Theater of Blood

Peregrine Devlin:
[Devlin is examining a note on a gift-box] "I am sorry to miss the meeting, but my heart is with you. George."

[he opens it and it contains George's bloody heart]

Peregrine Devlin:
It's him all right. Only Lionheart would have the temerity to rewrite Shakespeare!

[repeated line]

Various:
[shocked] Lionheart!

Peregrine Devlin:
Lionheart, what the hell do you want here?

Edward Lionheart:
[Walking to the best actor award] This. My just reward, the whole world knows it is mine by right. But you deliberately withheld it from me. You deliberately humiliated me in front of my press, my public and my peers. It was the culmination of your determined denial of my genius! For thirty years the public has acknowledged that I am the master, and that this year my season of Shakespeare was the shining jewel in the crown of the immortal bard. But you, with your overweening malice, give the award to a twitching, mumbling boy, who can barely grunt his way through an incomprehensible performance! No, no, it is mine!

Edwina Lionheart:
You drunken bum! You should treasure this opportunity to listen to a master, the world's greatest living actor!

Edward Lionheart:
Here, filths...

[he throws money at the tramps]

Edward Lionheart:
Put money in thy purse!

Meredith Merridew:
I was wondering if you could look after Georgie for me? She gets so nervous during committee.

Horace Sprout:
Keep that filthy thing away from me!

[seeing a poster for Lionheart]

Inspector Boot:
Saw him once. A very, uh, vigorous actor.

Peregrine Devlin:
That's a good description.

Peregrine Devlin:
You begin to resent an actor if you always have to give him bad notices.

Edward Lionheart:
Look Hector, how the sun begins to set. How ugly night comes breathing at his heels. Even with the vile and darkening of the sun, to close the day up, Hector's life is done.

[before stabbing Snipe to death with a spear]

Edward Lionheart:
The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth. My half-serp spear that frankly would have fed, pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed!

[while burying Maxwell]

Edward Lionheart:
Imperious Ceaser, dead and turned to clay. Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, that that earth which kept the world in awe, should patch a wall to spell the winter's flaw.

Edward Lionheart:
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field I will the Trojan trail.

Inspector Boot:
Who hates you enough to kill two of your circle?

Peregrine Devlin:
Critics are likely to make enemies, inspector. You can call it an occupational hazard.

Meredith Merridew:
But darling you, they're not going to start killing critics for giving bad notices are they?

Inspector Boot:
Well, why not? A play fails; directors, writers, actors... careers ruined. Plenty of motivation there, I should think.

Miss Chloe Moon:
Take me home, I think I'm going to be ill.

Meredith Merridew:
Oh my God!

[looks at his dogs]

Meredith Merridew:
I think Georgina's going to faint!

Peregrine Devlin:
Hello, Edwina. I thought it was you.

Edwina Lionheart:
Well, the brilliant Peregrine Devlin. Wielder of the brutal aphorism, master of the killing phrase, my father's murderer.

Peregrine Devlin:
That's a bit melodramatic, isn't it?

Edwina Lionheart:
Oh forgive me, I forgot. It was your reverence and admiration that drove him to take his own life.

Peregrine Devlin:
You don't understand.

Edwina Lionheart:
I understand that the greatest actor of all time never earned your approval for one single performance. Never, not one good review.

Peregrine Devlin:
Look, Edwina, your father's body was never found.

Edwina Lionheart:
My father is as good as under that granite!

Edward Lionheart:
[contemplating suicide] To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause...

[Edwina grabs him, the critics look on shocked]

Edward Lionheart:
There's the respect, that makes calamity of so long life!

[he jumps]

Edward Lionheart:
Sirs! Be sudden in the execution, with all obdury do not hear him plead. For Larding is well spoken, and perhaps will move your hearts to pity if you mark him.

[after sealing Larding's corpse in a wine barrel]

Edward Lionheart:
I wonder if he'll travel well?

Edwina Lionheart:
I'm busy, Devlin.

Peregrine Devlin:
Edwina, four of my collegues have been murdered. And their deaths relate directly to your father's last season.

Edwina Lionheart:
If you were as imaginative in your reviews, Devlin, you'd be a better critic.

Inspector Boot:
Look, Devlin, when two people have the same motive to murder and one of them is still alive, who would you arrest?

Edward Lionheart:
Officer, if I'm not mistaken Mr. Psaltry is murdering his wife.

Policeman:
Oh, thank you sir.

[Edward is still disguised as Butch]

Edward Lionheart:
[looking at the police officer] Who's this great big beautiful thing with you? Is he yours?

Miss Chloe Moon:
Well, only just.

Edward Lionheart:
Come on, baby, let me get to it. Let me get at it, huh?

[the policeman, uncomfortable sits down]

Edward Lionheart:
You just sit there, baby, and relax, eh? She won't be long.

Edward Lionheart:
[as Butch] Oh, I wish you'd let me do something camp with the colour, darling. Like flame with ash highlights.

Miss Chloe Moon:
These are very funny rollers, Butch.

Edward Lionheart:
Naughty, naughty! Don't touch, Butch knows best. They're something new from Gay Paree.

Peregrine Devlin:
Nothing you can do will sway me from my original judgement.

Edward Lionheart:
Your judgement was ill considered and irresponsible.

Peregrine Devlin:
It was neither. We gave the award to William Woodstock as your performances lacked originality.

Edward Lionheart:
Lacked originality? My Julius Caesar, cut down by a drunken mob in an abandoned warehouse? My Titus Andronicus: this is your dish, Meredith Merridew? My Othello, one of the greatest performances in the history of the theatre?

Peregrine Devlin:
Lionheart!

Edward Lionheart:
Alive and triumphant. And you thought me slain? Lionheart is immortal! He can never be destroyed, never!

Oliver Larding:
Lionheart!

[gulps]

Oliver Larding:
Impossible!

Edward Lionheart:
No, Larding! So, this critic slept through my Richard, did he? No doubt because you supped too much, you drunken hog. You may know that in Richard III, Clarence... and I do want you to try out for that part, Larding... was drowned in a vat of wine!

Oliver Larding:
No!

[the tramps grab him and begin to drown him in a barrel]

Edward Lionheart:
Excellent, Larding, I'll make an actor of you yet.

[while stabbing Dickman to death]

Edward Lionheart:
Do you still say my Shylock was inadequate?

Edward Lionheart:
Let's see what that oaf Meredith Merridew had to say about my Titus Andronicus.

[reads]

Edward Lionheart:
Mr. Lionheart's rendering of the role can only be described as villainous. Placed between the delicately underplayed performances of Tamora and Lavinia; one is irresistibly reminded of a ham sandwich.

[pause]

Edward Lionheart:
My reputation. Hark, villain, I shall grind your bones to dust; and make two shame-filled pasties of your head.

Meredith Merridew:
Where could my doggies have got to?

Edward Lionheart:
Why, there they are both, baked in that pie. Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.

[threatening Dickman, while dressed as Shylock]

Edward Lionheart:
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs!

[dressed as Richard The Third]

Edward Lionheart:
Now is the winter of our discontent / Made glorious summer by this sun of York / Our bruised arms hung up for monuments / Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings. He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber / To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. As I am subtle, false, and treacherous / This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up. But soft, here come my executioners.

Edward Lionheart:
Well, Larding, you said my Richard III cast such a spell on the audience...

[reads, disappointed]

Edward Lionheart:
"It put this reviewer in a deep sleep. And I awoke that I was spared attending the aging matinee idol's ranting and posturing." Well, let's see if we can get more rapt attention from you today.

[the door opens]

Edward Lionheart:
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul, here Clarence comes.

Edwina Lionheart:
It's all right, sir. You're among friends, sir.

Hector Snipe:
Thank you. I was beginning to get a bit nervous.

Edward Lionheart:
We were just rehearsing Troilus and Cressida. Specifically the scene where Hector, thinking he's among friends, is unexpectedly killed by them.

Hector Snipe:
Lionheart, I came here for an interview, not a lecture on Shakespeare. Now tell me the amazing story of your resurrection.

Edward Lionheart:
It's a grave tale, Snipe. But I think you can rise to the occasion.

[Snipe is catapulted onto the stage, where the tramps begin to attack him]

Edward Lionheart:
I always admired you as a critic, Snipe. Your clever use of analogy and metaphor, plus you always strived to be complimentary. But not always complimentary.

Hector Snipe:
Critics make mistakes, Lionheart. We're only human.

Edward Lionheart:
An opinion I find myself incapable of sharing.

[Lionheart is force-feeding Merridew his poodles]

Edward Lionheart:
Will you ever again ruin the reputation of an honest man?

Meredith Merridew:
No.

Edward Lionheart:
Have you learned your lesson?

Meredith Merridew:
Yes.

Edward Lionheart:
Can I be sure you will never again offend me?

Meredith Merridew:
Yes.

Edward Lionheart:
You're right. I can be sure. [quoting Romeo and Juliet] Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

[Maxwell is reading the paper]

George Maxwell:
That damn editor cut my review!

Mrs. Maxwell:
So I saw, dear, you really ought to have a word.

George Maxwell:
My most provocative comment too. When I said the lead actress grabbed the role with both hands, and throttled it to death.

Hector Snipe:
You must admit that I was enthusiastic about your performance in Troilus and Cressida.

Edward Lionheart:
Oh, yes. Now that you mention it I remember you wrote some review.

Hector Snipe:
I remember it quite well. I wrote, "Edward Lionheart's Troilus and Cressida must be considered a theatrical triumph, and his own performance as Achilles unsurpassed."

Edward Lionheart:
A splendid review, Snipe, splendid. What else did you write?

Hector Snipe:
More in the same vein.

Edward Lionheart:
Let me refresh your memory. [reads] "Achilles unsurpassed. This is clearly Lionheart's own view. That actor's oft expressed desire for solitude is well documented. So he must feel ecstatic to know he is completely alone in his opinion of this lamentable production."

Peregrine Devlin:
Lionheart!

Edward Lionheart:
Alive and triumphant. And you thought me slain? Lionheart is immortal!

Edward Lionheart:
Burn! BURN! Come fire, consume this petty world. And in its ashes, let my memory lie!

Peregrine Devlin:
You did kill Larding and the others didn't you?

Edward Lionheart:
How many actors have you destroyed as you destroyed me? How many talented lives have you cut down with your glib attacks? What do you know of the blood, sweat and toil of a theatrical production? Of the dedication of the men and the women in the noblest profession of them all? How could you know you talentless fools who spew vitriol on the creative efforts of others because because you lack the ability to create yourselves! No Devlin, no! I did not kill Larding and the others. PUNISHED them my dear boy, punished them. Just as you shall have to be punished.

Peregrine Devlin:
Well get it over with then, just so you don't have to make me listen to that demented rubbish of yours. Go on, kill me then!

Edward Lionheart:
Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones: Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone forever! I know when one is dead, and when one lives; She's dead as earth.

Inspector Boot:
Was that dialogue from King Lear?

Peregrine Devlin:
Yes. A remarkable performace. He was overacting as usual, but he knew how to make an exit.

Peregrine Devlin:
Think about your daughter! Imagine what your madness is doing to her?

Edward Lionheart:
My daughter? Edwina? [the hippie removes his beard and glasses to reveal he is Edwina]

Edwina Lionheart:
You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I Return those duties back as are right fit. Obey you, love you, and most honour you

Edward Lionheart:
I will kill you when I am ready. Be it next week, next month perhaps next year. But first, I'm going to make you suffer in the same way you made me suffer!

Miss Chloe Moon:
You know, Butch, I'm very uncomfortable.

Edward Lionheart:
"Bring forth that sorceress condemned to burn." That's from Henry the Sixth, duckie, part one. It's a very interesting play, don't you agree, Miss Moon? Particularly that scene where Joan of Arc gets burnt at the stake.

[removing his disguise]

Edward Lionheart:
Though you may find our novel version a bit of a shock.

[she struggles, but he ties her down and heads towards an electric switch]

Edward Lionheart:
Spare for no fagots, let there be enough: Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, That so her torture may be shortened.

[he suddenly cranks the electric up]

Edward Lionheart:
And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee: Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

Edward Lionheart:
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. Here under leave of Brutus and the rest - come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

[the tramps begin to get rowdy. Edward looks angry]

Edward Lionheart:
Manager! It is your job to see there is order in the theatre. See to it at once.

Edward Lionheart:
[after feeding Meredith Merridew a pie made from his own pet poodles] He just didn't have the stomach for it.

George Maxwell:
You... It's you! But you're dead!

Edward Lionheart:
No. Another critical miscalculation on you part. I am well. It is you who are dead.

[Edward is disguised as Butch, an effeminate hairdresser]

Edward Lionheart:
Hullo, I'm Butch. Hey, dishy, dishy hair. Can't wait to get my hands on it.

[after Maxwell has been stabbed]

Edward Lionheart:
Oh pardon me thou bleeding piece of earth, that I am gentle with these butchers.

[when frustrated with the tramps]

Edward Lionheart:
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: Filths savour but themselves.

Edward Lionheart:
Do have some more!

Solomon Psaltery:
Die, you strumpet!