Suddenly, Last Summer Page #2

in a special sense.

-Are you all right?

-Right as rain, however right that is.

This operation of yours,

does it really work?

Yes, yes, it does.

However, it is very experimental.

I was struck by something

you said in the paper.

About the sharp knife in the mind.

That kills the devil in the soul?

I'm afraid I got a bit carried away.

No, what you said

was almost poetic itself.

Mrs. Venable, the work

of a doctor is his life too.

But we need help, particularly

in a field as experimental as mine.

Particularly at a state hospital

like Lions View.

Yet we have little money,

practically none.

Yes, I know.

Doctor...

...I have a niece by marriage...

...at a place called St. Mary's.

I've heard of it.

It's a custodial home for the insane.

She suffers from something

called dementia praecox.

Dementia praecox?

Which is to say, she's mad

as a hatter, poor child.

Would you like to

see Sebastian's studio?

It's at the end of the jungle

in what used to be the garonnire.

That's an old

New Orleans convenience.

A place where the young men

could go to be private.

You're not from New Orleans?

No, Chicago. Actually, dementia

praecox is a meaningless phrase...

Chicago. I've always wanted

to see two places before I die.

Hong Kong...

...and Chicago.

Now I shall never see either.

Because I must use every inch and ounce

of what little strength I have...

...in doing just what I'm doing.

The foundation you referred to?

Building a memorial to my son.

You see, Sebastian had

no public name as a poet.

He didn't want one.

He refused to have one.

He abhorred the false values

that come from being publicly known...

...from fame,

from personal exploitation.

He'd say to me, "Violet, Mother,

you're going to live longer than me.

When I'm gone, it will be yours

to do whatever you please with."

Meaning, of course,

his future recognition.

-You're very like him, doctor.

-ln what way?

Because you, a doctor, a surgeon...

...are dedicated to your art.

Yes, to your art.

It is an art, what you do.

Using people the way he did.

Grandly, creatively.

Almost like God.

I'm afraid my art is to help.

Not to use, but to be used.

Well, it comes to the same,

doesn't it?

I mean, in the end.

Oh, I don't know what I mean.

There is the atelier,

Sebastian's studio.

Most people's lives...

...what are they

but trails of debris?

Each day more debris, more debris.

Long, long trails of debris...

...with nothing to clean it all up

but, finally, death.

I guess...

...quiet desperation

is the word for most lives.

But ours were different.

Sebastian's and mine.

I know it sounds

hopelessly vain to say...

...but we were a famous couple.

People didn't speak of

Sebastian and his mother...

...or Mrs. Venable and her son.

They said Sebastian and Violet.

Violet and Sebastian

are staying at the Lido.

They're at the Ritz.

And every appearance,

every time we appeared...

...attention was centered on us.

Everyone else eclipsed.

My son, Sebastian...

...and I...

...constructed our days.

Each day, we would carve each day

like a piece of sculpture.

We left behind us a trail of days...

...like a gallery of sculpture...

...until suddenly, last summer...

Your son died?

You say that your niece suffers

from dementia praecox.

There must have been

a more exact diagnosis.

Such a pretty name for a disease.

Sounds like a rare flower,

doesn't it?

Night-blooming dementia praecox.

What form does her disturbance take?

Madness.

Obsession, memory.

She lacerates herself with memory.

Memory of what?

Visions, hallucinations.

It all started last summer.

The first I knew, there was a cable...

...from this clinic in Paris...

...saying, "Your niece is out

of her mind. What shall we do?"

I was almost out of

my own mind last summer.

Sebastian had just died, I was ill,

but I did everything I could.

I said, "Send her straight home

with a nurse."

So they put her on the Berengaria...

...locked in her stateroom

like a wild animal.

She was taken straight to St. Mary's.

And now they can't keep her there,

they can't help her...

...or cope with her fits of violence.

Her babbling,

her dreadful obscene babbling.

-What kind of babbling?

-Fantastic delusions and babblings...

...of an unspeakable nature...

...mostly taking the form

of hideous attacks...

...on the moral character

of my son, Sebastian.

And now they tell me at St. Mary's...

...the mother superior tells me...

...that we must find

another place for her.

And then I read about you...

...about your operation,

and I thought:

"This may be the answer

to all our prayers."

You must realize

the operation I do...

...is only for the unapproachable,

for the hopeless.

If she isn't unapproachable

and hopeless, I don't know who is.

-The things she says.

-What?

-Terrible, obscene things.

-Such as?

Oh, anything.

Such as?

All right, you asked.

This happened recently at St. Mary's.

Catherine accused an elderly gardener

of making love to her.

They questioned the gardener,

an old man.

It was the other way around.

Catherine had made advances to him,

spoken obscenely to him.

When confronted with her lies,

she fought, she screamed.

It took four nuns to control her.

And now I'm put on notice that they

won't keep her there after this week.

You see why I said urgent.

Yes, I do. I certainly do.

It's important I see her

as soon as possible.

And help her because if you can't,

I'm at my wits' end.

I can transfer her to Lions View.

She won't be as comfortable...

I understand, I understand.

But the important thing

is you, doctor.

You'll be happy to know

that at this very minute...

...my lawyers are working on the

Sebastian Venable Memorial Foundation...

...to subsidize the work

of young people like yourself...

...who are pushing out

the frontiers of art and science...

...but have a financial problem.

Mrs. Venable, loving your niece

as you do, you must know...

...there's great risk

in this operation.

Whenever you enter the brain

with a foreign object...

...even a needle-thin knife...

...in the hands of

the most skilled surgeon...

...there still is

a great deal of risk.

But it does pacify them,

I've read that.

It quiets them down.

It suddenly makes them peaceful.

Yes, that it does do, but...

But what?

Well, it will be years before

we know if the immediate benefits...

...of the operation are lasting...

...or just passing or perhaps...

There's a strong possibility that

the patient will always be limited.

Relieved of acute anxiety,

yes, but limited.

But what a blessing to them, doctor,

to be just peaceful.

To be just suddenly peaceful.

After all that horror...

...after those nightmares...

...just to be able to lift up

their eyes to a sky...

...not black with savage,

devouring birds.

You said a sky filled with savage,

devouring birds?

Did I?

How odd. I hadn't thought

about all that in years.

Now, why should I suddenly...?

Yes, we saw those birds

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