Original subtitles

Why, hello. My name is Eric Jonrosh.

Tonight you will see the fourth installment

of what promises to be the best half hour of your life.

It is my masterpiece...

The Spoils of Babylon.

It's nothing short of a masterpiece.

I-- Listen, I can't say that.

I can't say "masterpiece" twice like that.

Any writer worth his salt knows you can't

bunch the same word up against the same word like that.

It's not done.

Could someone please get me a glass of wine?

And I'm not saying "masterpiece" twice like that.

Why, thank you, Doris.

You're a breath of fresh air I would like to kiss...

Tonight is the fourth episode of The Spoils of Babylon.

Cynthia Morehouse and Devon are deeply in love.

But because they are brother and sister,

they cannot in good conscience stay together.

Let's watch how it plays.

And now, episode four...

of The Spoils of Babylon.

I've been treated like a heap of garbage

from the moment I've set foot on here.

No one even remembers my name.

They keep calling me Derek.

One guy called me Lou.

Previously on the Spoils of Babylon...

(gunshots and screaming)

My name is Devon Morehouse.

My story is an epic one.

Devon, you haven't asked me to dance all night.

I want to introduce you to the new Mrs. Devon Morehouse,

Lady Anne York.

Devon will be mine,

and not as my brother,

but as my lover.

(screams)

Lady Anne! My love, she's gone.

You keep the child.

- What? - You raise her.

I kicked heroin.

I can't kick you.

I'm in love with my s-- I mean, Cynthia.

- And she's in love with me. - I forbid it.

It looks like a carburetor.

It will be our gift to mankind.

I'm dying, Devon. Mama!

No!

This is my life, or what remains of it.

Sync & corrections by dwigt www.addic7ed.com

(horn honks)

Cynthia and I shared the responsibility

of running the eighth largest company in the world.

We rarely spoke to each other.

Heartbroken, she married the first man who asked her,

Chet Halner, a rather tepid banker from Memphis.

Three to five months later, they had a child,

A boy named Winston.

I know I've said it before, but...

the boy looks nothing like me. (laughs)

Don't be such a dolt.

He looks just like you, Chet.

We should make another.

I want Winston here to have a--

a little baby sister.

- (chuckles) - Yes, maybe we'll...

try that someday.

We could practice by, uh...

making love, you know?

Oh, Chet! (laughs)

Don't be such a bore.

But many couples make love on a...

(phone rings) semi-regular basis.

Hello? Yes, Dorchester?

What's that?

You say a Seymour Luntz is here to see me?

Oh, well, it's awfully late. Send him away.

What's that?

You say he's looking for Devon?

Oh. Um...

You know what? You can send him up.

All right. Thank you.

Seymour Luntz.

Do you know him?

Um, no, never heard of him.

So... Mr. Luntz, what can I do for you?

Well, I'm not sure, ma'am.

I was really looking for your brother Devon.

Is it a personal matter?

Well, not really. It's just your--

your father and Devon paid me the money.

Uh, paid you for what?

(ethereal chanting)

What is it?

It's a water-powered carburetor, ma'am.

This little device gonna change the world.

Oh, I'm sure it is, and I'm only sorry my father

didn't get to see it.

Good night, Mr. Lutz.

It's Luntz.

- Hmm? Oh, thank you. - Well, good night, ma'am.

Well, cars will get 100...

200 miles a gallon with this thing.

Did you say 200 miles per gallon?

Yes, ma'am.

Have you told anybody else about this, um, carburetor?

No, ma'am, just your father and your brother, ma'am.

My father and my brother. I see.

Yes, they would have liked this very much.

They would have ruined Morehouse Conglomerated

for this stupid invention.

They saw a world without oil.

The fools!

No, Jonas Morehouse, you can ruin my life,

you can take the only love I ever had and crush it,

but you won't take my riches.

I'm in the driver's seat now.

And I shall have my revenge on you!

(lounge music)

Ma'am?

So, um-- so you're the only one

who knows how to make this carburetor?

- Yes, ma'am. - You know what I think?

I think you should fly to see Devon

- and give him the good news. - Fly?

You know, I have a couple friends in the military.

They can pick you up and take you to fly on my private plane.

Would you like that?

I never been in a private plane before.

Mm. You like to tinker around, do you?

Yeah, I guess I do.

Is that how you came up with your new carburetor?

No, I told you fellas that Mr. Morehouse

had me working on that. It belongs to him now.

You know for a fact he's never laid eyes on it?

Yes, sir.

Who else did you tell it to, Seymour?

Well, my wife.

(soft music)

Well, I showed it to my brother.

And my uncle Nate.

And there's this guy at the hotel who didn't believe me.

I showed it to my mother.

Okay. Here we are.

I don't see any plane around here.

Well, that's because the plane's not here yet.

- Oh.

Is that a gun? Aah, it's a gun!

(stammers) What the--

(gunshots)

Seymour Luntz?

More like "See less"...

Luntz-es.

He's dead. (chuckles)

(cheerful music)

When are you coming in the water, dad?

Hmm?

You can't just sit here and read all day.

Look at you.

You have turned into quite the little woman

now, haven't you?

I'll be heading off to finishing school soon.

If I go east, I can see Aunt Cynthia and Cousin Winston.

I suppose.

Why don't you want me to see Aunt Cynthia?

Your aunt and I don't see eye to eye on much.

But you still like her, don't you?

Do I like her?

Fly the ocean

In a silver plane

See the jungle

When it's wet with rain

Just remember, darling,

Till you're home again

You didn't answer.

I love her.

Of course I still loved her.

She was an ever present memory.

But she was back east,

ruthlessly expanding the Morehouse empire,

installing her even more ruthless 15-year-old son Winston

as senior vice-president of public affairs.

I filled my days with important work,

hoping in vain I could forget Cynthia.

I turned to research.

I worked out of my underwater oceanographic laboratory

where I could be alone with just one colleague

and three research assistants,

under the sea, away from Cynthia's spell.

Or so I thought.

Thanks to your family's funding,

my dreams of learning more about these fishies

really has come true.

Well... We both share a love of marine life.

Is that all we share, Devon?

Um, I just-- The thing is--

She still has a power over you.

Oh, Dixie, you know me so well.

(sighs)

Maybe we should just go back to work.

Yeah. Of course.

Who knows how long we're gonna have this anyway?

- Why is that? - The letters.

What letters?

Haven't you read the letters from your sister?

She's been writing one every day this week.

Uh, no, I-- (stammers)

- She's gonna shut us down. - What?

(scoffs) I can't--

Th-- I-I own half of Morehouse Conglomerated.

She can't-- She w-- Has she gone nuts?

- (crying) - Oh, no.

(both) No!

(laughter)

She had gone mad.

She was consumed by a reckless ambition for power.

She raised her son Winston to worship at the same altar.

- (laughter) - Oh!

(overlapping shouting)

Oh, get out, get out!

Get away! Oh, oh, get it!

Winston, Winston! Aah, aah!

I decided to pay a visit to my company's headquarters

for the first time in 15 years.

We've simply got to apply pressure to these congressmen

to reconsider the Vietnam question.

Now, gentlemen, we all know that this isn't about communism

or ideals or any other of that nonsense.

What we need are bigger and better military contracts.

My 15-year-old boy is correct.

We are no longer just a petroleum company.

Our weapons and arms divisions

accounted for up to 40% of our profits last year.

Hickory dickory dock.

- My God. - Guess who's here.

Who is this man? Call security!

No, no, no. That's not necessary.

Winston, this is your...

uncle, Devon.

How dare you?

Devon, you've been drinking.

What a fine lot you are.

Morehouse Conglomerated?

Shame on you all.

Devon, please, calm down.

Uh, shutting down my research institute?

Oh, you mean your underwater hangout

where you and your tart can play?

That tart has a name!

Dixie Melonworth. Have some respect.

- She's a person. - She is your lover.

She is a legitimate scientist.

For real, like... Bloop, bloop, bloop.

That institute was a money drain.

Our company has decided to go in some new directions, Devon.

Uh, I think you're forgetting

one small, tiny, lile detail there, sis.

I own half...

(exhales)

of the controlling interest of this company.

- Impossible! - What was that?

My 15-year-old boy is right.

I've been buying shares of the company

and now own 60% of the business.

You are a minority shareholder.

(dramatic chord)

You're not even on the board anymore.

(laughs)

Winston, stop it.

Cynthia... That's not true, is it?

But that research was important. What...

Wh-- How can we expand into offshore drilling

without understanding the impact, Cynthia?

We're doing this for the world.

(somber music)

We didn't see the need anymore.

You have done nothing...

but bring shame...

to the Morehouse name.

My father had only one child.

And how dare you say his name in here?

The only shame in this room belongs to you,

because you... are...

a... bastard!

(dramatic music)

All right.

Well...

You have demolished me.

You... have won.

(exhaling)

(somber music)

Devon...

Devon!

- Mother! - Aah!

- Devon! - Fetch some water!

(lounge music)

I don't know.

Have I done the right thing, taking the company away

from my own brother?

Well, the poet Ovid mused,

"The wrong is merely the tail

"of the same beast as right."

Nonsense. My uncle would have ruined this company

with his research and forward thinking.

Oh, Winston, my dear boy, I hope you're right.

I am.

With Devon out of the way, I--

we have such great plans for Morehouse Conglomerated.

I must regain my strength first.

Winston, I want you to guide this company going forward.

The Vietnam war is on the horizon,

and this country's thirst for oil is growing.

Morehouse must be in the lead!

Don't you fret, mother dear.

I know what to do.

Father...

See to it that she stays in bed.

I'm... concerned about her health.

I'm...

concerned...

about...

her...

health.

Thank you, Winston.

Darling, will you go check on the casserole please?

Of course, my precious flower.

I shall leave Little Women in your safe company.

You're reading it again?

Louisa May is my guide and my compass.

Yes, you've mentioned.

(sighs)

Your sister, that awful woman...

she's tried to destroy you.

I just-- I just don't understand why.

I don't know.

Look at them.

So content.

They hardly realize the danger ahead.

And it's as if...

we'd only just begun to understand the sea

and all its varied creatures.

(sighs)

Now our research is coming

to a dreadful end.

With Winston at the helm,

Morehouse Conglomerated had lost its soul.

And for the moment, I had lost my soul as well.

- Why? - You're hurting me!

Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Dixie.

It's that tyrant, my sister.

She's shutting us down.

You've got to fight her.

How?

You once told me you were a poet.

Well, I...

I mean, I-I dabble in free verse

and every form of poetry that's ever been conceived of,

and I've actually come up with a few new ones myself.

and I do it every day, many hours a day.

It's a discipline for me,

but that was a long time ago.

So with poetry...

you are going to fight your sister

with the power of the word.

Poetry. And novels.

- Yes. - Books about nature.

Yes.

- One-act plays... - Yes.

Children's books, magazine articles.

I could do it.

With my writing, I could crush Cynthia Morehouse

and bring her crawling to me for forgiveness.

(whispering) And the research institute...

It will be saved.

Yes.

But more importantly, I could crush her,

destroy her-- she who has tried to destroy me.

Oh, it's not over yet, Cynthia!

You may oversee the seventh largest company in the world

and have millions of dollars at your disposal,

but now you must face

the wrath of the writer.

With Dr. Melon-cans by my side,

the words came fast.

In 1967, I published Poems for the Forest,

a defiant stance against our industrialized world--

slightly veiled, but it was there.

Several critics, including Meredith Sennheiser, noticed it.

Genius.

It must have cut Cynthia to the bone.

Dixie thought I could be even more pointed,

so I wrote my breakthrough,

Unto the Sea: An Oceanographic Struggle.

Sennheiser once again praised it with his usual frothy zeal.

Son of a bitch.

It caught on fire,

selling over a thousand copies in the first year.

The world was beginning to notice.

We now return to The Talc Munson Show.

We have a new sponsor,

Bagpipes O'Toole Scotch semi-blended.

You know, this is the only scotch

you can find in a can, everybody.

Devon, tell me about your book, Unto the Sea.

Well, Unto the Sea is a warning flare for our planet.

For too long, we have let evil corporations

pollute the air we breathe,

defile our land we tread upon,

and poison our oceans.

Wow, sounds like a real page-turner.

Now, one of the corporations you attack in the book

is Morehouse Conglomerated.

My father and my sister and I

started Morehouse many years ago.

But since then, the company's been on a downward spiral

into the vast pit of nothingness,

where you find the very nature of evil waiting,

- Lurking, to ruin everything... - Oh, turn this off.

He's gone mad.

He's going to bring this whole company down.

Please, mother, he's written one book.

That hardly constitutes a revolution.

Karl Marx only wrote one book.

(chuckles) Well, you know, my sweet,

Marx wrote over 20 books.

Chet, um, go check on dinner, will you?

The nature of a corporation is evil

by its nature.

(interview continues in background)

Thank you, dear.

With some sprinklings of goodness occasionally...

I'm telling you,

People are rising up against this war,

against pollution,

against everything that makes this country great.

And if Devon becomes leader of this rabble,

- he will ruin us! - Mother, please.

You're overreacting.

Perhaps you're a bit jealous of his business partner,

Dixie Melonworth.

How dare you?

I could care less about that tramp.

She is a common whore.

And if Devon won't come here,

then I shall go to him.

(dramatic chord)

When The Spoils was completed, I knew I had created

something magically personal,

and of a different order than the normal miniseries.

Alas, it was too good for television,

and so I locked it away.

but you can't lock away a genius.

Mm.

Like a drifter you lock up in a root cellar,

there's always a window to break through

or a rusty tool to dig to freedom.

So was my little drifter, The Spoils of Babylon.

It broke free...

for all to see...

almost...

against my will.

Sync & corrections by dwigt www.addic7ed.com

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