All language subtitles for Interview.With.The.Vampire.S01E01.1080p.AMZN.WEBRip.DDP5.1.X264-NTb

There are stories out there
that need to be told.

There's shit out there
that's just...

you know, wrong.

People need to know about it.
That's the job.

It's not a complicated job,

other than how it'll mess
with your life.

News used to be a bunch of guys
who look like me

huddled around a desk
at a Page One meeting

deciding what the news was.

This little fucker changed
all of that.

I've been fired
from three papers,

hired back at two of them.

Third got gobbled up by
Knight Ridder.

So, to be clear here,

I'm a goddamn reservoir
of do's and don'ts.

Your sources are your Sherpas.

Your editor is your priest.

Honesty is not a tactic.

You still want this job?

It's your money.

I'm Daniel Molloy.

This is my--
The Russian backed

separatists have been
waging guerrilla warfare

- since 2014.
- Can he make his fantasy

a reality?

Walker at
the top of the key.

Pick and roll from Jones.
Walker drives and finishes.

With a tough left hand. That's
seven straight for Walker...

Yeah. Hey, doc. Yeah.
Thanks for getting back to me.

I, uh...
Yes, that's right. I have--

I have an appointment scheduled
for later in the week,

but the-- the thing
I'm trying to figure out is,

what's the deal
with this sub-variant business?

I mean, is that more contagious?

Is it...

Uh-huh.

Yeah, 'cause, I mean,
there's no reason to get more...

Okay. So you think--
Yeah.

I mean, that's what
I'm thinking.

Why get any closer
to the bug than I--

than I need to?

Uh-huh. Uh-huh.

Uh-huh.

I gotta call you back.

Um, first question.

You weren't always
a vampire, were you?

No.

I was a 33-year-old man
when I became a vampire.

How did it come about?

There's a simple
answer to that.

I don't believe I wanna
give simple answers.

I think I want to tell
the real stor--

"Dear Mr. Molloy.

I hope this letter finds
you safe and thriving,

if such a thing were
a possibility

in this bleak hour.

I've been following your career
with some interest

since our last meeting.

Please allow me to congratulate
you on all your successes,

those professional and those
personally redemptive.

The passage of time
and the frailties

that accompany it have
provided me perspective.

And I suspect the same
might be for you, as well.

I'm hoping health and pride

won't deter you
from the following proposal.

In a week's time,
in a setting of my choosing,

we revisit the project

boyish youth
prevented us from finishing.

49 years
and thousands of miles

removed from the room
we shared in San Francisco,

I offer, for your
journalistic pleasures,

my full attention
and my life story.

All affinities,

Louis de Pointe du Lac."

I told my editor I was
meeting with the, uh,

most dangerous man in the world.

Gave him two choices.

He came back with
"Bezos. Putin."

He thinks I'm in Praskovéyevka.

You've grown old, Daniel.

Yeah, well, mortality
beats a heavy drum.

I wasn't sure
you'd remembered me.

Your book makes no mention
of our prior meeting.

Gritty memoir, drugs, humiliation,

self-pity kind of thing.

Mention vampires
in one of those,

readers tend to
call bullshit.

You've had some
health concerns of late.

Whole planet's having
a moment, I'd say.

You have
Parkinson's disease, Daniel.

Yeah.

And you've got your own hangar
at the airport,

privileges on
the Royal Meydan Bridge,

and zero presence online.

Have I hit a nerve?

I know the Emirates
are big on privacy,

and that's probably
important to you,

but I gotta ask,
what does it cost,

this haven't-aged-in-
half-a-century,

killer-views-in-
all-directions anonymity?

Quite a lot.

Only my family and my doctor
know I'm sick.

I don't dig
the one-way hack.

Yeah?

And here's another question.

That's the sun
out there.

Where's your coffin?

You're standing in it.

I have to be very careful
whom I let in.

Yeah, well, things didn't
end well the last time,

so forgive me
if I'm a little nervous.

This, after all I've told
you, is what you ask for, boy?!

Yeah, well, you don't
know what human life is like.

I mean, you've forgotten, man.

I mean, you don't even
understand the meaning

of your own story!

No! Hey, stop!

You were disrespectful.

I was high.

You were not worthy
of my story then.

Maybe your story
wasn't worth telling.

You've got the tapes.
Hire a transcriber.

I don't do puff
portraiture anymore.

And yet,
you got on a plane,

with an auto-immune disease,
in the middle of a pandemic.

Alright.

That's my voice,
but I don't remember it.

I ask all
the wrong questions.

- Yes.
- There's contradictions

in your story I never
follow up on.

Yes.

The few good ones I do
manage to get out,

you steamroll over them.

It's not an interview.
It's a...

It's a fever dream
told to an idiot.

Yes.

And you?

Why again?
What's changed?

The world, circumstances.

Me, I've changed.

And I, too,
find the tapes lacking.

So...

a do-over.

Truth and reconciliation.

I ask the questions.
You answer the questions.

Anything that can't be verified,
I send to my researcher.

- No third parties.
- I write it.

You get to see it
before it goes to print.

I get the final edit.

That is not the agreement
you signed.

And one more thing.

I do my best work
one-on-one.

Would you see to
Mr. Molloy's room?

Have Chef prepare
a meal for him.

I think it best we start
when our boy's had a rest.

I am not your
fucking boy.

I'm an old man with all
the triggers that come with it.

And I'm ready.

So let's do this.

I'm Daniel Molloy.

It is 10:08 in the morning
on June 14, 2022.

I'm in the penthouse apartment
of the Al Sharaf Towers

across from Mister...

Louis de Pointe du Lac.

So...

Mr. du Lac...

how long have you
been dead?

The year was 1910,
the fall of the fifth year

of my father's passing
and the fall of the fifth year

as the executor in charge

of the de Pointe du Lac
family trust.

The eldest son. The favored son.

And a sizable trust
to oversee as a consequence.

Capital accrued from
plantations of sugar

and the blood of men who looked
like my great grandfather

but did not have
his standing.

But then decades of Jim Crow

and the electrified light
of a new century

had vanquished any idea
of a free man of color.

So it followed the only place
in New Orleans

a gentleman of my complexion
could do a righteous business

was a neighborhood
called Storyville.

That was the old
red-light district. Yeah?

20 blocks of drinking, gambling,

and gluttonous whoring.

Okay, so as
the honorable executor

of the family's estate,
you were in

what business exactly,
Mr. du Lac?

You could say I managed
and operated

a diversified portfolio
of enterprises.

You were a pimp.

The product was desire,

and it came in as many forms
as there were ways to move it.

Of the two dozen sporting
houses on Liberty Street,

I owned eight of them.

Modest in proportion
to the venues on Basin Street.

What they lacked in size
and elegance,

they more than made up for
in efficiency and reputation.

Mr. du Lac.

Finn.

You hiding any bills in them
fat fucking rolls of yours?

I was, admittedly,
a rougher thing then.

Mr. du Lac!

You had to be
if you wanted to survive.

You couldn't look weak
on Liberty Street.

Damn, Doris,
you gon' lose your

good leg runnin'
out like that.

Mr. du Lac, sir,
we got bad trouble.

I apologize. I apologize.
I apologize.

I was only tryna
show you my love.

Fuck you.

What happened?

- The cunny hit me!
- Oh, I'm a cunny now?

A minute ago,
I was his love.

- Alderman Fenwick?
- Hmm?

You hit an alderman?
God damn it, Bricks.

He stuck it
in my shitbox.

I did no such thing.

Gave him a chance to pull out,
and he kept on fucking,

so I gave him a little squirt
of my catfish dinner

for going there.

Don't believe me,
check his dick.

Who the fuck you talkin' to?
I ain't checkin' no man's dick.

- Oh.
- Oh, goddamn.

Hell, I mighta even said yes
if you would just ask.

But I don't care who you is,
you put a dick in an asshole

without asking,
that's against Jesus.

Fuck you.

What y'all laughin' at?

Someone go and fetch
Doc Johnson.

And you, get some
clean water and a towel.

Get your hands
off me, nigger!

You gon' make me regret
my support, you repeat yourself,

Mr. Fenwick.

Louis de Pointe du Lac, sir.

Oh, Pointe du Lac.

Oh, forgive me. I...

It was...
There's so much wine.

Don't worry none.
We'll keep this here 'tween us.

Someone got the good doc
on the way.

Oh, Miss Williams.
Isn't she a vision?

I ain't
cleanin' his dick.

Oh, Jesus, Mary.

Got a situation
here, Finn.

Yeah, well, you got another one
outside 122.

Man acting the maggot,
driving away business.

Ain't that what
I pay you for?

It's a citizen priest.

Do you not realize,
sister, your body

is part of
Christ the Lord?

- Second time this month.
- When you take that body

and enjoin in harlotry
you are defiling the Lord.

And I could give two moons if
he's your brother, Mr. du Lac.

I'm gonna knock his skull
in the Pontchartrain!

...you deny
your victory with Christ.

He shall come again to judge
the living and the dead.

And who has come and gone
will rise again

and throw their bodies
into everlasting fire.

Go on home.
Tell Mama not to wait up.

There's blood
on your shirt.

What wickedness
is it tonight?

You're not helping
me here, Paul.

Oh, but I am.

The Lord told me
to come, Louis.

In my head, like a family
of birds, many voices,

but also one voice--

Saying it
a second time.

Listen to me, please.

I'm having
a fucking night, okay?

I can't have it with
you foo--

Get on home, else I'll bleed
ya like a kochon, bruh.

Did I want to pull
a knife on my brother?

No.

But as I alluded to before,

you couldn't look weak
on Liberty.

You never knew
who was watching.

He pulled his knife
on me, Mamaw.

You were disrupting
mother's business interests.

D'you hear that, Mother?
He's made you a madam.

Oh, Paul.

Profiting from
the damnation of souls.

Let's not fuss
on the particulars.

Mornings with my family
followed a pattern that year.

My mother consumed herself
with preparations

for my sister's wedding,

while Paul confused
the dining table

with a pulpit none of us
would recognize.

We should tithe that o'er
to St. Augustine's

'fore this house
falls in on us.

This is just a temporary situation

until Louis can find us
a more respectable business.

Daddy was here,
we'd still be in sugar cane.

Daddy was alive,
you'd still be locked up

in that
hospital in Jackson.

Louis, let's not
have that talk.

A month from my wedding day,
and what do I dream about?

Dancing in
my husband's arms?

Children running
in the yard? No.

I dream of what a quiet
breakfast might look like.

Your man Levi's a Baptist,
no respect for the Holy Mother.

Paul!

He's gon' make your daughter
jump a broom.

- I'm sitting right here.
- Plenty of brooms

down the street at
the Mayfair sisters' home.

He's calling me
a witch, Mamaw.

Paul de Pointe du Lac,
you walk that back.

Your brother sounds
like a pain in the ass.

Fragile,
stubborn, indulged.

I'd promised our father
on his death bed

to look after him.

But when Paul's mind was right,
he was no burden.

Point of fact, I loved him
more than anyone on earth.

And our daily stroll
to St. Augustine

was the measure
of a good day started.

- Good morning, Paul.
- Good for you maybe.

Morning, Louis.

Pew's got a good shine.

If it wasn't beneath you,
I'd send shoes your way.

Nothing is
beneath me, son.

I'm ready, Father.

I wanted to thank the family for
last Sunday's donation.

Baby-sitting money.
Church calms him down some.

Well, we're always
here for him.

And the money goes a good way
towards the renovation.

I want Father Matthias.
Thank you.

You ain't got nothing
to confess to anyhow.

Wasting
a good man's time.

Be right there, Paul.

I haven't seen you in
confession of late, Louis.

You know, you can always come
here if you're in need, son.

My business and my raised
religion were at odds,

and the, uh...

latencies within me, well,
I beat those back

with a lie I told myself
about myself--

that I was a red-blooded son
of the South,

seeking ass before absolution.

And you maintained
this delusion how exactly?

A particular woman who
worked for the competition.

As if rickety shacks
were a competition

for Tom Anderson's
Fairplay Saloon.

Ah, Louis du Lac.
The night begins.

Miss Carroll, Miss Lily
working tonight?

Miss Lily's
on the terrace.

It was a palace of opulence
and splendor.

A Sazerac,
Mr. du Lac?

That'll do fine,
Miss Carroll.

And catered to
an almost exclusively

Caucasian clientele,

which helped me
separate the locals

from those visiting
from other southern states.

Shakin' the money tree
tonight I see,

Mr. Anderson, sir.

Can't see the dirt
for the dollars fallin'.

Private game on Friday
if your datebook is free, Louis.

Can do, Mr. Anderson.
Can do.

I don't know much
what you're saying.

But it sure sounds nice.

"Only the impossible
can do the impossible."

Miss Lily.

Bonsoir, monsieur.
Do you speak French?

We speak all sorts of tongues
in New Orleans.

It's a hard table to get.
How'd you manage it?

How'd you manage to get yourself
through the front door?

Excuse me?

I mean that
as a compliment,

a man of your race
to have privileges here.

Louis has a small empire
of his own down the street.

It gives him privileges.

Somethin' funny
about that?

Your name is Louis.

Of course it's Louis.

I didn't get
your name, fella.

I know who you are, sir.

You're the man who made me
buy a townhouse in the quarter.

I owe you everything.
Please, join us.

I know sometimes
men of my race,

we all look alike
to you people.

But I didn't sell you
no townhouse.

Louis, have a seat.

Let me explain.

New to the...
the New World, I am.

That explains
the clothes.

A 19th-century man
at heart, yes,

making his, uh, trans-Atlantic
journey by ship,

planning very carefully
on settling myself upriver.

The Sazerac, sir.

Put that on my account,
thank you.

And two more for us.

And another round for the
musicians, whatever they want.

Yes, sir.

Oh, where was I?

On a boat.

So, I'm out on

the Crescent coast,
floating past your village,

when I hear music playing,

and the shadows of men and women
dancing by the water's edge.

I disembarked for the music,
but then there was the food.

What's been your favorite
this year, Mr. Lioncourt?

A favorite?

Mm.
Mm.

She puts a pistol
to my head.

I couldn't believe it.

Staring me down as his hands

went wandering the seams
of Miss Lily's dress.

I wanted to take the end
of my cane

and slit his throat
with it.

Why didn't you?

I couldn't move.

My body was seized
with weakness.

His gaze tied a string
around my lungs,

and I found
myself immobilized.

And the women,
all shades of skin--

white, Black, cinnamon.

I've emptied a bank vault
sampling, I must say.

But it was not until
a few nights later...

...that I said to myself...

"Lestat, unpack your trunks.

You're home."

What did he
say just now?

A little more
than he should of.

I had planned to make a new life
for myself in St. Louis.

That was to be my destiny.

And now I know I was right.

Only it turns out the saint
is not a city,

but a handsome man with
a most agreeable disposition.

You're his destiny, Louis.

Destined to be
very good friends.

The Orient room is available
for the next few hours,

Miss Lily.

The gentlemen
are swappin'

andouille sausage recipes,
Miss Carroll.

Hmm.

The Orient room
is yours, monsieur.

Please get my friend
here anything he wants.

Wonderful to meet you.

I do hope I run into
you again, Louis.

Emasculation and
admiration in equal measure.

I wanted to murder the man,
and I wanted to be the man.

I had come there for Lily.

But I left thinking of only him.

Come now.

Who the devil...

Our friends in
the police tell me there's

an outbreak of fever in town.

It's unfortunates
living near the wharf, mostly.

If you find yourself
riverside of Decatur...

...you have only yourself

to blame, I say.

Agreed.

Still, very peculiar,
they say.

Each one the same--
small wounds to the body,

and upon examination,
entirely devoid of blood.

It is their theory
some new kind of rat

has come ashore.

Of the six-foot variety.

We call those bureaucrats
in France.

Gentlemen, well, you all know
Louis du Lac.

Louis, let me introduce
you to Mr. Lestat de Lioncourt.

We met already,
Mr. Anderson, sir.

In front of a florist,
wasn't it?

We both wanted
the last bouquet of lilies.

Aren't you gonna ask the
alderman how his head is, Louis?

Now, why would I do that,
Mr. Anderson, sir?

You see, Mr. Fenwick,
just as I told you,

a most discreet Negro.

Would that his doctor
had the same standards.

Gentlemen,
show your cards.

Hoo!
Mr. Lioncourt,

your hand
is incomprehensible.

Oh, yes.

I'm terrible at cards.

Did I not mention
that to everyone?

Would you mind getting me
some more of these money chips?

Louis, did you know
that Alderman Fenwick here

recently purchased
both the title and deed

to the Horton rooming house
on Villere Street?

Yeah, Mr. Anderson believes
it could make

a fine sportin' house.

I recommended the alderman
find a managing partner

before he commits his money.

I recommended he
think of you, Louis.

Very kind of you,
Mr. Anderson, sir.

What do you think
of the location?

It ain't Basin Street.

But throw enough Edison bulbs
on the facade,

get a good margin
on the alcohol,

no-nonsense madam
to keep the girls clean,

I reckon a man
could make a decent sum.

Yes, sir,
Mr. Fenwick, sir.

I said you'd do it
for 10 percent.

A-all respects,
Mr. Anderson,

but you proposing 10 percent
for all the work?

15%?

There's capital investment,

and there's labor.

Both has its seat
at the table.

Wouldn't you say,
Mr. Lestat?

Well, I can only speak
of my experience,

which is, I'm sure,
different in my country.

Par exemple, you fine gentlemen
have heard of the success story

that is Le Bon Marché, shopping
experience like no other.

Aristide Boucicaut invests
in a new vision...

These men look down on you.

I have to say, I find it
appalling how men like yourself

are treated
in this country of yours.

It is undeniable.
I came to my wealth honestly

and at great sacrifice,
I might add.

However, it was not
the sacrifice of many.

I had no partners
in my various...

- 10 percent.
- The financial risks...

15 percent.

Do you not know your value?

Do you suffer these indignities
for some larger purpose?

And do you think two pair
will win the hour?

I believe there is great
opportunity in this city,

but to seize it, I'll need
protection from the wolves.

And that's all to say,

forgive me,
Mr. de Pointe du Lac,

for my bias, but where
is the business

if there is no capital?

- It does not exist. No?
- Alright, boys.

Show 'em.

Ooh.

Full boat, Mr. du Lac.

Got you beat, Tom.

He wouldn't tell me
how he did it,

his trick to make
the world stop.

"In time, Louis.
Patience, Louis.

Ask me next week, Louis."

You started hanging out?

He was
in love with my city

and wanted to know
everything he could about it.

So you played docent
to the gentleman vampire?

He had not revealed
his vampire nature yet.

I'm assuming you
only met at night.

It's New Orleans.

Days are for sleeping off
the previous evening's damage.

Perfect cover
for a vampire.

Racing ahead again,
Mr. Molloy.

Let the tale seduce you.

Just as I was seduced.

Money would arrive,
wired from France,

and the shopkeepers, who would
usually close at sunset,

were very happy
to accommodate him.

He ransacked the import houses
to furnish his town house,

ravaged the booksellers of
their oldest volumes

for a library,

and, with encouragement,
updated his wardrobe

to the fashion trends
of the season.

It was a cold winter that year,
and Lestat was my coal fire.

And I found myself
for the very first time,

to anyone other than Paul,

confiding my struggles
to another man.

I was being hunted.

And I was completely unaware
it was happening.

I'm switchin' rooms.

I don't need to hear you
and your good man making noise.

You'd have to
be home to hear that.

- I come home nights.
- You come home some nights.

Out cattin' with some
white man, I hear.

He ain't white,
he French.

Oh. That's a new kind
of white, is it?

French white?

He different.

Invite him
over for dinner.

Mother loves European.

I'm gon' tell Levi you fishin'
for a richer man.

Don't.
Don't deny your sister.

I wanna meet
this French white.

I'm just trying to give you
the word of the Lord.

Understa-- Yes. Yes. No.
That is never my--

Paul crawled up
on my bed last night.

Wept for good near
an hour.

He ain't takin' it,
you gettin' married.

Levi told me of a place
over in Gretna,

takes in men like Paul.

It's not some
crazy person's house like--

How'd that work
last time, huh?

He come out
worse than before.

Gretna.
It ain't happenin'.

He died on
the cross for you.

Yes... you.

I worry.

I worry so much--Worry about your own life.

Worry about
being a bride.

Worry about
what you gon' wear

in London, in Paris, Florence.

Now, y'all gon' be in
steerage outta New York,

but once you
get to Europe,

it's first class on boats,
trains, and hotel rooms.

What did you go and do?

You should put the band
by the deck

and the food
by the fountain.

Mamaw!

I'm goin' 'round the world!

I can't thank you enough,
Mama du Lac.

I never been east of Alabama,

and now I'm going
to see the pyramids.

Oh, I think every
young family deserves

a little adventure.

Wouldn't you say,
Monsieur Lioncourt?

Oui, Madame.

My mother, she gave me
every advantage in life

as a young man.

My first Mastiff,
first flintlock rifle,

the means
to make my way to Paris.

It was Louis that purchased
your holiday, Levi.

It's Louis who controls
the money.

Pay no mind, Levi.

And I don't know
who gave you the right

to call our mother
your mother.

She's not your mother yet

and will never be
your scientific mother.

Paul.

I do love this bouillabaisse.

Wha?

Down here,
we call it gumbo.

We had a gumbo the other night,
didn't we, Louis?

Uh, right after the opera.

Oh, we've got Louis
to an opera.

"Iolanta."'Bout some blind princess,

didn't know
she was a princess.

Stomach got grumbling,
left half way through.

And what exactly is the nature
of your relationship with

my brother,
Monsieur Lioncourt?

Your brother and I
have been discussing

a few investment opportunities.

The birds asked me
to ask you.

I wasn't being rude.

Monsieur Freniere,
would you tell me

how you came to propose
to this delightsome young woman?

Oh, that's
a good yarn.

Are you one with Christ,
Mr. Lioncourt?

How 'bout you shut
your damn mouth?

- Louis.
- That's alright,

Louis, Madame,
the birds speak for him.

I came to know Christ
in a monastery.

I wanted
to be a priest.

Just like you, Paul.

And under the guidance
and discipline of the monks

who lived there, I came
to memorize both the testaments,

the writings of Assisi,

Aquinas, Erasmus,
all the saints and scholars.

My father, a vulgar man, did not
think much of this education,

and so he and my brothers
conspired to pull me out,

lock me away,
where, between beatings,

starvations,
and the failure of Christ

to intercede the beatings
and starvations,

I slowly forgot all about
the testaments, Assisi,

Aquinas, Erasmus, all of it.

- Stop.
- And so to answer

your boring question,
there is an ocean

- between Christ and myself.
- Stop!

Don't do that shit here!

Not with my family.

You understand?

I am cursed with my father's
temper at times,

and the rudeness is all mine.

That's alright.

It's the humidity.
It does that sometimes.

Why don't we have
some ice wine?

And Levi here can tell us
all again

how he won my
joychild's heart.

I fear your family has taken
a permanent offense at me.

When Paul
ain't pickin' at his plate,

he pickin' a fight.

If I had your tricks,
I'd have done the same.

You must envy him.

The boy thinks God speaks to him
through birds in his head.

How you figure envy?

The liberty he has
with his thoughts.

However misshapen
they may be,

your brother has no shame
in sharing them.

You sayin' I got shame?

The lie you told about leaving
the opera house early.

You were near weeping
when the curtain fell.

Why hide that
from your family?

Don't everybody need
to know what I do.

Dishonesty
breeds dishonesty.

They sit
in judgment.

Paul is the only one
to say it to my face,

but I know my ma
and Grace think it, too.

My daddy ran our sugar business
into a swamp.

When he passed,
we was four months--

four months from going bankrupt
if I didn't do something.

You don't need to defend
yourself to me, Louis.

I know what you go through
to keep your family

ignorant in their comfort.

It ain't easy,
the work I do.

Nothing but broken souls
around me,

and the ones that
ain't broke are greedy.

Bone-tired.

Drink up, my good man.

The Earth's
a savage garden.

You did good gettin' off
that boat when you did.

St. Louis is
dull as dishwater.

Yes, I feel
quite at home here.

Shall we have a nightcap?

Um...

Probably had
enough for tonight.

Gotta make my rounds
back on Liberty.

You must, Louis.

I bought you a gift.

A gift?

A flower.

That's a nice music box
you got there.

It's one of the few things
I brought with me

from the continent.

What's that
lil' song playin'?

Do you like it?

I composed it for a young
violinist I once knew,

a boy of infinite beauty
and sensitivity.

I believe that is for
the lips, Miss Lily.

I don't like the way mine
look plain.

And Mr. du Lac
don't mind when I do it.

Mm-hmm.

A pair of
misfit beauties.

I can see why you both run
to the other.

Miss Carroll know
you're here, Lily?

I can assure you,
the Fairplay has been

handsomely compensated
for the evening.

Sent a two-horse carriage
to pick me up.

Felt like the queen
of the quarter.

I told Mr. Lioncourt,
you and me usually just talk.

And why is that, Louis?

What kind of a man
wastes this waist with words?

A beautiful man.

There's nothing to be
nervous about.

The curtains are closed,
the servants sent home.

Even the planets and stars
are blindfolded.

That's your thing, then?
You like to watch?

I've been watching you
for some time now, Louis.

From river to lake,
lake back to river,

looking for
my companion heart.

How you do that?

Do what?

Do what?

Get in my head
like that.

Such a pretty head.

That's fine, love.

Ah. Ah.

It bears repeating,
I did not consider myself

a homosexual man at the time.

I mean,
I had had experiences.

Guilt, shame,

floating-on-a-sea-of-vodka
type encounters.

Obviously, I've come
to embrace my sexuality.

Course, you know that.

We met at a gay bar,
didn't we, Daniel?

It was a good place
to score.

I did what I had to.

You've been married?

Twice.

But we're not here for me,
are we?

When you were using drugs,
Mr. Molloy,

do you remember
the best you ever had?

Berkeley, 1978.

Some Mexican black tar that
Carly and Pedro were slinging.

So imagine that

flowing inside
your veins again.

Now multiply it by miles,

to the rings of Saturn
and back.

He had taken what
he called "un petit coup"--

the little drink.

Not enough to kill me,

but just enough
to keep him fit.

It takes an enormous amount
of restraint for us,

the little drink.

For a human, experiencing it
for the first time,

it was...

unsettling.

And not for the physical toll
on my body,

which was significant,

but for the feelings of
intimacy it awoke within me.

I had never allowed myself

to feel emotionally close
to anyone,

much less a man.

I had no room for feelings
like these in my life.

You could be a lot of things
in New Orleans,

but an openly gay Negro man
was not one of 'em.

I vowed never to return again.

I shut that night
out of my mind

and turned my attentions back
to life as it was before.

One, two, three, jump!

Hold still now.

We are missing
my father today.

He's supposed to dance with me
to start the night off.

I'm trying not to cry now.

And I thought
the best way to honor Daddy

would be to make my brothers
do the work.

Mm!

Mm-hmm.

Half of y'all
don't know this,

but these no-good boys used to
shuffle for pennies on Sunday.

Called themselves
"The ABCDEFGs".

Remember that, Father Matthias?

Oh, yes.
ABCDE--

"Alter Boys Come Dancing

Every day For God.""For God."

That's right!

Father Matthias: I remember
their collection hat

didn't always make it
to the collection plate.

That's right.

Paul, Louis?

- Oh, come on, now.
- Please!

Hey, now.
Come on, please!

It's for me

- on my wedding day.
- Come on, brother.

Alright!

Shoes are tight.

Oh, the shoes is fine.
It's the feet that's fat.

Hey, what kinda
rhythm you want, boss?

Just play it loud
so they can't hear our feet.

Alright.
What you remember?

Um...

Hey, come on.

- Hey!
- Go ahead now!

- Whoo!
- Hey! Hey!

You still got it!

Alright! Okay!

They still got it!

- Oh!
- Yeah, Louis!

Okay. You ain't gon' do it.
You ain't gon' do it.

That's right!

Amazing.

We gonna miss it.

Quit talkin'.
I have to concentrate.

It's them three pieces of
checkered cake holding you back.

Five pieces of checkered cake,
the Pompano fillet,

three boudins,
dirty rice,

beef, green beans,
five, six wines.

Eat anything else,

the buttons on your vest
gon' pop off

like cannon balls,

take down
the neighborhood.

9,517.

That's how many days
we've been in his house.

You do that math
all by yourself?

You remember the day
I got taller than you?

Always bringin'
that up.

Shot up like
a Nuttall oak.

Daddy said I was gon' look down
on you for the rest of days.

Yeah, yeah.

Half an inch.

That was a good month,
that month.

I think you should
get married next.

Do you now?

And you should
marry Hazel.

Hazel? Who that?

The one you were dancing
too close with.

You dance that close,
you ought to be married.

I didn't catch her name.

Well, it's Hazel.

You still doing business
with that man Lestat?

Nah.
Didn't work out.

That's good.

'Cause he the Devil.

You think everyone's
the Devil.

He's here to take souls.
He told me so.

He spoke to me
without moving his lips.

He got tricks is all.

Mortal sins must be
confessed, Louis.

Ain't never gon' see him
again, Paul.

You think Levi
loves her enough?

You know, Grace needs
a lot of love.

I do.

Do you think he's givin' her
everything he's got inside him?

Mm-hmm.

Mother made a good party
for Grace.

Mm-hmm, yeah.

Yeah, they gon' talk
about this one for years.

Yeah.

I love you, Louis.

And I love you, too,
baby brother.

I ate too much
checkered cake.

Paul.

Paul!

Paul!

- Oh, my lord!
- Paul!

That was the last sunrise
I ever saw.

Perhaps the kindest thing
the dark gift has given me.

I don't miss the sun,

the reminders it carries.

I have seen death
over and over

and over and over again.

It's boring.

That'll make
a great blurb.

The diagnosis
you received, Daniel,

it winds your clock.

This virus has turned
the world sideways.

I get it.

I'm gonna die.

They're gonna die.

But not the vampire.

The vampire is bored.

The human was destroyed.

Utterly destroyed.

Father Matthias:
I was at the funeral home.

Everything is going
as it should.

Good men there.
Promised me that--

You musta said something
to him, Louis.

You musta said
something to him

to make him do that
to himself.

Paul slipped and fell, Florence.

I don't think this is something
you want to pursue.

He was a fragile boy.

He always was.

And you, you always had
to have the last word,

didn't you, Louis?

You always had to take him
down a peg.

Mamaw.

What did you say
to him?

Why was you
even up there?

Watchin' the sun
come up, Mama.

You don't get past the gates
iffen you kill yourself.

Don't you know that?

Paul gone down
the other way.

Paul's in Hell
because of you.

Storyville
lowered their hats,

gave their propers,
because it was custom.

But if you look past
those lined up on the sidewalk,

you'd see the bars
hadn't stopped serving,

the whores
hadn't stopped whoring.

What was Paul's life
worth to them?

What was my life worth?

The big man of Liberty Street,

trailing the satin-lined
evidence of his failure.

Easy prey for
the discerning predator.

An elegant coffin. Would you
tell me where you purchased--

Move on.

I wait on my balcony
every night.

- You've been avoiding me.
- I have been occupied.

Miss Lily proved herself
a poor substitute.

And I don't take kindly
to being avoided.

It's my brother's
funeral!

Believe me
when I tell you,

your brother longed
for that flagstone.

What'd you say to me?!

I got it, boss.
Keep walking.

Lestat's ambush
had disoriented me.

The sermon that was given,
I could not hear.

And when the gathering
cut loose the body,

I could not join
the transformation

of those in attendance.

He would not let me.

Come to me.

Come to me.

No.

Walk you home, Mama?

No, thank you.

Levi,
do you mind?

Of course,
Mama Du Lac.

She didn't mean
nothin' by it.

Oh, but she did now.

She just needs
to put it somewhere.

Don't let it inside.

See you
back at the wake?

Come to me.

I did not go to the wake.

I did not want to face
my mother's blame...

...my sister's pity.

I wanted to grieve alone.

But he would not allow it.

Come to me, Louis.

Come to me.

Hello, handsome.

Sazerac.

My heart broke when I heard of
your brother's passing.

Miss Lily.

Oh, my dear.

I don't care if she busy
with someone.

I'll pay more.

'Cause I like Miss Lily,
and I need Miss Lily.

Miss Lily died,
Mr. du Lac.

Two weeks ago.

Police found her
under the docks.

Said she contracted the fevers
that's been going around.

Blood went and dried up
inside her.

Viens à moi.

Father!
Father Matthias!

Help me!

Help me, please.
He's in my head, Father.

The Devil
is in New Orleans.

Father Matthias:
Calm down, son.

Catch your breath.

Bless me, Father,
f-for I have sinned.

Grievously sinned.

Sign of the cross, son.

I'm a drunk, Lord.

I'm a liar.

I am a thief, Lord.

I profit off the miseries
of other men,

and I do it easy.

Drugs, liquor, women.

I-I-I-I lure them in
and grab what they got, Lord.

I take daughters
with no homes

and I-I put 'em out
on the street, Lord,

and I lie to myself,
saying I-I'm giving them a roof

and food and dollar bills
in they pocket,

but I look in the mirror,
I know what I am--

the big man
in the big house,

stuffing cotton in my ears
so I can't hear their cries.

And Lord, I dragged my family
into this mess with me.

I shame my father.

I f-- I failed
my brother.

No, son.

I lost my mother
and sister,

and rather than fix it
like a man should, Lord,

I run like a coward.

I run to the bottle.

I run to the grift.

I run to bad beds.

I-I laid down
with a man.

I laid down
with the Devil.

And he has roots in me,

all his spindly roots
in me,

and I can't think
nothin' anymore

but his voice
and his words!

Please, help me!

I am weak!

I wanna die!

Oh!

No!

Do you think God
heard you, Louis,

in that tawdry box,
through this pig vessel,

this-- this charlatan?

Do you not see
how unworthy he is?

How can you humiliate yourself
like this?!

You killed Lily.

Cut short that magnificent
life she was living.

What a tragedy.

Ain't no fever out there.
That's you.

You bringin' the death
to town.

I give death
to those deserving.

I'm not the Devil.

You were wrong
about that.

But I can give you death.

This primitive country
has picked you clean.

It has shackled you
in permanent exile.

Every room you enter,

every hat you are forced
to wear--

the stern landlord,
the deferential businessman,

the loyal son--

all these roles
you conform to

and none of them
your true nature.

What rage you must feel
as you choke on your sorrow.

The first time
I laid eyes on you,

your beautiful face,

I saw that sorrow.

I did not know
how it got there

or why
it was so voluminous.

I can take away
that sorrow, Louis.

I can give you that death

you begged your feeble,
blind, degenerate,

nonexistent god for.

But I can do it...

joyfully.

I can swap
this life of shame,

swap it out
for a dark gift

and a power you can't
begin to imagine.

You just have to
ask me for it.

You just have to nod
your beautiful head...

and say yes.

I love you, Louis.

You are loved.

I send my love to you,

and you send it back
round to me.

And this circle,

this home we barely had
a glimpse of...

...know it frightens me
as much as it does you.

It is difficult to explain

how his words disarmed me,

how efficiently succinct
and impenetrable

his argument was.

All my conceptions,

even my guilt
and my wish to die

seemed utterly unimportant,

and I completely forgot myself

and the barbaric scene
that surrounded me.

For the first time in my life,
I was seen.

Be my companion, Louis.

Be all the beautiful
things you are,

and be them
without apology.

For all eternity.

He drained me
to the very threshold of death.

Mm.

The blood, it came
as a dull roar at first.

And then a pounding,

like the pounding of a drum,

growing louder and louder,

as if some enormous creature

were coming through a dark
and alien forest.

A huge drum.

And then, there came
a pounding of another drum,

as if another giant
were coming behind him,

each giant intent
on his own drum,

giving no notice
to the rhythm of the other.

Throbbing in my lips, fingers,
and flesh of my temple.

Above all, in my veins.

Drum, and then the other drum.

I opened my eyes.

And it was then that I realized

the drum was my heart,

and the other drum
had been his.

I saw him sitting
a length away from me.

Radiant.

And we sat there
for some time.

In throes
of increasing wonder.

The end.

The beginning.