The Wolfman

Show yourself!

I know you're out there.

Help!

Help me!

Somebody help me!

Help!

Alas! Poor Yorick.

I knew him, Horatio.

A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy.

He hath borne me on his back a thousand times,

and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!

My gorge rises at it.

Here hung those lips ...

Excuse me.

This is a private party, miss.

My name is Gwen Conliffe, and I'm engaged to your brother, Ben.

Is Ben here?

No.

I'm afraid no one knows where Ben is, which is why I'm here.

Clive.

Well, boys and girls, let's repair to the tavern!

Good night, sweet prince.

I seem to recall, Miss Conliffe ...

I seem to recall he mentioned you in one of his letters.

And it's quite uncharacteristic of my brother ...

to treat a lady in such a way,

but the character of man is such a shiftable thing.

You misapprehend me. Benjamin is missing from Blackmoor.

He's gone.

Did my father send you?

No, I'm here on my own.

It's been nearly a month since anyone has seen Ben,

and we knew that you were in London.

I'd hoped you had received some word.

Why do you think he's in trouble?

Because the night he went missing, two villagers were killed.

Would you help us?

Miss Conliffe,

I am under contract for the next 30 performances.

If this is about your father, I know how you feel.

Do you?

My company leaves for America tomorrow.

I simply can't help.

He is your brother.

Good night.

It must be a wonderful luxury,

doing battle with imaginary demons, Mr. Talbot.

Mine right now are very real.

Your mother?

Yes.

My oldest memories of my mother,

we are gathering grapes in her father's vineyard.

It is my Garden of Eden.

You're paying yours a visit?

No, my mother died not long after this was made.

My father and my brother, they live near Blackmoor.

A man needsa good stick on the moor.

I purchased this one in Gévaudan lifetimes ago.

It's the work of a master silversmith.

Would you do me the honor?

It's beautiful.

It will give me great pleasure to know that ...

it was the keeping of a civilized man.

Its heft is somewhat too much for me these days.

You're overly kind.

But I'm afraid I must refuse it.

As you wish.

Hello?

Samson!

Lawrence?

Hello, Father.

Ah.

Lo and behold, the prodigal son returns.

I hope you're not expecting the fatted calf.

Stay!

We don't have many visitors.

You seem well.

I've often wondered what you look like.

You've come about your brother, have you?

Stay.

Yes.

Miss Conliffe learned that I was in London ...

Samson.

and sent me a letter ...

saying that Ben has disappeared.

I thought I'd offer my help in any which way I can.

Yes, what a splendid idea, Lawrence. A splendid idea.

Too late, I'm afraid.

Unfortunately, your brother's body ...

was found in a ditch by the priory road yesterday morning.

I assume you have something to wear for the funeral.

Sir John. You remember my son, Lawrence?

Singh, my servant.

Master Lawrence.

It's nice to see you, Lawrence.

It's good that you're here.

Has Miss Conliffe been notified?

Mmm-hmm.

She's upstairs in her bedroom, asleep.

Where are they keeping Ben's body?

Your father instructed me to bury your brother's effects with him.

It seems a shame.

Thank you.

I wouldn't, sir. It's ...

I missed his whole life.

What if it wasn't a beast at all, but a cunning murderer?

Someone who bore a grudge against one of these men.

To misdirect the authorities, he kills the men,

and then he tears up the bodies ...

to make it look like a wild beast was responsible.

Ridiculous! Who would go to such lengths?

What about that gypsy dancing bear? It could have done it.

That mangy thing?

Kill three men? I doubt it.

I saw the bodies with my own eyes.

Unnatural wounds. Most unnatural.

Made by a fell creature, I say.

Damn gypsies wandering the countryside,

bringing their woe and deviltry with them.

They show up, and two weeks later this happens!

My guess is Ben Talbot went to their camp ...

to have it off with a gypsy whore.

The bear gets hold of him,

and they dump what's left of him in the ditch!

Got nothing to do with the gypsies.

Twenty-five years ago now,

me Pa found him.

Quinn Noddy and all his flock.

Brains and guts and God-knows-what ...

lying all over the moor for a quarter mile.

And, Quinn, the look on his face.

Like he'd been eaten alive.

Whatever did it was big, had claws,

and didn't mind a load of buckshot.

After that, me Pa went home and melted down me Ma's wedding spoons ...

and cast silver bullets on them.

Wouldn't leave the house on a full moon from then on.

He thought it was a werewolf.

I still say that bear's to blame.

You'd think the Talbots would've learned their lesson, eh?

Consorting with the Romas.

Right. Remember that black-eyed Salome the old man married?

Went crazy up there in the ward, killed herself.

She was a gypo whore queen or some such, wasn't she?

Yes.

She was crazy ...

for coming to this shithole you call a town.

What did he say?

You're in your drink, boy.

Get him out of my tavern, Nye!

Come on, lad.

If you want to do something about it,

I'll be outside.

My mother wasn't a whore.

Lawrence Talbot?

Good evening.

Please join us. It's good to see you up and about.

Refreshed, recovered and as enchanting as ever.

Please, join us.

Good evening, Miss Conliffe.

Good evening.

What a pleasant surprise.

May I recommend the baked eel?

Singh has outdone himself this evening, haven't you, Singh?

Something plainer.

Thank you.

I was a moment ago telling my son ...

that the telegraph system does reach us here in lonely old Blackmoor.

Do you find your home much changed, Mr. Talbot?

Blackmoor does seem rather the same as I left it.

How so?

The villagers, they still have the same wild ideas.

Yes, well, they're a provincial lot, I must say,

ignorant and superstitious to a worldly man such as yourself.

We're savages at the ends of the earth.

I didn't intend to start a squabble.

All I'm saying is that you dismiss the natural man at your peril.

That's all.

I find your insecurities quite strange, Father.

No, you mistake that for my self-awareness.

And how comfortable are you in your skin, may I ask?

One can get used to anything.

Excuse me.

You know, Lawrence, I've never understood what it is that you do,

pretending to be other people.

But I understand you're highly celebrated and famous for it.

Perhaps one day I'll see for myself what all the fuss is about.

I think your mother would've liked that.

She loved you and your brother with all her heart.

Why did she do it?

She struggled with life, as we all do.

She lost.

Does that answer your question?

I saw Ben's body today.

What kind of animal could have done such a thing?

I've seen the work of a Kodiak bear and a Bengal tiger,

nature at its most vicious,

but I must say, I've never seen anything like this.

People in town say it was a man.

You mean a raving lunatic at loose on the moor?