Sweeney Todd
This is the theatrical version of the movie, not the script for the movie itself!! Screenplay by John Logan Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim Adapted from the Stage Musical “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street” Music and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim Book by Hugh Wheeler Based on a version of “Sweeney Todd” by Christopher Bond THIS MATERIAL IS THE PROPERTY OF DREAMWORKS PICTURES
INT. DARK CHAMBER — NIGHT
Foreboding organ music is heard… We are looking down at a rough brick floor … is it an alley? … a cobblestone street? … a warehouse? a factory? … we’re not sure… The flickering glow of flame is the only illumination… The ominous organ music continues as… From the bottom of the frame… A dark pool of blood slowly begins to spread … moving up the frame, defying gravity … the flickering flame reflected in the blood… Finally, the pool of blood fills the entire frame.
SUDDENLY– A shrill factory whistle blows– ENORMOUSLY LOUD — blood-chilling and spine-shattering — the whistle is a bizarre combination of sound: a factory whistle; a hog being slaughtered; a dog snarling; a roaring inferno; a human scream– And a man’s face appears, upside down, reflected in the pool of blood. He is THE GENTLEMAN, a slender dandy in pearl grey gloves and matching waistcoat. A cold and superior aristocrat. The camera slowly revolves — the Gentleman becoming right side up as–
GENTLEMAN Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd. His skin was pale and his eye was odd. He shaved the faces of gentlemen Who never thereafter were heard of again. He trod a path that few have trod, Did Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. We cut from the blood to see the Gentleman standing before us. Strangely impassive. We are in an eerie dark chamber, unclear, a low ceiling, a world of silhouettes and shadows. Another figure emerges from the miasma of shadows, into the hellish flickering of flame: THE BANKER. He is large, rotund and sleek. Impressive muttonchops.
BANKER He kept a shop in London town, Of fancy clients and good renown, And what if none of their souls were saved? They went to their maker impeccably shaved… More FIGURES begin to emerge from the shadows, joining the Gentleman and the Banker as…
BANKER By Sweeney, By Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Although prosaic in appearance these figures are, in fact, GHOSTS.
GHOSTS Swing your razor wide, Sweeney! Hold it to the skies! Freely flows the blood of those Who moralize! As they continue, the new figures become more distinct… THE GENERAL, a tough, leather-skinned military man in a crimson imperial uniform…
GENERAL His needs were few, his room was bare: THE PRIEST, a lean, severe man with pale skin in clerical attire…
PRIEST A lavabo and a fancy chair… THE TOURIST, a small, meek man with glasses in an ill-fitting suit…
TOURIST A mug of suds and a leather strop, An apron, a towel, a pail and a mop… THE STUDENT, a dashing young man from Oxford with luxurious long hair…
STUDENT For neatness he deserves a nod, Does Sweeney Todd…
GENTLEMAN The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. The ghosts are a bit more insinuating now as they move around this mysterious world…
GHOSTS Inconspicuous Sweeney was, Quick and quiet and clean `e was. Back of his smile, under his word, Sweeney heard music that nobody heard. Sweeney pondered and Sweeney planned, Like a perfect machine ‘e planned, Sweeney was smooth, Sweeney was subtle, Sweeney would blink and rats would scuttle… The specters are becoming more insistent, their strange impassivity giving way to accusation as the flickering red flame becomes an inferno–
GHOSTS Sweeney was smooth, Sweeney was subtle, Sweeney would blink and rats would scuttle. Inconspicuous Sweeney was, Quick and quiet and clean ‘e was, Like a perfect machine ‘e was, Was Sweeney! Sweeney! Sweeney! Sweeeeeneeeeey! On this explosive note we revolve — away from the ghostly Furies– To discover– SWEENEY TODD. Standing before us. An unclear figure, silhouetted in blazing red flames. We slowly push in on him as:
GHOSTS Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd. He served a dark and a vengeful god. What happened then–
GENTLEMAN Well, who’s to say?
BANKER And he wouldn’t want us to give it away,
GHOSTS Not Sweeney, Not Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. On this note, we push in tight on the figure of Todd… Music and the clanging of a clock tower bell are heard as we slowly begin pulling back and are imperceptibly transported to…
EXT. SHIP — THAMES — ALMOST DAWN
ANTHONY, a young sailor of about 20, is standing at the rail of a ship. We see the obscure shape of rigging and sails behind him. The cries of sailors echo. Behind him stand the GENTLEMAN and the BANKER. They are looking past Anthony, looking at something. They move away as Anthony peers through the fog, straining to see… London. Gradually, as the ship approaches, the towering spires and mountainous rooftops of the city begin to stand out in relief, to emerge through the fog like a tiger creeping toward its prey. Music continues as Anthony takes in the dreadful and magnificent spectacle of the 19th Century metropolis. The gnarl of rooftops. The labyrinth of streets and alleys. The black trails of smoke reaching up like skeletal fingers from a thousand chimneys. London. Sulfurous London. Anthony is awestruck.
ANTHONY I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders From the Dardanelles To the mountains of Peru, But there’s no place like London–! Then– Sweeney Todd steps to Anthony’s side, grimly interrupting–
TODD No, there’s no place like London.
ANTHONY Mr. Todd…?
TODD You are young. Life has been kind to you. You will learn. Todd’s glares forward, his haunted gaze never leaving the approaching city.
EXT. DOCKS — DAWN
Music continues as Todd stands very still and takes in the shadowy figures on the docks. Anthony seems almost lost at his side, overwhelmed by the scale and aura of the city.
ANTHONY Lord … takes your breath away, doesn’t it? Todd shudders violently, almost snarling.
TODD There’s a hole in the world Like a great black pit And the vermin of the world Inhabit it And its morals aren’t worth What a pig could spit And it goes by the name Of London. At the top of the hole Sit the privileged few Making mock of the vermin In the lower zoo, Turning beauty into filth and greed. I too Have sailed the world, and seen its wonders For the cruelty of men Is as wondrous as Peru, But there’s no place like London! Anthony looks at his friend, mystified by his grim reaction to the city.
TODD I beg your indulgence, Anthony … My mind is far from easy. In these once familiar streets I feel shadows everywhere…
ANTHONY Shadows…?
TODD Ghosts. Anthony looking at him, questioning. Todd continues quietly:
TODD There was a barber and his wife, And she was beautiful, A foolish barber and his wife, She was his reason and his life, And she was beautiful, And she was virtuous. And he was… Naive. Anthony watches, rapt, as Todd remembers…
EXT. FLOWER MARKET — FLASHBACK — DAY
…Fifteen years before. Todd walks with his beautiful wife LUCY through a crowded flower market, a colorful explosion of blossoms. Lucy carries their one-year-old baby, JOHANNA. Todd is almost unrecognizable to us, content and smiling. Chatting with his wife. Happy.
TODD (V.O.) There was another man who saw That she was beautiful, A pious vulture of the law, Who with a gesture of his claw Removed the barber from his plate. Then there was nothing but to wait And she would fall, So soft, So young, So lost, And oh, so beautiful! During the above, JUDGE TURPIN, an elderly man with a saturnine demeanor, eyes Lucy through the luxurious bunches of flowers. He stalks her, desiring her. With the Judge is his nefarious creature, BEADLE BAMFORD. The Beadle is a large man, his florid nature and pink, powdered face never quite disguising his lethality. The Judge whispers to the Beadle, indicating Todd. Then the Beadle and several policemen sweep in and drag Todd off. The Judge moves in on Lucy like a predator. And we return to…
EXT. DOCKS — DAWN
Music continues.
ANTHONY And the lady, sir … did she succumb?
TODD Oh, that was many years ago… I doubt if anyone would know. A quiet beat.
TODD I owe you my life, Anthony. If you hadn’t spotted me, I would be lost on the ocean still … Thank you. Todd picks up his duffel bag, preparing to go.
ANTHONY Will I see you again?
TODD You might find me, if you like, around Fleet Street.
ANTHONY Until then, my friend. He offers his hand. Todd takes it and shakes. Then Todd quickly turns and goes. Anthony stands for a moment, saddened by the mysterious pall that hangs over his friend.
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EXT. STREET — MORNING
Todd strides along, deep in thought. The emotions roiling within him finally seethe out in a dark mutter:
TODD There’s a hole in the world Like a great black pit And it’s filled with people Who are filled with shit And the vermin of the world Inhabit it… He disappears down the street as the music THUNDERS–
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EXT. LONDON ASSAULT — DAY
–We ZOOM ahead of Todd — cutting through the city at lightning pace down twisting alleys and up crowded boulevards — into tunnels and over bridges — slashing through London at breakneck speed — the insane explosion of music sending us hurtling to– 8
EXT. THE PIE SHOP — DAY
Fleet Street. We see the exterior of Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop. It is tatty and unloved by all. Yet it has a strange, ghostly presence to it. Imposing and dead at the same time. There is an exterior staircase leading up to a darkened second floor room with a window overlooking the street. The music slows and continues as we see Todd, standing in front of the shop, considering it deeply. The GENERAL we saw before passes, glancing at Todd. Here and then gone. Todd finally strides to the shop and enters… 9
INT. PIE SHOP — DAY
Behind the dusty counter is… MRS. LOVETT, a venal, vigorous and slatternly woman in her 40’s. She is currently busy chopping a loathsome mess of suet with a wicked looking knife, her greasy hair hanging down over her face. The moment Todd enters — and the bell at the door sounds — her head snaps up and her eyes are on him like a bird of prey:
MRS. LOVETT A customer! Todd is startled, starts to go–
MRS. LOVETT Wait! What’s yer rush? What’s yer hurry? (She sticks the knife into the counter) You gave me such a– (Wipes her hands on her apron) ) Fright. I thought you was a ghost. Half a minute, can’tcher? Sit! Sit ye down! Sit!(He obeys) All I meant is that I Haven’t seen a customer for weeks. Did you come here for a pie, sir? (Todd nods. She flicks a bit of dust off a pie with a rag) Do forgive me if me head’s a little vague– Ugh!(She plucks something off the pie, examines it) What is that? But you’d think we had the plague– (She drops it on the floor and stamps on it) From the way that people– (She flicks something off the pie with her finger) Keep avoiding– No, you don’t! (She smacks it with her hand) Heaven knows I try, sir! (Lifts her hand, looks at it) Tsk!(She wipes it on the edge of the counter) But there’s no one comes in even to inhale–
Tsk!(She blows the last dust off the pie as she brings it to him) Right you are, sir. Would you like a drop of ale? (Todd nods) Mind you, I can’t hardly blame them– (Pouring a tankard of ale) These are probably the worst pies in London. I know why nobody cares to take them– I should know, I make them. But good? No, The worst pies in London– Even that’s polite. The worst pies in London– If you doubt it, take a bite. (He does. It’s horrible) Is that just disgusting? You have to concede it. It’s nothing but crusting– Here, drink this, you’ll need it– (She gives him the ale) The worst pies in London. During the following, she slams lumps of dough on the counter and rolls them out, grunting frequently as she goes:
MRS. LOVETT And no wonder with the price of meat What it is– When you get it. Never Thought I’d live to see the day Men’d think it was a treat Finding poor Animals Wot are dying in the street. Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop, Does a business, but I noticed something weird– Lately all her neighbors’ cats have disappeared. Have to hand it to her– Wot I calls Enterprise, Popping pussies into pies. Wouldn’t do in my shop– Just the thought of it’s enough to make you sick.
And I’m telling you them pussy cats is quick. (Leans on counter, exhausted) No denying times is hard, sir — Even harder than The worst pies in London. Only lard and nothing more– (As Todd gamely tries another mouthful) Is that just revolting? All greasy and gritty, It looks like it’s molting, And tastes like– Well, pity A woman alone With limited wind And the worst pies in London! (Sighs heavily) Ah sir, Times is hard. Times is hard. She finishes one of the crusts with a flourish as the music ends. Todd, meanwhile, is gulping at his ale, trying to wash down Mrs. Lovett’s hideous creation.
MRS. LOVETT Trust me, dearie, it’s going to take more than ale to wash that taste out. Come with me and we’ll get you a nice tumbler of gin. She leads him through the curtains at the back of the pie shop and into…
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INT. PARLOR — DAY
… Her parlor is a wonder of seedy faux-middle class Victoriana. Little knickknacks, dusty plants and dingy doilies. There is a threadbare mauve sofa in front of a comfortable fire. A faded picture postcard of the seaside hangs on a wall. She goes to a sideboard and pours him a huge glass of gin as:
MRS. LOVETT Isn’t this homey now? Me cheery wallpaper was a real bargain too, it being only partly singed when the chapel burnt down ….
She hands him the gin. He gulps it down, washing the taste of her pie out of his mouth.
MRS. LOVETT There’s a good boy, now you sit down and warm your bones, you look chilled through. He sits before the fire:
TODD Isn’t that a room over the shop? If times are so hard, why don’t you rent it out? She glances up at the roof, considering the room over them.
MRS. LOVETT Up there? Oh, no one will go near it… She turns to him, something a little intense and probing about her gaze.
MRS. LOVETT People think it’s haunted.
TODD Haunted? She holds his gaze.
MRS. LOVETT And who’s to say they’re wrong? … You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice… The flickering flame from the fire begins to cast a more intense red glow on her face…
MRS. LOVETT There was a barber and his wife, And he was beautiful, A proper artist with a knife, But they transported him for life. And he was beautiful… The music continues as she looks at him, again with that rather intense gaze:
MRS. LOVETT Barker, his name was — Benjamin Barker.
TODD Transported? What was his crime?
MRS. LOVETT Foolishness. She turns again to the fire, the red glow bathing her face as she remembers…
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INT. BARBER SHOP — FLASHBACK — DAY
Lucy is pacing, holding Baby Johanna to her closely. Lucy is distraught, strained, tears in her eyes. As Lucy paces we notice the room is full of dead and dying flowers: dozens of dried bouquets tossed aside and ignored.
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) He had this wife, you see, Pretty little thing, Silly little nit Had her chance for the moon on a string– Poor thing. Poor thing. Lucy moves to the window, looks out. She sees Judge Turpin and the Beadle waiting below. The Judge holds yet another bouquet.
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) There was this Judge, you see, Wanted her like mad, Every day he’d send her a flower, But did she come down from her tower? Sat up there and sobbed by the hour, Poor fool. Lucy moves away from the window, sobbing.
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) Ah, but there was worse yet to come, Poor thing.
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EXT. EXCLUSIVE STREET — FLASHBACK — EVENING
The Beadle is leading a nervous Lucy along an exclusive street of dark stone mansions, grand but somehow menacing. Lucy is wearing her best dress.
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) The Beadle calls on her, all polite, Poor thing, poor thing. The Judge, he tells her, is all contrite, He blames himself for her dreadful plight She must come straight to his house tonight! Poor thing, poor thing.
13INT. TURPIN’S MANSION — BALLROOM — FLASHBACK — NIGHT The Beadle ushers Lucy into a ballroom. She is shocked to see a fancy-dress ball in progress. Masked couples swirl around the ballroom, their number sinisterly multiplied by the distorting mirrors that frame the room. The hanging chandeliers, draped in red cloth, cast a disquieting incarnadine glow on the proceedings…
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) Of course, when she goes there, Poor thing, poor thing, They’re having this ball all in masks. Lucy wanders lost through the swirling dancers, they buffet her, confusing her…
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) There’s no one she knows there, Poor dear, poor thing, She wanders tormented, and drinks, Poor thing. The Judge has repented, she thinks, Poor thing. “Oh, where is Judge Turpin?” she asks. The Beadle finds Lucy again and graciously gives her his arm, leading her through the party. She is thankful for the salvation he provides. He brings her to Judge Turpin. The Judge descends on Lucy, raping her. The other guests crowd around ravenously, enjoying the spectacle. A feverish nightmare.
MRS. LOVETT (V.O.) He was there, all right– Only not so contrite! She wasn’t no match for such craft, you see,
And everyone thought it so droll. They figured she had to be daft, you see, So all of `em stood there and laughed, you see, Poor soul! Poor thing!
NOOOOOOOO…! Todd’s wild howl shatters the memory and tears us back to–
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INT. PARLOR — DAY
–Todd is bolting up from the sofa, tormented–
….. NOOOOOO! He stands for a terrible beat.
TODD Would no one have mercy on her?
MRS. LOVETT So it is you — Benjamin Barker.
TODD Where’s Lucy?! Where’s my wife?!
MRS. LOVETT She poisoned herself. Arsenic from the apothecary on the corner. I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen to me. And he’s got your daughter.
TODD He? Judge Turpin?
MRS. LOVETT Adopted her like his own. Todd absorbs this sickening news.
TODD Fifteen years of sweating in a living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming that I might come home to find a loving wife and child… A beat as he stares into the fire, madness and purpose creeping in.
MRS. LOVETT Well, I can’t say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker, but you still–
TODD No, not Barker. That man is dead. It’s Todd now. Sweeney Todd … And he will have his revenge. He continues with a chilling and quiet resolve as he stares with unblinking eyes into the fire:
TODD Judge Turpin and the Beadle will pay for what they did. A beat. He finally turns to her.
TODD First I must have my shop back.
EXT. PIE SHOP — DAY
They emerge from the pie shop. She begins to scale the exterior staircase to the darkened second floor room. He hesitates.
MRS. LOVETT Come along… She continues up, he slowly follows.
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INT. BARBER SHOP — DAY
A macabre shroud of dust and spider’s webs. Furniture covered in sheets. A broken mirror on one wall. We hear footsteps approaching and then Mrs. Lovett enters. The door creaks like a living thing.
MRS. LOVETT Not to worry, a touch of oil will put that right. … Nothing to be afraid of, love, come in. She moves into the room. But Todd hesitates at the door, looking into the room. For him this is a truly haunted place.
Meanwhile, she kneels and pries loose a floorboard. Underneath there is a hidden area. Within that, something covered with a velvet cloth. She removes it and carefully unwraps it. Her touch is particularly gentle and respectful. We discover it is a fine leather case. She looks at it for a beat. Then turns to him, dusting it off.
TODD I don’t believe it… He finally steps into the room, drawn toward the case.
MRS. LOVETT When they came for the girl, I hid ’em. I thought, who knows? Maybe the silly blighter’ll be back again. Cracked in the head, wasn’t I? Haunting music begins as she opens the case… And we see it contains a beautiful set of razors. He stands for a long moment, gazing down at his beloved razors.
MRS. LOVETT Those handles is chased silver, ain’t they?
TODD Silver, yes… These are my friends, See how they glisten. (He picks up a small razor) See this one shine, How he smiles in the light. My friend, my faithful friend. (Holding it to his ear, feeling the edge with his thumb) ) Speak to me friend, Whisper, I’ll listen. I know, I know– You’ve been locked out of sight All these years– Like me, my friend. Well, I’ve come home To find you waiting.
Home, And we’re together, And we’ll do wonders, Won’t we? Mrs. Lovett leans over him, in her own kind of trance as well. They now sing simultaneously:
TODD (Picking out a larger razor) You there, my friend, Come, let me hold you. Now, with a sigh You grow warm In my hand, My friend, My clever friend. Rest now, my friends. Soon I’ll unfold you. Soon you’ll know splendors You never have dreamed All your days–
MRS. LOVETT I’m your friend too, Mr. Todd. If you only knew, Mr. Todd– Ooh, Mr. Todd, You’re warm In my hand. You’ve come home. Always had a fondness for you, I did.
TODD –My lucky friends. Till now your shine Was merely silver. Friends, You shall drip rubies, You’ll soon drip precious Rubies…
MRS. LOVETT Never you fear, Mr. Todd, You can move in here, Mr. Todd. Splendors you never have dreamed All your days Will be yours. I’m your friend.
And you’re mine. Don’t they shine beautiful? Silver’s good enough for me, Mr. T… The music continues quietly as Todd stares at one of his razors.
TODD Leave me now… She goes. Todd finally picks up his biggest razor and slowly opens it, looks at it.
TODD At last my arm is complete again. And he remains standing. Exalted. Then– In the shattered mirror on the wall he suddenly sees– The distorted reflections of the Gentleman, the Banker, and the General, looking at him–
GHOSTS Lift your razor high, Sweeney! Hear it singing, “Yes!” Sink it in the rosy skin Of righteousness! Todd turns to them…
GHOSTS His voice was soft, his manner mild. He seldom laughed but he often smiled, He’d seen how civilized men behave. He never forgot and he never forgave, Not Sweeney, Not Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Todd pulls a sheet off Baby Johanna’s cradle. A cloud of dust rises. The ghosts disappear in the cloud of dust and Todd stands alone, staring at the cradle, holding his razor.
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EXT. EXCLUSIVE STREET — DAY
Anthony, now out of his sailor’s uniform, is walking along the sidewalk near the Judge’s mansion, absorbed in a copy of Baedeker’s London. He stops, lost, trying to get his bearings, studying his map. Then an unusual sound emerges through the normal cosmopolitan bustle. It is the sound of a woman humming. He looks up to see… JOHANNA, a 16-year-old girl with golden hair, beautiful and hauntingly sad. She sits at her window above, behind bars, humming to herself as she does needlepoint. Anthony watches her, absolutely mesmerized. Johanna notices a Bird Seller passing. He carries a long, wooden pole with little bird cages attached.
JOHANNA Green finch and linnet bird, Nightingale, blackbird, How is it you sing? How can you jubilate, Sitting in cages, Never taking wing? Outside the sky waits, Beckoning, beckoning, Just beyond the bars. How can you remain, Staring at the rain, Maddened by the stars? How is it you sing Anything? How is it you sing? Then … she sees Anthony on the sidewalk below. Music continues. There is a long look between them. Her intense, melancholy expression moves him. She continues singing, the strange anguish and yearning of her words seem intended only for him…
JOHANNA My cage has many rooms, Damask and dark. Nothing there sings, Not even my lark. Larks never will, you know, When they’re captive.
Teach me to be more adaptive. Green finch and linnet bird, Nightingale, blackbird, Teach me how to sing. If I cannot fly, Let me sing. Then she turns away quickly, alarmed, when someone enters her room. She looks terrified. Below, Anthony is concerned for her. He sees her move from the window. He is craning to see better when a BEGGAR WOMAN — a filthy tendril of a woman, her foul clothes of rags like a second skin — suddenly thrusts her arm up from the curb, imploring:
BEGGAR WOMAN Alms! … Alms! … For a miserable woman On a miserable chilly morning… (Anthony drops a coin into her hand) Thank yer, sir, thank yer.
ANTHONY Ma’am, could tell me whose house this is?
BEGGAR WOMAN That’s the great Judge Turpin’s house that is.
ANTHONY And the young lady who resides there?
BEGGAR WOMAN That’s Johanna, his pretty little ward. Keeps her snug, he does, all locked up … So don’t you go trespassing there or it’s a good whipping for you — or any other young man with mischief on his mind… She suddenly leers into a lewd and demented assault:
BEGGAR WOMAN ‘Ow would you like a little muff, dear, A little jig jig A little bounce around the bush? Wouldn’t you like to push me parsley?
It looks to me, dear, Like you got plenty there to push. She grabs at Anthony’s crotch — Anthony starts back — she turns away, instantly plaintive again, and appeals to other pedestrians as she goes:
BEGGAR WOMAN Alms! … Alms!… For a desperate woman… Anthony considers the mansion. He sees a figure standing at a window, unclear behind the shutters, watching him. He sits on a bench outside the mansion and sings quietly:
ANTHONY I feel you, Johanna, I feel you. I was half convinced I’d waken, Satisfied enough to dream you. Happily I was mistaken, Johanna! I’ll steal you, Johanna, I’ll steal you… Then the figure disappears from the window above. Anthony stands, waits. Then the doors to the mansion swing open… Anthony is expecting Johanna… But it is Judge Turpin, the predator we met in Todd’s flashback, who steps into the doorway. He seems a different man now. Paternal and warm, he smiles and beckons to Anthony. Anthony hesitates, unsure. The Judge beckons again. Again the warm smile.
JUDGE Come in, lad. Come in… Anthony goes into the mansion.
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INT. TURPIN’S MANSION — LIBRARY — DAY
Judge Turpin leads Anthony into the dark library, filled with books. Anthony is looking around for Johanna. He is wary, this is all very strange.
JUDGE … you were looking for Hyde Park, you say?
ANTHONY Yes, it’s terribly large on the map but I keep getting lost…
JUDGE Sit down, lad, sit down. Anthony sits, uncomfortable, as the Judge pours two snifters of brandy.
ANTHONY It’s embarrassing for a sailor to lose his bearings, but, well, there you are. Then… The large form of the Beadle appears from the shadows. No introduction is made. Anthony glances to him, uneasy.
JUDGE A sailor, eh?
ANTHONY Yes, sir. The “Bountiful” out of Plymouth.
JUDGE (handing him a snifter of brandy) A sailor must know the ways of the world, yes? … Must be practiced in the ways of the world … Would you say you are practiced, boy?
ANTHONY Sir? The Judge moves to consider some beautiful volumes, bound in the richest leather. He runs a finger along the spines of the books; his large library of pornography.
JUDGE Oh, yes … such practices … the geishas of Japan … the concubines of Siam .. the catamites of Greece … the harlots of India … I have them all here … Drawings of them ….
JUDGE (cont’d) (he turns again to Anthony) … All the vile things you’ve done with your whores. Anthony is speechless. The Judge just smiles at him amiably.
JUDGE Would you like to see?
ANTHONY I think there’s been some mistake–
JUDGE Oh, I think not. You gandered at my ward, Johanna … You gandered at her … Yes, sir, you gandered. The Beadle moves behind Anthony.
ANTHONY (glancing nervously back at the Beadle) I meant no harm–
JUDGE Your meaning is immaterial. Mark me: if I see your face again on this street, you’ll rue the day your bitch of a mother gave you birth. Anthony is stunned. The Judge proceeds with shocking venom:
JUDGE My Johanna isn’t one of your bloody cock-chafers! My Johanna is not to be gandered at! He nods to the Beadle — the Beadle instantly grabs Anthony and brutally hauls him out.
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