go,
even if it is a ghastly thing,

at least you die fast!

How can you not be embarrassed

having dreaded
something your entire life

which, bam, is over in a second?

Far better to imagine and
embrace doom before it arrives

so that it ceases to terrify.

And kids, drink up.
It's later than you think.

Listen,
I understand that we expect

a certain quid pro quo
from the universe.

You have done all that the gods
have bidden,

you have maybe--
maybe even learned
to delay a pleasure today

for a deeper pleasure tomorrow,
a greater security,

and yet, still, one day--

So...

the question is, why do bad
things happen to good people?

Meaning people like us.

People like you, my dear.

And you, kind sir. Whoops.

Even you.

And me.

And the answer is so that we
may teach others how to endure.

You see,
that is actually our privilege.

We are born to set an example.

Now, I'm not much one
for blowing my own horn...

...but fear is not
on my list of ingredients.

Can I help you, friend?

I seek the Senator named...

Sene--Seneca?

I am Seneca.

I, uh...

Would you step outside for
a quick second with me, sir?

Whatever you may
have to say to me,

I am happy to hear
among friends.

No, I--I don't think this, sir.
With due respect.

I haven't a care. Whether
it be a delinquent tax bill,

or a nearby landowner
hoping to alter the boundary
of my property,

or a distinguished fellow
from the city who believes

I am growing a friendship with
his most marriageable daughter.

All of these conflicts
are to me easily rectified

by a simple conversation
among decent men,

and therefore open
to the hearing of all
my good and close friends.

Nothing will ever befall me
that I shall receive
with gloomy countenance.

Well...

I come to tell you, sir,
that President Nero has decided

that you are to be executed

for leading a conspiracy
to kill him.

And...

and he said to me personally,

he's giving you a real special
gift--that's how he put it--

he's gonna let you
take your own life.

Because, sir, the way
I'm supposed to do it...

it's awful, sir.

I wouldn't wish it on a dog.

So, if I was you,

I'd take his council,
and do it by my own hand, sir.

What is your name, officer?

Felix, sir.

Felix, if--if I may,
there has been a great deal
of tumult in the court of late.

Lots of arguing,
raised voices, much squabbling,

and sometimes these disputes,
you see,

-get out of hand...
-No. No, sir--

So, please, go back,
and I shall call upon him

-at his convenience
to straighten this out...
-No. Sir--

...right away.
I'll venture out from my home
at his earliest convenience.

Now that is settled. Let us
invite you to dine with us,

have a jug of wine,
and in the spirit of--

Sir!

No! No, sir!

The president said
you are to die!

And that is that.

He said no funny business,

and that you would try
all kinds of funny business.

He said you would try
to talk your way out of it.
It's no good.

You are to learn
that you have to die.

And you can do it
the hard way or the easy way,

and it's up to you,
but there is no other way.

There is no way
of getting out of this, sir.

I can dispatch you right now,

but I promise the way
he wanted that done ain't nice.

Or...

I can come back here
tomorrow morning,

pick up your body,

and you can do it much nicer.

Get to have your friends and all
by your side too if you want.

My wife is coming back.
She'll be here any minute.

I can do this, sir.
You don't want that. Really.

I understand.
No, sir. Thank you.

Can I offer you a meal before
you set out on your journey?

No, sir.

You have a lot
to think about right now.

I won't take up any more
of your precious time.

Good night to you all.

And safe passage to you,
officer.

-Paulina!
-Oh, look at you!

Paulina, as I live and breathe!
Look at you!

-How fresh you look
after a long journey!
-I know the spinning

of this silk!
The spiders from Madagascar.

Look how your skin glows!

All the anger and the worry
from before your trip
has disappeared.

-I tell you this as a friend.
-Oh, dearest.

My dearest man?

Is everything all right?

In the garden.
I mean, on the grounds?

Servants have not
stolen anything?

Nothing that I need to tend to?

Beloved, please,
if you would, with me?

The green is ghastly.

I wonder who she fucked
for this dress.

Seneca wouldn't pay for it.

Beloved, outside, please.
Let's--

-She needs a new designer.
-I know.

What's the thing in her ear?
Is it new?

Please don't phrase it.
Just speak to me. What happened?

Well, um...

-the president--
-Ugh!

-Please.
-What? Just, what is it?

Well, you see, dearest,
the fact of the matter is,

he--he has
sentenced me to death.

Please, darling.

Li--listen. Listen.

-Listen...
-What have you done?

Or what did you do?

Why did you have to consort
with these people?

There were plenty of sponsors.

They would have given you
whole vineyards

-rather than take them away!
-Beloved... dearest one--

Why did you fall in with
these horrible, vicious people?

I always said to you,
these people, they--

not only do they
not have manners,

they--they don't have feelings,

or morals, or...

They are not like people!

They are like--like donkeys,
or jackals, or--or a hyena!

-Did you try to kill him?
-What? No, of course not!

I know you love drama and all,

but let's get down
to brass tacks.

We need to fix this.
What must we do now?

How much do we have to pay now
to get out of this?

That is not an option.
I am going--I--You don't--

How do I phrase this? They are
going to actually kill me.

-No. No!
-Yes. Yes!

-Yes.
-No!

- Yes.
- No! No!

-No!
-Jesus! Stop! Stop!

Why is everyone
hitting me today?

You're a self-destructive ass!

Look. Look in the mirror.
Look at your face.

Does this look like
a clean liver?

Paragon of virtue
advising the state?

Looks to me like an old drunk
who eats too well.

Nero... your masterpiece!

You are drowning in the ashes
of the bridges you have burned.

My mother begged me
not to marry you.

-Said you'd be my ruination.
-Stop. Stop.

That I would give you
my best years,

-my beautiful years.
-Stop.

And you know what?
She was right.

-Stop it.
-I never told you this...

I told her that
I owed it to you.

Because you were a great man,

...and you deserved my respect.

And look at me. Look at me now!

What will I be?

Everyone knew the president
was a nutter.

Who'd even take that job,
knowing they were going to...

People!

You have no idea
the treats I brought you!

Don't be so fucking timid!

You're not gonna
break water tonight.

While Nero partied,

his armies colonized
more territory,

extracting resources for Rome.

When asked for comment on this,

Seneca once remarked, "It is
a chief executive's prerogative

to take what he thinks
his people need."

I made the bargain that
many good men have made when
agreeing to aid bad regimes,

but, you know,
I did it for Rome.

My friends, you understand,
for our traditions.

Don't we have to preserve
our beautiful traditions?

We can not have maniacs
like this running the country
completely unchecked!

And had I left the Senate
or the president's employ
as scholar-in-residence,

Nero would have been
a worse princeps,

and Rome would have been
subject to worse abuses.

He owes me!

He owes me.

Not money.

He owes me for any part
of himself that resembles a man.

He owes me.

Well, you wrote plays where
he was a sadistic fatso.

And you mocked his
singing voice.

Practically to his face.

My point is, I was putting
my life on the line

to defend the people of Rome

against a dangerous kid
with too much power.

Attempting to--

to mold his brain
into something mature.

Trying--

trying to teach someone

born with the brains
of a scorpion

uh, about mercy--no!

Oh, for God's sake, no,
forget about mercy,

how about just trying,

attempting to teach him
a thing or two

about reason itself!

You know,

I've discovered something
about you today, Senator.

You're paid to enlighten
the rich,

but--but your real heart
and soul isn't in that.

It's in these horrible and
horrific pageants you put on.

Spectacles of cruelty.

So you show awful
things to spoiled little girls

and scar them for life.

And guess what? Bullseye.
Uh, you did it.

And now you've made
yourself the spectacle.

Ah.

Devastatingly insightful.

I'm in agony.

You know, that
reminds me of a story.

Listen, Seneca.
I really gotta hit the bricks.

I've got a massive day ahead.

plus, let's face facts,
you've got a lot on your plate.

Yeah, this is no time
for socializing.

This is crunch time.

You have many great
decisions to make,

and business to tend to.

-Straightening out this mess.
-Hmm.

-Hmm.
-You know,

I have dealt with
a thousand worse things

a thousand times before!

So why don't you just relax,

I'll fetch a jug of wine.

-No, really, the kids
are asleep.
-Yeah.

You'll be missing a major moment

in the history of rhetoric,

-something they'll be teaching--
-We can't.

Can't you understand
what he's trying to say?

We don't feel safe.

We don't feel safe
with everything that's going on,

and I think there's nothing
more to do about it,

and we have to go now.

But Cecilia, I--
I wouldn't want you to think

that I mean to detain you,
or oppress you.

We're leaving, too.

But you understand, things
being as chaotic as they are.

Everything is very emotional.

-You are very emotional.
-We're sure you'll figure
this thing out.

-We just--
-We don't want to abandon you,
you know?

It's just, things
are tough for us right now,

and we can't handle problems,

with the government
watching us all--

-You are a great man, Senator.
-Listen, listen.

Everyone, and I don't
care who you are,

succumbs to panic
when our senses are alerted

to the creation
of an earthquake.

Does anything cause
more terror than the world

going boom, boom, boom, boom!

Can you imagine the whole
world falling down?

Uh, but, really,
nothing to be done.

There's no point in panicking,

because we do what we can,

but that is all one can do,

And we must accept that.

Because, kids, what
hidey-hole can we hope for,

what aid awaits us,

if the very planet itself
is the reason for ruin?

For the vanquished,

what possible safety remains,

except, ask not for any safety?

Yeah, that's okay, but,
you know, you are a great man.

What she means is,
we are not philosophers.

We just want to live.

Your name is, Rufus,
is that right?

I only know you
through your wife.

Well, everyone knows Balbina.

And you got in here

on your wife's good looks
and charms, correct?

Not--not that I mind that.

I--I appreciate a man
who sees his main chance,

and goes there.

And though I don't much share
your taste in, say, shirts,

um...

might I ask you a question?

Do you know why
you beat your wife?

You beat her to take the
edge off the pain and terror

in your own heart,

but that only adds
to the pile of shame inside you,

and in a few, pitiful years
you will both be dead,

but all that pain,
and misery, and shame

will have been for shit.

Trumpets.

Lesson completed.
So, do go.

Fuck off. Go on, beat it.
Get the fuck out of here.

Tonight I am bequeathing
the legacy of my life's work

to those who deserve to hear it.

Who have earned it!

People who shall
themselves be remembered!

So please do, go forth,
and disappoint.

Go, go!

Yes, f--you fucking,

ri--you fucking, fuck--

you fucking, fucking,
fucking rich people!

You have too much to lose
to even retain

the flimsiest pose of virtue.

Senator?

I mean, it's hard to take
this soak-the-rich stuff

from one who clearly,
and I don't mean that
in a jealous way,

lives very high on the hog.

You know, that sultry
voice of yours

must no doubt be amazing
when someone's fucking you.

But, uh, "What you mean,
why do you mock me,

Senator, when you give wealth

the exact same status
I give wealth?"

Is that about right?

Exactly!

They don't warrant your wrath.

I am Seneca.

I advise, I awaken,
I admonish, I accuse.

But I don't do wrath.

Now, would you care to know
how differently we view wealth?

Bring it on!

In my life,
wealth has a certain place,

in your life it is center-stage.

To sum up,

my wealth belongs to me,
and your wealth owns you.

I regard wealth as a slave,

but you regard it as a master.

So, therefore, enough of this
banning philosophers

from possessing money.

No one has ever condemned
wisdom to poverty.

Did you get that, people?

Now go, fuck off, I'll, uh,

have the girls bring you
a bag of dinner for your dogs.

In this moment,
a key turned inside Seneca,

and as he flung
the guests out of his house,

he suddenly had the knowledge,
for no particular reason,

like a bolt of lightning,

this is the day he would die,

and he would die soon.

It is most distasteful
to evict unwelcome guests.

And now, perhaps,
most of you feel unwelcome.

Oh, my Gods!

If you had all just tasted
the berries I ate last week.

From the center of Africa.

I forget the name of the town.

But they just take
you out of your skin!

The beauty of the berry,
you see,

is not just that you
have visions,

it's what really happens to you.

Ooh!

I was transported
into a sea of stars.

It was like a hundred million
campfires, all burning bright.

And I felt the energy...

of a hundred million souls,

spinning together into one,

in balance.

Do you feel it?

Do you feel the softness
of the stars, caressing us?

And I now have the power

to draw the sweetness,
and the love,

and pass it to you.

Can you feel,

through my fingertips,

that the universe itself
is bestowing sweetness on you?

And care,

and wrapping you up
like a baby in a blanket?

I want this whole room to stop!

And close your eyes,

and feel in your hearts
the love,

and the sweetness,

and the kindness to yourselves
that my journey has brought us.

It's a special gift.

Use it, while it's still here
in the room.

Dear Lucia, you are...

I don't--
how should I phrase this?

Well, shit,
you're a fucking drug fiend.

Um, and before you know it,

your girlish beauty
will be gone,

and you're going
to end up looking
like your fucking sister.

Oh, don't even
take the bait, Lucia.

He has this way of twitting
the ones he loves the most.

You don't say?

Well, maybe he does it to those
who don't love him most!

Not after this treatment!

You get moody, and suddenly,

we're the evilest people
in the world.

I'm trying to help you here!

I don't need this kind of help.

You're giving me
a fucking headache.

Is that so?

Well...

Let me tell you
something, Senator.

Something you may not
be aware of.

Most of the senators
that work in the Senate,

and most of the people
that work with the senators

that work in the Senate,

they see you,
this great, wise man

with your great tips on how
one ought to live one's life,

and then they see those
ridiculous leather boots

with the fancy double laces,

and the leather rubbed
in some fucking butter

by a dozen virgins,

and what do you think they see?

A hick.

A hayseed.

A jumped-up climber,
struggling to fit in

with people
you will never understand.

People of breeding,
people of noble birth.

Stop, stop, stop. Enough.

You have to learn to quit
when you're behind, kiddo!

You're a one-woman opium crisis.

They laugh at you.

The great stoic preacher
of the simple life,

who got filthy rich
being Nero's ghostwriter.

You are a vain,
hypocritical fool,

and a coward,

and you have tried to have
the hair of slaves

stitched into a wig,

to hide your cuckold pate!

Uh-oh,
you didn't know that?

Don't you fucking touch me!

Time for you to be
on your way, Madame.

It is growing dark.
Night is almost upon us.

It has been a sincere sensation,

I hope you have a safe
journey home,

and should you ever need
anything, anything at all,

such as protection
from common thugs,

do not hesitate to call upon me.

Good day.

I am putting a curse on you.

A fucking curse!

Not on your child bride.
But on your legacy.

And that is the hex
that will chase your words,

not your stinking carcass,

through a hundred
thousand years!

And no amount of cheap
shock tactic

blood and gut trash theatre
is gonna change that one bit!

You think we're rubbish,
don't you?

And you are the great wise man,
a superhuman man.

Well, I wanna tell you
something, mister.

Let's have a come-to-Jupiter
moment here.

The one thing that
absolutely no one will
say to your face is--

Madwoman.

Her son died, you know.

Been deranged with grief.

Uh, that it was her sister's.
Nephew, actually.

Whatevs.

Moving on.

Here we are.

I have a gift for you,
my darling.

My darling baby child.

I've been traveling.
Believe me.

I am besieged with gifts.

I have so many gifts.

I have this ostrich egg--

Dearest, no,
not that kind of gift.

I mean an ultimate gift.

Something, an offering
that we, as two people,

refining our spirits together
through our love, have come to.

Dear... I'm so tired.

I have no time for riddles.

Take my hand. Come with me.

Let me show you what I mean.

We used to come here
all the time.

Remember our secret spot?
Been way too long.

Oh, Dearest.
We have had our quarrels.

Many. Many.

Had I known when we were wed
how hard it'd be

to lie beside one so much
older than myself--

Dearest! My love, please.

Just saying, had I known
about all your...

unfortunate digestive issues,

not to mention
your erectile dysfunction,

and of course your so-called
"elite predilections",

the nurse dresses,
the paddle,

that night you finally
passed those peppers,

and then the constant
leakage of your--

Dearest, my love, shh!

Please, for me. Just listen.
For a brief moment.

You know that
for all of our differences,

I love you so much more
than anyone.

I love you so much, I feel
as if my chest were exploding.

Yes, I...

I know you do.

And I'm sorry I struck you, I--

Dearest. Listen.
Let me explain how
things are here.

Here?

Here, on this earth of ours.

Yes, I loved that.

From when I was your pupil.

You would explain things to me,

the workings of how
things... worked.

You don't do that
for me any more.

But, dearest, I am!

Just listen.

I know you may say that
the worst thing is to age,

get worn out, and die off,

or rather, as my generation
says, to fade away.

Of course, we don't just
fall down,

and come apart all at once.

We fade away.

Like I was saying
about your body parts.

All of the things, Paulina,

that are beautiful about you,
that are special about you,

and I'm not referring
to your physical beauty,

I want you to know that,
because that--

That's ridiculously superficial,

and at this point,
I don't even think about it.

Of course not, because you
are an advanced person.

Very advanced.

But I want you to know
that all the things

that are special about you,
your learning,

your great sensitivity,

your compassion toward animals,

your tenderness
toward children--

That's another story.

I don't think
I ever got over it.

The loss, the emptiness.

Couldn't we go somewhere
and have a child,

surely we can afford an orphan
child that could be ours!

I'd keep it, you wouldn't
have to deal with it.

Dearest, Dearest,
stay with me, focus.

Just... listen.

Just--just hear me.

We all know we have to go.

But, when the time comes,

and death comes knock,
knock, knockin' upon our door,

well, we shake,
and we scream,

and we shout,
"How do I get out of this?"

But don't waste your breath.

Every journey has its end.

And I must go.

And you, you, Paulina,
must go,

the way all things go.

It happened to your mom and dad,

and it would happen to our
children, if we had any.

And now, it is our turn.

Just the two of us.

Time for a magnificent exit.

Think of all the billions
and trillions of people

that are going to die after us,

and isn't it--isn't it
amazing that you, Paulina,

are so much braver then they?

But so much braver.
You were an actress.

Only for a brief moment,
but you were a very good one.

And of course you remember
that we don't applaud,

and reward the most acting,
but rather the best acting.

And you must be certain to leave

an absolutely indelible ending.

I'm very, very sure
that you've given them
something to remember.

And they will remember Paulina

at the absolute pinnacle
of her beauty and charm.

I know this is not
how you saw this going.

But, listen.

I promise you, if you do this,

the name Paulina will sound...

so loud, for eternity.

We are so privileged.

So privileged.

So honored.

Will they--I'm so afraid
to ask this.

No, no! Go.

Will they not just remember
my name?

Will they remember my face?

It's so stupid, and wrong,

but I wanted to be remembered
for when I was young,

and beautiful.

They will remember your face
for all of eternity.

And more.

Tonight, this special night,

I shall pass on to you,
dear friends,

the fruit of a life spent
in contemplation.

The humble wisdoms
of a simple man,

a small-town
schoolteacher, really,

if one wishes to view Rome
as a small town,

which, of course, it is.

I want to gift you my legacy.

And, p.s., Paulina and I
are not in the least afraid

of our taking our final
curtain call tonight.

It is a well-known,
and at this point,

an almost canonical piece
of Roman lore,

the last words spoken
by Socrates before dying.

"Crito! We owe a cock
to Ascepius!"

A-S-C-E-P-I-U-S.

"Crito, please don't forget
to pay the debt."

Ascepius is the god of healing,

and many have inferred that
Socrates was giving thanks

for his safe and peaceable
exit out of this world.

Or, perhaps, it was a form
of lowbrow joke.

You know, um, a cock,
and all that.

Anyway, Socrates!

Well, who can hack
into the epic brain

of that world champ
of the suicide Olympics,

in whose shadow we all
live and die.

He chugged...

...that hemlock, and said,

"I am jumping out
of my own skin, to see
what's up in the next world."

I mean, what a screwball.

But, seriously, folks.

Come on. What a night, huh?

I want to start first
by thanking you,

dear people,

for the smoothness
of my exit from this world,

and perhaps most of all,
you, dear Paulina,

for making my deliverance most
gorgeous, and most comforted.

Now friends, you know
that it is a man's own fault

if he suffers,

for he can always put an end
to his misery,

by putting an end to himself.

You see, I have always
imagined gods saying,

"I made nothing easier
in this life than dying."

Try any vein in your body.

Open up, and bleed.
I promise you.

You will have left the building
in under three minutes.

Suicide is a superpower.

Death is coming.

He rides by night.

Be graceful.
Let him have his way.

Do not neigh, and jerk
against the bit in your mouth.

Death is coming
to make us all equals.

Death's here, my love.

Not as sweet
as my little Paulina,

but sweet all the same.

Folks.

We are ready to go,

ready to go, ready to go,

ready to go-ho-ho.

No, no, I insist.

Let me get ready for death,
as I would get ready for bed.

Just as cozily,
just as happily

as I would jump into bed
and pull up the covers,

so will I jump into my tomb,
and pull it closed.

Here, feel my pulse, I dare you.

Even-Steven, not raised
by so much as a notch.

I lived well,
and now I am going to die well,

And that means to die gladly.

Friends, most humble thanks.

Farewell.

Friends, whoa, hey!

What happened to your
philosophical convictions,

your rationality rehearsed
for so many years,

against impending
gloom and doom?

Haven't you read my writings?

I mean,
look at this little girl,

Paulina, she understands.

My best pupil,
my one masterpiece. My equal.

You know, she told me something
the night we met--

Dearest. I come to join you now.

My love.

You prefer the glory of dying.

I will not begrudge you
such a noble example.

Let the fortitude
of so courageous an end

be alike in both of us,

but let there be more
in your passing

to win the respect of the women
who were born after you.

I live to serve your legacy,
master.

Now I join you.

No, I shall take this straight.

You have it,
dear friend, Statius.

Ah!

Ah!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Oh!

Gentlemen.

I believe we need
to do a bit more cutting.

Friends, once again,

here we are.

The grand finale.

Yep. This is it.

My legacy.

My own death is my ultimate--

Aah! Legacy.

It is a wonderful thing
to learn thoroughly how--

Eee! To die.

Aah!

He who has learned how
to die has unlearned slavery.

He is...

Fear, due to a fee...

For what--

he...

...fear do the bars of...

Ah!

For what fear...

...what fear do...

the bars of a jail, the room
is spinning, really spinning.

Learned, enlightened, man,
his way out is clear.

Ah!

There is only one chain
which binds us to life,

and that is the love of life.
And so I bid you farewell.

Milord.

No, I must insist...
I must go!

Senator! I'm sorry!
We can't endure this no longer!

-But--
-This girl,

to sacrifice
this beautiful girl,

as part of your...
theatrical imagination,

well, it's just...

You should be
dreadfully ashamed of yourself.

What? Gentlemen.

Gentlemen. Wait.
Don't ruin this moment.

This is an historic moment.

No, wait! Have I no more
authority in my own house?

All right! All right!

There's no need to accost me
in my own house.

All right!

I shall be peaceable!

I shall be peaceable. Unhand me.

But--

Seneca...

What?

Look at yourself.

This clearly isn't working.

It's as
I always expected, truly,

I have sawdust in my veins!

We need to reach for a more
traditional approach.

Lucilius.

I keep some hemlock at the ready

for purposes of contemplation.

Grind me a cup of hemlock.

The ground leaves
that produce the hemlock drink.

Thank you, most trusted friend,

for moving me to
the next scene of our drama.

Perhaps I can become my best
Seneca by playing Socrates.

Farewell, my friend.

Folks, once more.

One final time.

This... is the end.

At long last.

And my eyes range
over many centuries,

the succession of so many ages.

I see kingdoms rise
to wealth and glory

and plummet into nothingness.

I see magnificent cities
descend into hellholes.

I see vast lands submerged
under ever-rising seas.

Understand that permanence,

the very concept,
does not exist.

The clock will demolish
everything you loved,

everything you ever
laid bloody eyes on!

Time is the landlord.
It owns everything.

And not only human beings
will be time's playmates

and victims,
because, let's face it,

time does not even
care that we exist,

but also planets, galaxies,

whole galactic
star systems will be...

wiped out.
Mountains completely levelled.

Seas smote. Smote. Smote!

Affiliations? Commerce?
Thwarted. Utterly.

All bonds? Over.

Cities devoured by chasms,
rocked by earthquakes,

stunk out with
pestilential vapors.

And, in a thoroughgoing deluge,

the planet itself
will kill off whole species,

and create a conflagration
none shall escape.

All that now shines in
neat and orderly arrangement

will burn in a single fire,

until all matter
is consumed in flame.

This stuff always
cheers me up somehow.

Strange. Right?

Even when it gets
so bad I can't talk.

For how can anything
exist when I am dead?

This is it. Finally.
At last. The end.

I can see it. I can see
the end approaching me.

Soul turning silent.

Mute, forever.

Oh?

I dreamt of sweetmeats.

So... not dead. Oof.

See? Very cold.

The hemlock
isn't getting us there.

It worked for Socrates,

but not me...

my friend,
my great friend, helper,

my compatriot, most beloved
assistant in my life's work.

Let's end this now.

Draw me a bath,
piping hot, hard to endure,

so that even the steam
rising up might singe you,

and without delay plunge me
into it, resist me even if

I say otherwise,
plunge me in there, I say,

let us finish this.
Do it. Please.

I don't care if you burn
the skin off me,

I cannot any longer

endure the shaking
that comes of the cold!

-Master...
-No, don't call me that.

Please. You know that word
represents everything I loathe!

But sir, Senator, my friend-

Yes. But that is who we are.
Yeah, of cour--what?

Sir, I--I know you well,
I know your philosophy well.

And I feel, well, I have with me
now enough to make your legacy.

That is what we are doing here.
My legacy.

To form the minds of
all the future generations--

I have here quite enough,
and know some thoughts of yours

I can add as well--

No. No! No,
I am not finished yet. No.

Yes, sir, but the fact is...

-Not finished--
-I am not safe.

-No, no.
-Sir, as you can see--

-No. No. Lucilius...
-Yes, sir, yes, and so--

I can assure you,
my dearest friend--

no harm will come to you,
zip, zilch--

but more importantly, these
words, these specific ideas,

these last words of
noble Seneca, Senator Seneca,

Fat cat Seneca who never
met a dollar he didn't like.

These words, these conceits,
conceptual phantasms,

spasms of insight and
spontaneous perceptions,

memes, thought bites,
filigreed shivers of sensation,

these will form the fundament
of, of a future civilized world,

these will be the backbone
and the blood and the nutrients

of the world to come,
which will redeem

this fallen world, this...
barbarous world that devours us,

how can you not want to
be a part of that, a co-creator?

Get it? You--you would
get shared credit

for the world!

H-how can you reject
the greatness

I am offering you as a--

You have spoken enough.

And we have heard enough.

And we have listened enough.

And there has been quite enough
of you, sir, for eternity.

Now I shall take your words,
and you have my oath

that I will share them
with the whole world,

all of the generations
to follow you.

But you must
fucking let me go!

Dear, noble, kind,
well-meaning Lucilius--

My followers. At one time,

I had more followers
than anyone else in Rome.

I must have followers!

We had a deal, an agreement

among gentlemen,
that you would

come in the morning to pick up
my corpse, in the morning.

It's not yet morning!
You promised me.

You promised!

Fuck, fucking fuck, what--

is this fucking hell?

I lost a tooth,
I lost a fucking tooth.

And I just slip into--

Not gonna get--if you
could find my tooth. Ooh!

What happened to Paulina?

What, what...
where was she going?

Go get... my wife...

Wait, Wait!
Wait, my tooth hurts.

President told me you were all
funny business, and sure enough.

Should be preparing to die,

and here you were
telling your friends jokes.

No, they're not jokes!

They're life lessons.

The gentlemen were writing down

my life's wisdoms for
the children of the future!

Time's up.

No! You promised me
'til morning. You promised.

You promised 'til morning.
You promised!

Do you know what a code is, sir?

Honor? Surely you know the word.

Bet you gave
a whole speech on it once!

See, where I come from,
honor means you do your duty.

You're told
to march into battle?

You march!

Death is waiting.
Still you march!

Ain't no crying and
moaning and putting it off.

You get in there and
you do what is needed,

and you don't
bellyache about it!

Now...

march.

You said 'til morning... it's...
we're not there yet.

Just give me...
just give me fifteen minutes.

Is it true?
Do I merely talk the talk?

Do I merely
speak brave thoughts,

or do I actually feel them?

Was my scorn... fortune
really just pretense,

a pantomime, an after-school
half-off theatre matinee?

And how are we to know
if our end is truly virtuous,

or just another bit of
self-deceiving gimmickry

from a man who was
both a playwright and a star?

The day has come
when all tricks and disguises,

all props and makeup have
been put away,

and I will examine all my years

and I will pass judgment
on myself.

Everything that
I have said or done,

up until now, means nothing.

The chips are down.

There's no turning back.

Death is going to
deliver the final verdict.

I will not shirk my duties,
my good man. Oh, no.

To all things a season,
and now...

it is harvest time.

And I am prepared.

Wait, wait--one second--

See you in the morning.

My man. My gentleman.

My murderer.

Have you forsaken me, too?

No matter. I shall speak on.

To the very end.

Well. Here we are.

At last. The end.

We are born for a very,
very brief span of life...

brief span of life...
and even this, this time...

it just rushes by,
so swiftly, speedily,

that with very few exceptions,

all things find themselves
abandoned by life...

Was a lamp worse off
when it was extinguished

then when it was lit?

We are also
extinguished and lit.

Guess what?
The suffering part?

Comes in between.

What am I doing?
Find comfort...

For the distressed.

Protect them...
from their terrible fear.

That's my job.

What's the word?

For a candle, the thing.

Not that, it's different.

It's brown, it's round...

It's little.

It's a thing,
what's the thing?

Words leaving... me.

Like... my friends.

Can't.

Cannot die.

Can't not die.

Won't die.

'Cause my heart and brain.

And lips and tongue...
won't give out.

'Cause they're scared.

I'm scared.

It hurts.

It hurts!

It hurts me.

Mommy, it hurts me.

Oh.

And in the end,
the civilization that Seneca

so cherished became rent
by a hundred divisions,

like tiny cuts along the veins
of a fragile and elderly body.

Rome did not so much fall,
as we often hear,

as it slowly slipped away...

Later, Nero would desert
his post as a commander,

and was tried in absentia
and sentenced to death.

He killed himself,
in a fashion

more cowardly than Seneca's...
but shorter.

It was reported
by Seneca's scribe

that his last words were
a favorite quote from Cicero,

often repeated by Seneca
as if they were his own.

The words apply
to our world, perhaps,

more than his: