Rupert, Rupert & Rupert (2019) - full transcript

A bittersweet comedy-drama about a struggling actor with multiple personality disorder whose three identities battle for control when he wins the lead role in a West End play and falls for the pretty makeup artist.

- And action.

- Jesus Christ,
that's a suicide vest.

He's wearing enough
plastic explosives

to vaporize the plane.




What do we do?

Can I try that again?

- No.

That's okay.

I've got what I need.

Thanks for coming in.

- I'm Dr. Dale Rumsfield,
veterinary surgeon.

I'm Dr. Dale Rumsfield,
veterinary surgeon.

I'm a man who loves animals,
but I've seen so many die

that my love has become
trapped deep in my chest.

There's a broken
marriage behind me

and a childhood wound that
haunts me in the small hours.

But I won't permit such
distractions to enter my surgery.

They remain outside the door,
lurking just beyond view,

where such things always lurk.

- You
have a new message.

First message.

- Rupert,
it's Dolores.

You won't be surprised to hear

you didn't get the part
in Death at 30,000 feet.

Somehow, I'm managed
to get you an audition

for another small
role this afternoon.

They liked you in
the pizza commercial.

I'm emailing you the script.

- She left me, Patty.

She packed her bags last
night and walked out the door.

When the latch clicked
shut, my life ended.

My love was gone.

She left me, Patty.

She packed her bags last
night and walked out the door.

She left me, Patty.

She packed her bags last
night and walked out the door.

And when the latch clicked
shut, my life ended.

My love was gone.

- That's your mark.

Uh, lose the hat.

- But it's part of
my character's--

- Just lose the hat, buddy.

And action.

- She left me, Patty.

She packed her bags last
night and walked out the door.

And when the latch clicked
shut, my life ended!

The fucking bitch was gone now!

How was that for
you, cocksucker?

- Uh, thanks for coming in.

- You
have a new message.

- I've
had it with you.

If they want sadness,
you give them rage.

And if they want rage,
you give them eroticism?

You haven't managed
a proper performance

since you played a chef
in that pizza commercial,

and that was 18 months ago.

You are not commercially viable.

Consider yourself fired.

- I know.

I've gotta do something.

Angus McFadden.

Dr. Dale Rumsfield recommends

against strenuous activity
whilst convalescing.

If you want to fly again,
you must avoid agitation.

It dulls you, doesn't it,

putting a lid on all
things, good and bad.

- Angus McFadden.

- How are ya, Angus?

I was wondering if
you could help me out.

A pal of mine suffers
from bouts of amnesia

which can last for
anything up to a few hours.

The only problem is he often
misbehaves during those periods

and then has absolutely no
memory at all of what he's done.

He's getting it all arse ways,

and I'm hoping you can help
put the poor fellow straight.

- Well,
sure, I can help.

What's your friend's name?

- Rupert.

- Would you like to
make an appointment for him?

When's a good time?

- How
soon can you manage?

- Tomorrow
afternoon at three.

- That soon?

- Too early?

- No, no.

No, tomorrow afternoon's grand.

- Rupert.

- Yes?

- Looking forward
to meeting you.


Yeah, I know, I know,
I know, I know, I know.

- Stand on the garbage truck.

- Olga, I really have
to go to work now.

So what sort of misbehavior
are we talking about?

- It's hard to say really.

- Because of the
bouts of amnesia?

But if you can't remember,

how do you know
there's a problem?

- It's ruining my career.

- Are you aware of
anything you've done

during these moments?

- Well, I know I
punch walls sometimes

and break things in my flat.

I see the damage afterwards

and know no one
else has been there.

- That must be
pretty scary for you.

Are you aware you're
rubbing your lips?

- So I'm rubbing my lips.

So fucking what?

- So I was wondering if
you're feeling anxious

about having said too much.

What happened there?

- Lips, lips, lips.




- What happened there?

- What happened where?

- Dolores Joe.

- Hi.

Hi, Dolores.

It's Rupert Lindsay here.

Now listen, I got
your voicemail.

And the thing is I
was actually mugged

on the way to the audition.

Yeah, two huge Russian men.

It was, it was brutal.

So not surprisingly, I
was a little distraught

when I went to casting--

- Oh, fuck off, Rupert!

- You
have a new message.

First message.

- I was just
about to delete your file,

but for some strange reason,
Trudy at Britannia Casting

has specifically asked to
see you for the title role

of The Fatal Blasphemy of
Jeremiah Ulysses's Boundless Rage,

a previously undiscovered
Christopher Marlowe play.

It's about a puritan who's
always furiously angry,

so right up your street.

Duncan Barnes has
just pulled out,

so looking for someone to go
straight into dress rehearsals.

Whoever gets the part
will be co-starring

with Tamsin Hollonby,
the queen of method.

This is the chance
of a lifetime.

Tamsin is huge.

Fuck it up like
your last audition

and you might just get the role.

- Fuck it up?

I'll fuck you up, you old bent!


Thou scorns sweet
innocence and chastity.

Thou art wholly wanton
and lascivious--

- Shut up.

- I have to listen to thy
drum and bass at all hours,

so thou can fucking well
listen to a bit of literature!

Marriage is a sacrament
to our divine father

and gives thee not
permission for wantonness!

- Marriage is a sacrament
to our divine father

and gives thee not
permission for wantonness!

Thou are corrupted.

- I'm seeing anger
and I'm hearing anger,

but I'm not feeling anger.

There's nothing here to
hold a flickering candle

to Tamsin's artistry.

- Thanks for coming in, Jack.

Uh, David Myers.

- I was here first!

- He's next on my list.

- I don't give
a fuck about your list!

First come, first served.

- This isn't a restaurant.

- Let's see what
he's got, Trudy.

I'm Geoffrey Morton, director
of Queen of the Commons.

- I'd keep quiet about
that if I were you.

What do you want me to say?

- Well, what do you
feel like saying?

- You wouldn't wanna hear
what I feel like saying.

- Well, actually, I would.

Go for it.

- I detest auditions.

I fuckin' hate them!

It's not the acting.

That's not a problem,
no, no, no, no.

What I can't stand
are all the pompous,

arrogant, small-minded

who sit in their fat
asses and judge my art!

Is that the sort of
thing you had in mind?

- How long did it take
you to work up the rage?

- About half a second.

- And what did you
use to provoke it?

- Your face.

- Can you say a
line from the play?

- Marriage is a sacrament
to our divine father

and gives thee not
permission for wantonness.

Thou are corrupted
by thy vain fancies.

The God thy service
is thy own appetite.

Thou scorns sweet
innocence and chastity.

Thou art wholly
wanton and lascivious!

What else do you want?

- I think I'd want you to sign
a contract and come to lunch.

We've got a lot to talk about.

- Let's go to the office

and check we've got all
your contact details.

- Are you
sure about this?

He seems slightly
unhinged to me.

- It was authentic, Oliver,
still resonating in me.

- Everything is riding on him--

- We're gonna knock this
out of the ballpark.

- Curtain goes up in 10 days.

- He's got enough anger
to hit the ground running.

I can feel it.

Look, will you sort
out the contracts,

talk to the press while
I take him to lunch?

Thanks, Oliver.

I appreciate your support.

- What do you think?

- Multiple personality disorder.

- Seriously?

- He's an actor.

- So was it the Cambridge
on to the BBC?

- Have you been reading my biog?

- It's written all over you.

- I spent six wonderful
years at the Beeb

before leaving to direct
Queen of the Commons,

which took $42
million at box office.

I was only 28.

- Prick.

- And now, here we are
with The Fatal Blasphemy

of Jeremiah Ulysses's
Boundless Rage.

The dialogue was impenetrable.

Some of the stage directions
are very confusing,

but I think we've
knocked it into shape.

- Does the BBC breed
that kind of arrogance,

or was that there
from prep school?

- Look, I studied
Marlowe at Trinity,

and the fact is none of his
original scripts survived.

Most of them were
copied down from memory.

So who's...

So who's to say what was
actually on the page.

- You?

- How many of us admit to
being really angry with God?

That's what Marlowe
was exploring.

To rage against God in 16th
England was great blasphemy.

It may well be the reason
why he was murdered.

In any case, it's
a hell of a part.

Jeremiah Ulysses is the
method actor's dream.

- I don't do method.

- What would
you call your approach?

- Anger.

- So why have you and
Morton switched to theater?

- Who could resist a lost
play by Christopher Marlowe?

- Your last two films
sank without a trace.

- Kit Marlowe was the
foremost tragedian of his age.

Some say his death was faked
and that he is the main author

of all the poems and the plays

attributed to William
Shakespeare, who only came

into preeminence after
Marlowe's supposed passing.

- And Hollywood's treating
you like you have wet leprosy.

- Shortly before his
recorded death, 1593,

Marlowe is arrested in
connection with a manuscript

he had written said to contain
vile heretical conceit.

We are staging that manuscript
for the first time ever.

- You're very good to Morton.

- So did daddy fund
the tranny film?

- My father's in hospital,

so it's a bit of a sensitive
subject for me right now.

- Did he get pissed
and fall over again?

- He has stage four cancer.

- So he fund the
fag film or not?

- I'm not getting this.

Is this unpleasantness
part of your preparation,

or is this just how you are?

- I'm just trying to
make conversation.

- What, so you immerse
yourself in your rage,

and your malice,
and your bitterness,

and you don't mind
if other people--

- We haven't talked money.

I'm gonna need quite a lot

to put up with this
kind of bullshit.

- Look, I want you
to be as furious

as you possibly can
be for the role.

I really do.

And I know that when
you go that deep,

there's gonna be some spillover.

But as your director,

I'm gonna need a
little bit of respect.

Is that okay with you?

- How much?

- I'm aware we're asking a lot.

Duncan pulling out meant we
had to cancel our previews.

That means you'll have to learn
the lines over the weekend

and then go into a
week of dress rehearsal

starting on Monday.

You get the Sunday off,
and then the last rehearsal

is on the Monday, with the
press performance that night.

It's a tall order, which is why

we're paying you 30,000
pounds for the rehearsals

and the press night performance.

Conditional on good reviews,

we're guaranteed a speedy
transfer to the West End.

And obviously, there'll be more
money for you at that point.

- He's evil.

- See, I didn't notice that.

Angry, yes, but not evil.

- He's a freak.

- A freak?

Have you ever been
called a freak, Rupert?

- Fuck you!

- Welcome back.

That question a little
too close to the bone?

Do you feel you need
to protect him from it?

- You're just as fucked
up as everyone else.

- You're mostly right.

- So what's your story, Angus?

- I'm not sure my story

would get a fair
hearing at the moment.

- Keep it secret.

- Speaking of
secrets, what's yours?

- The brilliant psychotherapist
turns the tables.

In a moment of
blinding inspiration,

he sees that what the
client has said about him

must in fact be about,

wait for it, folks,

yes, it must in fact be
about the client himself.

- Must be hard.

- What, being a successful

- Finding love when
nobody likes you.

- Just seen it in the papers,

The Blasphemy of Ulysses
with Tamsin Hollonby no less.

You've hit the big time,
just what you always wanted.

- Hello, dad.

- Any chance of a drink?

- Tea?

- Anything stronger?

- Coffee?

- What's that?

- You know what, now's
not really a good time.

I need to study my script and
prepare myself for the role.

- I should have
brought champagne,

be the first to celebrate.

Tell you what.

When I get my giro,

I'll buy a bottle,

bring it down, raise a glass.

Next week sometime.

- Let me know when
you're coming.

Dare thee speak of
morals, thou common hussy.

Is thy persona entirely
barren of abashment?

Whence stem these
shameless desires?

Surely, thou art fallen
into the serpent's pit.

How am I gonna do
this without him?

Ideas, please?


Fucking table!

- Drunkard!


Wanton whore!

- What?

- Good
morning, Mr. Lindsay.

This is your car service.

I'm waiting outside to
take you to the theater.

- Tamsin.

- Tamsin?

No, I'm Meghan Ulysses.

- Pleased to meet you, Meghan.

I'm Stevie.


Is it sore?

- Don't worry about that.

Just glue the scars on top.

Make me suffer.

- Sorry.

- Oh.

I'm sorry to
put you through makeup

for rehearsals, but I
think it's important.

- You behold them as
the scarred tracks

of my husband's oft used
whip, but I beseech you

to look again for truly,
they are open wounds.

- Brilliant.

I love it.

Ah, I thought
you'd gone missing.

Your driver couldn't
track you down.

- Much better chance and
faith in public transport.

- Now, as I told you,
everything is minimal

with this production, simple
set design and simple costumes,

all of which will focus
the audience's attention

on the physical manifestations

of Jeremiah and
Meghan's inner lives.

Look at this.

- Good day, Jeremiah.

How fare thee?

- Has she fuckin'
lost it already?

- There's method to her madness.

- Wankers.

- You don't remember me, do you?

- No.

- I'm Stevie, the hair and
makeup on the pizza commercial.

Oh, it was only a bit
of lipstick and powder,

less than five minutes.

- Yeah, whatever.

- Is that alright?

Just let me know if it hurts.

- It's more humiliating
than painful.

- Oh, don't worry.

Your natural good looks
will shine through.

- According to Orson
Welles out there,

the warts are the
symbols of the guilt

beneath Jeremiah Ulysses's rage,

the outgrowth of the shame
he tries to make others feel.

What a load of bollocks!

- Poor Jeremiah.

- Ah.

That is just a little reminder

that our time here is limited.

Now Tamsin, we need you
to get down on your knees.

- Don't tell us you haven't
really don't that before.

- And Rupert, if you just
stand in front of her there.

That's it.

That's great.

That's great.

Tamsin, feel your scars.

Feel the history of
abuse on your skin.

Rupert, become aware of
the ugliness of your warts.


- What are you doing,
you filthy slut?

What are you--

- Rupert,
it's what vile practice

doth now endeavor.

- Whence stem these
shameless desires?

Surely, thou art fallen into--

- What vile endeavor
doth thou now practice?

Whence stem these
shameless desires?

Surely, thou art fallen
into the serpent's pit

for thou manifest the
manners of a harlot!

- 'Tis but the day of
the groom's matrimony,

which hath in store
the bride's maidenhood.

- Marriage is a sacrament
to our divine father

and gives thee not
permission for wantonness.

- I meant to please.

- Thou pleases me
better with thy modesty.

- Cut, cut.

Now I think we're going in
slightly the wrong direction.

Jeremiah Ulysses is
always a volcano.

He's either erupting
or he's about to erupt.

Wrath, annoyance, vexation,
exasperation, crossness,

irritation, outrage,
indignation, resentment and fury,

that's your palette, buddy.

- What vile endeavor
doth thou now practice?

Whence stem these
shameless desires?

Surely, thou art fallen
into the serpent's pit

for thou manifest the
manners of a harlot!

- 'Tis but the day of
the groom's matrimony,

which hath in store
the bride's maidenhood.

- Marriage is a sacrament
to our divine father

and gives thee not
permission for wantonness!

- I meant to please.

- Thou pleases me
better with thy modesty!

- You seem different today.

- Sex is in the air.

I can smell it.

- Where does it smell strongest?

- The makeup room.

- Who's in there?

- Stevie.

- And you like Stevie?

- She certainly put a
spring in my shorts.

- Oh, I'm so sorry, Angus.

- You mustn't come
in here, Olga.

You have to leave immediately.

- Vilim has soaked me
with his water pistol,

and now I have nothing to wear.

- Look at my wife's wardrobe.

Now please leave.

I'm sorry about that.

- My pleasure entirely.

Absolutely terrific
pair of tits.

I bet you have some fun with
them when the kids are asleep.

- I'm happily married.

- Nothing wrong
with a threesome.

- Would you
like threesomes?

- Is that an invitation?

- When was your first
sexual encounter?

- Blowjob behind the cricket
pavilion when I was 19.

- Nothing before that?

- No, no, no, no.

She got right down to it.

- No, I meant no sexual
experiences before that?

I just thought someone
as sexual as you

would have been active
from an earlier age.

- And how old were you, Angus?

And sex with relatives
doesn't count.

- What are you
angry about, Rupert?

- You trying to make
out that I couldn't--

- Couldn't what,
couldn't get a girl?

- I can get any fucking girl
I want, including yours.

- Who are you competing with?

Who was it who
called you a freak?

- Harvey is
flying in from New York

for the press night.

- I'm Jackie.

Stevie's got stuck in traffic.

- That's a shame.

I was hoping to get
stuck into Stevie.

You've got a lovely touch.

- Not too hard?

- No, but I'll tell you what is.

- I'm going to
pretend you didn't say that.

- Okay, and I'll pretend
you're not giving me a boner.

- They have
sexual harassment laws

in the theater too, you know.

- Well, that's good.

Everyone should get a
chance to experience it.

- I'm serious.

- I know.

Suddenly things aren't
so hard anymore.

I'm gonna close my eyes
and think about Stevie.


You have lovely eyes.

Do you like my warts?

- Very becoming, my lord.

- That dress really suits you.

It makes you look
like a wanton whore.

- Thou knows very well

that thou disapproves of
such things, Jeremiah.

- Me disapprove of that?

- Thou was disapproving
on our wedding night.

- Well, give me another chance.

I beseech ye, give
me another chance.

- Nice improv, but
wrong direction.

Let's just take it from the top.

And action.

- Thou art corrupted
by thy vain fancies.

The god thy service
is thy own appetite.

Thou scorns sweet
innocence and chastity.

Thou art wholly
wanton and lascivious.

- Cut.

Are you still on the improv?

What's with the big sex thing?

I'm sorry, it's wrong.

- What's wrong?

- It's completely inappropriate.

Where's the anger?

Wake up, Rupert.

Wake up.

Wake up!

- Touch me again and I'll
take your fucking head off!

- That's it, that's it.

Keep it there.

- Fuck you!

- Action.

- Thou carnal transgression
goes not unnoticed.

Thy heap God's heavy
wrath upon thy head.

Thou art corrupted
by thy vain fancies.

The god thy service
is thine own appetite!

Thou scorns sweet
innocence and chastity.

Thou art wholly
wanton and lascivious!

- Oh!

Rupert, that was brilliant.

Tamsin, I love the blinking.

It's inspired.

- He thinks me corrupted
by vain fancies.

- The old man getting
you down again?

- I've been known to scorn
sweet innocence and chastity.

I sought nothing but
love and companionship.

- He's just angry.

If it wasn't you,
it'd be someone else.

Don't take it personally.

- And what of God's heavy
wrath I heap upon myself?

- I'm not sure you do
heap it upon yourself.

Maybe that's what he does and
he wants to put it on you.

- Thou art too kind.

- People can be like that.

- No, I mean it.

Thou threatens to undermine
my guilt and shame.

- Ooh, let's talk about your
journey to the new world.

- You've never
seen warts before?

Here, have one.

If that fucking asshole even
thinks about slapping me again,

I'm gonna break every
bone in his fuckin' hand!

- Or perhaps
you could heap

God's heavy wrath upon him.

- For fuck's sake!

- I'm so sorry.

- Only kidding.


I'm sorry.

I'm really sorry.

- It's alright, don't worry.

I know you have to be
angry for your character.

- It has to stop.

- You became aware
of what was happening

almost while it was happening.

Isn't that unusual for you?

- I have to get
rid of him somehow.

- Your anger?

- Yes.

- No other parts of yourself?

- No, him.

- But without him,
you wouldn't be in the play.

- I'm an actor.

I can build a character.

I can't have him being
horrible to Stevie.

- So you want him dead,
right, got rid of.

- Yes.

- You want him killed.

- Whatever it takes.

- So it's not just
him who's angry.

I mean, you said
you want him dead.

I've not heard him
wish the same for you.

- He wants to ruin my life.

He's a f...

- He's a what, Rupert?

- It doesn't matter.

- He's a freak?

Are you sure he's a freak,
Rupert, or is that really you?

- What
is this bullshit?

- No bullshit.

- You were bullying him.

What the fuck is that all about?

- Have you been
bullied in the past?

- Don't try and turn
the tables, you fuckin' prick!

You were bullying him.

- I'm surprised you're
so sensitive to her name.

- I don't give a fuck
about it, but he does.

- So you jumped in.

- You were bullying him.

- He became vulnerable
and you protected him.

He does vulnerability,
you do anger.

- More penetrating insights
from the great psychotherapist.

- You hate vulnerability
and he hates anger.

- Why does the great

have to bully his client?

- You two need
each other's help, badly!

- Maybe it's you who needs help.

We're doing just fine.

- Oh, you're doing brilliantly.

Why can't you admit
you need help?

- What, the kind of help
you've been offering?

- Well, you need somebody's.

Without your anger,
he will never survive.

And without his vulnerability,

you'll never feel loved.

- It's okay to feel vulnerable.

Taking risks and feeling exposed

are an important part
of a healthy lifestyle.

Protect yourself if you need to,

but you should take
the risk first.

It's easier said than done, eh.

- Hello?

- Hi, Stevie.

It's Rupert, from the play.

Listen, I just wanted
to say I'm really sorry

about the way I was
with you this afternoon.

It's an acting thing.

The part I play
has all this anger,

and sometimes it spills over.

I know it's hurtful
and deeply unpleasant,

but I really didn't mean it.

- It's okay.

I was worried you
didn't like me.

- Oh, you don't need
to worry about that.

- Good.

- Can I buy you a drink?

- You seem different.

- It's the electrifying
effect you have on me.

- Is this another
role you're playing?

- What's that gorgeous smell?

Are you wearing perfume?

- I put a little on my neck.

- May I?

Why, you smell
good enough to eat.

- Rupert.

Not here.

- Back to yours?

- You need to go
a little slower.

- We can do that.

- Generally.

- You don't want me.

- That's not what I'm saying.

- You don't want me.

- We both have Sunday off.

Why don't you come
over to my house.

My parents are having
this barbecue lunch thing,

you know, burgers,
hotdogs, beer.

You could meet the family.

What do you think?

- I think I feel a bit
uncomfortable about what I just did.

- Oh, no, please don't.

You were just
being affectionate.

I like that in men.

Anyway, I was flattered.

So will you come?

To the party at my
house on Sunday.

- Yeah.

Yeah, I'd really love to.

- Just so you know, my
mom likes younger men.

So does my dad.

But they won't bother
you if you're with me.

Are you okay?

- Yeah, I'm fine.

- Are you sure?

- I just need to go to
the little boys' room.

My name is Rupert Lindsay.

My name is Rupert Lindsay.

My name is Rupert Lindsay.

I'm 33 years old.

I'm playing the lead role

in The Fatal Blasphemy of
Jeremiah Ulysses's Boundless Rage,

soon to have a West
End run, hopefully.

I'm having a nice evening with
Stevie, who's just invited me

to a barbecue with her mom
and dad who both like...

I wonder how many tiles
there are in here.

- Are you okay?

You look a bit ill.

- Something didn't
agree with me,

but I'm fine now.

I feel like myself again.

- Have you had enough?

Do you wanna leave?

- I don't wanna
spoil the evening.

- Oh, it's okay.

I understand.

I had a really lovely evening.

Thank you.

Oh, you can be angry tomorrow,

but please don't be angry
on Sunday at the barbecue.

- Which fucking idiot
left the window open?

Fucking table!

Fucking bastard!

Another right,

another left.

The ref's gonna have to
stop it somehow.

- Animals.

- I'm telling you,
this guy has got it.


Do you remember Tamsin,
first time we saw her?

Same thing, raw.

There he is.

There's my boy.

- Twat.

- Did you hear that?

Yeah, that was him.

Oh, he calls me all
sorts of things.

I don't care.

Well, it's part of it.

Listen, he's amazing,
and I'm molding him.

He's like clay, fresh
clay, and I'm molding it.

And I'm creating something,

and I'm creating
something wonderful.

It's beautiful.

About six-foot-two, buzz cut,

mean eyes, Scottish, obviously.

Alright, mother, I've gotta go.

I'm in there in five minutes.

- Thanks, Harry.

Anything that you can
do to drum up publicity

will be greatly appreciated.

I'm betting the farm on
this one, and the house,

and the outbuildings
and 125 acres.

- Good morning, handsome.

- What's so fucking
good about it?

- Harvey's not gonna
be able to make it.

- Has anyone seen my pencils?

Well, of course,

we're approaching the
climax of the rehearsals.

This is always a very interesting
time and time, I think,

when the director really,
really shows his work.

- Get off my fucking ear!

- Harvey is back on!

I wish to Christ Harvey
would make up his mind!

- That's it.

All ready, Mr. Ulysses.

- Okay, let's pick
it up from where we left off.

And action!

- Thy solace fulfills
thy foul desires.

I'm afraid that which
I have long suspected.

Thou art a wild drunkard
and a wanton whore.

Thou hath concealed
thy shameless passions.

- No.

- Obscured them with
thy fraudulent masks.

Thy veneer of chastity
and veil of rectitude,

thy fallacious facade
of religious propriety.

- I respect your instincts,
Rupert, I really do,

but we are going to
have to step this up.

Now as I've said,
Ulysses is always angry.

His rage is infinite
and inexhaustible,

and it builds right through

until the last scene
of the third act,

on the prow of the ship when
he finally directs his anger

at God and experiences
God's wrath for him.

- Who said God was
angry with him?

- Well, what other
reaction can there be, hmm?

This raging man
is never redeemed.

There's no character arc
for Jeremiah Ulysses.

And surely, this
is Marlowe's point,

the theme beneath the premise.

Ulysses can rage all he likes.

It only brings forth
more of God's wrath.

And this is why the ship sinks.

Ultimately, his rage damns him.

Well, let's leave it
there for the day.

I'm very happy with
the first two acts.

The third needs a little work,

but we can tackle
that on Monday.

- Monday is press night.

- Not until the evening.

Enjoy your Sunday off.

Relax, unwind, let
it all sink in.

Monday night's gonna be awesome.

Hmm, okay, buddy.


- I've had this with all
this therapy bullshit!

It's not going anywhere.

- Where do you want it to go?

- I want it to go away.

- And yet, here you
are paid upfront

and hanging on my every word.

- In your fucking dreams.

- On my every word, Rupert.

You wait eagerly for it,

cease it as soon as it
emerges and try and turn it

into something you
could be angry about.

You say you don't wanna be
here, so why the fuck are you?

- Is this a new
psychotherapeutic tack,

swear at me and shock me
into a different response?

Or is this the real
Angus emerging,

the frustrated, the uptight--

- Whatever.

You want to be here, Rupert!

Just admit it to yourself!

No one made you come here today,

and no one's making you stay!

What do you want from therapy?

- I'm sure you've got some
penetrating insights about that.

- That's all pretty
obvious, really.

You're not exactly the
hardest book to read.

You're wondering if perhaps

you might be in line
for a second chance.

- At what?

- I don't know, happiness maybe,

a life where you can
react to bad situations

if they happen rather than
always anticipating them.

Or maybe it's love.

Why else would you be
so unpleasant to Stevie?

- You are such a fuckin' loser.

- Say that again.

- Fuck off!

- Tell me I'm a fucking loser.

- I'm sure you know that by now.

- Just do it!

Why is everything so
difficult with you?

Tell me I'm a fucking loser!

- Fuck you!

- Protecting my feelings?

- Yeah, right.

- Digging your heels in.

Just kidding.

- Oh, that's fuckin' hilarious.

- Thank you.

So who was it who called
you a fucking loser?

- Jesus Christ, don't you
have ever fuckin' let up?

- Say that to me again.

Don't you ever fucking let up?

- You're not big
enough to bully me--

- Who are you
talking to, Rupert?

Freak, fucking loser.

Don't you ever let up.

Leave me alone.

He or a she?

- He!

- An older brother.

- I don't have an older brother!

- Father then.

- Hi, sexy.

My mom likes younger men.

So does my dad.

Rupert, this is my mom, Sheila.

- I feel like I
know you already.

A star of the
stage in my garden.

- Hi,
how are you doing?

- This is my dad, Frank.

- Ah, hello, mate.

- Pleased to meet you.

- Nice to meet you.

- Let's get you a drink.

You obviously needed that.

I just have to go check
on my Auntie Josie.

Be back in a moment.

- Look at him.

Isn't he handsome?

- Oh, messy boy.

You spilled ketchup
all down you.

Would you like me to take
that off and wash it for you?

- No, it's okay.

I'm fine.

- No trouble.

- I'm fine.


Oh, oh, sorry, sorry.

- Oh.

I see you've met Jake then.

Go on then.

Show him your muscles.

Whoa, look at them biceps.

Look at that.

Go on.

He's shaping up very nicely.

- Fuck!

- Sorry.

I got by
my cousin Jacob.

He keeps on talking about
how he's been made a cavalier

in his battle
reenactment society.

Are you alright?

- I'm fine.

- Come on.

Let's go to my room.

- Hey, has anyone
seen Jack's bloody pants?

- I've gotta go to the bathroom.

- Don't be long.

Anyone want kiddie porn?

You fucking pedophiles!

- What's going on?

- Ask the child molesters!

- What are
you talking about?

- Fuck you!

- What's happened?

- Fuck all of you!

Time to put us all out
of our misery for good.

- Rupie!

It's your dad.

Are you hiding in there?

I'm sorry.

I haven't got the champagne.

Check never came.

Someone probably nicked it.

So I'm wondering
if you can lend me

a couple of hundred quid.

Not for your booze, no, no.

Just essentials, getting
by, surviving, you know.


Are you in there?

- What the fuck do you want?

- Oh, Rupert.

I thought you'd like to
know the word's got out

that you're playing
opposite Tamsin Hollonby.

There's quite a buzz around you.

People are asking for your reel

and checking your availability.

If you can get good
reviews for this,

it's all going to
take off for you.



Are you still there?

- How am I supposed
to pull this off?

Rehearsals were
a complete blank.

I don't know what I'm doing.

- Are you okay?

You look terrible.

- Dad died in the night.

- You poor thing.

- Cancel
today's rehearsals.

- What about the third act?

- It'll be fine.

- Yes.

Of course it will.

There's nothing to worry about.

- Maybe I can ramp up my
character's motivation.

Marlowe let himself
down a bit there.

Father was a pastor
who was angry with God

but too devout to admit it.

So he fathered a son to
absorb the father's rage.

Papa was always bullying
and manipulative.

He twisted everything 'round
to make his problems my fault.

I must be wrong

because papa was possessed
of a great fondness

for lashing my bare
buttocks with his belt.

The lashes stung terribly.

I can feel their bite still.

But there was worse to come.

Papa was aroused by
the beatings sexually.

And then one day, it happened.

After a fierce belting,

papa could no longer
contain his vile urges!

He bent me over a bale of straw
and raped me in the cowshed,

the low moans of the cattle

merging with my own
strangled cries of anguish!

For shame, for shame!

He was a man of God!

You bullying, manipulative
piece of shit!

You utter fucking
scumbag bastard!

- Rupert, how are you?

- I'm angry, dickhead.

- Excellent.

- Faggot.

- Nice one.

- Ass bandit!

- That's the spirit.

- Jackie, will you do this
actor's makeup for me, please?

- What's her fuckin' problem?

- The critics are
in the front row.

Let's see if we can pull it off.

- It's gonna be awesome.

- What vile endeavor
doth thou now practice?

Whence stem these
shameless desires?

Surely, thou art fallen
into the serpent's pit

for thou manifest the
manners of a harlot!

- 'Tis but the day of
the groom's matrimony,

which hath in store
the bride's maidenhood.

- Marriage is a sacrament
to our divine father

and gives thee not
permission for wantonness.

- I meant to please.

- Thou pleases me
better with thy modesty!

- One down, two to go.

- laughed
in the street,

but thy scorn no joy
with men.

- These were thy dear
friends, my lord,

John Clayton, Henry
Cuthbert and Darby.

- Thou dares to answer
thy husband back!

- I beg thy kind
forgiveness, my lord.

I merely thought--

- You'd go into the
tavern with these men?

- I but supped the ale
With thy kindred friends.

- Thou shalt taste the
leather of my whip!

- Henceforth I deny
mirth and ale in public.

- As indeed thou shall
deny them in private!

Ale is the devil's brew,
and mirth, his work.

- Has there yet to
be no solace for me?

- Thy solace fulfills
thy foul desires.

I fear that which I
have long suspected.

Thou art a wild drunkard
and a wanton whore!

- No.

- Oh, fuck.

- Thy wicked carnal
desires consume me.

- what's he doing?

- I don't know.

- As they devour the
sanctity of our marriage,

why thou hath conceal
thy shameful passions.

- What's he looking at?

- Obscured them with
my fraudulent masks.

- Am I so base, thou cannot
cast thy gaze upon me?

- What's she saying?

- Good girl, Tamsin, good girl.

- Thine eyes should
follow thy castigation.

- Thy veneer of chastity
and veil of rectitude,

thy fallacious facade
of religious propriety.

- Come on, Rupert.

- Disguised as thy
prurience and cupidity,

dost have torment
my afflicted soul.

- Wake up, Rupert!

You can do it, buddy!

- You cunt!

- Yes.


It's gonna be alright.

- Moment of truth.

- And the truth will out.

- The book of Hebrew
admonishes us still.

Let matrimony be held
in honor among all.

Permit not the
marriage bed be defiled

lest the wrath of God be
thy judge of immorality!

Yet, thou judge not
my marriage bed!

Virtue, righteousness,
morality were mine.

Thou bounteous rewards
were covenanted me.

Yet, thou hath recompensed
me with betrayal.

Treachery and scorn
are my sorry return.

I settled thy score
with bitter wages.

From the divine father
came divine scorn.

Thou rent from me free

nor was fortunes to be withheld.

Thou let my lying wife
lie with.

Thou hath brought ruin
to my pure marriage.

I shat upon thine own sacrament.

I am glutted with loathing
of all that is divine!

Thou forsook me, and I
forsake thee in return.

Send forth thy four
apocalyptic horsemen.

Ride me into the deep
for my blasphemy.

wretched husband

take her wretched soul.

I only wanted to be
close to you.

- He's expressing the
deep spiritual longing

beneath his blasphemy.

He reinterpreted the whole play.

Only by allowing himself
to rage at his God

could Ulysses hope to reconnect

with his authentic love for him.

There is redemption after all.

- Here we go.

Oh, this one says, "Tamsin
Hollonby was convincing

"as the abused wife, but
newcomer Rupert Lindsay's

"tour de force performance
was the only real highlight

"in an otherwise
dismal production."


- Remember the early reviews
for Queen of the Commons?

They called it a gay pantomime.

It went on to make $42 million.

- They've savaged it.

- The trade of the critic in
music, literature and drama

is the most degraded
of all trades.

Mark Twain.

- It gets worse.

This was an impressive
diatribe by Rupert Lindsay

but with no purpose
or consequence.

If Christopher Marlowe
had a hand in this,

which I very much doubt,

then it was not a lost
Marlowe but a discarded one.

- We're a limited company.

They can't take our houses.

Well, not yours anyway.

- Hello.

- Do you have to go?

- What you did at the barbecue
was really, really weird.

- I know.

I want you with my sexuality.

I push you away with my anger,

and me, stuck in the middle,

trying to hold it all together
and failing miserably.

- I'm sorry, Rupert.

You're just too weird for me.

Look, it's my fault.

I should have known.

I've been out with actors before,
and they're all a bit odd.

I need someone to love, Rupert,

and it's hard to love a method.

Thank you.

- I don't do fuckin' method.