Salome's Last Dance Page #6

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


On what do you swear, Tetrarch?

On my life..

on my crown..

on my gods!

I will give you anything you want..

even half my kingdom!

if.. if you dance for me.

Salome, Salome..

Dance for me?

You have sworn, Tetrarch!

I.. I have.. sworn, Salome!

My daughter, do not dance!

I will give you..

one half of my kingdom.

As queen, you would look very beautiful,

if you were ask me for one

half of my kingdom.

Wouldn't she look

very beautiful as queen!

It's cold!

It's very cold! I.. I.. I hear..

Oh, why do I hear those

beating wings in the air?

It is though there's a bird. A big

black bird hovering over the terrace.

The wind coming from

its wings is fierce.

It's a cold wind!

It isn't cold at all!

The contrary..

it's too hot. I'm suffocating!

Pour water on my hands!

Give me snow to eat!

But fast, my choker quickly!

Quick! Careful, no, leave it!

It's my crown that's hurting me!

My crown of roses!

It's as though the petals

are made of flames!

It's burning my forehead!

Ah, that's better.

I can breathe at last.

How red they are the petals.

Like.. drops of blood!

But it doesn't matter!

One must not look for symbolic

meanings in everything one sees,

it makes life impossible!

But let's not talk about that now!

I want to be happy.

I'm happy. I'm very happy!

I have every reason to

be happy, haven't I?

Your daughter is going to dance for me!

Aren't you Salome?

You promised to dance!

I don't want her to dance.

I will dance..

for you..

Tetrarch!

You hear what your daughter is saying?

She is going to dance

for me, your daughter!

Quite right to dance for me Salome.

And after you have danced, don't forget

to come and ask for anything you want!

Anything you want, I'll give you..

I have sworn it, haven't I?

You have sworn!

I have never.. gone back on my word.

I'm.. I'm not one of those

to go back on my word. I..

I don't know how to lie!

I am slave to my word because

my word is a word of a king!

The King of Capadoccia lies all the

time.. he's not a proper king!

He's a coward. And he owes me

money he doesn't want to repay!

He said.. hurtful things..

He insulted my ambassadors!

But Caesar will crucify him

when he gets to Rome.

I'm sure Caesar will crucify him!

Or he'll die eaten by worms,

as the Prophet has predicted!

Salome..

Salome, what are you waiting for?

I am waiting for my slaves

to bring me perfumes..

and the seven veils..

and to unlace my boots.

You're going to dance barefoot!

Oh, that's good! That's good!

Your little feet will

be like white doves.

They'll be like little white flowers

that dance in the trees!

No..

I don't want her to.. dance barefoot..

She'll dance in blood.

There was blood spilt.

I won't have her dancing in blood!

That would be a very bad omen!

What does it matter

if she dances in blood!

You have walked in it yourself!

What does it matter?

Look at the moon!

She's turned red as blood..

as the Prophet said!

He predicted the moon would turn as

red as blood. Don't you see?

I see it perfectly well..

and the stars will fall like green figs..

and the sun is turning as black

as a sack of feathers..

and the kings of the earth are afraid!

That at least we can see.

For the first time in his life,

the Prophet is right.

The kings of the earth are afraid!

So let us go in. You are ill! They are

going to say in Rome that you are mad!

Let us go in, I tell you!

Who is he who come from Edom,

who comes from Bosra..

with his purple colored robe?

Who glows in the beauty of his clothes..

and walks with a powerful stride?

Why are his clothes dyed scarlet?

Let us go in!

The sound of this man's

voice exasperates me!

I don't want my daughter to dance,

while he is carrying on like this!

I don't want my daughter to dance,

while you are looking at her like that!

In fact, I don't want my

daughter to dance at all!

Don't go in!

Arrive(?) my queen!

It's no use!

I will not go in until

I've seen her dance!

Salome!

Dance for me!

I am ready.. Tetrarch!

Do not dance, my daughter!

Marvelous! Marvelous!

You see she has danced

for me, your daughter!

Come here, Salome! Come here,

so I can reward you!

Anything you want, I'll give you.

What do you want? Tell me!

I want it brought to me presently..

on a silver platter!

On a silver platter?

On a silver platter, of course!

Isn't she charming!

What do you want brought to you on a silver

platter, my dear and beautiful Salome?

You're the most beautiful

of all the girls in Judea!

What do you want brought

to you on a silver platter?

Tell me and I'll give it to you..

all my treasures belong to you.

Tell me, what do you want?

The head of John the Baptist!

Well said, my daughter!

I beg you, Salome,

do not ask this of me!

Don't pay any attention to your mother!

She's always giving you bad advice.

You mustn't listen to her!

- I'm not listening to her!

It is for my own pleasure that I ask

for the head of John the Baptist..

on a silver platter!

Remember! You swore Herod!

I know I swore by the gods,

I know very well!

But I beg you, do not ask this of me,

ask for anything else,

ask for half my kingdom!

I will give it to you, but..

I beg you do not ask this of me!

I am asking you for the

head of John the Baptist!

Salome, Salome..

Let's be friends, eh? You see..

What was I gonna say? I forgotten.

Yes, I remember what it was, uh..

Oh, Salome! Come.. come.. come closer!

I.. I'm afraid you.. you won't hear me.

You know my beautiful peacocks, my

beautiful white peacocks which..

live between the cypress trees

and the myrtles in the garden?

Their heads are golden,

the grain they eat is gold too and..

their feet are dyed purple.

The rains come when they cry out..

and when they open their fans,

the moon appears in the sky.

They walk two by two between the cypress

trees and the black myrtles..

and each one has a

slave to look after him.

Sometimes they fly through the trees..

and sometimes they sleep in

the grass or by the pool.

There are no animals in the world,

as beautiful as they.

I'm sure no king on earth

has birds as perfect.

I'm sure even Caesar.. Caesar!

Has not got birds as beautiful.

I will give you..

fifty of them!

They will go everywhere with you and

amongst them, you'd be like the moon,

on a great white cloud!

I will..

I will give them all to you!

I have only one hundred..

and there's no king on earth

who has peacocks such as mine!

I will give them all to you!

But.. but you must release

me from my promise and..

and not ask me what

you have asked of me!

Give me the head of John the Baptist!

Well said my daughter! You.. you are

ridiculous with your white peacocks!

Shut up!

You're always shouting!

You screech like a bird of prey.

Stop screeching like that!

Salome.. Salome,

think of what you're doing!

This man comes from God.. perhaps.

I am sure he comes from God.

He's a holy man.

The finger of God is upon him and God

has put terrible words in his mouth!

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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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