Salome's Last Dance

Synopsis: Set in France Oscar Wilde (so it appears) visits a local theatre and is surprised by their retelling of his own work ""Salome'" the story line then digresses in to a VERY twisted portrayal of his work preformed by the local brothel and what can only be described as rejects from the local community theatre. Just when you think it's hit rock bottom it reaches for a new low you didn't think possible and begins to dig add and yet the music continues to dig this in to an ever deepening pit from which you will never get your time back.
Director(s): Ken Russell
Production: Lionsgate
 
IMDB:
6.7
Rotten Tomatoes:
50%
R
Year:
1988
89 min
338 Views


Evening, gentlemen.

but how are we this evening?

As close as two testicles, Chilvers.

People are beginning to talk.

There is only one thing worse

than to be talked about..

and that is not to be talked about!

I wish I had said that.

- You will, Bosie.. you will.

If you would like to go up, Sir,

Mr. Taylor will be with you directly.

May I take the opportunity

to thank for you the ticket..

to "Lady Windermere's Fan",

Mr. Wilde. I enjoyed it immensely!

It's a regular triumph with the public, Sir.

Yes, the whole town is quite lit up. I'm

told that royalty is turned away nightly.

Isn't that line getting a little stale?

No line is ever stale that leads

directly to the box office, dear Bosie.

And where are you going?

Below stairs, obviously!

To polish up your repartee

with the little bootblack!

I rather taken a shine to him myself.

You'll see him shining

as bright as gold tonight.

But don't be tempted to worship the

golden calf or you'll suffer my wrath!

No sermons, please, Bosie!

I'm not in the mood for the

missionary position just now.

Ah, Oscar!

- Ah, my dear Alfred!

Congratulations! I've never

been more flattered!

The moon rising in a

jewelbox of deepest night..

could not be more exquisitely displayed!

But if you're going to redecorate every

time a new play of mine is published,

I fear you'll soon be destitute.

I'm feeling disgustingly creative!

Oh, dear! You are not going to write another

play to scandalize the Lord Chamberlain..

into banning it, my dear Oscar?

I don't think I could afford it!

What do you mean, hmm?

What are you up to?

I know you are the most benign brothel

keeper in the whole of Westminster,

but surely you're not going

to shut up shop, are you?

And send off all those boys and girls to warm

their pretty little bottoms around a bonfire, huh?

Where is everyone?

- Putting on their makeup.

That's nothing new, my dear!

Though if I may so..

I think you overdone the mascara,

just a little tonight.

Are you going to perform yourself?

You're getting warm!

They say that sex is

the theater of the poor..

You're not going to stage

"The Beggar's Opera", are you?

Umm.. stage? Yes we have built a stage.

You're getting hotter. - Uh, huh!

- You're almost there. Can't you guess?

I only play guessing games when I want

to be beastly to my darling children!

Oh, God! I promised them

a firework display tonight!

I say! This.. this isn't some elaborate

charade involving Guy Fawkes, is it?

Oh! Nothing so mundane!

The date isn't without significance:

Guy Fawkes wanted to strike

a spark for freedom,

and blow up the Parliament,

he considered.. oppressive.

You have done the same

with your play, "Salome".

The Lord Chamberlain acting

on behalf of Parliament has banned it,

so a few kindred spirits have

hatched a little plot of their own.

In defiance of the Law and in honor

of our greatest playwright,

the premiere of "Salome" will take place

here tonight, the 5th of November, 1892!

I'm touched, my dear Alfred.

Really I am!

But you must promise me.. one thing.

Of course, if I can!

- Promise me, you won't play Salome!

Much too energetic, my dear!

Here I am!

Evening, Mr. Wilde! Chilvers said

you was here, so here I am!

Why, thank you. - Rose!

How many times have I got tell you!

You should been ready

half an hour ago, look at you!

Give me Mr. Wilde

his cigars and get out!

Sorry, Sir! Beg pardon, Sir!

- Thank you, Rose.

Come on Alfred! She knows

I only come here for the.. cigars!

Don't be hard on her!

You may be hard on me when you discover

Salome is being played by.. a skivvy!

Salome?

Does she rehearse the Dance of the

Seven Veils with her dusters?

She looks terribly

undernourished, poor thing!

Will she have the strength to drop them?

She had better the little b*tch

or I will murder her!

Well, you can afford to these days

with servants to a penny..

How much have you spent

on the rest of the cast?

We're all doing it for love, Oscar!

Clients and courtesans alike!

Now, take your ease!

Imagine yourself on a moonlit terrace

in the palace of bad King Herod..

on a balmy summer's night, some 20 years

or so after the birth of Jesus Christ.

And what our production lacks in stagecraft,

we hope to make up for in enthusiasm.

And any shortcomings in design, I know will

be compensated for by your fertile imagination!

That sounds too much like hard work!

I came here to be entertained.

Entertain me!

As always, I shall do my best!

- Well, you never failed me yet!

What's that delicious fragrance?

What is it?

Sandalwood? Myrrh?

No! It's a blending of green carnations

and the pubic hair of virgins!

Of course! I should have guessed!

Let the play commence!

Bosie!

Well done, Kenneth!

As usual, you've captured the

perfect moment! The climatic one!

And hope to catch many more

before the night is out, Mr. Wilde!

While playing a part, I presume?

But did I really include a court

photographer in Herod's entourage?

Oh, no, we're playing a couple

of foreign guests..

but I've taken the liberty of

combining business with pleasure.

As one would expect in

a whorehouse, Kenneth!

And if you're acting is as grossly

indecent as you're photographic studies,

we're in for an outrageous evening!

Merde!

Merde to you too, Mr. Wilde!

How beautiful Salome looks tonight!

Look at the moon! How strange she looks.

Like a woman rising from a grave,

she looks like a dead woman

seeking out the dead.

She looks strange!

She looks like a princess

in a yellow veil with silver feet!

She looks like a princess who

has feet like little white doves.

She could be dance!

She is like a dead woman!

She moves very slowly.

What a din!

Who are those wild howling beasts?

The Jews. They're always like that.

They are discussing their religion!

Why are they discussing their religion?

- I don't know, they're always at it!

The Pharisees say there are angels,

the Saducees say they don't exist!

I think it's ridiculous to argue

about such things.

How beautiful the Princess

Salome looks tonight!

You're always looking at her.

You look at her too often.

You mustn't look at people like that..

Something terrible could happen!

She is very beautiful tonight.

Tetrarch looks glum.

Yes, he is looking glum!

He's looking at something.

- He's looking at someone!

Who's he looking at?

I don't know!

How pale the princess is!

Never have I seen her so pale!

She looks like the reflection

of a white rose in a silver mirror!

You mustn't look at her!

You look at her too much!

Herodias has poured

the Tetrarch a drink.

Is Herodias the one with the red eyes,

the ruby lips, the ruby hips

and the red rubies!

Yes, that's Herodias!

She's the wife of the Tetrarch.

The Tetrarch loves wine.

He keeps three kinds:

One which comes from

the island of Samothrace..

is as purple as Caesar's cloak.

Ah, Caesar! I've never had the pleasure!

Another from the city of Chipra

is as yellow as gold!

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Oscar Wilde

Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde (16 October 1854 – 30 November 1900) was an Irish poet and playwright. After writing in different forms throughout the 1880s, he became one of London's most popular playwrights in the early 1890s. He is best remembered for his epigrams and plays, his novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, and the circumstances of his imprisonment and early death. Wilde's parents were successful Anglo-Irish intellectuals in Dublin. Their son became fluent in French and German early in life. At university, Wilde read Greats; he proved himself to be an outstanding classicist, first at Dublin, then at Oxford. He became known for his involvement in the rising philosophy of aestheticism, led by two of his tutors, Walter Pater and John Ruskin. After university, Wilde moved to London into fashionable cultural and social circles. As a spokesman for aestheticism, he tried his hand at various literary activities: he published a book of poems, lectured in the United States and Canada on the new "English Renaissance in Art" and interior decoration, and then returned to London where he worked prolifically as a journalist. Known for his biting wit, flamboyant dress and glittering conversational skill, Wilde became one of the best-known personalities of his day. At the turn of the 1890s, he refined his ideas about the supremacy of art in a series of dialogues and essays, and incorporated themes of decadence, duplicity, and beauty into what would be his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890). The opportunity to construct aesthetic details precisely, and combine them with larger social themes, drew Wilde to write drama. He wrote Salome (1891) in French while in Paris but it was refused a licence for England due to an absolute prohibition on the portrayal of Biblical subjects on the English stage. Unperturbed, Wilde produced four society comedies in the early 1890s, which made him one of the most successful playwrights of late-Victorian London. At the height of his fame and success, while The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) was still being performed in London, Wilde had the Marquess of Queensberry prosecuted for criminal libel. The Marquess was the father of Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas. The libel trial unearthed evidence that caused Wilde to drop his charges and led to his own arrest and trial for gross indecency with men. After two more trials he was convicted and sentenced to two years' hard labour, the maximum penalty, and was jailed from 1895 to 1897. During his last year in prison, he wrote De Profundis (published posthumously in 1905), a long letter which discusses his spiritual journey through his trials, forming a dark counterpoint to his earlier philosophy of pleasure. On his release, he left immediately for France, never to return to Ireland or Britain. There he wrote his last work, The Ballad of Reading Gaol (1898), a long poem commemorating the harsh rhythms of prison life. He died destitute in Paris at the age of 46. more…

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