All language subtitles for Interview.with.the.Vampire.S03E07.The.Failures.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD_5.1.H.264-playWEB

♪ I'm the little killer ♪

♪ I'm the lonely one ♪

♪ I'm the chill
creeping up your spine ♪

♪ Telling you to run ♪

♪ I'm a hanging shadow ♪

♪ I'm a lost love ♪

♪ I'm the past
and the future ♪

♪ The last of the sutures,
the cooing dove ♪

♪ We're the rock and rollers ♪

♪ We're the good time ♪

♪ We're the heart
pumping blood ♪

♪ We're the face in the mud ♪

♪ We're this stupid rhyme ♪

♪ Bang, bang
- ♪ Bang, bang ♪

- ♪ Bang, bang
- ♪ Bang, bang ♪

♪ Bang, bang ♪

♪ All fall down ♪

♪ Burn the ground ♪

♪ All fall down ♪

♪ Burn the ♪

♪ Bang, bang
- ♪ Bang, bang ♪

- ♪ Bang, bang
- ♪ Bang, bang

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang,
bang, bang ♪

You are listening
to "The Failures"...

Album 57, Side A.

Could be nice, says Louis.

Could be, I say.

And our hands touch.

I am staring at Alex
in his plastic Dracula mask.

And then I think,
why is he here?

And then the world pivots.

And I see stars in the sky.

Boots upside down.

My blood, a half-painted moon.

And then I'm dreaming.

I'm walking a path.

I am listening
to hidden birds in a forest

and transcribing their chatter
into music on paper.

It's the same dream
I've been having

since I finished the album
and faked my death,

except now I'm hungry
and it's daylight all around.

And as I'm a vampire,
confirmed by the glass nails

on my fingers,
I should be burning,

but I'm not.

The birds' music
becomes repetitive.

And then
the forest goes quiet.

No birds singing.

I am left with my hunger,

a feeling like my stomach
is eroding from the inside.

And then, as if the forest
has heard my thoughts,

a murder of waiters
carrying silver-domed trays

take over my path.

Come now, Lestat.

No falling behind.

And I follow my hunger
into the wood.

And I begin to hear
sounds of a city,

and that little song they play
for the blind

at crosswalks
throughout Montreal

carries my hunger
to the table of my youth,

where my selves sit with
the abbot of Haute-Loire...

Circles us as God...

Instructing from my father's chair.

Encircles us with his love.

The hood?

Limits our view
and cuts out the world

so we gaze ahead towards God.

And the length
of our habit trips us up

and gets in our goddamn way.

- Lestat.
- Lestat.

- Lestat.
- Lestat.

Have a seat, Lestat.

There's seven waiters
and only four of us.

both: Have a seat.
- Have a s--

Seat. Seat.

The light's gone
out of your blue eyes.

all: As if all
the summer days are gone.

Course 187, the soul.

I have been enduring
intense conversations

with myself in the three years
since our companionship ended.

And as part of that journey,
I wish to say something

from the deepest regions
of my soul.

Ar--

Two grievous lies,
gross betrayals.

The first is
a well-trod pit of hot coals

I blistered my feet on
for 77 years.

Arm...

I chose my coven over you,

lured you into a production
of a play,

in which your death would act
as the grotesque climax.

The coven was
twisting my arm, but...

Ar...

I took aesthetic pleasure

in making your death
visually exhilarating.

...mand.

All of which was made worse
by our heady lovemaking

throughout this period
of betrayal, and...

the second.

I shamefully took credit
when Lestat saved your life.

Where am I?

That lie bound you to me,
and it lay like a corpse

in the boiler room
of our companionship.

Many times, I told myself
the lie did not matter

because what we had built,

a love that served as a bunker
against time,

was weightier
and more consequential

than the lie,
but it wasn't true.

Can't move...

The lie did matter
because the corpse was there,

calling forth the facts.

Can't move my body.

And as for the many boys

you drugged, drained,
and lay with,

I feigned resentment
when, in fact,

I welcomed your straying

because your guilt
in their aftermath

bound you to me
all the more tightly

and allowed me my hours
of observation with Daniel.

I told you I loved you,
but did I?

Hmm? Did I?

Or was it a clinging
to the underside

of anyone
who would help me survive?

And when I look back
on who I've deceived,

how I've deceived,
how easy it was

for me to lead a cult
for 400 years,

to burn in ritual any
who broke the archaic laws

we lived by, I--

I think I might be
a room without walls,

floors, a ceiling.

An infinite nothing.

Also, yes.

I put the Fred Steins
in your photo collection

just to fuck with your head.

And that is my full
and heartfelt "Armends."

Now...

It's your turn.

I am the chair, the maker,

the Vampire Magnus.

Fledglings, state your names
for the record.

The Vampire
Nicolas de Lenfent.

The Vampire
Louis de Pointe du Lac.

The Vampire Gabriella Vecce.

The Vampire Antoinette Brown.

The Vampire TC.

And where's Claudia?

She said all she needs to say
to you is what she said.

Her actual words were,

"Fuck him, fuck y'all, go burn

like that dumb nine-fingered
bitch, Antoinette."

Antoinette, hello.

Don't you
"Antoinette, hello," me.

Restrain yourself, Ms. Brown.

So... I'm dead.

This is death?

My father's ugly table
in your shitty tower?

Dying.

This is you dying.

This is the reminiscence,
the deliberation

and mastication
of the early risings

and nightly failures
of the vampire.

- How?
- "How" is not his name.

His name is Lestat.

- How did I die?
- I'ma type Lestat.

Dying.

Not yet dead.

Wasting time.

Much like you've wasted
your lives.

- Could be nice.
- Could be.

Hands touch.

Second time's the charm.

Keep typing, Ms. Brown.

So you're all here
to judge me.

We are the failure finders.

Judgment comes from God, Satan,
the Simulation.

We don't know.
No one ever tells us.

And yet here we are
on course number 205.

all: The soul.

This is a dream.

I am not here.

You are here.

And also
in a bowling ball bag

walking west
on Avenue Van Horne.

A bowling bag.

And also lying
on the sideboard

in the back room
of a butcher shop.

It's November 1st.

All Saints Day,
a Saturday morning.

Which means
we won't be disturbed,

as it's an observant butchery,
and it's their Shabbos.

All the shops
along this avenue are closed.

And anyone who might possibly
think of coming to your rescue

is asleep.

Or otherwise engaged.

I was hoping
time and perspective

would have made you eager
to repent.

- Don't care.
- My blunder.

I haven't properly laid out
your predicament.

This is your sundered head.

And this is your petulant body.

And this
is the glorious air between

on which the two of you
still manage to communicate

a good 2 hours and 12 minutes
since uncoupling.

I don't care.

If you weren't
Lestat's progeny,

this would not be happening.

You would be dead, which is why

this is being live-cast
to a very important room

gathered in Budapest.

You are special, Louis.

Fareed.

Yes, our former doctor,

back in research
where he thrives,

studying us, analyzing us.

But was he doing that
all along?

Hmm? In Dubai?

See you, Fareed.

In Lestat's bus?

I don't care.

He will say he was not here.

And if you reconsider
your amends and survive,

you most probably
won't remember him.

Or this.

Don't print
the obituary just yet.

Getting some much needed rest
before the big concert,

aren't we?

I backdoored myself
into his band,

enjoyed ruining
for the sake of ruining.

Where is his--

Where is his--where is his--

where is his head?

It's with my companion.

Snuck out before
the wife woke up, did you?

Told me to take my head

as far away from her body
as I could.

Well,
never question the boss.

What size shoe?

10 1/2.

I think you know
you've wronged me.

And I think you know
the specific ways

in which you've done it.

Don't care.

Yes, you seem to be
caught in that sentiment.

Regrettably, your maker's body
has not induced you to own it.

So one additional motivation.

We broke in
yesterday afternoon,

glamoured the kindly
brisket-carving butcher

early home to Shabbos.

We owe him new knives
and a deep clean.

You may own the night, Louis,

but you're as kosher
as clams casino.

Also, we brought her.

- No, no, no.
- Waitress, sister, daughter.

- No, no.
- None of those things.

No, no, no.

She didn't know.

Armand!

Setting aside opinions
of the coven master in place,

his destruction of the children
of darkness was...

Impulsive, reckless.

Overdue.

Thank you.

His abandonment
of the Paris coven?

Selfish, cowardly.

Generous to a fault.

I did
what my maker showed me,

throw money at the problem
and run away.

Magnus gifted you
immortality.

Magnus gifted you
boundless lucre.

Magnus speaks
in the third person

when he's on the back foot.

Fledgling Lestat gave
meaning to his players

and absconded with it
when he ran.

A failure of leadership.

The plays ran
for a century and a half.

That's longer than "Wicked."

Course 214, the soul.

Why is he the chair?

I am your maker!

I knew you for a week.

What do you know of me?

"Ask for it, wolf killer,
and you shall love forever."

I refused!

Consent is
a 20th-century concern.

Showed me a coffin,
some money.

Told me to scatter his ashes.

And then he lit himself
on fire,

dancing as he burned!

I have two makers.

Ah.

You want her.

You want mommy in the chair?

Yes.

Failure continues
in the astral plane.

Ms. Brown,
please note for the record

a change in the chairmanship.

Ms. Brown,
the next item on the agenda.

Let her go.

OK, getting
our bearings back.

Good.

A pedigreed vampire,
as you know,

he can endure a great deal.

How are his vitals, Fareed?
- Not good.

I ask about your vitals,
Louis,

because I don't think
it's landed yet

who sits before you.

She ain't part of us.

Please.
I don't want to die.

No, he doesn't
want you to die,

but let's see if that holds.

You two met by chance, yes?

The merciful universe
acknowledging

your need to grieve
and her need for saving.

Or was she conceived

the instant you hurled me
into the supporting wall

of our Dubai penthouse?

Brought to life when I used
an old photo of Claudia

in her Baby Lu blues
and facial recognition software

on my iPad to find
a 7 out of 10 in Berlin,

an 8 1/2 in Tunis,
or this zone 2 girly

with a grifter's résumé.

- Don't. Don't.
- No.

There's a years-long tale
of seduction

and cold commerce...
- He told me he had a friend...

In East London, the setting
her up in New York--

Who Lost his daughter.
I didn't think he was booky.

The 19 times
she passed in front of you

before you noticed.

But your withering vitals
suggest I speed ahead.

You walk into a Brooklyn diner.

I would say,
"Shh, calm yourself.

"He's here for you.

Easy mark."

And she would walk up
and say...

"Best thing
to do with our burgers,

let it cool till the grease is
all soaked, bread's all wet."

He got--he was in my head,
but he wasn't there.

I would say,
"Endear yourself to him."

And she'd say, "Had a few
more hopes for New York,

"but so far it's been, like,
six flatmates, one toilet.

"And it's like, do I want
to take my tampon out

in front of the podcaster
been with us since Tuesday?"

And you'd say...

But you caught me
at a--a lonely hour.

And I--I don't want
to put this on you.

And I'd say, "He's tender.

Back off."

But she knew better.

Sure you do.
It's right there on your jaw.

What is it?

I remind you of your sis?

And then I knew she had you.

And her mastery allowed me
to drop in and out.

I was in other business
with Lestat, with Daniel.

I'm sorry, Louis.

All to say, there has been
extraordinary effort

put forth
towards this reunion.

What I gone and done to us?

- Just kill me.
- No, no.

You're going to make
your amends

so we can both get on
with our lives.

Or I'm going to lop
her head off

with this same blade
I did yours

and sew your head
onto her body.

♪ They said I was dead ♪

♪ They tried to save me ♪

♪ They cut off my head ♪

Lestat, Lestat, Lestat,
Lestat, Lestat, Lestat.

You took one look at me,
had me all figured out.

Yeah, question mark?

Smarter than me?

Maybe.

Better looking than me?

I'll give you that.

More talented? Hmm.

You go do
what I did with my life.

You go knock down those doors.

You go get some.

Oh, that's right,
you were in a rock band.

Wow, big dick deal.

He gave me the gift

rather than tell me
he love me.

I begged him to say it,
say, "Nikki,

I will never love you
the way that you love me."

Gotta say that shit
a mile up in the air

if you want it to stick.

He told you he loved you
a thousand times.

10,000.

But now
that I've gotten over

my transformational trauma
and find myself

in my day-walking
yaoi manther phase...

There's a hole in your roof.

I only give a shit
about Dan.

Thought you were
better than me, didn't you?

Gave me a little camera crew,
a laminated backstage pass,

and then you laughed in my face

and jerked off on my lens.

Well, look at you now,
spending your last hours

in a fucking bowling bag,
listening to Wheelchair Jimmy.

Blow me.

Oh.

There is a lot
coming at you, mon cher.

Just remember,
you are the only one

who can control the volume.

Oh, you.

What are you doing here?

Armand tell you to meet me?

Oh, yeah, he's in there.

It's in there.

Lestat's mom made you, yeah?

She give you the autism gift?

You bowl?

I'm a lot of bad things,
but I'm not, like--

- Vitals, Fareed?
- Waning.

I wouldn't have done it
had I known he was full fiend,

gonna cut you up like he done.

I was in the grip of it
and couldn't get myself out.

Fareed assured me
it would work.

Pop it back on.
Let the blood do its magic.

On a work visa,
signed by him.

Not sure it would work
on a mortal,

but this is how progress...
- Walk into a police precinct

- Is made--trial and error.
- And say, "In some trouble.

It's weird. He's a vampire,"

gonna end up
on a grippy sock holiday.

I listened in
on your séance last night.

I think Claudia would approve
of this scientific risk.

We ain't coming out of this.

We're gonna die.

They gonna sell
a snuff tape, Louis.

Don't give it to them.

Ah, he's shut us both out.

You know,
I've known for some time

Claudia was the aperture
through which

I could rip his innards out.

I understood
his obsession for forgiveness.

I lived it with him.

He was my Claudia.

But I wasted a near century.

And that is not nothing.

That deserves amends.

He said to the head
on the skewer.

You think I'm bluffing?

Tell me your name again.
- Nelson.

Nelson. Nelson.

Nelson here is
one of my followers.

Pick up that knife.

I have about a hundred
of them now.

Nelson, rest.

Nelson thinks he was here
to stop the Great Conversion,

to return to the Five Laws.

I needed him to stuff your head
in a cooler and drive me here.

Rest.

I liked you, Louis.

You're a bit messed up,
but I liked you.

Please.

I don't wanna die.

Paper.

Paper.

You failed to fill
the Ryan Center

of Kingston, Rhode Island.

Van Gogh sold one painting
in his lifetime.

- Thank you, Mother.
- Lover.

"An intransigent
Crypt Keeper

in the hokiest light
imaginable,"

"Billboard" magazine.

"If this is the mind,
heart, liver

"of someone looking down
the barrel of immortality,

then kill me now,"
theneedledrop.

"A cross between
a self-absorbed

"Robert Plant impersonator
and an '80s hot dog,

embalmed with hair gel."

"Only the drummer
escapes alive."

- Woof.
- Stereogum.

You saw me front it
in Toronto, and you in Detroit,

and I killed it both nights.

Yes, but we did not see you
at Potawa Tommie's

in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Turn to page 3, measure 95.

State your name
for the record.

Marco Piemontessi.

You were murdered
by the Vampire Lestat

after a performance
of "Don Pasquale."

And him.

- As an expert in your field...
- Ha.

As an unwitting meal
of the Vampire Lestat...

And him.

Walk us through the May 5,
2025, performance of...

- Waiter.
- "When I Call Out Your Name."

Already behind.

You should be
anticipating the beat.

And now we are rushing.
My, my.

And swallowing our consonants.

Tête.

You could learn something
from your Italian mother.

Grazie bello.

Always disappearing
when she has the chance.

Ms. Brown,
your turn is coming.

Keep typing.

Flat again.

At least we don't have
to listen

to his violin playing
on this one.

Flat.

The control of a child
with your vibrato.

♪ Gabriella, Gabriella ♪

Again, flat.

Screaming like a witch
at the stake,

the hem of your devil's dress
catching fire.

- ♪ Gabriella, Gabriella
- ♪ Mama, mama ♪

♪ Mama ♪

Come now, Lestat,
no falling behind.

The Lord is a jealous
and avenging God!

He is avenging,
and He is wrathful!

He takes vengeance
on His adversaries

and keeps wrath
for His enemies!

The Lord is slow to anger
but great in power.

Why did you take me there?

His way is the whirlwind
and the storm.

The clouds are the dust
of His feet!

Why did you take me there?

I wanted you to see
who they were.

He rebukes the sea
and makes it dry!

You say we are the witches?

You are the witches!

You are all the witches!

You are the witches!

You are the witches!

You are the witch--

You are the--

you are--

Who can stand before
His indignation?

Who can endure
the heat of His anger?

His wrath is poured out
like fire!

No one who conceals
transgressions will prosper.

But one who confesses
and forsakes them

will obtain mercy.

They have confessed!

Even the Marquis stayed home.

I wanted you
to escape Auvergne.

Marguerite Doree.

Ceased her prayers.
Adored the devil in ceremony!

Putrid throats she caused
in her father through spells.

The father favored
the daughter.

The mother mixed death cap
mushrooms in his cassoulet.

Jean Bodin.

Ceased her prayers.

Spied by our schoolmaster
swallowing...

The schoolmaster cleans up
his transgressions--

most cowardly.

Chanting the black mass
in the breaks between!

And the twin witches,
Marthe and Aimée Roulet,

nine years each.

- Aimée Roulet.
- What did they cease doing?

She used to play
in our home, Mother.

Run from this place.

A bag of gunpowder
tied around her neck

so she could burn hot.
- Did you run?

- Aimée?
- No.

Did you stay home
until you were 30?

- Aimée?
- Cabbage!

God, see us again!

all: God, see us again!

Cabbage!

God, see us again!

all: God, see us again!

No! No!

I love you.

- Mother?
- I love you.

Mother!

- I love you.
- Mother!

Did the same thing
to Claudia in New Orleans.

Called it tough love then.

Then he kills the wolves.

And then your hands wander,
Madam Chair.

He did not have a problem
with these hands

for the next 200-odd years.

Handsome, noble,

with considerable
considerables.

Lestat's makers
love their Lestat.

This is not about
his vampire life.

Why are we even
discussing this?

Strike it from the record.

Moving on.

There were 1,600 of you
when we first met, Daniel.

- Oh, you.
- 290,000 of you now,

averaging approximately
1.3 meals a day,

that's more deaths

than there are births
in the world.

That's a tipping point.

You beat peak oil.

Hello.

Raglan, this is Alex.

He's on the vampire spectrum.

Alex, this is Raglan.

He's a watcher.

He watches.

He's watchful.
He's always watching.

He's a watcher.

Hmm.

You might want to alter
your angle of entry

or switch to a ball
that reads earlier.

How about that one?

You roll, Raglan?

Mentor for the junior
fun bunch, yes.

I also came for a particular
outdoor concert.

Didn't purchase
event cancellation insurance.

We want the bag.

You usually send
Rashid in first.

He's crosstown,

waiting for the butcher
to open.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

This is nothing.

Artifice.

I used you to punish.

I never forgave you for Par--

Paris.

Never. I never did.

And now?

Nope.

Rest.

Can't. Won't.

Then what are you sorry for?

Love of my life was him.

Rest.

We want him
to play the concert.

I want to play the concert.

Alex wants to play
the concert.

Why?

We've been planning it
for a year.

Excuse me?

Nudging it, urging it on,
on the periphery, as we do.

"Make more"?

We came up with that.

You want
the Great Conversion.

Loss of motor skills,
jaw control...

Blood deprivation.

Heard the witch.

Must've heard bench.

Me, him.

Then.

Nutrient loss equivalence.

Even now,
still thinking about him.

S-sorry.

No.

No, Louis, you're declining.

Use your telepathy.
I'll repeat, for posterity.

Too many of us
for what's left in the ground.

Cradle your cell phone.

Sell your Range Rover
while you can.

A desperate hour.

There was a breakout room
at the last G7 conference.

They called it

May the Vamps Safely Graze.

Rescue the head,
save the planet.

It's a bit of a stretch.

Can't see your kind governing,
but then

you and I have
our own reasonings.

He pissed me off.

Evidence
of the soul's existence.

Soul?

The alchemist Magnus

chooses him to carry on
the blood.

And what does he do?

He gifts it
to his ailing mother.

Noble.

But the tailor's son?

Stupid and wasteful.

I was mad.

I got lies to account for.

I've got lies to account for.

- Lies to myself.
- Lies to myself.

- To others.
- Lies to others.

I know what it's like
to build a house...

I know what it's like
to build a house...

A cathedral on top of a lie.

Cathedral on top of a lie.

No biological rationale
for head here and body there.

That's the soul fighting,
Daniel.

Romps with my rotten boy.

A--a cat-burgling stint
on the devil's road

with Gabriella, Sofia,
mother, lover, Madam Chair.

Live that lie so fully
that it might as well be true.

To live the lie so fully,
might as well be true.

Meaning beyond mortality.

Wonder returned.

Alex, I think you should open
with "Big Boss."

Raglan.

Daniel?

A straight man.

Straight man.

Good Negro, an artist.

Good Negro, an artist.

Things I wasn't.

Things I was not.

And you got some reason
to be dark-sided, Armand.

And you--

you have some reason
to be dark-sided, Armand.

You were sold
by who you were sold by.

You were sold
by who you were sold by.

Sold into what
you were sold into.

Sold into what you were--

I saw a lot of that
in New Orleans.

Saw a lot of that
in New Orleans.

- On the opposite shore.
- On the opposite shore.

Running houses I ran.

You and I didn't...
- You and I...

Didn't talk about it much...

We didn't talk about it much.

With you...

Shut it off.

'Cause I didn't want
to think on my own sins.

Or picture you at 12.

At 12.

You were 12.

Scared.

Poor boy,

Arun.

You need a love
that'll cradle you.

You should have that.

And I was never that for you.

And I'm sorry.

My coldness,

my denial

drove you to this.

I saw good in you...

For a while.

Bad things happen
to girlies who talk.

Using a standard suture kit.

2.0 absorbable nylon suture
to reaffix the head,

close the wound.

Isn't going to do much other
than hold the head in place

while it fuses
through the blood.

I am not a plastic surgeon.

This is not
my field of expertise.

And when she told him
that she wanted more darkness,

he looked at her
with the eyes of a juvenile.

A great abandonment.

And he threw himself
on the shore.

And he let the gravediggers
fish him from the tide

and bury him
in the sands of anonymity.

Now that's acting.

And there he lies
for 80 years,

heaved out of the dirt because
the mother of all of us

chooses him,
lets him drink of her,

makes him a godling.

And what does he do
with this honor?

Hops the "SS Abandoned"
in New Orleans.

Gives the gift to a pimp

who lives
to make him miserable,

daddy-traps him,
slits his throat,

and fucks his ex.

A lot.

Could be nice.
- Could be.

all: The soul!

The failed progeny of Magnus.

Unworthy chosen of Akasha.

all: The soul!

Kills the daughter,
saves the pimp,

rots in a rotting robe
in a rotting shack

in the rotting city.

A tragic crippled thing,

playing a plank for a piano,

waiting for a hug.

all: The soul!

- A book.
- A band.

An album and a cause.

all: The soul!

But does failure
finally fail to find him?

No.
all: The soul!

He sits on a bench
like a stupid idiot

in a fog he mistakes for love.

- Could be.
- Could be nice.

Whack!

Reckless.
Self-sabotaging.

Vain.

A brat.

Stupid.

Trashy. Tawdry.

A rotten boy.

Failure.

Impulsive. Imprudent.

And st-st-stutterer.

Cowardly. Selfish.

Wretched.

A waste.

A failure.

The Bimbo Himbo of Hambone.

Did you stay home
until you were 30?

Cabbage!

A great abandonment.

Your whole damn life

a failure.

Unworthy.

Uncharitable.

Manipulative.

Miserable.

- Idiot.
- Ignorant.

A careless caretaker.

A crooning cartoon.

A prima donna.

A peacock.

Your whole

goddamn life

a pathetic failure!

Well done.

Good show.
A bit shit.

But that's why you're opening
and I'm headlining.

The Vampire Lestat,
one life only.

Tickets through Ticketmaster.

Inevitable complaints
to Roget and Associates.

Bonjour, St-Germain,

Vieux Carré, Tontreal!

Let's hear it for Sofia Gabs

and the Fledglings of Failure!

You are all here tonight
because I murdered you,

made you,
or memorably traumatized you.

Congratulations for your
historical proximity to me.

No doubt it was the defining
moment of your life.

We love you, Lestat!

- I love you too.
- Play "Long Face"!

Fuck that song!

That is a song
you wash your car too.

Perhaps that's
the purposeful life of Lestat.

He made more clean cars.

Should've said that
at the long table.

Has that ever happened to you?

You think of the perfect thing
to say to the Pope

an hour after you leave
the Vatican?

I know you.

I drained you in Vienna.

Christmas Market, 1953.

What's your name?

- Enzo.
- Enzo.

Quite the sharp suit.

I spilled a lot of your blood.

I was in a foul mood
that evening.

You deserved better.

A lot of familiar faces
in the audience tonight.

More than a lot.

All familiar.

Janice.

- CeCi.
- Lestat! Lestat!

Baggage Man,
New York Limited.

How's the head?
Tickets, please!

"Black Licorice."
I wrote a song about you.

I killed you
in the Lower Ninth.

Thank you for coming.

Love you, Lestat!

We've got a great show
for you tonight

in a venue
of overwhelming sentiment,

because, well,
this is the place

that music first
wrapped its belt

around my aorta and yoked me

through two centuries plus
of vampiric life.

What a life it's been.

Play "Long Face"!

Is that you, Dad?

Regarding life,

recent findings of the many
I love most

found my life to be a failure.

Right?

Right?

I took your blood.

I did my vampire duty.

I brought death, spread fear,

fostered superstition
and paranoia.

Moral complaints all fall
on the idea that humanity is--

- Failure!
- I don't agree.

No one asked you, lady!

I think in the end--

in the end...

I think

I was pretty fucking great!

But...

if I failed,

if--if I failed...

Then that means
I actually attempted something.

Which is more than I can say
for most of those

I love the most.

I don't know if I mean that.

That was performative.

I loved you.

I did.

As grotesque as that love
appeared to you,

I did.

Thank you for coming.

We love you, Lestat!
We love you!

We've got a great show
for you tonight.

We're gonna play
a new song for you tonight!

We've got TC on the drums,
Salamander on the bass,

Plastic Dracula Alex
on the guitar,

and I am the Vampire Lestat!

I was supposed to stage dive
just then.

Could be.

Hands touch.

I'm feeling a little--

You need to get
your snooze fixed, Lestat.

What else?

I'm failing.

My blood.

My blood.

I did my best with it.

No.

No, I let--I let too much
spill too often.

I did not always honor it.

Enzo.

Can--can someone tell--

Can someone tell Enzo
that I'm sorry?

He had...

a package with
the most beautiful wrapping.

And I hope it got to who...

whom it was meant for.

Grammar.

He has a hard time saying it.

Got that from our daddy.

It doesn't mean he doesn't.

It's just his way.

Thank you for loving him,

for loving him the way
he needs to be loved.

I still wish you were a woman.

Me too, sometimes.

Wow.

It's not all that
once you get there.

Silver threads.

Silver threads stretched out
over other threads.

OK. You sure about that?

Yes, ma'am.

OK.

Would you believe me
if I said

the next thing I remember
is waking up on my tour bus,

parked in the woods

several hundred yards away
from the stage,

where 45,000 frenzied
and impatient vampires

and 10,000 naive
and beautifully unwell mortals

gathered from all corners
of the savage garden

to hear me sing "Make More"?

It was disorienting, my return
to the physical world,

her kind and caring words
so very different

from her words
at the long table.

The shoe leather
of how I got there

was explained to me
by a man I did not recognize

but who I now call a friend.

He told me his watchful
operatives were in the park

the night Armand and Daniel
cut through the fog of love

and the flesh of our necks.

They trailed our parts
to their destinations

and followed
their protocols of engagement.

He was vague
about Alex's role.

There was, however,
nothing vague

about whose idea it was
to bring me

from my immortal brush
with mortality

directly to the now
infamously catastrophic gig.

And as I talked over
their absurd persuasions

for me to perform,

a second thought saved them
all from my provoked rage.

He didn't go
into the details of his day.

I would only hear of them
later,

after the concert,

after the mayhem.

Should have quit
right then and there.

I know. I know.

This is you, right?

Right? This is your idea?
- You want to go out

and tell them that there is
going to be no show?

You want to put me
in a coffin, let me have a nap,

and then you put me
on fucking stage?

You want to see what happens
when you go out there

and tell them that?
- Are you insane?

You tell whoever the fuck
brought you back into my life--

You think that there is going
to be a safe mile anywhere...

That I am not
fucking delivering!

- In this sacred garden...
- You go onstage!

You get torn apart!
- If you do that?

You do it
because I am not going onstage!

I am not fucking singing,
you fucking monster!

Struggle to articulate
is something.

I look around my living room,
where I record this now,

and everything just feels off.

I imagine you're here with me,

my patron.

Whoever you are.

Do you hate me?

Do you smoke?

Have I scaled the walls
of your privilege,

made you feel how I felt
in the summer,

spring, and fall of 2025?

Or have I failed at auction,

these reels returned
to me unsold?

Am I talking to myself?

You are listening
to "The Failures,"

Album 58, Side A.

What did I say
at the start of this,

as to the Queen,

as to destruction unleashed?

Something about
the regretful dead

and the... hmm, what was it?

Traumatized alive.

That I had made
a contribution.

Let me take that back.

The fault was mine.

All mine.