Original subtitles

A quiet, easeful death.

What else would it be?

I had nowhere to go.

No one to talk to.

She was dead.

I knew it.

Claudia was dead.

I could feel it.

Like I couldn't feel my hands, my back.

Like I could feel my heart pumping slower every night.

My broken arm resetting itself.

My ankles healed in the coffin.

The flesh having.

Circled around the insulating rocks of my deathbed.

Are they still there?

Right now?

In your feet?

If you took an x-ray, they'd look like little cancers.

He could remove them anytime he wanted to.

Or maybe he has, and he's been lying to you all these years for effect.

What were the consequences of you saving Louis?

Demotion.

Ridicule.

Santiago had suspected I had rigged the audience to spare Louis' life.

So he made certain I would not forget my insubordination as part of my penance.

Darkness was delirium.

I tried to paint alternatives.

Lucid, what is?

Wear a different suit the night you meet Lestat at the fair play.

Snatch the piece of candy back from the barber when you're seven years old.

Would I have been stronger sooner?

Would I have resisted Lestat two decades later?

Snatch the candy.

Be the man in the different suit.

But the suit changes nothing.

And again, I'm kissing Lestat on the altar.

I'm killing Lestat but won't burn him.

I'm dragged off stage and buried alive.

Any candy's not the answer.

Claudia is dead.

The work nights were the pragmatic ones.

A rock shifts by my knee.

Could I make another rock move?

Could I free my knee to exploit the craftsmanship of the coffin?

But it was all ravings.

The rock hadn't moved.

The craftsmanship was solid.

Claudia is dead.

When a vampire starts screaming from starvation, he hasn't much time left.

I didn't know I was screaming.

I had no energy to scream.

If I had, I would have used it to ignite the clothes on my body, self-immolate.

What was left to endure for?

Claudia is dead.

And as Louis withered away, life in the theater returned to abnormal.

The old plays were remounted.

The pack hunts revitalized, all under the increasingly self-satisfied eye of

Santiago.

You ruined his play. They didn't get to kill Louis on stage.

And Santiago improvised a worse death.

He had outwitted me.

Hurt me deeply.

And I played up that hurt.

My subjugation cemented his power amongst cousins.

So, how did you get him out?

I placed the sacrifice in an old vault coffin.

Swapped that coffin for Louie's.

I was the defeated vampire, Mr. Malloy.

No one was looking.

Uh-huh.

Does anyone ever ask Lazarus if he wanted to be walking?

I don't read the Bible much anymore.

No one gives a shit about Lazarus's point of view, is what I remember.

I tasted the blood.

I knew it was his.

Why? I thought.

Claudia is dead.

I was dead.

I was dead.

But my rage, my rage had

risen.

Followed closely behind by my madness.

They moved from shadow to shadow towards the cemetery in Montmartre. Why that

place, it wasn't certain.

It wasn't safe to return to the apartment.

That would imply it was rational.

Approximity to the theater?

Maybe.

My rage.

had been denied blood.

My rage was lightheaded.

My rage healed without a single measure of satisfaction.

My rage found a forgotten crypt amongst the forgotten dead.

My rage hid its killings there and conspired

with my magnet on a plan for retribution.

Thank you.

Thank you.

There's a lot of them in there.

There's some awake before it gets them.

I should think about taking heads.

Speak English.

You're not a farmer.

I would use the machete.

One of them tries to escape.

You should stand at the top of the stairs.

I would then cut their feet off if they go up, but enrage if they run downstairs

for the soup. That's better.

Mine's a big boy.

Good thought of throwing.

If you get in a fight or delay, you'll be consumed with that. Pour more gas on

this. And this one.

I don't need to borrow your truck.

Louis. I don't have any use for it now.

I know you can hear me. You must leave Paris.

Maybe you should answer him. He knows the theater more than you. Maybe I

should shut up.

Louis, save yourself.

They're going to find out what I did.

Do not worry about me. What are you fucking worried about?

Louis,

please listen to me.

If I could explain to you the events, I think you would understand why it was I

acted as I did.

I know you will never forgive me. I am not seeking forgiveness.

Louis, is that you?

Did you save me at the trial?

Yes.

You pulled me out to walk?

Yes.

I could not save her. If I thought there was a way, I would have. Shut up. Shut

up.

However you meant it, do not find yourself at the theater tomorrow night,

Curfew.

Okay. Did you know he was going to burn it down?

No.

But I could sense the fatalism in his thoughts.

You warned him?

Yes. He'd already betrayed you once.

They were his coven for hundreds of years. Why risk it?

My rage and madness were asleep.

It was a test.

I don't remember.

If you're wrong, you're dead.

There were 13 of them and one of me.

I was going to die either way.

Same question to you. They were your coven for hundreds of years.

You had no feelings for any of them?

I had complicated feelings.

But you didn't warn any of them?

No.

13 to 1.

Maybe you were hedging your bets?

See who emerges from the ash heap?

I didn't know his plan.

I'd shut my mind off to him, Daniel.

My prevailing thought was...

If I'm not with him, I'm nothing.

Him, I'm nothing.

Okay, so what was the plan?

The plan?

I was going to die, and I was going to take as many of them with me as I could.

When a vampire commits himself to coffin, all the senses collapse into

submission.

and the dark boundaries of the world begin to stretch out in all directions.

And in this state, in the lair where they slept, I could have been a marching

band or a jet engine taking off a tarmac until Paris spun

back round to the sun.

The advantage was mine.

Six by fire.

Two by blade.

One by a combination of the two.

No legs, one arm. Still clutching on the clarinet.

Nine in all.

And with no sign of Armand or Scott.

That meant four had escaped.

Two out the front.

Two through the sewers.

But I had planned for contingencies.

It had to be the London Coven. They have always been jealous of us. It's because

we started speaking English.

It's because we took offers from Armand and they smelled weakness, you idiot!

Or maybe it was Eclate. Eclate? She never got over you stealing Santiago.

You try drinking from good stuff out there. It was London!

Allison, it's an act of passion!

Hello,

Francis.

You!

Did I wake you?

I tried to be quiet coming and going, but all those iron joists cracking and

load-bearing beams falling down on you. Well, is your companion with you?

Didn't you hear?

We broke up.

Oh, I rather doubt that.

Hard to hold hands after he killed my sister and my fledgling, but think what

you want. I didn't take credit for the workman role he played, Louie. It was

me.

The plan to death.

To get Claudia that hot exit from the garden. Come to me.

Did Armand tell you what we did with her ashes after he pulled you from the wall?

Come to me, Francis.

We used her as eye shadow for the next month's performances.

We put them in the pepper shaker for the popcorn we sold in the aisles. And some

nights, Louis. Come to me, Francis. I put a pinch of them in my fist before I

closed my coffin at night. I would spit in them.

And I'd use her hot, wet ashes.

to plunge on myself.

Come to me, Francis.

It's Santiago to you, you firebug bugger! Nah, that's the Spaniard's name

you took.

Took it to forget who you were, Francis. Took it to compensate for what God

denied you, Francis.

That joke in between your legs and that farm girl, Lenora, who couldn't keep

quiet. about it she only thought it was small because my testicles are so

enormous then maybe it was the lip applause francis got when francis

finally got on stage in london for a week as an understudy for osric what was

it the nature of the transformation that made you change your name the desperate

begging urine racing down your leg as francis desperately tried to take back

his wish to be a vampire i can see your maker's face now

Embarrassment. Washing over it. And you ask, can I be called

a girl?

You make his voice as he walked away.

I don't care what you call yourself.

Come with me.

Say that shit about Claudia to my face.

Creed in a martini, a touch more vermouth, and the newspaper you asked

for this morning, Mr. Malloy.

Santiago's failure to protect his coven, how quickly he ran to save his own

flesh, filled him with unworthiness, and it made him an uncomplicated seduction.

He brought a cloak to a knife fight.

And all my rage and madness exited my body.

And nothing replaced it.

When did you start lying to me?

The night of Madeleine's transformation.

A while back then.

We parted at Sacre Coeur.

I went back to make sure the Coven would keep curfew.

That you do what you were going to do in safety.

They were all on stage waiting for me.

told me they had done a rewrite, tossed the script at my feet, and I saw the

title.

And I thought, it's my coven of 200 years,

or him.

And at the time, I could not count on your love lasting as long.

You rehearsed it with Lestat?

They rehearsed it with him.

I stayed in my coffin when I was there.

When you spent nights over here.

I lied to you.

Over and over. Then one stick.

And all that time.

Telling me.

Make a different plan with me.

I will spend my life making it up to you.

You'll never make it up to me.

I know.

Is Lester still in Paris?

You'll never be able to kill him. That wasn't my question.

Yes, he's still here.

Wait, you and his knight again.

Ask for a check The light's going out of your blue eyes

Like all the summer days are gone

Was it a good day's rest?

Does it take a lot out of you?

Destroying everything in your wake?

Well, almost everything.

You look small.

Come home.

Mrs. Magnus is there.

Some distance between the happy couple.

Details left to work out after the homicide of Frolic?

This where he kept you?

The chain to the wall?

No. This was for the disappointments.

The ones before him.

He had a knack for design.

Nordic blondes on walls, dirty blondes in piles.

Learned about where the gremlin stands now.

I don't care.

I came here to have a think.

On my origins.

Why I do what I do.

Why I... Burned your daughter alive?

Why you rehearsed a play that would burn your daughter alive?

Why you crossed an ocean to rehearse a play that would burn your daughter

alive?

The great laws. What fucking law did you ever follow? Stop.

I've come to kill you.

I have the blood of Magnus in me. Magnus burns.

I have the blood of Akasha in me.

He doesn't know who that is.

But the fact in and of itself makes your immediate desire an impossibility.

I'd have to be willing.

And I'm not in the mood.

My blood is your blood.

And death.

Here's your death. Let's start.

He and I are going to spend the rest of our lives together.

Wherever your miserable life takes you,

whoever you find to endure time with, whatever pale proxy of me,

I'll be with him.

I just wanted you to know that.

In junior.

Let's see how long at home.

An odd phrase.

What do you think he meant by that, Louis?

It's fairly obvious.

He didn't think we would make it.

77 years.

Almost to the day.

We left him there, walked Paris one last time, completely silent.

Stopped for a moment at the Place de la Concorde, the Luxorobulus.

I stood staring up at it as cars and carriages circled us.

I said telepathically, was it telepathically?

I don't remember.

I said, let's go see Egypt.

Then sailed port to port.

Settled in New York a good while.

San Francisco.

And we did.

Here, there, everywhere, and Dubai.

And that's the end of it.

There's nothing else.

End of session.

He loved you.

I can say that now.

He loved you a great deal.

It must have been terrible for him to see us off that night.

Mind if I ask a few follow-up questions? There's just some things I've been

jotting down along the way.

Yeah, of course.

It's... Just small stuff.

Like, um... Like, you and the tractor salesman in the bar in New Orleans

before you killed him, you said that Lestat telepathically told you that you

were scaring the salesman. But a maker can't do that anymore after

transformation, right?

Uh, yeah.

I don't know. Maybe he whispered it to me.

Yeah.

I figured as much.

You said that four escaped the theater.

Celeste, Estelle, Santiago, and... Sam.

Right. The vampire Sam Barclay. We never quite figured out how he did it.

Did you ever get to him?

No.

Time heals, Daniel.

I believe he's a DJ now. A DJ?

He wears a decorative helmet on his head when he performs.

Does he?

Yeah, it's funny, because...

Sam's in two places at once at one point in your story. He's guarding Armand in

the theater box, but you also have him helping to bury you below stage.

He was with me in the box. Yeah, he was with Armand in the box.

Oh, maybe he did a quick vamp back and forth.

I just got it wrong.

Rashid, should we begin dinner preparations?

Yes, sir. I do hope you'll join us.

I'd be honored.

Okay, um...

Let me just look at my list one more time here.

Another New Orleans thing.

I mean, I'm sorry I'm jumping all over the place here, but the night that

Lestat brings all those soldiers home and you tell him to throw them out, how

many soldiers did he mindfuck out of the townhouse that night?

I don't know. Ten?

Fifteen?

More like thirty?

Huh.

Oh, well, it seems to me, I mean, back to the trial again, it seems to me that

there was more than one person in the theater that night who could have saved

you.

Dad, Dad. I know, I know.

It's my job. I'm built this way. I know.

It's a stretch, but... It's in your nature, Mr. Malloy.

Couldn't get out the door without lobbing one more bomb. You said it

yourself just now.

He loved Louis. Lestat would have tried to save him as much as you did. And he

certainly would have made it known that he had. Shall we take these follow-ups

and specious theories to the dining room?

We have something special prepared for you, Daniel.

Uh, Santiago should hand the diary into the audience,

have them feel the evidence in their hands.

This is...

Too early for Lestat to acknowledge Louis.

Keep the tension.

Have him look at Louis later the moment he describes meeting him in New Orleans.

These are just some notes along the margins here.

We need an animation here. It's not clear how extreme the hoarding was.

Where did you get that?

Read it for yourself.

That's when the Black Angel came.

But he came back.

He did, with her.

And now you rise from your chair and walk towards Claudia.

And how do you suppose that you will keep her quiet in this moment?

More of your cheap theatrics? The judges will fog her

mind.

You have no idea of Claudia's strength!

He didn't witness the play.

He directed the play.

What say you for the vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac?

Guilty or not guilty?

Guilty! Guilty!

Guilty!

And the sentence?

Banishment. Banishment.

Banishment!

Banishment!

Where did the bullshit start, Armand,

Amadeo, Arun?

You were supposed to die with Claudia.

He didn't save you.

Lestat did.

He just took credit for it when the opportunity presented itself.

And you wasted everyone who could have told you differently.

77 years based on a seismic lie.

It's a forgery, Scooby. It's from the Talamathka. Sam was their guy in Paris.

He gave it to them. They gave it to me here.

Scooby.

Louie! Louie!

Louie!

Rasheed. Rasheed.

I'm guessing Rasheed left after he brought me the newspaper.

You're not to touch him.

Do you understand?

You harm him in any way, I will kill you. Do you wonder that?

I'm leaving now.

When I return, you need to be caught.

You should gather your things from your room.

I'll arrange a car and a plane to take you home.

Now see, there's ten million dollars wired into your account.

Thank you.

I was hoping the canes would wait until July.

I had two on the floor for a new edition at the Essence Festival.

Let's all shut it up now.

Two on the floor?

Must have cost you.

Wasn't cheap.

Me and my babe was on the bad side.

Then I seen they got a new edition headlining the festival.

She had a thing for Ralph when she was young. You believe that, Ralph?

Pretty much.

Then I think, well, each one on the floor is going to open back the door.

She'll be back. She'll be back for Ralph.

So, ask me this.

How come you coming in when everybody else getting out?

You so dead?

Said to be at least a three.

It'll be a phone.

First time in New Orleans?

Did my luggage arrive?

Yes, sir.

Two bags in an oversized crate early in the morning.

So I'm waiting for you in your suite.

Thank you.

Very generous, Mr. Duloc. Thank you, sir.

Your card?

Your key?

We're happy to have you as long as you'll have us.

But we are boarding up the hotel for the hurricane.

So we're asking our guests to fill out this liability waiver.

No problem.

Now, everybody, if you want to turn your winch engine to the right at them big

green-colored gates, this is 1132 Rose Street, home of the most infamous party

ever thrown in New Orleans.

This is where two dozen members of high society, they walked in them doors right

there. Ain't nobody ever seen them again.

Take a picture if you need to. The year?

1940. The man that owned this townhome and that year's candy garage went by the

name Sebastian Mellman. Now... Now, history is going to have him go down a

little something different.

A Monsieur Lysander Lioncourt.

He was a so-called Frenchman, a so-called seller of industrial

machinery. But now tell me, tell the crime dog, why would a man, a known

hoarder, and an infamous recluse be named King Arash in the first place?

Sebastian knew a fella by the name of Tom Anderson. He was a former Louisiana

state representative and a full-time Bourbon Street gangster.

Mr. Melmoth, he wasn't alone in 1132.

Also in residence was a local Creole hustler and his little child bride. They

were running a voodoo court in the bathrooms above the Courtyard Garden.

Yes, they were. Now, it's Mardi Gras, 1940.

Mr. Melmoth... And Tom Anderson, they brought back the who's who or who that.

The next morning, couldn't nobody find head or head piece of none of them. But

what did they find?

Blood in between the floorboards of three different rooms.

Bits of indeterminate pieces of bone inside the factory-sized incinerator.

Why did Tom Anderson, Mr. Mellman, the hustler, and the child bride lure these

particular citizens to this house of lies and intrigue?

It's a damn quorum!

Smashed into a low-rise.

Big chunks of shit. Trash cans, mailboxes blowing around everywhere.

God fucking wild out there. Shut up.

Out there, running around, goddamn hurricane out there. Shut up.

I mean, we should be out of town is where we should be. Shut up.

Oh, man, please.

Who are you?

Hello.

Who's he?

Louie.

That's Louie?

She's Louie? Get out.

Get out.

Where?

I mean, there's a mad hurricane outside.

I keep fucking telling you.

Oh, shit. God damn it.

Ransom. Trench. Fuck. Meat.

Motherfucker.

Fire gifts in your honor.

Where is some fledgling?

All the millennials are.

He is an excellent rat catcher.

Would you like one?

Hello, Lothar.

Hello, Louis.

That's me.

I came to see you.

And what does your companion think of that?

I'm companion enough for myself now.

Good for you.

I'm sorry I don't have much time. I'm in the middle of rehearsing.

Rehearsing? I'm going on tour.

Barger, it seems... It seems

to have retired.

And I thought, for better than me to carry on the great work, I

need about 50 more years of practice.

Fury pause.

Did you save my life in Paris?

I gave you to Armand.

You tell me if that was a thing. Why didn't you say it was me who

saved you, not him?

I don't like to point out my virtue.

Besides...

I knew you'd figure it out.

Now look.

You have.

I was right.

Oh, help me.

Been enduring here?

Not enduring.

Living. Here in New Orleans.

Long time.

It's my home.

I am she, she is me.

I didn't know it was a gift.

I wore it like a curse.

I was selfish.

I tried to make nights awful, but I

wanted you to suffer because

I was suffering.

Shall we listen?

all the ways we have wronged each other and why it will never be right between

monsters. I came to thank you.

The gift you offer me, the gift I deny,

you deny some part of me where I might

learn and live on it.

September 8,

1973.

September 8, 1973.

It was 11.07 here.

It would have been 9.07 in San Francisco.

Armand called me.

Were you there?

Yeah.

Did you break your soul?

I was lost.

I was in a dark way.

I was thinking about...

I can't.

I can't get her out of my mind.

You have the same problem.

I can't, Louie.

I can't. Hey.

Hey, it's not all you.

You hear me?

I carried her home.

I made you turn her.

I saved her from the fire.

Two and a half centuries later, she came.

She looked at me again like a child

looking for her father.

But I was souped.

And we are back in five, four, three, two.

Welcome back, Atlanta.

And welcome to my next guest, the two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning

investigative journalist and author of the current best-selling fictional

memoir, Interview with the Vampire, Daniel Malloy. Thanks, Leonard.

It's a memoir. It's not fiction. What is one of the main topics of debate

regarding your book?

Is it true or is it a joke?

Well, I've sold five million books in four months. You can't see the forest

for the trees. They killed printing it. Hey, Atlanta, check out the book fair

this weekend. It is going to be quite something.

The Washington Post. Bezos Bugle.

That's a good one. It called your book a sophomoric footnote in an otherwise

stellar career.

Conceptually weird. Middle finger to the publishing industry that turned its back

on him a decade ago.

I don't read reviews. Is it true you shop this book to every major publisher

in the country in the UK?

What is this?

It's a legitimate question. No, it's not. I mean, you haven't even told your

viewers what the book is about. Oh, good point. The book purports to be an

interview with an actual vampire. Oh, I know what it's about. It's about you,

Leonard. Trying to go viral with your dinky little provincial news desk.

Yeah, I did. I did interview an actual vampire. Oh, here's the camera. I

interviewed an actual vampire. Actually, two vampires.

A species that's lived among us for centuries.

And it's supported by a mountain of historical documentation.

You took a noble career. Didn't even read it. Put it in the show. Didn't read

the book.

You were one of our finest. And now you're a Bigfoot hunter. Hey, man. I'm

sold.

Millions of these books, more than Johnny Grisham or Prince Harry and the

Prisoner of Santa Barbara.

It's a great read, and you're a hack.

What a delight.

Thanks so much for being here, Daniel Malloy. Can't wait to read the book.

Listen, your royalty checks keep bouncing back to me, man.

I need a forwarding address.

Why not send them to your editors at the Talamasco?

The shit they made me take out?

No editors next book, I promise.

There won't be a next book.

There shouldn't have been a first book.

You want the 10 million back? Just say it, man.

Send me an address.

You know where I live?

I really wouldn't be staying put if I were you.

I'm guessing you haven't heard from my maker.

No. Fucking asshole.

I'm sorry you were burdened out of spite.

I shouldn't have left you alone with him.

Make it up to me.

We'll do a follow-up book.

What do you want, Daniel?

I'm worried about you.

I'm fine.

I keep hearing the other vamps talking about you.

They're really fucking pissed off about our book.

You want to write another with me?

Sequels, audio books, sex toys.

Damn. You've become a cold killer.

You still haven't read it, have you?

It's the top of my stack.

You said that last month.

It's getting early here, Daniel. Get out of Dubai, Louis.

Hey, where'd you get those headphones? No bacon.

We'll

all

get a job.

The skyscraper. The skyscraper that grow quieter.

All of you.

This is the vampire Louis Duloc.

I live in the penthouse apartment at the Al-Sharaf Towers in Dubai, United Arab

Emirates.

The security staff here is robust, but mortal.

My front door is always unlocked, as are the windows to my balcony, which were

designed with a protective film coating for those of us sun-challenged.

So for all you cowards out there talking shit,

Talking about taking a run at me?

Hear this now.

And hear it plain.

I own the night.