Original subtitles

"Man with green vest-- 'Please, no.'

Man with fat fingers-- 'Please, stop.'

Window washer-- 'I can't die like this.'

Woman with purple shoes-- 'Please.'

Boy with inner tube and dog-- 'Let my dog live.'

'Please, no.'

'Please, stop.'

'Stop.'"

Oh, here's a good one.

"Man in the last row of 'The Son of Sheik' picture show--

'You said you had cigarettes.'"

It's a kill list.

Yes.

In a teenager's handwriting.

The final words of her victims.

There are 42 pages, if I remember correctly.

"Schoolteacher--

'Guard your heart.'"

I'm trying to think of something

more fucked up than this.

And how is your work any different?

Well, what do you think will happen to Mr. du Lac

when you publish this book,

when the other vampires of the world get their hands on it?

As long as they pay full freight.

They will make their way to Dubai.

They will scale the sides of this building,

force their way inside,

and paint the walls with his blood.

You are chronicling a suicide.

Do not look down on Claudia.

Look in the mirror.

Rashid is an opinionated young man.

He lives to share these opinions,

even when they are not solicited.

What's he taste like?

I didn't ask that.

You were thinking it.

- Stay out of my head. - Honey and pineapple.

He stuffs himself with both for days

before he offers himself to me.

Would you like to sample?

I'll wait till Damick comes around again.

I'm a savory man most days.

I care for him more than he cares for himself.

And I wouldn't let you near my neck if you were--

62 1/2 kilograms.

What?138 pounds for the metrically challenged.

Daniel here was wondering how much you weigh, Rashid,

so I told him--Stay out of my head.

Sleep, pray, eat, pray, swim, pray, et cetera.

On days he's a plump 139, I believe he swims twice.

Metronomic, my Rashid.

Refill.

Louisiana's a closed records state.

- And that means? - It means that

I can't browse the mortality data for 1923.

You wouldn't find the corroboration you were seeking

even if you could.

We burned. We buried.

And a convention city is not motivated

to advertise grim statistics.

Session five,

Louis de Ponte du Lac--For Claudia,

all humans died with Charlie.

As for scale...

I was skeptical, too.

I thought she was on a hunger strike.

It's been months. Her meals are too meager.

What if you bring one of your kills into her room?

We could tie him up next to the coffin--

She's not surviving on birds or nocturnals, Louis.

She waits for that slither of time

when I'm on the hunt and you're gone round the back

to make nice with the ratcatcher.

Or she's slowly starving herself.

Bon.

I know what I'd do, but you've cut my hands off.

My parenting is--Sadistic?

So save your words when it comes to Claudia.

She's in there 'cause of you.

Ca suffit!

Voilà.

Comme je dit.

She's dining out, as I said she was.

Ah.

Ah.

Don't do that. It's private.

Ah.

"Dear Diary, am I gonna be a virgin

every single time I do it?

Won't my skin down there grow back like my hair

does when I cut it?"

Jesus.

Old Man: What...

What night is it?

I couldn't hear you over the tugboat.

What-- What night is it?

January 5th.

January.

Always thought it would be summer.

Aah!

A whole lot of concern's been wasted on you these past months.

You read my--All of it.

Whole families, half a parade crew.

The incinerator will be overflowin'.

The smoke alone would blot out the moon.

What did you do with 'em, Claudia?

Did you read my other ones?

No. I did.

Inked with ungratefulness.

Where are the bodies?

Well, then, I guess you better hope and pray

you taught me how to clean up good.

Where are they?

You gonna let him do this to me?

I read some passages out loud, I'm afraid.

Hurtful words for both your guardians.

I didn't mean harm, a-and the bodies are just preten--

Stop lying, Claudia!

I buried them, okay?! Way out of town.

Nothin' out there for miles.

No one's ever gonna find 'em,

except maybe criminals burying bodies of their own.

I'm never gonna forget what happened here.

I hate you both.

- Where out of town? - Chalmette.

Now get out of my room!

Chalmette's three feet below the river line.

So what?! Get out of my room!

What happens when the next storm comes out the gulf?

Over here!

The Christian ran to Atlanta.

I've been tapped on the shoulder

from the long arm of Baton Rouge, I'm afraid.

They're promising I only have to be in session

'bout a third of the year, but a promise for Baton Rouge

is what my wife would call "a pig in a turnip field."

I don't know what it means either.

I mean, you can't count on it, is what I'm getting at.

And when you have been tapped on the shoulder

from Baton Rouge--You want money?

I mean, it's always a straight line with you, Louis.

Yes.

Yes, I am asking for your

and Mr. Lioncourt's support in my campaign

for the Louisiana House of Representatives.

A grubby business, politics.

Also devoid of dignity.

But there's one of those Temperance fartknockers

runnin' again.

And, well, look at us--

a city of a thousand saloons shamed into the shadows.

Look, that's Chief of Police Bardeen.

Maybe I should buy him a round, ask him why

there's double the cops walkin' the Quarter lately.

Our recent unpleasantness in the Ninth Ward.

The floaters.

I read about that in the papers.

Six bodies, was it?

Six?

Try 56.

Fleet of corpses like it was a judgment come.

- But they're still digging. - Drowned?

"Must have drowned in the hurricane."

First words out of my mouth when I got the call.

But I'll tell you both somethin',

because we're old friends.

Every single one of those corpses

had some soft part of it lopped off.

Finger here, a foot there...

a toe.

Hell, one poor woman was missing her left...

Mama!

Only the left. Don't be shy.

Go on ahead, just take the whole set.

Sounds like there's a maniac on the loose.

Most of the poor fools they hooked out of the bayou

are former inhabitants of the Quarter,

so don't be too startled

if the police come knockin' on your door.

It's just a routine look-see.

You didn't invite us here for a campaign donation,

now, did you, Tom?

Tapped on the shoulder from Baton Rouge.

Tapped on the shoulder from the Fraternal Order.

Both things can be true, Louis.

One each.

Good evening, sirs. My name is Deputy Habersham.

Uh, am I speaking with the owners of this townhouse?

You are.

And can you explain your presence in it?

Well, we've had a few citizens go missin' from Rue Royale--

a young maid, not two doors over.

[Strained] Oh, dear.

We're goin' door to door, looking for malefactors, uh,

lurking about.

Your daughter let us in.

I was in the middle of cleanin' when they knockered.

"Us"? "They"?

Oh, I have a few deputies searchin' the premises.

Uh, makes for a more efficient intrusion.

Why don't you finish your chores upstairs, young lady?

You often leave your daughter alone

with access to illegal spirits?

Deputy #1: Deputy Habersham!

Found this, sir.

What is it?

It's an incinerator.

What is it incineratin'? Yard clippings?

Waste.

Refuse.

We sell incinerators.

To various American cities.

Mm.

Where garbage collects, rats congregate,

infection breeds.

The problems can waylay

even the most formidable municipalities.

And we bring our clients here

- to demonstrate the product. - Hm.

No, no, no, no, no, no!

Shh!

This one's locked, sir.

That's my daughter's room.

Well, what are you waitin' for? Knock it down.

Oh! I'm getting ready for bed!

Excuse me, miss. Oh, my!

Now, it is my sworn duty

to notify the dry agents

as to the wine cellar on the premises.

I will refrain from contacting the Child Welfare League,

but I don't like what I've seen in this home.

And we'll make sure Police Chief Bardeen is informed

how his men conducted themselves

in the home of law-abiding, taxpaying citizens.

You know, I'd add a second bed to the boudoir

before you two go making accusations.

I have no doubt you could carry the fines,

but crimes against nature,

that comes with a five-year prison term if convicted.

We'll be watching you, Mr. du Lac, Mr. Lioncourt.

Have you lost your goddamn mind?

- Souvenirs. - Overnight in a jail cell with no coffin.

We do not bring souvenirs into the house!

- All be dead by mornin'. - Of course, that's what she wants.

So much wine in his blood.

You wanted her, you fix her!

And beer and whisky.

We're doin' this together.

Do you remember our life, how happy we were before her?

Happy? We were not happy.

An anvil, tied around our ankles,

pulling us towards the pitch-black ocean floor.

Who am I supposed to love?

You two have each other.

Who's my Lestat?

Who's my Louis?

I'm not human.

Wh-- What human would want me?

Perverts?

Like the uncle at the roomin' house

who used to watch me pee?

Or little boys?

And 40 years from now...

still little boys?

How are you gonna fix it, huh?

Which one of you gonna fuck me?!

Well, you're not my type. I like a fuller figure.

- Lestat! - She's being impossible.

Why can't I make one?

No matter how much blood I give them,

they just lie there gaspin'.

What is this? Look at me. What have you done?

Did you try to make another?

Boy from Ponchatoula.

Boy from Hollygrove.

Boy with the bow tie out in Algiers.

Claudia, how'd you figure this was gon' go?

- Make me one. - Because you turned out so well.

'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna go out there

and find other vampires.

If you could find them, which you won't,

they would shred you to strips,

because you are built like a bird,

because you are a mistake.

How 'bout you shut the fuck up?!

He treats us like shit and you take it!

Why is that?

And you, cruel as the devil ever made,

to refuse me one love when you've got two.

White girl, down in Algiers, sings torch songs with a flat,

no-nothing ass.

Been following you, Uncle Les.

You ain't been your careful self.

He's gotten tired of us, Daddy Lou--

the housewife and the mistake.

I've been entertaining myself.

Amusing my...

I don't know if you remember--

Antoinette.

I'll kill her soon.

Don't. Don't-- Don't run off.

I know we made some--Mistakes?

I remember the night I was made, the fire chokin' me,

you carryin' me out through the flame and the smokes.

But then why'd you take me home?

Why not a hospital?

You-- You were barely breathin'.

But I was breathin'!

Maybe I'd have a handsome husband by now.

Or maybe he'd be plain but with a good disposition.

That'd be fine, too.

I'd be sweepin' floors, makin' dinners, nursin' babies.

Maybe I'd go to church.

You think on that some.

I had no words for her.

What words were there?

"It all happened so fast."

"I was trying to save you."

"All vampires are born out of trauma."

We made her out of remorse...

out of selfishness.

Poor dear.

She wasn't held enough in between ritualistic murders.

She spent every night for half a decade with no friends,

locked in the emotional storm of puberty.

Look, Charlie Manson wrote a couple of beautiful songs.

Still, he was Charlie Manson.

Is that all you think of her?

Mostly.

I also think she makes you and Frenchy

look like a couple of whiny, existential queens.

Probably why she's a fuckin' gold mine.

The girl who moves a million books.

I won't have her exploited.

Won't matter what your intentions are.

It's the world out there now.

She's the-- the...

single-shooter, Xbox, mouth-breather shit they crave.

You can put the diaries in a proper context.

Context?

Sure.

Warn the world about a forthcoming apocalypse.

Or maybe inspire a line of sexy Claudia Halloween costumes.

Or a cool dismemberment trend

amongst the suburban Sylvia Plath set.

Once you put it out there, they decide what it is.

It can get away from you.

Keep reading.

Keep talking.

Claudia's night rambles had exposed us.

Assume we are under suspicion.

Assume our finances no longer provide us protection.

Make your kills outside the city, one a night,

no persons of note-- unfortunates, undesirables.

No more incinerator, new locks on the doors,

shutter the windows, no parties...

no friends. But her absence would lay bare

who we were without her--

a simmering pot of resentments.

We should leave the city, start anew,

turn a betrayal into an opportunity.

New York, Chicago, Los Angeles.

Paris. No.

Mm-hmm.

We should - dismantle her room. - You don't touch her room.

- She'll be back. - No, she won't.

There would be no Roaring Twenties for us.

We would be underground for seven years.

Emotionally, I was vacant.

I longed for Claudia.

I ached for her.

I walked the streets of New Orleans

with the shifting masses of the unfed,

the addicts born of despair...

...sending out telepathic thoughts of remorse

in every direction.

But she had shut her mind off to me for some time then.

And so I was left to revisit old haunts,

desperate for connection.

"Claudia, come home."

"I know I hurt you."

"I know I can make it right again."

Little girl. Little girl, I'm talking to you.

I don't talk to strangers.

Now, what were you doin' in the library?

You're not allowed in there.

My mama works here. She cleans classrooms.

I read while she's cleanin'.

You can read?

Oh.

Just as I thought.

Little thief. You're comin' with me.

What are you gonna do after that?

- What? - After you turn her in,

after it makes you feel like a big man,

what's your next move, you think?

You are not allowed to ride one of those things on campus.

You can't read.

I can't ride.

This guy knows all the rules.

This is our school. Where is your fightin' pride?

You hungry?

As the depression set in on the nation,

I barricaded myself within the dilapidating walls

of 1132 Rue Royale,

educating myself from Lestat's library,

ignoring all other duties of the role

Claudia once mocked me for-- the unhappy housewife.

Flaubert's style is so dense.

Louis Armstrong's in town tonight, playing at the Pelican.

Should we make it a night of the two Louis?

The absence of metaphor is so striking.

You sound like ever pompous

Sorbonne student I've ever eaten.

Should I do like you instead?

Read the first 10 pages of every book,

pass myself off as cultured?

Well, at least, - you're listening. - Use my middling command of literary canon...

I sit there thinking, "Light yourself on fire,

see if he would notice."...to impress some hapless human

I'm gonna kill in a few hours anyway.

You draw me into your gloom.

It's your fault she's gone.

If you hadn't pushed her... Claudia.

If you hadn't done your--Claudia, Claudia.

I cannot listen to this insanity about Claudia one more time.

I took an unsavory delight in provoking Lestat...

...but it was a cheap satisfaction.

As the tourist carriages rode by,

whispering tales of the weird brothers who encamped inside.

Used to work for Mr. Henry Ford in Detroit.

Sent about 20 of us over to a place called Copenhagen

and build a factory.

Met my maker walkin' the harbor one evening.

Trouble punchin' the clock after that.

How'd you get back home?

Faked my own death.

Shipped back on a boat in a coffin.

Naw.

Got to hear my own funeral.

Naw. No lie.

Only a couple dozen people showed up,

most didn't have much to say.

Started talking about the weather a few minutes in.

Almost got myself buried alive.

Poor fella diggin' my grave lies restin' in the family plot.

What was he like, your maker?

Strange.

European.

We didn't get on much.

You and I are runnin' from the same thing then.

Is that who's callin' out your name every night?

Is that Louis?

You heard his voice?

I thought I was the only one stateside.

Then I heard him callin' out.

"Claudia, I'm sorry.

Claudia, come back."

It ain't like that.

- He's more like a dad. - I thought,

"Oh...

now there's three of us."

Got me wonderin' what it'd be like--

ride with others, hunt in a pack.

Mm, a little gang of vamps.

Little fang gang.

You got a name?

Parents named me Bruce.

Bruce?

You don't kill like a Bruce.

What do I kill like?

You kill like a...

like a killer.

You like books, right?

I got a book.

You're welcome to it.

Got it off a girl a little older than you.

Not the kind of book I'd read.

Thanks, killer.

There's good things in that book--

manners, how to be a nice young lady.

I manage just fine.

Mnh-mnh.

You've been sloppy out in Jefferson City.

How long you been followin'--

You shouldn't dump bodies in the Missouri.

Even if you weigh 'em down with rocks, river's too fast.

I find you build a shallow grave,

sometimes a prairie wind'll catch, burns faster.

How long you been--About five, six colleges or so.

How'd you do it?

I had good ears when I was alive.

Got great ears now.

Heard your name in the air.

Somethin' about the way it sounded.

Clau... di...a.

How old are you, Claudia?

104.

Always had a fondness for older women.

You're gettin' a little close there, Bruce.

Aah!

You are bein' rude!

Wha-- What'd you do that for?

'Cause you were gonna run away, and I knew you'd regret it.

Ooh, mama.

"Courtesy demands that you, when you are a guest,

shall show neither annoyance nor disappointment...

no matter what happens."

There are four pages torn out.

I'll repeat myself.

I will not exploit her.

Did she tear them out?

Doesn't seem like something she would do.

It's clear what happened.

And she wrote about it, and I'd like to read it.

No.

When you do that, Louis, when you editorialize,

however noble the reasoning,

it calls into question the other shit you're shoveling my way.

Or-- Or-- Or maybe you can recite it from memory,

as you've demonstrated before.

Uh, let's see.

"Bruce walked back from the fire and leaned down over me and..."

Torn out pages--

Don't ask again.

Mr. du Lac occasionally finds it difficult to talk about Claudia.

Got that.

Mr. du Lac would like to apologize

and continue with the interview, if you are in--

Still recording.

"Rash of mysterious deaths

at university libraries perplex authorities."

Listen to this.

"Housekeeping staff of Vanderbilt University

tried to rouse students who appeared to have

fallen asleep at their studies,

only to discover that they were, in fact, deceased.

Similar incidents have been recorded

at the College of Charleston,

Lincoln University in Jefferson City,

and the University of Alabama."

It's her. It has to be her.

It could be her.

But I am the one who is presently

standing in front of you.

And unlike Claudia,

I am a full-blooded adult...

...with all the right appendages.

So, if my considerable considerables

continue to be squandered...

Two crime scenes, seven deaths.

Close proximity.

Cause of deaths, for reason, under investigation.

Coroner's office...

I'm sitting on the same balcony where you used to write...

...and I'll sit here forever...

...looking down both ends of Royal Street...

...waitin' for your return...

...for your forgiveness.

Hello?

Sorry, I...

No, no. It's good to hear your voice.

Yeah, I-I could meet you.

We're, um...

We're headed north.

Crash cleaned us out.

And don't offer, because I'm not asking.

Levi found some work near Boston.

We feel blessed for the work.

You look good.

Don't need that either, Louis...

or whoever you are that took my Louis.

It's me, Grace.

I sat across the dinner table from him my whole life.

The pews in St. Augustine's on Sunday.

Hid my fourth-grade report card on purpose.

'Cause his was so bad

and he didn't want our parents to find out.

You're not my Louis.

You can't be.

I prayed myself old, beggin' what to do about you.

God never talked back, so...

...this is how it has to be,

for me, for my family.

You understand?

"I spend time following Louis and Lestat

now that I am my own woman...

with no obvious sense of why I follow them,

other than meaning slowly disintegrates without them...

...my companions in immortality.

But today, at the cemetery,

I finally understood something so obvious,

which I pondered for a decade...

...why they made me.

To be Louis' sister."

Thank you.

The prodigal daughter.

I've come to apologize.

I put you both in a bad spot.

I wasn't right in my head.

I am now.

Apology not accepted.

How was college? Magna cum?

Summa cum?

Phi Beta Kappa?

I've read a lot of books.

Started with Persia and Babylon,

the old gods who longed for blood.

A lot of it was popcorn, but a few old tomes.

A Romanian tract on "vampirs."

A strange old Hungarian text, "Masticatione Mortuorum,"

the "chewing dead."

I plan to leave for that part of the world as soon as I can.

So, quick stop home to do laundry

before you fuck off for good.

A quick stop to pick up Louis.

Oh.

Perused a few folklore anthologies,

and now you're going to cross the ocean

and take on a society of monsters.

If what I've read is lies,

then tell me what's true.

Seven years and what's changed,

other than you need a housekeeper?

The vampires out there...

are vicious.

Oh...

...but you've learned that already.

Who did you meet out there in the American hinterland?

Read her, Louis.

That's it, keep 'em scared.

That's his way.

The vampires in Europe are much, much worse.

But I think he's scared.

I never asked.

How did Charlie taste?

Like the love you'll never really know?

And when he's scared, he ridicules.

She was a destitute little girl,

destined to live an inconsequential little life.

And we took it from her.

We cursed her.

Come with me!

Come with me, Louis.

- Lou. - I thought I could live without you,

- but I was wrong. - Louis.

Louis! His love is a small box he keeps you in.

Don't stay in it.

A thousand nights of sulking,

and the first sight of her,

you are just gonna up and leave me?!

Please, come with me!

Let's be vampires worthy of your love!

Aah!

Get the fuck off her!

Aah!

Stop! Don't you touch!

Aah!

Aah! Cheri, let's stop this!

You don't want to fight like this anymore.

I am trying to restrain myself!

Stop! Please, stop!

Don't do it!

Please!

Stay back, Claudia.

It's okay. It's all good.

Daddy Lou...

It's okay.

We're done.

I'm-- I'm right here.

I'm...

It's over. S-Stay where you are, okay?

We had enough.

We just...

need a moment here.

Just...

Aah!

Louis, no!

I fought myself a million times,

fought my nature...

...controlled my temper.

I never once harmed you.

Uncle Les!

It's "Uncle Les" now suddenly?

Let him go.

He didn't do nothin'.

Let him go. It's me you want.

Listen to me,

and listen very carefully, my infant death.

It was never you.

I chose you.

Louis!

I have waited, Louis.

I have patiently waited in vain...

...for you to love me...

...as I love you.

Just say it.

Say, "Lestat, I am never going to love you."

It would help me a great deal...

to hear that from your lips...

...your quivering...

hateful lips.

Let go of me!

Anything for you.

Louis!

♪ Your home is where you're happy ♪

♪ It's not where you're not free ♪

♪ Your home is where you can be what you are ♪

♪ 'Cause you were just born to be ♪

♪ Now they'll show you their castles ♪

♪ And diamonds for all to see

♪ But they'll never show you their piece of mind ♪

♪ 'Cause they don't know how to be free ♪

♪ So burn all your bridges

♪ Leave your whole life behind

♪ You can do what you want to do ♪

♪ 'Cause you're strong in your mind ♪

♪ And anywhere you might wander ♪

♪ You could make that your home ♪

♪ Just as long as you've got love in your heart ♪

♪ You'll never be alone

♪ Just as long as you've got love in your heart ♪

♪ You'll never be alone, no, no, no ♪

♪ You'll never be alone