Original subtitles

Mama!

Volume two.

Chapter 12.

''Men have before hired bravos

''to transact their crimes

''while their own person and reputation sat under shelter.''

Whoa, whoa!

Unhitch the horses, Bartholomew. Feed them and stay with the carriage.

- You will eat here. - Very good, madam. Shall I...

No, no! It's very fragile.

Welcome, ladies. Welcome. Thank you, Poole.

- May I take that parcel? - No, no, no, I'll take it.

- It's very delicate. - It's so warm in here.

It's a gift. An object of considerable value.

I can guess. Most certainly a Venetian mirror.

Ah, you're mistaken, Poole, quite mistaken.

Not so fast! You'll trip and fall.

What, trip and fall, Mother? Me? No!

Say good evening to your mother-in-law first.

Yes, Mother.

Oh, dear!

Henry!

Fanny has just arrived.

Henry!

Haven't you finished yet?

Henry? It's me.

All this paper!

Ah, there!

Vermeer van Delft.

- It's my daughter's dowry. - Oh, magnificent!

My love.

- These slippers are killing me. - Oh, please stop exaggerating, Vicky.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you would please follow me.

The remembrance book is at your disposal.

- I love you, Fanny. - I love you, Henry. I love you so much.

- He's looking at us. - Who is?

- Your pater. - Oh, Dad.

Fanny!

I'll open the door. We'll have the whole night.

The whole night, Henry, until the dawn breaks.

- A whole night of pleasure - Yes, a whole night.

What a night! It's cold as ice.

- It will improve tomorrow. - Yes.

- Thank you. - Er... this too.

The Reverend...

Donald Regan Guest.

And...

God bless you.

Ah, my respects, madame. My respects!

My best wishes, miss.

What unbridled joy!

Truly a transcendental engagement.

I already possess your magnificent book, Dr Jekyll.

It now remains for me to observe

the countenance of your scientific opponent, Dr Lanyon.

Has he arrived?

- Then you've read it? - Read it? I've devoured it.

Henceforth it will be known as the most significant book in my life.

Second only to this one, of course.

You are encouraging me to write novels, my dear sir.

Why not? Love stories!

Thank you, Dr Lanyon.

She really puts her soul into it.

Yes, she does.

A remarkable tour jeté, quite unusual in a girl her age.

Oh, yes, the, er...

Good evening.

- Long live the peace, Doctor. - Let's say the truce.

Thank you for coming.

If you please, gentlemen.

Me as well?

Splendid, Vicky.

My compliments, madam. You left hand showed genius.

- A splendid performance. - Thank you.

Truly exquisite poetry.

Suppose we go on to the prosaic table.

We need prose to appreciate poetry.

I trust you realise you're quoting scriptures.

Saint John tells us that caring for the body...

If you please, ladies and gentlemen, stand back.

Stand back, there's nothing to see. If you please.

According to Kant,

we are free and independent agents, unique phenomena.

In his system, space and time are transcendental concepts.

In scholastic terms, ''transcendent'' means

an elevation above and beyond some ordinary reality

or conventionally understood attributes.

One goes beyond them.

Your reference to scholastic reasoning

is an unfortunate one, my dear Doctor.

It is conceptually impossible

to disengage any transcendental notion from awareness.

It is literally unthinkable to investigate our faculties

from a metaphysical point of view.

Only charlatans claim a secret that will transmute sand into gold.

None for me, thanks.

Doctor, at present we live in an age of enlightenment.

That means that we consider science is neither aprioric nor aprioristic.

Nature cannot make a mistake.

The fundamental nature of any organism prohibits any metaphysical influence.

Nature prohibits? Now, just a minute.

Nature prohibits metaphysics?

Then, what have you to say, Dr Lanyon,

when patients are cured while in a transcendental state,

while in an altered state, one outside normal experience?

I say that miracles always happen when we are absent.

Wouldn't you agree, my dear Reverend,

that that is sufficient reply to your question?

No, not at all.

And if I may say so, such a response is far too simple.

Well, the simplest way, if I may so put it,

is blind faith, belief.

Ah, because for you,

atheism is the summit of courage?

In this society truly it does require courage.

You are in a minority, but it's God's will that the majority should decide.

Our discussion is entering the treacherous terrain

of religion and politics.

Let's talk about the book.

By all means, by all means. Let us indeed speak of it,

of your book, Doctor.

No.

In fact, your theory is totally fallacious, my dear Dr Jekyll.

As a man of science you cannot believe in this transcendental medicine.

You seek the alchemists' gold but using modern scientific results,

obtained from other men's research.

- A bit lazy, wouldn't you say? - There you're wrong, Doctor.

I'm the best possible witness to my son's perseverance.

Henry spends whole nights locked in his laboratory.

Badly lighted, poisonous gases, vapours in his nostrils.

The one explanation is that such a man is driven by heightened experience.

And Dr Jekyll would never steal.

Fanny, I beg of you!

Do not turn a professional debate into a vulgar settling of accounts.

- You are cruel, Dr Lanyon. - Cruel perhaps,

but if I am, it is only as a surgeon who must wound to heal.

Oh yes, the operation was a success.

The patient died!

Well, we published this work.

We were guided by an unshakable conviction

that it will blaze new trails in domains hitherto quite unexplored.

There is no question. It opens new worlds.

- I believe it to be truly a revelation. - Put like that...

The act of lighting a cigar,

a puff of smoke.

Well, that's one way to admit a failure.

Perhaps, gentlemen, but history will prove me right.

At least I hope so.

I wish to make one point clear.

Reactions in the body are not caused by chemicals.

Chemicals do not determine actions.

They do not dictate to the organism.

They assist the body to create its own state.

Physical means to attain a state of grace.

Ah, amen!

Our dancer is dozing off.

All the cigar smoke, no oxygen, and you see what it's done.

The poor thing worked all week for her instant of glory.

I think we'll put her to bed. The sandman wins.

- Poole! - Yes, madam?

Poole, find the key to the pink bedroom.

- Go up and prepare the bed for Victoria. - Very good, madam.

Setting up a modern laboratory - and I insist a modern laboratory -

demands a considerable financial effort.

Mr Maw can attest to the quantity of chemical substances

that Poole buys for his master's laboratory.

Oh yes, enormous purchases, all destined for Dr Jekyll.

Among others, 600kg of chlorodezicarbonoxigeniferum,

47.5 kg of mercurial pulver.

And that doesn't include his latest purchases.

And I reiterate, and Mr Maw will confirm it,

all those chemicals have cost a small fortune.

Alas, now they serve only to pollute the gentle old Thames,

cast into the river after countless experimental failures.

Are you suggesting that I would squander money so recklessly?

It's very costly, all this.

Or do you disregard everything I'm doing in my laboratory?

No, I do not make such sweeping judgements, dear colleague.

I ceased judging experimental technique when I stopped teaching.

I can assure you, my dear colleague,

that I shall not cease working

until you all have been completely shown

that transcendental medicine is no threat to empiricism,

but rather it permits action which paves the way

to transcendentalism.

Finish off this war, sir.

Only peace assures progress.

Quite right, General. Hear, hear!

- Quite right. - Bravo, General. Bravo!

Exactly. He's perfectly right.

- So the insects don't wake her. - Ah.

Even a military march won't wake her up now.

Let's let her sleep.

Yes, you're right.

Adorable little one!

Ah, Poole. Are the guests still here?

Yes, sir. Dinner is now over, but coffee is yet to be served.

I realise, Doctor, that my words could have been a bit harsh.

- But I trust we remain good friends? - Of course, dear friend.

Better an honest adversary than a flatterer.

It's only my opinion, but what's wrong with a little flattery?

There are moments when praise is beneficial, whether it be true or not.

- Very interesting new therapy. - New? It's the oldest practice in the world.

Young lady, you're a monster,

an incredibly deformed creature,

the very incarnation of monumental ugliness.

That will do, General!

Oh, yes. To fill my long winter nights,

as it happens, I've written two novels.

- Really? - Yes.

One's 300 pages and the other's 600,

but could easily be boiled down to 450.

Have you found titles?

Oh, yes, certainly.

My first one's entitled The Tale of Tod Lapraik.

And the second - that's 600 pages -

I have decided on Olalia the Lonely.

- Ah, a love story, then? - Oh, not at all.

There are no women in it, not one in the whole thing.

Friendship yes, but not love.

A little girl, about seven or eight, very pretty, blonde.

She hasn't been identified.

They found her doll lying beside her.

Someone had beaten the stuffing out of it.

Broken bits of a cane.

He struck with excessive force.

No reason to strike so hard to knock out a child.

Let me see.

You say her dress was torn?

He very clearly intended violating her.

What luck that he didn't succeed.

It's horrible.

He wasn't able to undress her entirely, so her virginity remains intact.

- But it's unlikely that she'll live. - It's ruined our night.

When I left, she had still not regained consciousness.

London has insufficient street lighting.

My parliamentary commission has fought for six years

to get 1300 extra gas lights, to no avail.

Was there a doctor with the ambulance?

Yes, there was a doctor from the city hospital.

Oh, it will be splashed across all the papers tomorrow.

Even though I'm not required to, I will personally pursue this case.

I apologise for intruding into your party.

Expectant Îœother Reading a Letter by Vermeer van Delft.

It's Lady Osbourne's present,

honouring Henry's engagement to her daughter Fanny.

I am acquainted with Vermeer's paintings, but this one I've never seen before.

For two centuries it was in a cellar at Glasgow City Hall.

How did you come by it, Madam Osbourne?

Quite simple. Bought it at an auction.

- What was the starting price? - Twenty-three.

Admirable!

The apotheosis of all humanity, in my opinion.

Ah, that would be telling.

The perplexity of science.

Quite so.

Yes, it's transcendental.

- Fanny! - Transcendental?

Well, I suppose it is.

She's in her seventh month.

I accept its custody,

but I refuse to co-operate in any way concerning the text.

The text is ready.

Do you wish to show it to me?

I understand that notaries, like judges, prefer a will to be hand-written.

Yes, we do.

''I, the undersigned, Henry Jekyll, doctor of medicine, doctor of civil law,

''accredited to Her Majesty's law courts,

''member of the Royal Society,

''declare that, in the case of my death,

''all my worldly possessions

''will pass into the hands of my friend and benefactor, Edward Hyde.

''Signed, Dr Henry Jekyll.''

This Mr Edward Hyde...

The pleasure of meeting this individual has been denied me.

True, but I'll be happy to bring you two together.

Yes, but how shall I say...

Edward Hyde, your friend, I understand, but...

Miss Osbourne is shortly to be your wife,

and there's Mrs Jekyll, your dear mother, and your domestics.

- You won't be forgetting them? - Of course I'm not forgetting them.

What I intend doing isn't some idiosyncrasy on my part.

The distribution of my estate and all my acquisitions

will be executed by Edward Hyde,

according to the conditions of a separate contract.

He won't betray me.

I trust him with my life.

Very well. As always, I have the highest confidence in you, Doctor.

May you live a hundred years!

A hundred? Why not?

And among Henry's new acquisitions,

this extremely rare piece,

a 13th century Teutonic helmet.

All the beauty of evil.

The quintessence of collective fear.

The work of an artist guided by Satan.

Or an angel artist,

if one concedes that arms may serve in the defence of virtue.

One's virtues can be so contradictory.

Knowing your son's fondness for whimsicality and beauty,

I had an idea during a recent expedition to the Black Continent

to bring back these.

As an engagement present.

Thank you, General.

Splendid and functional.

I quite agree, but be careful. The arrows are poisonous.

You must above all be careful not to touch the tips of the arrows.

The solution with which the wood's been treated, though 100 years old,

retains to this very day its deadly efficacy.

At least, so I have been told.

Oh...

Don't worry, ladies, don't worry.

You both displayed a remarkable lack of observation.

I touched the point of the arrow with this finger

and it was that one that I put into my mouth.

Henry!

Dr Jekyll is not so faithful as he'd have you believe.

I don't understand.

Dr Jekyll is not so faithful as he'd have you believe, huh?

Henry!

One must not confuse the Sudanese arrow with the Egyptian.

- What is the difference? - One is painful, the other is not.

That's Fanny!

- What's happening? - Be calm, be calm.

We must all stay together. That's it!

No!

Fanny.

It's all right. It's all right, Fanny.

No more to lose.

Dr Lanyon.

Mr Enfield, Mr Maw, Mr Guest, save Miss Victoria.

Poole, lock these women in a room. Stand watch over the door.

At your orders, General!

Enfield!

- Follow the murderer. - But I'm not armed, General.

Well, grab anything you can.

Go to the display room, take the sabre from the middle.

Do you hesitate?

Go, execute my orders!

Vicky!

Vicky!

Oh. Are you asleep?

The telephone wire has been ripped out.

- Send a servant for the police. - Of course.

Henry!

Henry!

He opened the ground-floor window.

Well, show me!

That it should happen in our house!

But it wasn't your fault, darling.

You're all right.

- That's all that matters. - Show me where it hurts.

Right here.

- Thank God, it's nothing. - Oh, Henry!

Got him!

Sit down, dear.

Misfortune...

follows misfortune.

Another innocent victim has been done away with.

We have killed your coachman, madame.

- Oh! Bartholomew is dead? - The man has been murdered!

- Oh, Henry! - Oh!

I'm terribly, terribly sorry.

Really terribly, terribly sorry.

This is war.

It is like war.

A soldier fires, the good Lord carries the bullets.

Doctor, go downstairs.

Revive him if you can, or pronounce him legally dead.

Where is he?

In the courtyard.

Mr Enfield, accompany the doctor.

Is he bleeding?

Take plenty of cotton wool.

Henry, please, for the love of heaven, it's cold outside!

- No, it isn't that cold outside. - It is, Henry, it is. Please, Henry.

Stop insisting, Mother. There isn't a minute to lose.

Go to the police. Tell them to surround the house.

- What time is it? - Twenty past twelve.

I'll return before one.

The labia minor and labia major, comma,

the vestibule and clitoris crushed and torn.

Tearing along the hymen, stop.

The vagina length...

ten centimetres,

and a width of two centimetres originally,

enlarged and damaged by...

by a male organ, human or animal...

of, er... six centimetres in diameter

and approximately 35 centimetres in length, stop.

Due to the unusually pointed tip and the hardness of the shaft

Miss Victoria Enfield's belly was perforated from inside, comma,

just below the stomach, final stop.

Signed, Doctor...

What's that?

Go swiftly, hide!

Hide!

Go inside, lock the door.

Don't move.

I said don't move!

John! John, where are you?

Lock that door. Stay inside till I give the signal.

You! Get inside!

Inside!

Do you hear me? Inside!

- Oh, you're hurt! - Water, get me some water.

- There's no water. - Any liquid!

Perfume?

Perfume and a cloth.

Come, hide yourself!

- Now, get back or I'll shoot. - Poor fool!

Go on, shoot, if you still have bullets. Shoot!

Oh!

Shoot! Go on, shoot!

Mercy, sir! Mercy, please, sir!

It is... All this has nothing to do with me.

My duty... I'm a guest at Dr Jekyll's house.

There are beautiful women in the next room, sir.

I know where he keeps his money. No, I beg you. Please, sir.

Pity, please! Pity...

Yes, you want to live. You will live long enough

to witness things no one has ever dared to show you.

Trample them, crush them under your boots.

Spit on them. Trample your medals, General.

Go on, spit on them. Spit on them!

You thought you could trick me.

With me there are no secrets.

Don't move. You can't escape.

Look who's come to join us.

Your lovely daughter, eager and willing for me to take her.

You have travelled far and wide, General,

in a long military career.

You have attained the glorious summit,

the perfect soldier,

but here is a realm you have never known.

You will be transported to paradise, old man.

Look! Watch!

- Oh, yes! - Look! Look here!

Oh yes, come to me.

Come!

Look, Daddy.

Watch your little girl. Watch, Daddy!

Filthy beast!

Take him alive!

Mr Maw! Mr Guest!

After him!

- General. - Who is this?

- Huh? - Mr Enfield, the publisher.

Untie your father, miss.

Well, what are you standing there for?

I'm afraid.

Afraid? Afraid of your father?

Are you going to punish me?

I give you my word of honour, I won't touch you.

Ah! Help! Ah!

Come on! Onto the machine!

Onto the machine!

Bare your bottom!

Ah, there you are. This time it's Mr Maw.

He's in need of assistance. Jekyll, are you all right?

Would you like me to give you a stimulant?

No, I've had enough stimulants.

Here, take this anyway.

It'll do some good.

Take them with some brandy, whisky...

Doesn't matter. Swallow them as they are. That's it.

Good.

His heart.

The coachman's heart went on beating regularly

20 minutes after his dying breath.

- A rare case. - Horrible!

- Where's Mr Maw? - This way.

Downstairs, it's dreadful. Come. I've never seen anything like it.

Yet another sexual crime, a homosexual assault.

An individual with no morality, only an overwhelming capacity for evil.

And where is he? Where could he be at this moment?

Ah, he's rejoicing, no doubt, hidden away,

savouring the memory of his crime

and, in his delirium, plotting others for the future.

What a madman!

The door, Lanyon, open! What's that?

- He must have escaped that way. - Look, it's Poole!

Close the door.

The end of him.

The sabre!

We sent him off to get the police.

Was he murdered on his way there or on the way back?

He never got to them.

- His heart is still beating. - Oh, God be praised.

Oh, his abdomen is punctured.

The sex of the criminal was extremely long and pointed, wasn't it?

Yes, Lanyon thinks so as well.

Who's there?

- Who's there? - Me, Reverend Guest.

Any news yet?

A letter for you,

sent by Dr Jekyll.

'Dear Fanny,

'it will not be possible for us to see each other tonight.

'Don't try to contact me. I will contact you by letter.'

We're getting ready to evacuate everyone.

For all of you women the sleeping potion did its work well.

No, I refused it.

You didn't sleep?

Sleep now?

It would be suicide.

- Reverend, what are you doing? - There is something I need.

What?

A bit of black thread...

and a needle.

Yes, of course.

One moment.

Thank you.

I'm coming, gentlemen. I'm coming.

Go and give Miss Victoria something to drink.

- Shall I call the General? - No, certainly not. He needs his rest.

But where is Dr Jekyll?

Just see about Miss Victoria.

I am the one who will be in command while Major General Carew isn't here.

Now will you obey?

Yes, I'll obey.

Then get on with it. And pray!

Fill me with hatred.

Hatred?

Doctor? Dr Jekyll?

Doctor? Doctor?

- You don't suppose... - Suppose what?

I don't know, only that...

well, being ridden with guilt for failing in his responsibility...

After all, one of his guests was, you know...

Oh! Are you suggesting suicide?

- Well, it's quite possible. - He's in there. I heard some noise.

- An alarm clock perhaps? - Oh!

Dr Jekyll!

Open the door!

I think we should force the door open.

It might awaken the ladies.

Not a chance. They're still under the influence of morphine.

It was morphine you administered?

The law allows it in certain cases.

Dr Jekyll, open the door!

Open the door, Doctor!

Henry?

Henry?

Henry!

Henry!

Oh! Help!

No! No!

- No! - Shut up, old toad!

Shut up, you ugly toad!

You will obey me!

Henry!

Oh! No!

Henry! No!

- No! - Sit! Play!

I said play! Play!

Play! Louder!

Ah, a surgeon's shears and yet you are no surgeon.

Surrender!

Who are you, sir?

Henry!

Henry!

Kneel down!

In your pocket, the will that Dr Henry Jekyll gave you.

Dr Jekyll's will? I don't understand.

You don't understand?

I am Edward Hyde.

Hyde? You are Hyde?

You pictured differently the one to whom Dr Jekyll would bequeath his fortune.

You will never know why Henry chose only me.

However, we are wasting time. Let us go on to other things.

The truth machine awaits.

Look!

- You recognise this cane? - Yes, I recognise it.

- You recognise it? - I recognise it.

- You recognise it? - I already said...

- You do recognise it? - Yes! That hurts.

- Yes! Yes! - So, you recognise it?

Yes!

- Stop! Ow! - You dare to steal my cane?

- I found it in the street. Ow! - I shall kill you.

This cane belongs to none other than Henry Jekyll,

doctor of medicine, doctor of law,

recognised in Queen's Counsel, member of the Royal Society,

and I am his friend and benefactor Edward Hyde.

Henry?

Henry? It's only me, Fanny.

My dream is to watch you die.

No, I don't believe that, Henry.

I recognise you in there.

No!

My pleasure is seeing your dead body.

You don't want me dead.

I love you. I'm all yours.

You know that!

No!

You are a real man.

Handsome, courageous. I love you.

I've arranged everything. Come and see.

The General didn't keep his word.

Ideal target!

- She's mad. - No, I'm not mad.

I am in love, Daddy.

You'll go with your father!

You should respect your General!

You... you want to kill me?

No!

- Get back to your piano. Go on! - I beg of you, sir.

- My fingers are numb! - All the better! Play a march.

No, I swear, I can't play marches. I don't know any.

I play only waltzes.

You think you're dealing with a weak old woman.

Wicked murderer! Assassin!

You'll get punished for all your crimes.

The Queen isn't going to grant a pardon for you.

Her Majesty knows what a son means to his mother.

I am going to break you in two, decrepit hag!

Give me back my son Henry, my little boy Henry.

Help!

I'll thank you to stop that.

As you wish, Dr Lanyon.

But consider, Doctor, I committed crimes, true,

but you commit even worse atrocities in your dreams.

- Not one word, sir! - Shoot, kill me, tie these hands

that caused the disappearance of your friend, Henry Jekyll.

Dr Jekyll?

Before he disappeared, he left a message for you, Dr Lanyon.

A message? What message? Where is it?

It is where I last saw him, in his chambers.

Go on!

Go on!

Henry!

Henry!

Henry! Henry!

It isn't you.

Ah, you stole Dr Jekyll's key as well, did you?

- Where is this message? - Dictated on the phonograph.

- Do you know how to operate it? - Yes, I know.

'My dear Lanyon, you are one of my oldest friends,

'and though we may have differed in our scientific opinions,

'I can recall no time, certainly on my side,

'when our friendship was ever in question.

'Lanyon, my life, my honour, my sanity,

'all are in your hands now.

'If you do not come to my assistance tonight,

'I am lost.'

Keep turning, go on!

'I wish you to usher into my chambers

'a man whom I recommend to you, a Mr Edward Hyde.

'You will give him 5g of solicor,

'a very rare substance, as you know,

'one which you carry on your person at all times.

'Alas, my supply of solicor is exhausted.

'Be aware that at this moment I am in most abysmal distress

'and yet hope is alive within me.

'If you act quickly, my tortures will dissipate like a fog,

'vanish like a dream.

'Help me, my dear Lanyon, and save your friend Henry Jekyll.'

Yes, I recognise the voice of Dr Jekyll.

It appears very likely poor Jekyll is out of his head.

Where is our friend?

- The solicor can save him. - What are you doing?

Will you calm yourself? You're behaving like an unmitigated fool.

I beg your pardon.

There you are, the solicor.

- It's my last. - You will allow me?

A new realm of awareness will open to you right here, dear Dr Lanyon.

You speak in enigmas. I listen to you, only I am not convinced.

Very well, Lanyon.

Remember your oath.

All that you are about to witness is guarded by professional secrecy.

And now... you, who have always clung

to the narrowest, most materialistic views,

you, who have always denounced any virtue of transcendental medicine,

you, who arrogantly sat in judgement,

behold!

Fanny!

You aren't really here.

You're dead, Henry.

Oh, Fanny, you're alive!

I'm hurt.

A poisoned arrow.

You wounded me.

You told me that your pleasure was seeing me dead.

It was not I who said that.

Which of you two ought to be called...

Say it. The hypocrite?

Both of my faces are me.

They're both me and each of them is perfectly sincere.

I am not more myself

when I throw off inhibitions and plunge into wickedness

than I am when I work long hours

to acquire knowledge of how to alleviate suffering and pain.

Your body, Henry, is surely too weak

to sustain such a great exertion,

such frenetic energy.

I'm rather pleased with my body as it is.

Each experience costs me five years of life.

I know that little by little I am losing control of my original, my higher, self.

More and more I identify with Edward Hyde,

my second, bestial self.

It sounds like Dr Lanyon's curse.

No, it's not Lanyon, it's me!

In the history of man, I am the first who can transform his whole being

into a capacity for pure pleasure.

I am the first who can face the faces of society

in a guise of unquestioned respectability

and, in the next instant,

like a schoolboy throwing off the tawdry rags of his dreary institution,

I throw off pretence

and leap, wallowing in an ocean of freedom and pleasure.

No!

Let me go!

- Don't do it! - Yes!

- No! - I must!

No! I beg you!

There's no returning now.

No! Don't!

No! No!

We have no more solicor!

No!

No, not that!

'Triumph, hatred, pleasure,

'sensations deep within me.'

My mother!

Fanny! My lovely girl!