Original subtitles

♪ Nice try ♪

♪ Get out the way ♪

♪ You're in our way... ♪

I've got a new Irish girl too. Orla's her name.

She's a real hedge whore, she is.

You can tell the way she's always shaking her back avenue.

They're all pinch cocks, these Irish girls.

All they think about is getting a pearly shower

from some fella's big old truncheon.

Always looking to join giblets with somebody's husband.

They're more fertile than whites, the Irish.

That's why they breed like rabbits.

Maggie, where is our luncheon?

Right here, Madame.

Voilà.

Ooh!

-What is that? -This is called fiddle head ferns.

The month of May is the only season you can get them.

And those... those are crayfish.

I caught them fresh this morning

and I've simmered it with butter and wild garlic.

Bon appétit.

Mmm!

Hang on to this one, Abby.

This Paddy can cook.

Hmm.

Delectable, Maggie.

Aren't you full of surprises?

How lovely.

I didn't know of your love for fresh seafood.

I will think of a summertime menu for yourself and Mr. Borden.

Mm-hmm.

♪ Nice try ♪

♪ Now get out the way ♪

♪ Good job ♪

♪ Just take a fucking hint ♪

♪ I said I'll see ya ♪

♪ Wouldn't wanna be ya ♪

♪ Wouldn't wanna be ya Ee-ya-ee-ya-ee-ya-ee-ya-ee-ya... ♪

Oh, Sarah!

♪ You're in our way ♪

♪ Get lost forever ♪

Who's Sarah, sir?

Your first wife?

Don't say her name, please.

Well...

I have something to tell you.

I am in a family way.

I'm...

heavy with your seed, sir.

I see.

Thought you were making use of prophylaxis.

Well... indeed I am, sir.

But it is more an art than a science.

And you do mount me with some frequency, Mr. Borden.

Do you not have something to say about this?

I suppose I don't.

Allow me, then.

I will have your bastard

unless you pay me.

And if you do so, I will get rid of it.

I will be discreet.

I won't miss a day of work.

And we can go back to doing what we do.

And if I don't allow myself to be extorted?

Then I will have to ask Mrs. Borden what she will make of this dilemma.

I'll let you think about it.

Good day.

When will it stop?

The fevers have never come two months in a row.

May I...

take a look?

May I examine you... down there?

To see if something's wrong?

Lay on your back.

I need you to open your legs for me.

Just...

It's your hymen.

It's imperforated.

It's covering everything.

Your kitty's strong.

How do I stop the pain? I have to tear it?

You can have a doctor make an incision in the membrane.

Or something else...

like it.

I have to have a husband to do that.

No.

Good day, sir. Has a parcel arrived for me?

Nothing for Mr. Borden today.

No, for me. Bridget Sullivan.

Hmm.

I don't know if I can do this.

Let's try it.

Doctors use it.

And it wasn't cheap.

It's called a Chattanooga.

Its member goes inside you.

I just... put it into gear.

And then it should go like the clappers.

No, maybe not.

Maybe we try something different.

Hm.

Ooh!

And what is this?

It's bouillabaisse, Madame.

It's a French soup from Marseille.

I made it with the leftovers of the crayfish.

It's part of the new summer menu I made for yourself and Mr. Borden.

-Where have you been, Emma? -Don't pry, Lizzie.

Where she's been is out of her father's hair.

Which is more than can be said for you.

Where she's been is out finding a husband.

-Isn't that right, Emma? -Mm-hmm.

You have a suitor?

I do.

-Who? -I said don't pry.

It's a warm body. That's all you need to know.

It's Bard Wainright.

Hmm. Good family.

Mmm.

It's delicious, Maggie.

Oh, Mr. Borden, I almost forgot.

We must look for a new house painter.

I fired that swarthy, no-good Portuguese.

Why?

Because it's May, Mr. Borden.

I was opening up the house,

every window and door, to let the vapors out.

And then I noticed my earbobs missing.

Where are my earbobs?

That Portugee had to have snuck in and pocketed them and then run off.

And what would Tiago want with your earbobs?

Why, to sell them, of course.

To pay for his... opium or whatnot.

Oh, and Maggie...

lazing around the house all day is doing no good

for Mr. Borden's youngest here.

Tomorrow, you will take Lizzie into town.

I know,

to be seen alongside her is a burden, but that is why we pay you.

Maggie.

Perhaps while you're at it, you might

pick up my newest axe from the post office.

That's a good girl.

Are you all right? You look tired.

Yes, I'm tired.

It'll be... be fine in one or two days.

Yeah, that's quite an axe.

More for felling trees than woodworking, I'd have thought.

Can I take it just like that?

I suppose so.

Why are we stopped?

The matinée. I got us tickets.

Après vous.

...waking looks upon, be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull,

on meddling monkey, or on busy ape.

She shall pursue it with the soul of love.

And ere I take this charm from off her sight.

As I can take it with another...

Teeth. Boy! Teeth! Now!

...render up her page to me!

How canst thou thus for shame, Titania,

glance at my credit with Hippolyta, knowing I know thy love to Theseus?

Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night

from Perigenia, whom he ravished,

and make him with fair Aegle break his faith,

with Ariadne and Antiopa?

These are the forgeries of jealousy.

And never, since middle summer's spring,

met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,

by paved fountain or rushy brook or...

Who is she?

Her name is Nance O'Neil.

They say she's the American Sarah Bernhardt.

Our ringlets to the whistling wind.

Oh, she's enchanting!

She's not very good.

Ah, my audience! Thank you. Thank you, beautiful souls.

Kind souls, thank you. Thank you.

-Here. -Please.

There.

Now, don't just sock that in a drawer.

That autograph is worth something.

Thank you, my dears, my dear audience.

Miss O'Neil, you were extraordinary.

-And so were you. -No.

Beautiful audience.

I see every one of you out there.

Thank you.

Yes. Oh, you don't have a pen, dear.

-Oh. -Can I borrow this?

Thank you so much.

-Oh. -Yes.

Miss O'Neil,

you were extraordinary.

Just marvelous.

-Thank you. -Look at that hair.

Doesn't quite work, does it?

But for the effort?

Brava.

This is going to sound like a terrible opinion to some,

but I really hate the color purple.

Really?

Why is that?

It is the shade of a boil on an Italian beggar.

The shade of a cancer that needs to be cut out,

eliminated at once to save the patient.

Anyway, I hate it, the color purple, and I always will. Thank you.

-Miss O'Neil... -Lizzie.

You're staying in Fall River for the next few weeks, aren't you?

Yes.

Then off to Poughkeepsie.

Aha.

I wondered if you might like to come to dinner.

You're probably staying at one of those dreadful boarding houses,

And I wondered if you might like a home-cooked meal.

Maggie is a wonderful cook.

We're the Borden House, just down 2nd Street.

Sounds splendid.

I'll have Beef Wellington.

Rare, but not blue.

Pink in the center, and cool.

Also, and this is important,

the various side dishes.

Peas, for instance, and carrots, say.

These mustn't be allowed to touch.

And if they do, I become nauseous and lose my appetite entirely,

and as my body is my instrument,

the instrument becomes malnourished.

Yes, yes.

See you then.

See you then.

Nice axe.

We should have written that down.

Ow.

Mm.

Yes?

Yes?

Dear God. You look awful.

I... I thought you might read to me.

Come.

Where were we?

Hmm.

"A mob pressed a local magistrate to question the countess

about the peasant girls who disappeared."

But the countess blamed her handmaidens for the murders.

Ilona had her fingers torn off.

Doryotta was burned alive.

And because the mob pitied the youngest, Katarina,

she was simply beheaded.

And just like that, the countess had discovered a new hobby.

I'm sorry, I have to...

Mmm... It's happening.

What's wrong?

It's nothing. It's just...

Oof...

I'm... I'm passing a fetus.

What can I do?

Um, put two drops of the...

You see the... the bottles?

Can you fill this glass with two drops of the first one into the glass?

Yes.

And then two... three spoons of the second one.

And then you fill it to the brim with the... with the big...

Mmm...

It's all right, it's fine.

Thank you.

It stops the infection.

Mmm.

Thank you.

There's something I...

There's something I have to tell you.

What? Anything.

This blood is your blood.

It's your father.

That's why he has me working in the...

in his workshop.

So he can be alone with me.

So he has me to himself.

No, no. That can't be true.

-Yes. -No.

-You don't have to stay. -I want to stay.

-No, you don't have to stay. -I'll stay. I want to stay.

Miss Borden, would you do me the honor of...

of being my wife?

Oh, Bard!

Emma, Emma!

Hey, my darling.

I don't understand.

Does your sister live here?

I've been here a month, and I hardly ever see her.

My darling.

Emma comes and goes with the wind.

Emma.

Everything a girl could want just falls into her lap.

My darling.

-My darling. -Mm.

I'm here.

Oh.

Oh, Bard.

Oh.

Of course I'll marry you.

Of course.

I'm not marrying him.

Sure, Bard is handsome

and very well-endowed...

And rich enough, I suppose.

So I'll string him along for a few months and then break it off.

Just like the last two.

Why?

Getting hog-tied to one man for the rest of your life, Lizzie,

that sounds fun to you?

That same ass breath, that same ball bag slapping at your madge

until death comes to relieve you of the tedium.

I'm telling you, that is not for me.

And I'm not letting them at Father's money anyway.

That's what they're really after.

How much is Father worth?

Do you really not know?

I suppose we're quite well off with the servants,

and cholera outbreaks are keeping the coffin business brisk...

$300,000.

What?

What are you talking about down there?

Nothing, Mrs. Borden.

Listen to you.

You so clearly love having a tormentor.

That's why Father doesn't respect you.

That's why... you won't get anything.

What do you mean?

When they die.

Father knows how feeble-minded you are.

You get 5%, I get the rest.

I don't understand. It's so cruel.

5%, Lizzie.

That's still a shit barge of money.

That's $15,000. With that, you can buy your own house.

You can... you can buy a plot of land

and still have enough money to not lift a finger the rest of your life.

That isn't what I mean.

I know.

But money...

is freedom.

And you can pick cherries all you want, and you can tend to your dovecote,

and you can be free,

so free that...

no one can tell you anything.

Anything.

You know, at 11 weeks, baby doves stop looking so strange.

They can open their eyes.

They stop looking like little demons.

What did you do that for?

Because I felt like it.

I should be saving my kiss for my beau.

Maybe I should be your beau.

Maggie, look at all the motes.

They're like little angels.

They're like little fairies watching over us, protecting us.

Fairies.

Your fairies are my life's chore.

They land on every surface that I dust off so that I have to dust it all over again.

Hello.

Hello.

I can't believe it's May.

Paris is so beautiful in May.

One day I'll take you.

And we'll have champagne and oysters.

Except we couldn't have oysters in May.

Why?

In May, sea gets warmer, air gets hot.

And 1st May, Fall River flushes the sewers.

Now sewage flows right out over her oyster shoals.

And oysters are filter feeders, you know,

so summers they get a bacillus in them.

They sit out just a few minutes in the sun and they start to stink.

Eat one. It could kill you.

Let's poison them.

What?

Yeah. With the oysters.

Poison them?

Yes.

I mean, we wouldn't really.

They would poison themselves.

We would just give them what they want.

No.

You should be ashamed for even saying that.

Just think of it.

No.

What are you doing?

I'm not killing these birds, Lizzie.

You are.

I told you I couldn't stand the cooing.

The noise... the noise has driven me to the brink!

But you are thick!

And willful!

So I did what you made me do.

No!

No, no!

No!

Shut your mouth or I'll fill it with bird shit.

I have relieved you of that useless hobby

that nearly condemned you to the fate of a hideous old maid.

You should thank me.

I have removed that distraction.

Now you can concentrate on a new hobby.

Finding a man and leaving this fucking house!

Father.

How can I help?

Aren't you curious?

I'm covered in blood and feathers.

All right.

What happened?

Father, she murdered my doves.

She murdered them.

With no pretext, no provocation.

I need you to do something.

For once in your life, show me that you care about me.

I am your daughter.

You stand by and you watch as she treats me as she does,

and you do nothing.

You do nothing.

Nothing.

That's what I... do, is it?

You have no idea what it feels like to be me.

You do nothing to help me.

No one does.

I have no... son.

I have no... respite from the droning of shrill female voices,

on and on and on and on

in a house that I... toil for night and day.

And all that I ask, all that I ask

is that you don't... bring me your troubles!

Birds!

Birds?

I don't give a Christ's dead cock

about your birds.

I don't give a single, solitary, airborne fuck!

Is that clear?

Or

Are you... too thick to understand?

I understand.

Good.

We're gonna kill them.

Yeah.

Mr. Borden, look! A new menu for summer.

Hm.

♪ Getting used to saying no is cunty Getting out of your comfort zone ♪

♪ Learning how to let go is cunty Having cum on my shirt is cunty ♪

♪ Setting boundaries is cunty Respecting others is cunty too ♪

♪ Putting yourself first is cunty Learning to love yourself is cunty ♪

♪ C-U-N-T ♪

♪ I'm gonna do what's best for me I'm cunty ♪

♪ That's cunty C-U-N-T ♪

♪ I'll prioritize my own needs I'm cunty ♪

♪ That's cunty, cunty, cunty Wow ♪

Ugh.

Rosemary.

Ginger.

And cardamom.

It's hard to find, but...

it'll hide the smell.

Voilà.

♪ Five, six, seven, eight ♪

♪ You can't take that away I'm cunty ♪

Ugh!

♪ It's Cuntology 101, bitch ♪

Do you really think it'll work?

Oh, yeah.

Do you really think it'll kill them?

Yeah.

They call it vibriosis.

First they vomit, and they vomit blood.

Then they have blood coming out of their ass,

then out of their eyes, out of every orifice.

It's a gruesome way to die, but they deserve it.

I thought Emma might sup with us tonight.

Why would you think that?

She's betrothed now.

She has no need to suck herself swollen off her father's largesse

like some at the table do.

Mmm. I'd like to commend you, Mother.

For what?

Why, for the eradication of those doves.

You know how I loathe the feces of fowl.

Oh! Took you long enough.

Or have I forgotten how to read a clock?

I'm very sorry, Madame.

Wh... What is that? Soup?

Yes, Madame.

Hm. Smells delightful.

Although I'm almost past hunger. You kept us waiting far too long.

Shall I serve you first, then, Madame? Or Mr. Borden?

No, me. Me first.

Mmm.

Bless us, O Lord, in these thy gifts,

which we are... about to receive from thy bounty

through... Christ our Lord. Amen.

Mm.

Amen.

Mm!

Well, that does smell good.

Mm.

-Mm. -Hmm.

It's... delicious.

Mm!

Mmm...

Oh, it's tasty.

Mmm!

-Mm! -Mm.

I was hungry.

That's cardamom.

-Is it? -Mm.

Delicious.

I might go back for seconds.

Mm.

Mmm-mm!

Ooh! I've got a big one.

Mm.

This Maggie is a much better cook than the last Maggie.

And without that hunch in her back.

She looked like a... little gnome.

I do love it when you're mirthful, Mother.

Mm...

Hm.

Mm.

What?

Just that... last bite.

Strange taste to it.

Is it... um...

Mine is delicious.

-Mm-hm. -Hm.

I wonder if possibly those oyst...

Oh.

Excuse... excuse me one... one second.

Maggie!

Maggie!

Make it stop.

Right away, Madame.

It's nothing, it's just...

just a spot of blood.

I am purged.

It is... ...over.

No.

No.

It's the... cardamom.

I'll fetch the doctor.

They are still resting.

But the vomiting is continuous.

I fear they may not make it through the night.

Mrs. Borden mentioned

oysters?

Oh. Yes.

Yes, I had one.

And it... I feel fine.

So does Maggie.

Hm.

That is quite the puzzle.

Quite dangerous, you know, to eat oysters in May.

A good fishmonger would have told you that.

I'll finish the cleaning. You... you go take a bath.

Did they stir in the night?

No.

Maggie?

Maggie!

What?

They must have vomited it out.

They purged it.

Maggie!

Yes, Mrs. Borden?

Good morning, Lizzie.

-You do know that's your name, don't you? -Hm.

I called for Maggie.

Maggie?

I'd like to fire you.

Or at least have you strung up in a tree outside the magistrate

for that bilious concoction that made Mr. Borden and myself so ill.

I tell you, sometimes a good purge like that

is just what the doctor ordered.

I feel good as new this morning.

Restored.

Fix us johnnycakes and coffee, Maggie.

You should have thought of as much already.

Nothing for me.

I think I'll just take the air.

They still don't suspect anything.

We could try a different poison.

No, I know how we're gonna kill them.