Original subtitles

♪ Lizzie Borden took an axe ♪

♪ Gave her mother 40 whacks ♪

♪ When she saw what she had done ♪

♪ She gave her father 41 ♪

♪ Andrew Borden now is dead ♪

♪ Lizzie hit him on the head ♪

♪ Up in heaven he will sing ♪

♪ And on the gallows she will swing ♪

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Sit.

Because you have so little romantic interest

and no instinct for decorum,

I will now describe for you how this evening's proposal will unfold.

Yes?

Thank you, Mrs. Borden.

I am your mother, aren't I?

Yes, Mother.

When your gentleman caller arrives,

you will meet him at the door.

Heath is his name.

You've met.

You will welcome him in.

He will bow.

You will curtsy.

You will be brought into the parlor under an elder's supervision,

which will be me.

I will then depart the room

for you to converse in private.

Next, he will offer you a remembrance.

This handkerchief belonged to my great-grandmother.

How delightful.

And then you will present an item to him.

This is lace I wove myself.

It's inspired by the blossoms in my allée of cherry trees.

You'll note the fragrance...

is floral.

Let me see it.

It's inspired by the blossoms, the way that the cherries...

Yes, fine, I don't care.

Next, you will invite him to sit on my couch.

You know the one.

That fainting couch has been in my family for three generations.

It was hand-carved from Congolese mahogany

and upholstered in bone-white mulberry,

carted overland out of deepest yellow China.

Yes.

It's the one thing you brought to the marriage.

Is that a bit of mouth, Lizzie?

No.

No, I...

Literally. It's literally the one thing you brought when you married Father.

Continuing. You will sit on my couch.

You will engage in polite conversation.

Today, out amongst the cherry trees,

I saw a hummingbird with a ruby throat.

Something like that, but don't burden him with your opinions, Lizzie,

'cause yours are shallow and off-putting.

After having endured your tripe...

Lizzie.

He will take your turgid little sausage fingers

that haven't known a day of work, and he will ask for your hand.

Will you marry me?

At which point, you will swoon and fall back onto the sofa.

He will revive you with the scent of a perfumed handkerchief.

And when you have fully regained your wits,

you say to him...

Yes, my beloved.

I give you my hand.

Understand, imbecile?

Yes, Mother.

♪ I live with my old mother ♪

♪ And always pay the rent ♪

♪ A bedroom and a parlor ♪

♪ Is all we call our own ♪

♪ And you're welcome every evening ♪

♪ At Maggie Murphy's home ♪

Good evening.

Uh...

Liz?

-Elizabeth? -Lizzie.

Or whatever you please.

Um...

Oh, I, um... I have something for you.

Um...

It's a lace handkerchief I sewed myself.

Oh, and a nosegay of white tuberose.

Thank you.

Do...

Do you have a remembrance for me?

I do not.

Here's our parlor.

Oh, and look, it's the couch we're to sit on.

Today, in my allée of cherry trees, I saw a hummingbird with a ruby throat.

-That's fascinating. -Do you think so?

I do love nature,

especially now that it's April.

I simply adore the springtime.

Everything is blooming, and it's...

Hm...

Hm.

It seems like the world is bursting with possibility.

Hm...

I also have a dovecote.

-Ah... -Do you know what that is?

It's a house for doves.

My father made it. He's a woodworker.

I love my doves.

They mate for life, you know.

Well, wh... what's wrong?

Are you... are you all right?

Mm...

I know... I know what is expected of me tonight.

My family faces destitution.

But I can't do this. I... I can't marry you.

Why not?

Because you have the face of a horse. The men in town, they're right.

It's unpleasant to look at your plainness.

-What's happening? -Hmm...

Um...

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

I have an odd...

lady time.

Mmm.

Mmm.

Hm.

Where's your... sister?

She went into town. She was asked to the cotillion.

This one will never be asked to go.

Oh, how I longed for this engagement so you would finally leave this house.

You're a woolgatherer.

All you're doing is frittering away your father's money.

-Mm... -That's it.

And you can be sure your hemorrhage story has already made its way around town.

God's sake.

I have irregular menses.

Irregular? They're a modern-day horror.

You humiliate this house.

Will you stop your caterwauling?

I'm powfagged!

I work all day, and then I come home to this.

Flapdoodle! This is my personality.

I'm forceful. I have a point of view. You knew that when you married me.

You don't know what it's like

to be... trapped in a house full of women.

Astute observation, dearie.

I certainly don't.

If only you'd given me a son.

What was that?

And this thick Irish dolt is as worthless as you, Lizzie.

She can't get the stain out, can you?

No, ma'am, in spite of tryin'.

No, well, can't say I blame her.

She has the brains of a dog,

and she's expected to sop up a gallon of the last dregs

of an old maid's dying womb.

That was mulberry silk from deepest China!

I'm going to have to have it reupholstered in muslin!

My apologies again, Mrs. Borden.

Tried me best, ma'am.

What soup is this?

Potato leek, ma'am.

What?

I asked for celeriac.

Get out!

You're fired!

Mm!

It's quite good.

That's six maids in a year.

Yes, Mr. Borden, and what about it?

Tomorrow, we'll interview a seventh.

Hm.

Come on, Lizzie, eat up.

I've brought you something.

It's a lovely warm day.

It's a cherry cordial.

What's that floating on top?

Those are borage flowers.

They're edible.

Oh.

I've read that Indians use them for cramping and bloating and...

Sorry.

It's not a topic of conversation for strangers.

No, that... that's wonderful.

Thank you.

Lizzie.

Are you still spotting?

You trail blood like a wounded elk.

-Spotting? -This one has heavy menses.

Actually, heavy doesn't quite describe it.

Diluvian is a more apt descriptor. She's a true freak of nature.

Now when the lady time comes,

we keep her upstairs on a bed of wooden planks and muslin sheets

she's free to befoul with her putrid clots.

My advertisement requested an Irish girl.

You don't sound Irish.

I am Irish by birth, and half Irish by blood.

My father's German, and I traveled all over Europe.

I don't recall commissioning an autobiography.

The job is of a housemaid.

You'll have all the standard obligations of cooking and cleaning,

and then some additional chores pertaining to me.

We're a well-to-do household, from my toil as a woodworker.

I build furniture and fashion fine coffins,

and when I come home... well, I must relax, as it were.

Then you will dress my feet with fresh stockings and slippers,

and hand me a dram of whiskey.

Maids in this home are expected to keep the house spotless,

and to ensure that they do, I will don a pair of white gloves daily

and run my fingers across a surface of my choosing,

and any dust or dirt or grime I find,

I will steep the glove in a mug of hot water

and watch you drink the resulting tea.

Drink it.

Is that perfectly clear?

Crystal.

You will be paid 50 cents a day, a dollar on days you're asked

to take my mentally sluggish stepdaughter here into town.

Now, accompanying her in public is a chore in the truest sense of the word.

It's deeply humiliating.

And what is your name?

-Bridget. -Maggie.

No, Bridget.

No, Maggie. The last maid's name was Maggie,

and... I won't be compelled to learn a new one.

That's fine. It's all fine.

I do have my own requirements.

I follow orders very well,

but when it comes to my hygiene,

I will be allowed to make myself up as I choose to.

You're referring to your hair. It's strumpet hair.

Looks like straw.

I dyed it this color myself.

I learned so in Paris.

Paris?

I don't care what you look like. I endeavor not to look at servants.

You'll be invisible to me.

So do I have the job?

No.

We have many more girls to see.

Uh... Madam.

The stain.

I brought my own cleaning kit.

May I try and remove it?

It will take no longer than an hour.

Hm.

♪ Can't stay at home Can't stay in school ♪

♪ Old folks say, "You poor little fool" ♪

♪ Down the streets I'm the girl next door ♪

♪ I'm the fox you've been waiting for ♪

♪ Hello, Daddy Hello, Mom ♪

♪ I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch ♪

♪ Cherry bomb ♪

♪ Hello, world, I'm your wild girl ♪

♪ I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch ♪

♪ Cherry bomb ♪

♪ Stone Age love and strange sounds too ♪

♪ Come on, baby, let me get to you ♪

♪ Bad nights causing teenage blues ♪

♪ Get down, ladies You've got nothin' to lose ♪

♪ Hello, Daddy Hello, Mom ♪

♪ I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch ♪

♪ Cherry bomb ♪

♪ Hello, world, I'm your wild girl ♪

♪ I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch ♪

♪ Cherry bomb ♪

Mrs. Borden?

Don't make a habit of shouting across the house.

I'll whip you in the face with a switch.

Oh my.

Yes.

It is still a little damp, but the stain is gone.

"Out, damn spot."

You're hired.

He was a good man.

As good as he was tall.

Hmm.

And tall he was.

This is our most inexpensive offering.

Just a pine box.

But this won't keep the water out.

Your husband will be liquid himself in a week or two.

Nothing left of him when the Lord returns to judge the living and the dead.

No! We can't have that.

Father was a righteous man.

Then... I would suggest this sort of casket.

It's mahogany.

Lined in pink satin,

and most importantly, watertight.

So when the Lord Jesus comes again,

your beloved will rise up from this casket,

body and soul intact.

We'll take that one.

It doesn't seem long enough.

Father was 20 hands high.

No, no.

No, my apprentice and I, Stephen...

-Say hello, Stephen. -Hello.

We can make the necessary alterations.

I assure you he'll fit.

Thank you, that will be all.

Mr. Borden?

Uh, Mr. Borden?

Hm?

Yes.

Good day, Margaret.

Bridget, sir.

Maggie.

Since you're what passes as an expert in the domestic sciences,

I wondered if I might add to your list of tasks.

That's why I called you here today.

Please.

Do you see these axes?

As you...

As you know, I'm a craftsman, a woodworker.

These are not just my tools, but my children, as it were.

In fact, I love them more than my children.

They're my one true passion, my lone frivolous indulgence,

and yet my apprentice,

simpleton that he is,

is unable to keep them in the state of repair that I require.

I wondered if you might add their care to your list of daily chores.

Keep them sharp and polished.

Of course, sir.

These are fine axes.

Hm.

This one's called Freyda.

She's a Viking axe,

pilfered from the private collection of Charles VI of Sweden.

You didn't let me finish, sir.

I will care for your axes, and I will care for them well.

As you know, I'm good at executing orders.

Hm.

But I will have to be paid.

One dollar a week.

Mm, very well.

Would you like to hold it?

Um...

Is that...

blood?

You can smell the... the iron.

Hm.

Did you cut yourself or...?

Why is there blood on your axe?

Most women faint at the sight of it.

Well, I don't. It's rejuvenating.

People used to bathe in it.

My.

How macabre.

Is that all, sir?

I can be back first thing in the morning.

Until then.

Hm.

Bonsoir.

Hm.

-Any dust, Ms. Borden? -I'm not finished.

Any dust, or may I be free to go back to work?

There. What's that?

That's your footprint, Mrs. Borden.

I will clean it up for you, but I will not be punished for it.

It's from when you came in through that door a few minutes ago,

after shouting at Lizzie in the garden.

Mm! Like the angels!

Hello.

Come here.

Oh...

Shut those birds up!

Those filthy shit-hawks!

How I loathe them!

Worse than roosters, the incessant cooing.

It's all I hear now is the... cooing.

It's mating season, I believe, Mrs. Borden.

Spring.

Patience. It'll pass.

In the old days,

they used to believe doves were the intermediary between humans and gods.

Maybe that's a way to look at it.

It might help you calm your nerves.

Hm.

There's nothing wrong with your body,

and there's nothing wrong with blood.

Blood is freedom.

Because it means that no man's seed has taken hold.

Drink your tea.

It's dandelion.

It thins your blood and helps with the clotting.

Look, I'm... I'm not a doctor,

but I've traveled a lot, and I've seen a lot.

And...

a mistress of mine, she went to see a specialist for similar problems,

and he prescribed something called hysterical paroxysm.

Or they call it a little death.

Have you heard of it?

No.

I bought this in Amsterdam.

They call it a Vendee vibrator.

You hold it up on your cunny and you turn this.

You crank it like you beat eggs.

What does it feel like?

Give me your hand.

Ooh...

Well...

Um...

When you hold it to the right spot,

it makes you shiver and tremble,

but in a good way.

So when the little death comes on, that's how they call it,

it goes over your whole body.

And after that, you're just...

reborn

and sweaty and like you've been running through the fields,

and it just feels so good.

And I want you to feel it.

Take it.

Take it.

Fine. In your own time.

Lizzie.

All your books are... are written by men.

Little Women is right there.

No, you need the books they read in Paris.

I'll bring you one.

What?

I just want to help you.

This... house.

These people... you...

It's like a puzzle to me.

You're like a puzzle to me. I've never met anyone like you.

-Simple, you mean? -No.

You're anything but simple, Lizzie.

I don't know why she belittles you like that.

She's the most cruel woman I've ever seen.

She wasn't born that way.

Nobody is.

I wasn't even two years old when my real mother died.

I don't remember her at all.

Mama...

My father was so young, he... needed a wife

to take care of my sister and I.

He'd heard tell of a woman whose family had fallen on hard times.

She'd lost all three of her brothers in the war.

And in her grief, her mother had taken her own life.

She left her daughter alone and in debt.

Whoa...

Her name was Abby Durfee Gray.

Father and her only courted a short while before marrying.

My mother was buried only weeks before.

But my father was overjoyed.

He had a beautiful bride.

He felt alive again.

And he could return to work again.

But I was a difficult baby.

And Mrs. Borden was overwhelmed by it.

Be quiet! Be quiet!

She'd lock me in a room.

She learned she could never have children of her own.

And so she began to drink.

She began an alcoholic depression.

She'd drink all manner of things.

Formaldehyde.

Ammonia.

Paint thinner.

I learned to be quiet.

I like being alone with birds and animals and nature.

Everyone thinks I'm stupid.

But I'm not.

You're not stupid.

That's a good girl.

Come in.

Oh...

What are you doing?

Um...

I'm applying arsenic powder to my décolleté.

I came to say thank you for the book.

You're welcome. Did you read it?

No, it's all in French.

Her name was... Elizabetta.

Comtesse de Sang.

The blood countess.

♪ Can't stay at home Can't stay in school ♪

300 years ago,

she lived at the far end of the Hungarian kingdom,

at the end of the Carpathian Mountains,

in Transylvania.

She was the richest woman in her kingdom.

And she was bored.

She was known for her beauty far and wide.

But the fear of losing that beauty drove her mad.

So she would call her handmaids and say...

"Where's the milk?"

♪ Hello, Daddy Hello, Mom ♪

♪ I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch ♪

♪ Cherry bomb ♪

♪ Hello, world, I'm your wild girl ♪

♪ I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch ♪

♪ Cherry bomb ♪

♪ Cherry bomb... ♪

She bathed in milk?

Yes.

Milk has acid in it.

That smoothens the complexion.

I've noticed that with my cherries too.

Sorry?

In the harvest, where the cherry juice stains your skin...

it glows all winter.

There must be acid in the cherries, just like in Elizabetta's milk.

But Elizabetta wasn't satisfied with the milk.

It wasn't enough.

The handmaidens were called Furies by the townspeople.

And so, they would descend on the town at dawn

to search for the most beautiful girls they could find.

They all had to be virgins.

The families were told the countess had invited the girls to a lavish supper...

the likes of which they would never see again.

Wild boar, venison, sweetbreads, dark red Carpathian wine,

all to pump their blood full of iron.

She'd promise these peasant girls land and titles.

She would welcome them to stay the night

in white silken gowns from Samarkand.

And then she would invite them downstairs to a special room.

A room with a drain.

And then she would call the Furies.

It took eight virgins to fill one bath with blood.

And when she emerged, the Countess Báthory had pure white skin, like a child.

She was completely restored.

Because... blood is life.

This story used to drive me mad.

I couldn't stop thinking about her.

It's not a real story, is it?

As real as you and me in this room.

It's eerie in this light.

Are you scared?

No.

But she was onto something.

Blood is power.

Mr. Borden?

Mr. Borden?

Mr. Borden?

Maggie.

You've done a wonderful job with these axes.

I hope it wasn't too much a chore.

No chore at all, Mr. Borden.

Given I'm compensated.

Mmm.

Maggie, your room and board is paid for.

What do you do with all of this money?

Well, I save it, Mr. Borden.

Because one day, I will have a house like yours,

and I will have land like you.

It's not a silly thing to want for a girl like me, is it?

Mm.

That's not silly at all.

In fact, money means a fair bit to me, Mr. Borden.

I'm not ashamed to say it.

I think there's not a thing in the world I wouldn't do for the right price.

Like what?

Hm.

That's a deal.

♪ When I was a child ♪

Well, hello.

Hello.

I have something to show you.

I can't stop thinking about her.

Who?

The Countess.

♪ Now hounds of love are hunting ♪

♪ I've always been a coward ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ And I don't know what's good for me ♪

♪ Oh, here I go ♪

Lizzie.

The blood bath.

♪ Oh, help me, someone, help me, please ♪

Yes.

♪ And take my shoes off And throw them in the lake ♪

♪ And I'll be ♪

♪ Two steps on the water ♪

It's four bushels of cherries.

You're out of your mind.

♪ Now hounds of love are hunting ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ I've always been a coward ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ And I don't know what's good for me ♪

♪ Oh, here I go ♪

♪ It's coming for me through the trees ♪

♪ Oh, help me, someone, help me, please ♪

♪ And take my shoes off And throw them in the lake ♪

♪ And I'll be ♪

♪ Two steps on the water ♪

If only this were blood.

♪ He let me take him in my arms ♪

♪ His little heart, it beat so fast ♪

♪ And I'm ashamed of running away ♪

♪ From nothing real I just can't deal with this ♪

♪ I'm still afraid to be there ♪

♪ Among your hounds of love ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ I feel your arms surround me ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ I've always been a coward ♪

♪ Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ I never know what's good for me ♪

♪ Oh, here I go ♪

♪ Don't let me go ♪

♪ Hold me down ♪

♪ It's coming for me through the trees ♪

♪ Oh, help me, darling, help me, please ♪

♪ Take my shoes off And throw them in the lake ♪

♪ And I'll be ♪

♪ Two steps on the water ♪

♪ Do, do-do, do, do ♪

♪ I don't know what's good for me I don't know what's good for me ♪

♪ I need love, love, love, love, love ♪

♪ Yeah-yo, yeah-yo ♪

♪ Your love ♪

♪ Do-do, do ♪

♪ And take your shoes off And throw them in the lake ♪

♪ Do you know what I really need? Do you know what I really need? ♪

♪ Love, love, love, love, love, yeah ♪