Inducement

There are Things You Don't Have —

 

Will Graham :

I need Your Advice, Dr. Lecter.

Lecter :

Birmingham and Atlanta — 

You want to know 

How he's choosing them, don't you?

Will Graham :

I thought you'd 

have ideas.

I'm asking you to tell me 

what there are.

Lecter :

Why should l?

Will Graham :

There are things you don't have — 

Research materials.

Maybe even computer access.

I'd speak to the 

Chief of Staff.

Lecter :

Yes, Dr. Chilton - Gruesome, isn't he? 

He fumbles at Your head like a Freshman 

pulling at a panty girdle.

Your Life May Depend on Your Complete Honesty

There are •some• things 

(or at least, so it is generally •supposed•) 

that you simply just cannot say 

to A Nun.

BELLS CHIME

FLY BUZZES

Van Helsing :

Are you hungry, 

Mr Harker?

HARKER :

No, I'm...

..I'm fine.

DOOR UNLOCKS

Van Helsing :

Thank you.

Then perhaps we can talk.

I'm Sister Agatha.

HARKER :

Hm. I thought I'd met all The Sisters.

Van Helsing :

I have been sequestered.

HARKER :

In prayer?

Van Helsing :

In study, Mr Harker.

Of you.

I've read your account of your 

most interesting stay in Transylvania.

HARKER :

It's The Truth. 

All of it.

Van Helsing :

And what a lot of Truth there is.

Sister Angela tells me you wrote 

all day and all night for a whole week.

Please...sit with me.

Is The Sun a little bright for you?

HARKER :

No.

Van Helsing :

Good.

It's good, isn't it?

DOOR OPENS AND CLOSES

Van Helsing :

Ah, My Dear. Come in.

We are to be observed.

Apparently, I cannot be trusted

alone with A Man.

Consider yourself chaperoned.

Mr Harker, I intend no impertinence, 

but WHY are You Still Alive?

HARKER :

I-I fled.

I was trapped. I escaped.

Van Helsing :

Escaped, yes.

HARKER :

I fled that place in terror of My Life.

He is A Monster.

I-I swear to you...

...he is The Devil Himself.

Van Helsing :

Then why have you stopped?

HARKER :

Stopped what?

Van Helsing :

Fleeing.

You've been here nearly a month.

HARKER :

I'm Safe with you.

Van Helsing :

Why?

HARKER :

This is A House of God.

Van Helsing :

A House of God, is it?

That's Good. 

We could do with 

A Man about The Place, eh, Sister?

Two years ago, a church in this town collapsed.

The Roof fell on The Congregation, 

killed everyone as they prayed, 

including the children.

The Priest was the only Survivor.

Priests are like that.

He said to me afterwards that,

even in moments like these, 

he was able to maintain his Faith.

I told him 

He should have maintained His Roof.

Look to your own Protection,

Mr Harker.

FLY BUZZES

God Doesn’t Care.

HARKER :

The way you talk...

It's unusual in someone of Your Calling.

Van Helsing :

My Calling was a very long time ago.

What's wrong?

You have something in your eye.

[ It's a live fly, walking across his eyeball. ]

HARKER :

Is it gone?

Van Helsing :

Yes.

Van Helsing :

Your fiancee, Mina.

You mentioned her a lot when you first arrived. 

Mina Murray.

HARKER :

Oh, er... Yes.

I need to contact her.

Van Helsing :

You must love her very much.

HARKER :

Of course.

Van Helsing :

Perhaps, in time, 

you will let her read this account.

HARKER :

If she wishes, yes.

Van Helsing :

So, out of kindness, 

you have omitted 

from your writings

 anything that would 

alarm or disturb her.

HARKER :

Well, I didn't want to...

Van Helsing :

So now you may tell me everything 

that occurred in the time you spent 

with The Count at his castle.

Your Dinners. 

Your Conversations.

Your Intimate Moments.

Your LIFE may depend

on your complete Honesty.

Do you understand 

What I'm Asking You?

HARKER :

I think so.

Van Helsing :

I'm asking, Mr Harker, 

if you had sexual intercourse 

with Count Dracula.

THE SON OF THE DRAGON

Auguries of Innocence

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

To see a World in a Grain of Sand 

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage 

Puts all Heaven in a Rage 

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons 

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions 

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate 

Predicts the ruin of the State 

A Horse misusd upon the Road 

Calls to Heaven for Human blood 

Each outcry of the hunted Hare 

A fibre from the Brain does tear 

A Skylark wounded in the wing 

A Cherubim does cease to sing 

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight 

Does the Rising Sun affright 

Every Wolfs & Lions howl 

Raises from Hell a Human Soul 

The wild deer, wandring here & there 

Keeps the Human Soul from Care 

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife 

And yet forgives the Butchers knife 

The Bat that flits at close of Eve 

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night 

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren 

Shall never be belovd by Men 

He who the Ox to wrath has movd 

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly 

Shall feel the Spiders enmity 

He who torments the Chafers Sprite 

Weaves a Bower in endless Night 

The Catterpiller on the Leaf 

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief 

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly 

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh 

He who shall train the Horse to War 

Shall never pass the Polar Bar 

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat 

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat 

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song 

Poison gets from Slanders tongue 

The poison of the Snake & Newt 

Is the sweat of Envys Foot 

The poison of the Honey Bee 

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags 

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags 

A Truth thats told with bad intent 

Beats all the Lies you can invent 

It is right it should be so 

Man was made for Joy & Woe 

And when this we rightly know 

Thro the World we safely go 

Joy & Woe are woven fine 

A Clothing for the soul divine 

Under every grief & pine 

Runs a joy with silken twine 

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands 

Tools were made & Born were hands 

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye 

Becomes a Babe in Eternity 

This is caught by Females bright 

And returnd to its own delight 

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar 

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore 

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath 

Writes Revenge in realms of Death 

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear 

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun 

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more 

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands 

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands 

Or if protected from on high 

Does that whole Nation sell & buy 

He who mocks the Infants Faith 

Shall be mockd in Age & Death 

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt 

The rotting Grave shall neer get out 

He who respects the Infants faith 

Triumphs over Hell & Death 

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons 

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons 

The Questioner who sits so sly 

Shall never know how to Reply 

He who replies to words of Doubt 

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out 

The Strongest Poison ever known 

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown 

Nought can Deform the Human Race 

Like to the Armours iron brace 

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow 

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow 

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry 

Is to Doubt a fit Reply 

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile 

Make Lame Philosophy to smile 

He who Doubts from what he sees 

Will neer Believe do what you Please 

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt 

Theyd immediately Go out 

To be in a Passion you Good may Do 

But no Good if a Passion is in you 

The Whore & Gambler by the State 

Licencd build that Nations Fate 

The Harlots cry from Street to Street 

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet 

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse 

Dance before dead Englands Hearse 

Every Night & every Morn 

Some to Misery are Born 

Every Morn and every Night 

Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to Endless Night 

We are led to Believe a Lie 

When we see not Thro the Eye 

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night 

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light 

God Appears & God is Light 

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 

But does a Human Form Display 

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

The Two Hannibals

It's The Other One.

33     EXT.     STREET IN LOS ANGELES
A young woman's running away from two vampires who are chasing her. 

Angelus steps up to her and puts his arm around her.

YOUNG WOMAN

Help Me.

ANGELUS

It's all right, doll. 

I've got you. Shh.

YOUNG WOMAN

I don't know how to Thank You. 

ANGELUS

(in vamp face, turns to the woman) 

I do. Scream for me.

YOUNG WOMAN

(screaming) 

Aah!

Angelus goes to bite the woman, but is interrupted when he overhears three other vampires talking in the street. 

VAMPIRE 3

The Slayer? 

You Sure?

VAMPIRE 4

I just got word. 

She's in Town.

Angelus smiles and lets the woman go. 

He goes to a phone booth, dials.

ANGELUS

(to phone) 

Hi, Dawn. Yeah, it's me. 

Is Your Sister Home? She is....? 

(hangs up) 

It's The Other One.

“ I regard the two major male archetypes in 20th Century literature as Leopold Bloom and Hannibal Lecter. M.D. Bloom, the perpetual victim, the kind and gentle fellow who finishes last, represented an astonishing breakthrough to new levels of realism in the novel, and also symbolized the view of humanity that hardly anybody could deny c. 1900-1950. History, sociology, economics, psychology et al. confirmed Joyce’s view of Everyman as victim. 

Bloom, exploited and downtrodden by the Brits for being Irish and rejected by many of the Irish for being Jewish, does indeed epiphanize humanity in the first half of the 20th Century. And he remains a nice guy despite everything that happens... 

Dr Lecter, my candidate for the male archetype of 1951-2000, will never win any Nice Guy awards, I fear, but he symbolizes our age as totally as Bloom symbolized his. 

Hannibal's wit, erudition, insight into others, artistic sensitivity, scientific knowledge etc. make him almost a walking one man encyclopedia of Western Civilization. 

As for his "hobbies" as he calls them — well, according to the World Game Institute, since the end of World War II, in which 60,000,000 human beings were murdered by other human beings, 193, 000,000 more humans have been murdered by other humans in brush wars, revolutions, insurrections etc. 

What better symbol of our age than a serial killer? 

Hell, can you think of any recent U.S. President who doesn't belong in the Serial Killer Hall of Fame? 

And their motives make no more sense, and no less sense, than Dr Lecter's Darwinian one-man effort to rid the planet of those he finds outstandingly loutish and uncouth. ”

"Previous Thoughts" at rawilson.com