Forbidden Territory: Stanley's Search for Livingstone (1997) - full transcript

♪♪

[man speaking Arabic,
woman speaking native language]

[scream, gunshot]

[chatter stops]

[gunfire, screaming]

Slave traders
are raiding the village!

[gunfire continues]

Stop this!

Stop this insanity!

[gunfire continues]

[aide] Dr. Livingstone!
Dr. Livingstone!



[screaming,
scattered gunfire]

I'm a reporter!

[scattered gunfire continues]

Yo soy un periodista.

[bullets ricocheting]

[child] Señor Stanley!

Señor Stanley!

Señor Stanley!

What are you doing?

Telegram!

[Stanley] "Come to Paris.
Important business.

Bennett"?

[explosions, gunfire]

All right.



Don't mind if I do.

Ladies.

[women giggling]

[laughing]

Let's do it again.

-[knock on door]
-Come in.

Who are you?

Ha. Henry Stanley.

Stanley!

Welcome...

to civilization.

This, my dear coquettes,
is the finest reporter I have

on the staff
of the
New York Herald.

Hello.

His reports on the fighting
in Spain

have been both heart wrenching
and sensational.

Some of them are even true.

-[women giggle]
-Well...

Ladies, ladies.

[snaps fingers]

[women giggling]

Don't mind them.
They're French.

They don't understand
a word I'm saying.

Now, if they were American,

they'd be groveling
at your feet.

Never underestimate
the American public

in its appetite for blood,
tears, and glory.

And treasure hunts,
they love treasure hunts.
Can't say I blame 'em.

Ever since I was a child,
I've been searching

for the rare
and unattainable.

-Cheers.
-Thank you.

Which leads me
to Dr. Livingstone.

Dr. Livingstone?
The missionary?

Hmm.

A foremost missionary
in darkest Africa.

First white man to traverse
the impenetrable continent,

leading to the discoveries
of the Victoria Falls
and Lake Nyasa.

-Do you know where he is?
-I haven't the foggiest idea.

Nor has anyone else.

Great explorer, national hero,
and a renowned holy man.

And he seems to have
completely disappeared.

I want you to find him.

You want me to find him?

Ah...

Well, um...

Do we have any idea
where he is?

Five years ago, the British
sent him into central Africa.

He hasn't been heard from since.

He had a bad habit of stepping
on the wrong political toes

so nobody seems to care.

Why... why do you care, then?

I don't.

I don't give a fig about some
crusading Christian fanatic.

Well, if you don't care,
why should I care, then?

Because I want you to care.

Besides, more importantly,

the American public
wants you to care.

Our business is
to sell papers, Stanley,

and to rescue a saint
from the mouths of lions

and cannibals is
a glorious way to do it.

It will bring you adventure.

And if you succeed,
a certain amount of...

legitimacy.

And above all,
it'll bring you women.

You do like women, don't you?

[chuckles]

May I suggest, sir,
that this little journey

could be extremely costly?

Well... draw
a thousand pounds now.

When you've gone through that,
draw another thousand.

When that's spent,
draw another thousand,

but even if you have
to bring his bones back,
find Livingstone!

Don't tell anyone your mission.

They'll either laugh
or try to race you to him.

Remember, Stanley, the only
thing worth doing is to succeed,

no matter how.

[man, British accent] If God
called Livingstone to Africa,

he intended it
as a practical joke.

In all his years there,
the old fellow made one convert,

who eventually lapsed,
and several enemies

who would have sent him to hell
if they weren't missionaries
themselves.

As an explorer,
he discovered a plateau

which had already been found
by the Portuguese and the Arabs

and concocted
a settlement scheme

which resulted
in England's embarrassment

and several people's deaths.

He knows he's a fool

but he won't come home
till he proves that he isn't.

Why on earth should you care
about him?

Oh, it's just idle curiosity,
in case I should run into him.

Pray God that you don't.

When he disappeared
with his loyal savages,

some of us here heaved a sigh
of relief, I can tell you.

That's not to be published,
of course.

[chuckles]
Did you know him personally?

A completely
disagreeable fellow

who did not improve
upon acquaintance.

He loved his black barbarians
with a passion

and despised his wife
and civilized equals.

He knew how to get round
cannibals very well,

but he knew nothing
of geology and botany.

Where are you trekking,
for heaven's sake?

My assignment is to explore
the Rufigi River.

Oh, good God, he was
nowhere near the Rufigi
when last heard of.

Besides, we have
very reliable reports...

Oh. Of what?

He was murdered by natives,
hadn't you heard?

Cooked in a stew,
from what I gather.

They must have
remarkable stomachs

to digest that silly old goat.

[chuckles]

So much for trusty disciples,
what?

[chuckles]

[orchestra playing waltz]

Are you pondering your
journalistic sins, Mr. Stanley?

Ah! Miss Pike.
Happy New Year to you.

Now, I hear that you're
to depart for Africa soon?

-Yes.
-Now, why aren't you
celebrating?

Well, celebration's not really
my suit, Miss Pike.

And you?

You here with your mother
and sister?

Yes, my mother and sister
are off being entertained

by some ambitious suitor and...

well, I decided to play
the rude American and join you.

Well, you're hardly rude,
Miss Pike.

Oh, all Americans are rude,
Mr. Stanley.

Especially you.

Especially me?

Yes. Here we are,
staying in the same hotel,

we come from the same
distant country,

and yet you completely
ignore me.

[chuckles]

Well, I scarcely know you.

Yes, but I've known you
for years.

I've read your articles
from Spain and Abyssinia.

And...

You've chilled me
and thrilled me.

And you've even inspired me.

Inspired?

Yes, I have decided to set off
on a mission of discovery too.

[chuckles]

And what dark
and sinister continent

are you setting out
to explore?

You.

[chuckles]

I'm from Cincinnati.

My father is dead and my mother
brought me to see the continent.

That's all there is to know
about me, but you...

Well, explorers are just
so mysterious.

I'm a reporter, not an explorer.

Nonsense.
You seek the unknown, don't you?

Out there.

But isn't that to avoid
seeing the unknown...

in here?

You're being overly romantic,
Miss Pike.

Any secrets I hold are merely
ludicrous and mundane,
I can assure you.

Well, that's for me to decide.

Where are you from, for example?

Some say Saint Louis.
My mother heard New Orleans.

My father was a Mississippi
cotton merchant and...

he died and I came here.

[chuckles]

Oh, I'm sorry.
You looked so suddenly away.

My... mother said people only
do that when they're lying.

I have nothing to hide,
Miss Pike.

[Miss Pike laughs softly]

Mr. Stanley, I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to upset you.

I'm just a curious girl who's
in love with the unknown.

Where are you going?

That's all I want to learn,
just so I can share with you

in my mind's eye some...
incredible adventure

that I'll never be allowed
to know.

[Stanley] They call it
"darkest" because

no white man has ever
been there.

And somewhere, in this
11 million square miles

of uncivilized blackness,

there is a man
whom I am seeking.

Who?

I'm afraid I can't
tell you that.

[scoffs]

Well, tell me something.

Why do you want to find him?

For the adventure, I suppose.

And for the recognition.

And if I succeed...

If I succeed...

it will prove that...

that I am somebody.

You are somebody.

You're Henry Morton Stanley.

[Stanley] Hmm.

You are who you are
whether you succeed or fail.

Oh, I won't fail.

I may die...

but I'll die looking.

I anticipate many disagreeable
things, Miss Pike.

Not the least of which is
an encounter with this...

by some reports, detestable man,
but I cannot picture myself

standing with my hat in hand,
explaining to my employer

why I failed to fulfill
my promise.

No, I won't fail.

[Miss Pike chuckles]

You're very passionate
about this, Mr. Stanley.

Yes.

I always thought men were only
passionate about things like...

money or women.

[Miss Pike laughs]

You needn't look away.

I don't know if it's, um...
indifference

or midwestern shyness, but...

well, it's an area you have
anything to be afraid of.

[market noise,
rhythmic drums beating]

[Stanley]
My dearest Alice.

I write this to you
on the eve of my departure,

thinking only of my return

and once again of seeing you.

Word has it that
Livingstone is dead

and I must return with
his bones rather than the man.

Nevertheless, the very hour
I land in England,

I should like to hold you
and kiss you as you kissed me.

But such a long time
must elapse first.

My good, good man,
you must put my mind at rest.

Rumors have been circulating
in this consulate

that you've spent
over £3,000

on miles of cloth,
millions of beads,

hundreds of coils
of brass wire.

Well, the rumors are wrong,
Dr. Kirk.

Ah, thank goodness.
I do my best to--

It's £4,000 I've spent,
not £3,000.

Good heavens.
Good heavens.

But why should a newspaper
expend that much revenue

on an insignificant river
like the Rufigi?

Well, the
New York Herald
is very interested in adding,

at whatever cost,
to the knowledge of the globe.

Dr. Kirk.

Yes. Yes, I, um...
I suppose so.

You were an explorer
yourself, weren't you?

Didn't you spend several years
traveling with that...

that missionary fellow?

-Livingstone.
-Dr. Livingstone, yes. Yes.

Where do you think he is?

Oh, that's a difficult
question to answer.

What's he like?

They say he's a very modest man.
Is he?

He's not quite an angel.

No, he's, um...

a difficult man to deal with.

We're continually sending
something up for him.

Though I have
just received word

that supplies we sent to him
some months ago

haven't even left the coast.

It's his own fault,
bushwhacking into the unknown.

Where were they headed?
Perhaps if it's along
my route...

Oh, no, no, no, no.

You're traveling south.

Ujiji is some 700 miles
to the west.

-Besides--
-Ujiji?

Livingstone drops in there
once in a great while.

I should tell you, however,
that if he got

the slightest inkling
that yourself

or any other white man
were in the area,

he'd put a hundred miles
of swamp

between himself and them
in a very short time.

It is possible, though, that
events may have overtaken us.

In what way?

We received word only last week
that the man may be dead.

[Stanley]
My dear Alice.

At last we depart for Ujiji,

led by the Stars & Stripes

with the red flag of Zanzibar
pointing towards 700 miles

of unknown hostile territory.

Our caravan is composed
of 192 men and their wives,

including a dozen
armed soldiers
under the command of Bombay,

a gap-toothed fellow who
traveled with Burton and Speke.

One of the guides, 6'4" Asmani,

has a darkness in his heart

that harbors some serious
resentment, I fear.

Of the three whites
on the expedition,

they consist
of William Farquhar,

a capital navigator
who I'm sorry to say

is a rather hard drinker;

John Shaw, a sailor
who jumped ship

under the suspicion
of mutiny;

and an American gentleman
called Bana Mkuba,

"the big master,"

whose heart palpitates
much too quickly

for the sober face
of a leader.

[elephant trumpets]

[horse whinnies]

Dear Alice,
it sickens me almost

to write
of this day's experience.

Though our march
was but ten miles,

it occupied
as many hours of labor.

Now that I am in Africa,
however,

I feel as a fish reeled in
by some unknown force

and there's no use
struggling against it.

What reels me in?

I prefer to think of it
as destiny...

with Livingstone as bait

and you as
the untiring fisherman.

Come on!

[Alice]
My darling Morton.
I just received
your first letter.

Oh, how romantic it all sounds!

At least twice as romantic
as it is here.

My sister and her new beau
are disgracefully in love

and plan to be married soon.

Shall we do the same?

I'm only joking.

Or am I?

[alligator snarls]

[man screaming]

Don't drop your bundles,
damn it! Stop!

[Alice]
I think of you always
and long to lie with my lips

caressing your handsome neck.

Your loving Alice.

Get out here
and pick up these bundles!

Please, sir!

[Francis] They say
it's good for a boy!

[young Stanley shrieks]

You have been very sick, Bana.

For how long?

Several days.

Have we been traveling?

-[Bombay] No.
-Why not?

Bana Farquhar, too.
He's very sick.

Bana Farquhar.

[men laughing]

Why haven't we been traveling?

Ah, you're up.

Which is more than I can say
for the two of you.

My leg's bloody agony,
Mr. Stanley.

I can hardly walk.
What do you think of this?

[Stanley] Hmm.
It's just a simple rash.

It's nothing as bad as you wish.

We couldn't travel with him
like that and with you
out of your head.

My horse could have carried me.

Your horse is dead.

The tsetse fly finished him
yesterday.

The porters could have
taken us both on their backs.

The porters are running away.

Can't say I blame them.

Their leader's delirious
and they want to go home.

Running away.
Why haven't you stopped them?

[chuckles] They're off in
the night, what am I to do?

Chain them in their sleep?

If necessary, yes!

Did you get any of them back?

Yeah, we caught one.

Did you make an example of him?

No, not yet.

This man was paid
for this journey in advance!

[Bombay interpreting
in native language]

I have no mercy for men
who go back on their word.

[Bombay interpreting]

He was stealing food
and shelter from all of you.

[interpreting]

And leaving us here to die.

[interpreting]

[man groaning]

Twenty strokes. Finish it.

[Stanley]
My dear Alice.

This selfish and wooden-headed
world requires mastery

as well as love and charity.

The whip has
an astonishing ability

to bring back the physical
energy of the lazily inclined.

I would use it without impunity
on white men as well as black.

I use it on myself, Alice,

deep within my soul.

I am a fevered pilgrim
seeking a dead man's bones

without really knowing why.

My soul knows, it seems,

and my physical body
must simply endure.

I lash myself
mercilessly onward.

Ever onward.

And why should any man
deserve mercy

from one who has none
for himself?

[whip cracking]

[whip cracks]

I'll be back.

[whips cracking]

Mr. Stanley.

I
thought
it was you.

I am Khamis bin Abdullah.

I have heard of your journey.

From whom?

Africa.

You're a long way
from the Rufigi River.

Yes, we're headed
to Ujiji instead.

My newspaper wants a report
on Lake Tanganyika.

Then your newspaper
will be sorely disappointed.

The road to Ujiji
cannot be traveled.

Why is that?

Mirambo.
Have you not heard of him?

No.

A native chief who is
warring on all foreigners.

He will allow no one to pass.

If you continue down this road,
you will be massacred.

Thank you.

I will consider your advice.

Mr. Stanley...

Perhaps we can thank
the wisdom of Allah

that our paths have crossed.

I too have had to turn back.

I have not enough men
to fight Mirambo.

But if we were
to fight him... together.

Please.

You see, Mirambo does not want
anyone passing through
his territories.

And he does not distinguish
between Arab slavers
and English explorers.

He feels we both
lay waste to his kingdom.

And I dare say we do.

Ah, but the English pay no
attention to tribal boundaries.

I only enslave his enemies.

[chuckles]

Well, perhaps he fears,
when his enemies run out,

you will enslave him.

[chuckles]

I guarantee, Mr. Stanley,

he would be happier
living with us in chains

than as a free man
in that wretched jungle of his.

No, no.

For some people,
chains are worse than death.

No doubt you speak
from experience.

Yes, I do.

Oh. But were you ever chained
to such magnificence?

Look at this boy.

His parents were massacred
in the nearby village.

Without me,
he would be no more

than an ingredient
in Mirambo's stew.

What is his name?

[speaking native language]

Ndugu M'Hali.

"My brother's wealth."

Of course, now he has neither
a brother nor wealth.

But look at him now.

Look at those eyes.

Would you like him?

I don't buy slaves.

Then I will give him to you.

As a gift.

Name him what you will.

He's yours.

What's the Swahili
for "young antelope"?

[Khamis] Kalulu.

Kalulu then.

Inshallah.

[Stanley]
My dear Alice.

I have been given
a young slave boy

whose sufferings
I can imagine only too well.

He has lost everything
he valued in life

and I can only hope
my intervention will restore

what little faith he has left
in humankind.

[spear flying]

-[man screams]
-[attackers whooping]

[screaming]

Shaw! Farquhar!

[gunfire, shouting]

[Stanley] Khamis, come back!

[woman sobbing]

What are you doing?

What does it look like?

[Stanley] You leave here,
you will die.

Not if we all turn back.
You're the only one
who wants to go on.

-I don't remember
offering you a choice.
-I'm sick!

We're all sick!

It'll pass.

Like Farquhar passed!

I can't go on.
I'm losing my mind!

Then get out!

Leave your gun, your tent
and your supplies

and get out!

I can't survive without them.

And neither will we!

You can't get by this chief.

I don't intend to get by him,
I intend to get around him.

We're gonna travel
to the south.

You're mad.

You don't even know
what's out there.

Soon enough I will.

Now, you can either leave
with the clothes on your back

or you can help us
bury the dead!

Which is it?

I'll go with you.

Pull yourself together, man.

[Shaw] I'm sorry.

I'll go with you, I'm sorry.

[sobs]

[Stanley]
My dearest Alice,

this letter perhaps
will never reach you.

Certainly not till I am either
safe in your arms

or dead and digested
in some cannibal's stomach.

I am in the dark depths
of hell,

so why do I go on?

[screaming]

[man speaking native language]

Keep her quiet!

[screaming stops]

[screaming resumes]

[man speaking native language]

Tell her if she doesn't shut up,
we'll all end up like him.

-[shrieking]
-[man speaking native language]

[shrieking continues]

[woman moans]

That's keeping her quiet.

[Stanley]
You are all
I live for, my sweet Alice.

You and Livingstone.

[click]

[in Swahili] What is that?

It's a very powerful weapon.

Some say it is more powerful
than a spear.

[Stanley chuckles]

That's the weapon's blood.

And when it's written in here,
it is my blood.

[gunshot]

[gunshot]

[Francis groans]

Please, sir!

[Francis]
They say it's good for the boy

who doesn't do his job
properly!

[whipping]

[gun cocks]

We will not go on,
Bana Mkuba.

Mr. Shaw was right.

You beat us and you march us
and you treat us

little better than slaves.

I treated Shaw no differently
than I treated you.

And he is dead.
So you see?

He was a coward.

Soft.

You're stronger than he is,
Asmani.

We will not fall for flattery,
Bana Mkuba.

If you insist that we continue,
then you must die.

[gun cocks]

[Stanley] I insist.

[Bombay] Bana!

Bana! Bana!

What is it, Bombay?

We have visitors from
the west side of the country.

They have seen a white man.

I want to know
exactly where he saw him.

[interpreting]

Ujiji. He has now arrived.

Ask him how he was dressed?
How was he dressed?

[interpreting]

[speaks Swahili]

He was dressed like you.

Ha ha!

Was he... Ask them,
was he young or old?

[interpreting]

[speaks Swahili]

Old. White hair.
Soon to die.

Soon to die?

But he's not...
he's not dead yet?

[interpreting]

[speaks Swahili]

No, he's not yet dead.

Oh, good.

[fires]

[firing]

[locals cheering, ululating]

-How do you do, sir?
-Hello.

Who the mischief are you?

I am Susi, the servant
of Dr. Livingstone.

Excuse me.

Dr. Livingstone, I presume?

Yes. Yes.

-Oh! Oh, my goodness.
-Will you?

[Livingstone laughs]

I saved this
for this occasion.

You know,
when I first came here,

uh, 16 days ago,

I was dying on my feet.

I had no food left, no medicine,
certainly no letters.

You brought me new life.

To your very good health, sir.

To the noontime quiet of nature.

Hum of the insects
in the air.

To the tide of life which,
in a thousand forms,

breathes in the dry
and dusty soil,

in the bosom of the waters...

and the air
that washes around us.

All right, all right,
I'm fine, thank you, thank you.

Ahh.

-Well, Doctor...
-Hmm.

You are probably wondering
why I came here.

Yes. Well, I thought at first

you were a French explorer,

but then I saw
the American flag

and I was really rather glad

because I don't speak
a word of French.

But I suppose, like all other
white men in these parts,

you're looking
for the source of the Nile.

No, I came here
looking for you.

Oh, was I lost?

Have you ever heard
of the
New York Herald?

Oh! [chuckles]

Who hasn't heard
of that newspaper?

Well, the
Herald
has sent me
to find you.

To bring you home.

And to return with news...

and yourself,
if you will so desire.

Yeah, well, I had no idea
the Americans thought
so highly of me.

My own countrymen seem to have
forgotten about me altogether.

Well, I apologize
for maligning my saviors,

Mr. Stanley.

All right.
All right, all right.

[Stanley] Will you return home
with me, then?

[Livingstone] Home? Oh.
This is home to me now.

Thank you.

Tell me, Mr. Stanley,
have you ever had a mission?

Oh, well, of course you have.
One brought you here.

So you know
what I'm talking about. Well...

For 1,600 years
mankind has been searching

for the source of the Nile,

the fountain of truth and life,

arising, as Ptolemy wrote,
in the Mountains
of the Moon, here.

Somewhere quite close
to where we are now.

And this lake, I believe,
leads into that great river.

Now, if this is the source
of the Nile,

then people will listen to me
on a subject far more important
than this one.

You see, I, too, have a mission.

A secret mission,

one which will take us out of
the darkness that we live in,

into the light of truth.

A secret mission?

Yes.

Oh, I'll tell you about it
someday.

If you will sail with me.

Sail with you? Where?

To the head of this lake.

To determine whether or not
the river there

leads into the waters or not.

If into, then it is a sign
from God that I've failed
in my mission,

but if out of, I will have
discovered the source
of the Nile,

and then, perhaps, people will
believe what they're told!

You want me
to go exploring with you?

Yes!

[both laugh]

Well, Doctor, I'm deeply
honored, but I-I can't.

I have obligations.
To my newspaper.

My fiancée.

-I must return.
-Hmm.

And you must return with me.

Why?

Why?
For your health, your safety.

Not for your glory, hmm?

[Livingstone chuckles]

[Livingstone] All right.

I'll agree to come with you,
if you'll come with me first.

I need your strength
and your provisions.

Aha!

We need each other,
you see, Mr. Stanley,

to accomplish our own
separate tasks.

After all, you came here
for adventure.

Well, Mr. Stanley,
the adventure is just beginning.

[Stanley]
My darling Alice,

I am embarking on
a new voyage of discovery.

Our ship is an Africa Argo,

hollowed from the trunk
of a tree,

my companion, a man whose
gentleness never forsakes him,

whose hopefulness
never deserts him.

We are seeking to answer
a question

that has plagued mankind
for thousands of years.

For Livingstone,
our goal is even nobler.

He will not explain himself
further except to say

it is the unburdening
of freedom and truth.

[Livingstone] Don't shoot.

[fires]

Why did you point your gun
at those people?

Pointing my gun
at those barbarians

is what kept me alive, Doctor.

They were throwing stones,
not spears.

And who can blame them?

We're trying to change
their way of life.

Surely their way of life
needs some changing.

[Livingstone]
I love these people.

They're my children.

And our presence here
makes them fearful.

Sooner or later, their customs
must bend before ours

if they are to be saved.

Saved? For Christianity?

For the future.

You see, Europeans came here
long before we missionaries.

And they brought with them
a deadly disease.

It's called broken heartedness.

And it attacks free men who have
been captured and made slaves.

Slavery's an unfortunate
inevitability.

Been outlawed in Europe
for decades

and yet it still rages on.

Yes, but it hasn't been
outlawed here!

At least 30,000, more, pass
through Zanzibar each year.

And that doesn't take
into account the thousands

that sicken and die before
they even reach the ships.

If the British public were aware
of the extent of this...

perhaps the government
might do something.

Why don't you return, then,
and tell them what you've seen?

Oh, they wouldn't believe me.

I'm a cranky old goat
whose views are
a national embarrassment.

I imagine that's
what they told you, isn't it?

Doctor.
You prefer to eat alone?

Oh. No, of course not.

I'm so used to sitting
on my own. Please.

[Stanley groans]

Were you in the war,
Mr. Stanley?

The one between the states,
I mean.

Yes.

North or South?

Both.

My son died in that war.

Your son?

Robert, yes. Only 18.

Terrible things,
those prison camps.

Did you see any?

No, no, I didn't.

Yes, I was not
a good father to him.

I neglected all my children,

abandoned my dear, sweet,
loyal wife.

But Robert gave his life
in a cause

to which I have given
only words.

You know, when I first saw
your flag,

and you marching towards me,

I thought for a moment
you were Robert.

-[gunfire]
-[soldier] Help me!

[cannonball whistles]

-Shoot the son of a bitch!
-[gunshot]

Please help me!
Please help me!

No, no! No!

No!

[Stanley shouting in Welsh]

[speaking Welsh]

[soft moaning]

It's all right.

It's all right,

it's only the fever.

It's only Africa.

You relax.

[Livingstone]
♪ Speed, bonnie boat

♪ Like a bird on the wing

♪ "Onward" the sailors cry

♪ Carry the man

♪ Who's born to be king

♪ Over the sea to Skye

Are you spoken for, Miss Pike?

Um, for the next dance,
I mean.

Yes, I'm spoken for.

Excuse me.

Mr. Bennett?

My name is Alice Pike.
I'm a friend...

a very good friend
of Henry Morton Stanley.

Ahh! I believe
the bastard's dead.

He can't be.

Have you heard from him?

-No, not recently.
-Nor have I.

He spent my money
and then he disappeared.

Better be dead if he knows
what's good for him.

Well, he can hardly write
letters from where he is.

In a savage's stew pot?

He's cheated us, Miss Pike.

He's made me poorer
by several thousand dollars

and you by one friend.

Excuse me.
One
very good
friend.

I don't believe he's dead.
I would know if he were dead.

Ah, another American romantic,
like myself.

Well, perhaps you're right.

Indeed, I hope you are.

Good evening, Miss Pike.

No. No!

You all right?

Oh!

Yes, yes, yes.

It was just a dream.

How do you know Welsh,
Mr. Stanley?

Welsh?

I don't.

[Livingstone]
Huh. Well, you spoke it
in your fever last night.

I think you asked God
to help you.

Do you pray, Mr. Stanley?

Pray? Sometimes.

Mm-hmm. To my god?

I'm not a Hindu,
if that's what you're asking.

[Livingstone, chuckling] No.

What are you afraid of?

[Stanley] I'm not afraid
of anything.

[Livingstone] Death?

Well, death.

Uh-huh.

You know, I was almost killed
by a lion once.

Oh, many, many years ago.

And I thought afterwards
how easy it will be to die.

[chuckles] I was quite proud
of myself for the discovery.

But I've since learned that
there are far worse things
than death to fear.

Like what?

Oh, I don't know.
Facing oneself.

[birds calling]

[elephants trumpeting]

[praying softly]

[cocks gun]

[lion snarls softly]

Huh!

-[Francis] Come on!
-Please, sir!
What have I done?!

Doctor. Doctor.

What is it?

I must...
I must speak with you.

My name is not Henry Stanley.

It is John Rowlands.

I was born in Wales,
not America.

My entire life is a lie.

I have never spoken
of this to anyone.

Why am I telling you this?

Perhaps... because you need to.

I was born a bastard.

I never knew my father.

And my mother.

When I was six,
she gave me away

and she sent me
to a workhouse.

And what was done to me

in the recess
of that horror chamber...

will haunt me
for the rest of my life.

Please, sir! Don't! Don't!

[Francis groaning]

A beating is good for a boy

who doesn't do his job
properly, huh?

[young Stanley shrieks]

[adult Stanley]
I was there for nine years.

Finally, I reached a point
where I could no longer
tolerate my tormentor.

Unbutton, boy.

I will not, sir.

What? Strip, boy!

Down with your trousers!

Never again.

Never again?

Never again?
Get down there, boy!

Uggh!

[Stanley]
I ran to Liverpool,

took a job on a boat
to America.

Life on board,
if you can believe it,

was almost as bad
as the workhouse.

When we reached New Orleans,
I jumped ship.

It was there I met my father.

Your father?

Oh, no, not my real father.

It was a man who took me in,
gave me work.

He was the first man
to show me any real love

and tenderness and...

He, uh... [laughs]

He even gave me his name.
Henry Stanley.

And then one day,
he suddenly said he had
to go away on business

and, uh, he left and...

I never saw him again.

Never heard from him.

So... I, too, ran away...

to war this time.

And a battlefield known
as Shiloh.

We wore violets in our caps
as a sign of peace,

hoping that they wouldn't shoot
at us if they saw them there.

But they did.

[cannonballs whistling]

Uggh!

Help me! Help me!

Dear God, please help me.

[Stanley]
He was a friend,

someone to whom
I had opened my heart.

Shoot the son of a bitch.

Go on.

[soldier] Help me!

[gunshot]

I was sent to a prisoner camp.

Camp Douglas near Chicago.

I know full well the conditions
that killed your son.

I survived them...

because I joined
the Union Army.

As a turncoat.

Born a bastard.
Disowned by my mother.

Beaten almost to death.

How could I believe in love?

I had to learn to believe
in one thing and one thing only.

Myself.

You asked if I prayed.

[Livingstone] Mm.

I have. And I do.

I sometimes feel
I'm just mouthing words.

That there's
no real point in it.

God never loved me.

So why should I love him?

Well, then, why does he
allow you to live?

You could have died
in the workhouse, in the war.

In the jungle
on your journey here.

Others did, you didn't,

so don't you think God
has a plan?

[Stanley chuckles]

A plan? God may have a terrible
sense of humor, Doctor, but...

I don't necessarily see
any plan in that.

Well, it's not
for you to decide.

You must wait on God's
good pleasure to reveal to you

what he wants you to do.

The river flows into the lake,
not out of it.

This is clearly
not the source of the Nile.

So... there is another river
to the west of here,

the Lualaba.

That must be the headwaters
of the Nile,

so we'll explore that next.

Uh, Doctor, Doctor.

I'm sorry, I can't do that.

I must return to England
and you're coming with me.

As soon as we've explored
the Lualaba.

It will only
take 18 months or so.

I don't have 18 months!

[chuckles]

I have a newspaper article
to deliver.

I have, God willing, a woman
who is waiting for me.

Maybe it's not God's pleasure
that you explore the Lualaba.

Of course it's God's pleasure!

Do you think he sent me
to Africa to fail?

It's not for you
to decide his plan.

Now, who said that?

Now, forgive me, Doctor,
but you promised me

that if I accompanied you here,
you would return home with me.

You can return when you get
your strength back.

The Lualaba will wait.

[Stanley]
My darling Alice,
we are Zanzibar-bound

and soon I will be
in your precious arms.

The doctor has finally
agreed to travel with me,

unhappily so,

and he is not well.

It will be all I can do

to bring him breathing
back to London.

His theory on the Nile has
received a devastating blow,

and though he does not say it,

I fear he believes
God has rejected him.

[Livingstone] Mr. Stanley!

Yes, Doctor?

I must turn back.

Turn back? Why?
We're through the worst of it.

Once we reach Zanzibar--

I must find the headwaters
of the Nile,
the Lualaba River.

-I must trace it to its end.
-Yes, but you must come
to England first.

-It is not God's good pleasure.
-With all due respect,

God's good pleasure is that
you return to England with me
and see your loved ones.

Doctor, you're not well.

Now, I have some letters
to my children.

Thank you.

To Oswald and to Agnes.

Please...

My journal.

Please see that they
get to them.

Oh. And this.

My mission.

My secret mission.

I promised you I would
tell you about it one day.

I witnessed a massacre,
Mr. Stanley,

hundreds of men, women,
and children

murdered or taken
into slavery.

I was the only white witness.

No one would believe
the horrors I saw.

They will believe you.

Because you have done
what few men could do...

found me
against incredible odds.

And you have worked your way
into my heart.

So, please, take this with you.

See it's published and believed.

Do not fail me.

This horrendous evil
must be stopped.

Why can't you come with me
and do it yourself, Doctor?

Because...

Because I'm needed here.

God sent you to me
for this purpose.

I see that now.

You're a stubborn, stubborn man.

I can see there's
no changing your mind
when you've made it up.

You're like a son to me.

Please.

You're like my boy Robert
come back.

I promise you that what is ever
in my power to do, I will do.

[group singing
in native language]

[singing fades]

Susi.

Goodbye, Bana.

And God speed.

Thank you.

Take care of the old man,
won't you?

Of course.

Well, Doctor.

I came to you
on a mission of fortune.

And I leave you now
on a mission of faith.

I don't know who I am anymore.

I don't know whether
I'm John Rowlands

or Henry Stanley.

But I do know one thing.

You've been like the father
I never knew.

And I will miss you.

I shall look into your face
and listen to what you say

and be often very near you
when you are far away.

God guide you safe home.

Bless you.

And you too.

March!

[man singing]

[all singing]

[crowd cheering]

[Stanley] Hello. How are you.

Hello.

[reporter] Mr. Stanley.
Mr. Stanley.

Did you actually find
Livingstone?

Yes, of course I did.

So there's no truth in the rumor
that it's all a huge hoax?

-[laughter]
-[reporter] Welcome home,
Mr. Stanley, welcome home!

[cheering]

[train whistle blows]

Yes?

Hello, is Alice, uh...
Miss Pike, is she in?

-No, sir. She's away, sir.
-She's away?

Could you be so kind
as to, um...

give her these
when she returns?

And tell her they're from
her friend in Africa.

Very good, sir.

Is she gone for long?

Hard to say, sir.

She's gone indefinitely.

Indefinitely? I see.

Thank you.

[Markham] You deceived us,
Mr. Stanley.

We at the Royal
Geographical Society

do not take kindly
to deception.

I was merely following
instructions.

You acted like a cad.
Livingstone is
our
man.

And if he needed finding,
we would have found him.

-Then why didn't you?
-Because he isn't lost.
He knows precisely where he is.

You hadn't the foggiest idea
where he was.

What does that matter?
All this is beside the point.

There are larger issues
involved.

It seems that you're
an impostor, Stanley.

Impostor?

Dr. Livingstone
despises reporters,

most especially those working
for lurid American tabloids.

If he were to grant
an interview to anyone,

it would be to an Englishman,
not to you.

Are you saying
I made this all up?

The handwriting on the letters
you brought back

seems remarkably similar
to your own.

I'm not a forgery expert,

but we at
the Royal Geographical Society

are withholding
our judgment until we hear
from the Livingstone family.

-Oh, please!
-In the meantime,

we invite you to a special
meeting of the society

to defend your claims.

Defend...?
I have nothing to defend.

Oh, but you do.
Your character, your veracity.

Your very identity's
in question.

If you choose to remain silent,

the British public will draw
its own conclusions.

If, on the other hand,
your story is valid,

then what have you to fear?

[Stanley] I want to relate
to you the tale

of an old man...

a splendid old man...

who is, as we speak,
tramping onwards

to discover the sources
of the mighty Nile.

Uh, some of you have doubted
the truth of my narrative...

[murmuring]

...claiming that the letters
I returned with were forgeries.

You are mistaken.

I have with me here
another letter

which describes an incident

that only Livingstone
could have seen.

A massacre,
the horror of which...

[man] Enough of this!

What we want
is the geographical facts!

[murmuring]

My dear young man, I am trying
to give you the facts.

So you presume, Mr. Stanley?

[laughter]

[Stanley] What I presumed was

that I was talking
to an audience
of interested explorers.

[murmuring]

You're the sort who explores
the land of exaggeration.

You're the sort
of armchair geographer

who has yet to explore
his own back garden.

-[man 1] Who's the native boy?
-[man 2] Let
the native boy speak.

He isn't in the habit
of speaking to inferiors.

[grumbling]

I wouldn't talk, Mr. Stanley.

Isn't it true
that you're a Welsh bastard?

[man] He's the king of beasts!

[crowd jeering]

[man] You didn't find
Livingston.

He discovered
you.

[applause, jeering]

[Stanley speaks Swahili]

Stanley.

Alice!

Mr. Stanley.

My sincere congratulations.
I'm so proud to know you.

Oh, Mr. Barney,
this is Henry Morton Stanley.

How do you do?

Alice has, uh... Alice told me
quite a lot about you.

I'm sorry we weren't able
to meet you at the train.

But we were on
the continent, you know.

Didn't get back
until this morning.

From our honeymoon.
It was a wonderful trip,
Stanley.

Do you know Venice?

[glass clinks]

[Stanley] Whoa!

What do you think
of the civilized world?

Not your world, is it?

Well...

You're fortunate.

At least you know
where you belong, not me.

All my life I ran away
with no place to run to.

Please help me
to not run away again.

Father,

will we be going home now?

Yes, Kalulu.

We will be going home.

Bana Daoud!

[sheep bleating]

Bana Daoud!

[man singing softly]

[others join in]

It's not all pleasure,
this exploration, is it?

May God's rich blessing
come down on you,

and anyone -- American,
British, African --

who can help to heal
this open sore of the world.

Doctor...

Oh, by the way.
You've been vindicated.

[knock on door]

Yes?

[groans]

[knock on door]

Hello?

Telegram, sir.

Thank you, thank you.

[bell tolling]

[Stanley] I stand
before you today

humbled by Livingstone's
final journey

and the men who accomplished it.

It took
his faithful servant Susi

and 60 others 11 months

to carry his body
a thousand miles

to the Indian Ocean.

It is that body
that we bury today

in this most honored monument
to the English dead.

We bury the body
but not the heart.

Livingstone's heart
is interred in Africa,

which is only fitting.

He was more of Africa
than of England.

He belonged more to God
than to man.

Ha.

People picture him
as a solemn old man.

Well, I can tell you...

I have seldom met a man
so quickly responsive

to laughter
and to lighter moods.

And I have never...

met a man so gentle

and giving.

And yet he was a fierce man.

He did more to end the evil
of African slavery

than any man before him.

And he was a fearless guide
through jungles

even I was afraid to enter.

And who am I?

I am the one who he has
given his blessing

to complete his task.

So I will return
to the great continent.

I will trace
the Lualaba to its end,

and I will determine
once and for all

the source
of the Mother Nile.

Because Africa...

was Livingstone's mother.

And I...

am Livingstone's son.