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Call me Ishmael.
Whenever it is a dark, drizzly November in my soul,
and it requires a strong moral principle
to prevent me from stepping into the streets
and methodically knocking people's hats off,
I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
Wherefore it is I should take it into my head
to go on a whaling voyage,
doubtless it forms part of the grand program of Providence
that was drawn up a long time ago.
They came to see me? I am Ahab!
Chief among my motives is the great whale himself.
Such a portentous and mysterious monster
rouses all my curiosity and sways me to my wish.
I stuffed a shirt or two into my old carpetbag,
tuck it under my arm and start for Nantucket.
What? Who are you? No, no, no, stop!
Please, please, no, let me... Who are you?
What is happening? What's happening? No!
- Please, stop, stop! - Mother.
- Let me go! - Mother!
Let me go! Rebecca!
- Rebecca! - Mother!
Tobias, what is happening?
- Her coat. - Mother!
- Rebecca! - Mother.
- Rebecca! - Rebecca! Rebecca, please!
It's time for bed.
Rebecca!
Wait, what is happening?
What's happening? Let me go!
Please! Please stop!
I have a daughter!
Stop!
Put it on.
Now!
In the bed.
Come!
It is a dismal night.
Bitingly cold.
I know no one in the place.
Not far from the docks, I come upon an out-hanging light
and a sign over a door.
Good evening.
Do you perchance have a room available for the night?
Alas, my house is full. Not a bed unoccupied.
But you ain't got no objections
to sharing a harpooner's blanket, have ye?
I suppose you are going a-whaling,
so you'd better get used to that sort of thing.
I never like to sleep two in a bed,
but rather than wander about a strange town on so bitter night,
I reckon I'll put up with half of any decent man's blanket.
Come on, I'll show ya to your room.
He'll be here afore long.
He's a decent enough chap and pays regular.
Make yourself comfortable.
Good night to ye.
Good morning, Mrs. Wallace.
I am Miss Stokes, the head matron.
Please. I have a daughter.
She's 8 years old.
- You are sick. - No, I'm not sick.
I'm not sick, I'm not sick. Please let me talk to a doctor.
You need to stop the dramatics.
This institution respects obedient women
who participate in treatment.
Those are the women who have daughters.
You've made a mess of your breakfast.
You'll have to go hungry.
Cheer up.
This is a place of healing.
Whoa!
Thank you, Clyde.
You have a pleasant day at the madhouse, Doctor.
How many times must I tell you, Clyde?
We must call it hospital.
Welcome to the snake pit.
I don't belong here.
Neither do I, dearie.
I'm old and an inconvenience,
but I ain't mad.
Yeah, let's do it!
Fuck! Shit!
Shut your filthy mouth!
Fuck!
- The board is waiting. - Yes.
- How do I look? - Marvelous.
- Is the chairman there? - Of course he is.
Do you remember your speech?
Uh, Moby Dick...
Melvin's masterwork of obsession...
- Madness. - And madness upon the sea.
It is this story, gentleman...
that I propose to bring to life here,
with our patients playing the roles.
A play?
A theatrical production?
A technique pioneered by Dr. Jacoby at Doublehill.
And used with great success.
The theater provides a means of self-explanation
and self-knowledge.
Is that not what we strive to provide for our patients?
Preposterous.
We are here to treat these poor souls,
not to set them prancing about like chimpanzees.
Oars and harpoons in the hands of lunatics.
Insane.
We'll give them prop weapons, of course.
Dr. Calhoun, I agreed to employ you here
as a favor to your father, who assured me
that your perverse fascination with the theater was behind you.
Yet you sit here before us asking to put on a play.
Therapy!
I confess my love for the theater is unabated,
but I come to you now as a man of medicine.
My only concern is the welfare of my patients.
I realize I am new here.
But I've been around long enough to recognize
that the old methods...
isolation, ice-therapy, leeches...
they do not work.
Well...
we could try it on the female inmates.
They may be more docile.
Women?
Gentleman, all of the roles in Moby Dick are for men.
Who gives a damn?
It's women or nothing.
Benjamin?
Hmm.
I think a play is a fine idea.
They mean to discourage you.
They shan't.
Let's begin casting.
Ah, Bernadette!
Bernadette, take your time
and then whenever you're ready, begin.
Call me Ishmael. Whenever it is a damp, drizzly November...
Wonderful, Bernadette!
Thank you.
Ah, Freda, yes!
Take your time, okay?
Call me...
Ishmael.
I can't read.
Kara!
Kara, Kara.
Wait!
Be gentle with her! Be gentle!
Easy.
Come here. Let me see it.
I just want to see it.
Maybe we should take a break.
Perhaps she could be our Queequeg?
I don't know. Queequeg is called a savage,
but he's really one of the more intelligent...
Trust me on this, Matron.
I'm sorry. I don't think I know you.
Yes, you.
Do you read?
Call me Ishmael.
Whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul,
and it requires a strong moral principle
to prevent me from stepping into the street
and methodically knocking people's hats off,
then I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
You are new, Miss...
Mrs. Wallace. Isabel Wallace.
She was committed last night by her husband, a minister.
Well, Mrs. Wallace, I'm Dr. Benjamin Calhoun.
Welcome.
Isn't it exciting?
I've always wanted to be an actress.
Is it always like this?
We get a bit of sugar on Sundays.
Sometimes.
Not hungry, Mrs. Wallace?
Farm animals eat better.
You should be thankful you get anything at all.
Thank you, Matron.
Dr. Calhoun wants to see you.
So I have some exciting news.
I have cast you in the role of Ishmael.
Uh...
Have you acted before?
I lead the church choir.
Well, splendid!
Perhaps your experiences there will aid us in...
I'm not mad.
Well, let's see.
I have your file right here.
"Isabel Wallace.
committed at the request of Reverend Tobias Wallace."
No, Mrs. Wall...
Good heavens.
This is the work of my husband.
He's an angry, wrathful man.
Now there must be something to prove my sanity.
Some kind of test...
You have been found insane, committed by the authorities.
What if I wrote letters?
I have friends at the Ladies' Society.
- My church, who can intercede... - Mrs. Wallace, it is very...
I have a daughter.
She is eight years old, and she's alone with him.
Please.
There must be something you can do.
Yes. I will make inquiries.
Don't think that you can improve your situation
by batting your eyes at the doctors, Mrs. Wallace.
You'll soon learn who's really in charge.
Can I climb in with you?
I'm so cold, I can't even feel my own body.
Isabel.
Come. Lie with me.
I don't feel that well tonight.
You will fulfill your wifely duty.
Okay, this is the part where Ishmael meets Queequeg.
There is a heavy footfall in the passage.
Holding a lantern,
a tall dark figure enters the room.
Kara, you are Queequeg.
That is your cue. Enter.
Good. Uh...
What a sight. Such a face.
Dark and tattooed in squares,
his hair tied up in a scalp-knot.
We'll get your makeup later.
A strange object dangles from his hand.
Matron, if you can get Kara a prop please.
Let's do that.
It is a shrunken human head.
Give it.
Queequeg extinguishes the light and springs into bed.
You spring into bed.
Oh! Ow!
Okay, okay, Kara, Kara, not so rough.
You want to see who she is.
Very gentle.
Okay, okay, Kara?
I want to show you what I'm talking about.
Get up.
Thank you. Good, good.
I'm going to grab this from you. I'll give it back.
All right, so to bed, and I'm going...
Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.
I'm fine.
Yes.
Very well.
Well, this is make-believe, ladies.
Okay, um...
Uh, who the devil are you?
Speaketh! Tell me!
Who are you?!
Angel, save me! Landlord!
You did not tell me my bedmate was a savage.
Huh!
Queequeg wouldn't harm a hair of your head.
That's a shrunken head?
He brought a lot of embalmed heads from the South Seas.
As curios, you know.
- Queequeg! - Yeah?
This man sleepy.
You, you sabbee?
Me sabbee plenty.
You gettee in.
Thank you, landlord. You may go.
Yes, uh, so at that moment, uh...
you will get into bed with Kara.
Kara, get in bed.
You will get in bed next to Ishmael.
Okay.
Well, I think we're making real progress.
Oh, my God.
Dr. Calhoun, I can rehearse with her.
That would be lovely. Thank you, Isabel.
They took her beautiful clothes away
and dressed her in an old gray smock.
Just look at the proud princess now!
They laughed as they led her into the kitchen.
Let's get to bed, okay?
I'll read you some more tomorrow.
All right, darling, sleep well.
Sweet dreams, okay?
- I love you. - Love you.
Why is she awake?
It's my fault. I lost track of time.
Let's get to bed.
How are things proceeding with Kara?
- Quite well. - Good.
No! Don't do that!
Aagh! It's a feature of her condition.
She devours all sorts of awful things.
Kara, look at your mouth. You're a mess.
Come on, sit, sit.
Come. Come sit.
Why don't we face each other here?
Are you ready to play the scene for Dr. Calhoun?
We'll play the scene where we become friends.
Were you shaving with the harpoon?
Queequeg is a comely looking cannibal.
I find myself mysteriously drawn to him.
I see a lofty bearing, a simple honest heart,
and in his dark eyes,
a spirit that would dare a thousand devils.
Queequeg, what say you to a social smoke?
Oh, um, use my pipe.
Here.
We are now bosom friends
and resolve to ship aboard the same vessel.
Bravo!
Quite good, quite good.
- She's come so far. - Mm-hmm.
She's a really sweet girl
and eager to please once she knows what's expected of her.
Yes.
Well, Isabel, um...
I was giving your situation a great deal of thought,
and if you pen a letter to the Ladies' Society,
I'll do my best to see it delivered.
Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Calhoun.
No! No!
Kara, don't eat the goldfish!
The anchor is up, the sail is set,
and the short northern day merges into night,
as we blindly plunge like fate into the lone Atlantic.
Our captain's name is Ahab.
He's lost his leg to a whale on his previous voyage.
For several days,
no sign has been seen of him above hatches.
He stays in his cabin.
Whosoever of ye raises me a white-headed whale...
Mary, louder, please. I can barely hear you.
A crooked jaw and three holes!
That's a bit too loud.
Why don't we try for a happy medium.
Mary, show some respect.
I didn't know she'd do that.
It's not your fault, Matron, but I am beginning to despair.
Without an Ahab, we have no play.
Well, there is one other possibility.
Why the devil didn't you tell me?
She's considered dangerous.
I thought you said her last incident was a year ago.
Because she's been in isolation since.
She nearly bit off a nurse's finger.
Then we'll have to wear gloves.
Miss Price, I'm Dr. Calhoun.
I'm here to inform you of a new therapy of my design.
I saw you at Edward Fry's Opera House.
As Lady Macbeth, you mesmerized me.
We're doing a play.
Melville's Moby Dick.
I want you to be my Ahab.
Goodbye, Miss Price.
Beatrice Price. Have you lost all sense?
We have her in isolation for a reason.
She is violent.
Vicious!
The misdeeds these women committed in former lives
ought not weigh against them here.
Beatrice Price is a murderess and a sexual deviant.
Allowing her access to these women
would be like loosing a fox in a henhouse.
I'll take full responsibility.
I have no doubt my therapy will aid her.
Wait, wait, wait.
Beatrice Price.
On stage, please.
Act one, scene five.
Miss Price, you are reading for the role of Captain Ahab.
I'll be holding your script.
I don't need a damn script.
On such a day,
one as sweet as this,
I struck my first whale.
A boy harpooner of 18, 40 years ago.
Forty years of constant whaling.
Forty years of privation, peril.
Storm time on the pitiless seas.
For 40 years has Ahab forsaken peaceful land
to make war on the horrors of the deep.
Then the madness.
The frenzy.
The boiling blood and the smoking brow
with which, for a thousand lowerings,
has Ahab furiously...
and foamingly chased his prey
more demon than man.
Aye, what a forty years' fool has old Ahab been.
Brava!
Ohh!
I hope for your sake, you can control her.
If there's a slip-up, I'll have you fired.
At last Ahab stands before us with a crucifixion in his face.
A grand, ungodly God-like man, he lives in this world
as the last grizzly bears live in settled Missouri.
His grim aspect affects me powerfully,
as does the barbaric white leg in which he stands.
What do ye do when ye see a whale?
Sing out for him!
And what do ye next?
Lower away and after him!
And what song do ye pull to?
A dead whale or a stove boat!
Do you see this Spanish ounce of gold, men?
Aye, Captain!
Oh, my, she is quite good.
Yes!
I insisted she be in the play.
A wrinkled brow, a crooked law,
and three holes in his starboard fluke.
He... shall have this gold doubloon.
Captain Ahab, is this white whale
the one they call Moby Dick?
Aye. It was Moby Dick that dismasted me.
Sliced off my leg
like a mower reaps a blade of grass in the field.
This is what ye ship for, men.
To chase Moby Dick over all sides of the Earth,
until the white whale spouts black blood.
Ye harpooners, flank me with your lances.
Cross them here before me.
Death to Moby Dick!
God hunt us all if we do not hunt him to his death.
It's such a relief being out of that straightjacket.
Such a bother not being able to scratch your nose or reach...
the important bits.
Mind if I borrow some thread?
Some thread, I said.
Much obliged.
You're a quiet little mouse.
Married to a minister, they tell me.
Now how does a minister's wife
end up in an ungodly place like this?
- You'd have to ask my husband. - Oh?
And what story would he tell, a cold bed?
Quiet little church mouse like you,
an iceberg has better chance of pleasing a husband.
Is there anything moving under the sea,
or is it frozen down there as well?
Every minister I ever met had a horny pecker.
They just wrap a white collar around it.
I could teach you...
about passion.
Thaw the iceberg, as it were.
Hmm?
Get off of me, you foul woman!
Is that the best you've got?
You're a whaler now. Curse like one.
Call me a bitch, a whore.
Whore! Bitch!
That's the idea!
- Fuck! Cocksucker! - Fuck! Cocksucker!
- Shit! - That's how sailors talk.
What else do they have to do on those long voyages,
eh, church mouse?
That's enough out of you two!
The chief mate of the Pequod is Starbuck,
a native of Nantucket,
a staid, steadfast man.
Why the long face, Starbuck?
I am game for his crooked jaw, Captain,
if it fairly comes in the way of our business.
But I came to hunt whales, not my commander's...
What's the matter, Starbuck?
You are pathetic.
Okay.
"My commander's vengeance on a dumb brute
that simply smote thee from blind instinct."
- Come on, Silla. - I can't work with this.
Are we to believe this whelping thing
is first mate of the Pequod?
You will work with whoever Dr. Calhoun tells you to work.
No, she is right.
Ahab needs a Starbuck, a seadog.
But you see, Miss Price,
I have a very limited talent pool here.
What about her? She looks like she has balls.
No, no, Matron Stokes is not an actress,
and she has a job to do.
Let her finish the scene with me.
I did some acting in school.
I am game...
I am game for his crooked jaw, Captain,
if it fairly come in the way of our business.
But I came to hunt whales, Captain,
not my commander's vengeance on a dumb brute
that simply smote thee from blindest instinct.
Dumb brute?
He has left innumerable fatalities in his wake.
I see in him not only outrageous strength,
but intelligent, inscrutable malice.
God keep us all.
Let's keep going, keep going.
Horrible old man.
My soul is overmatched by a madman.
Starbuck thinks me mad.
But I am demonic.
I am madness maddened.
I plainly see my miserable office,
to obey, rebelling.
And I must help him to his impious end.
Ye great gods, come see if ye can swerve me.
Ye cannot swerve me!
My path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails,
whereon my soul is grooved to run.
I'd strike the sun if it insulted me.
Yet there is hope.
Time and the tide flow wide,
and the hated whale has the round, watery globe to swim in.
I like it.
Are you willing, Matron?
Anything I can do to help, Doctor.
Boo!
Prettying yourself up for your private rehearsal?
You're pretty enough for me, church mouse.
Let me through.
Couldn't hurt your hopes of a release,
if you open your legs for him.
He doesn't see me that way.
Oh, my, my, my.
How cloistered you've been.
Come, come.
I promise to be good.
I've seen the way he looks at you.
Lick your lips.
Now rub them together.
A bit less ruined, don't you think?
A bit.
And Cinderella shall go to ball.
That's my daughter's favorite story.
Mine too.
I guess this makes me the fairy godmother.
♪ You came from far away ♪
♪ My dear, my dear ♪
♪ You came from far away ♪
♪ My dear, my dear ♪
♪ You... ♪
Isabel.
Please sit.
Uh, before we begin,
I'd like to tell you
I sent your missive to Mrs. Van Dyke
of the Ladies' Society
and enclosed your letter to Rebecca.
Thank you, Dr. Calhoun. I...
I had almost given up hope.
Please, when it's just us, you can call me Benjamin.
And it is I who should be thanking you.
Your work here has been exemplary.
It's been exhilarating.
Oh, it is, isn't it?
Blindly plunging like fate into the lone Atlantic.
My first love was always the theater.
When I was a boy, my mother would say,
"Benjamin you're going to be a thespian."
She would take me to the theater every week.
So I dropped out of medical school,
much to my father's chagrin.
You became a doctor, after all.
Yes.
Well...
my mother...
she took her own life.
She was troubled.
Suffered from hysteria.
So I was compelled to take up medical school again
with a focus on lunacy.
But I feel trapped.
I do.
Just like you.
It isn't the same.
Oh, no, of course not.
No, it isn't.
I'm sorry.
Well, let's get to work. The whale hunt, I believe.
You're a good man, Benjamin.
Ah!
Whale.
From here.
The boat tears on.
The vast swells of the omnipotent sea.
The surging, hollow roar they make.
Without the script.
The brief suspended agony
as the boat tips on the knife-edge of the waves
that threaten to cut us in two.
The sudden profound dip.
The headlong sled-like slide down the other side.
No raw recruit marching for the first time
into the fever heat of his first battle
has felt stronger emotions
than the man who, for the first time,
finds himself in the churned circle
- of the hunted sperm whale. - Sperm whale.
Thar she blows!
There she blows on the lee-beam!
Pull, my fine hearts! Pull!
Break your backs! Sing out!
A dead whale or a stove boat!
Snap your oars, every mother's son of ye!
Yes! Feel the surging waves! I want to see sweat!
Deidre, I want you to...
Bodies in motion. Bodies in motion.
The devil fetch ye, you dogs.
Pull, will ye?
Long and strong!
Keep rowing! Come on, ladies! We're on a boat!
- Keep rowing! Keep on going! - Looky-loo!
There's his hump!
Aim for his eye! Give it to him!
All of a sudden, a gush of scalding liquid shoots up.
Something rolls like an earthquake beneath us.
We are tossed into the curdling cream of the squall.
In, in, in, in!
You're flailing in the ocean, ladies!
The waves are washing over you.
The waves are washing over you!
All right, come on, everybody up.
Ishmael, you've got a certain little glow.
You've gone and done it, haven't you?
You naughty little church mouse.
You mustn't say a thing.
We should keep this between us.
Oh, there you are.
How are you this morning?
Perfectly well. And you?
Marvelous.
Ahab ferociously studies his charts and plans his course.
In the east, you will be my beast.
That is where I shall wreak my revenge.
That's your cue, Starbuck.
The oil in the hold is leaking, sir.
We must heave to and repair.
And spend a week tinkering with old gaskets?
But we could waste more oil in one day
than we make good in a full year.
What does Ahab care? On deck.
Captain!
Does thou dare contradict me?
Nay, sir.
I do but entreat thee.
There is but one God that lords over the Earth
and one captain that lords over the Pequod.
On deck! Thou hast outraged me.
Thou hast outraged me, sir.
And for that, I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck.
Thou wouldst but laugh.
But let Ahab beware of Ahab.
Beware of thyself, old man.
Doctor!
Hold on. It's okay.
Keep going. Keep the intensity.
There is one God.
Eh, Starbuck?
Eh?!
Yes! All right.
Now let her go. Beatrice, stop at once!
- All right, all right. - Beatrice!
All right.
Well, that certainly was visceral.
She almost killed me.
If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead.
You said you wanted to be in the play.
Then be in the play!
It seems to me what you really want
is Calhoun's cock in your quim.
But guess what. Ishmael beat you to it.
That is enough nonsense out of you, Beatrice!
- Benjamin. - Huh?
What's going on between you and that Wallace woman?
Absolutely nothing.
Then what was Price talking about?
Another attempt to needle you.
Come now, Phoebe, you mustn't let her upset you.
You know I would never consort with a patient.
Phoebe, I need you on my side.
Without you, this entire enterprise collapses.
Are you with me?
- Of course I am. - Oh, good.
You and me, yes?
Kara?
What the devil is she doing in here?
I don't know. Kara, no, no.
I'm not telling you another thing.
You announced it in front of everybody.
I let my anger get the best of me.
Kara!
Kara.
Kara, spit it out. That's not food.
Spit it.
Kara, Kara, come here.
Look at me. Give me your hand.
Okay, everyone.
♪ There's a storm blowing ♪
♪ A storm blowing ♪
You lied to me.
What's that?
- This is not the time. - I trusted you.
Isabel, you have to be calm.
You didn't send them, and you promised to help me.
You promised to help me, and I believed you.
We can discuss this at another time.
No, I need to see my daughter,
and this was going to get me to see my daughter.
You will see your daughter, I promise.
All you care about is this absurd play!
- Stop now. - You lied to me.
You lied to me!
You're delusional.
- I'm not delusional. - You are.
I'm not mad! I don't belong here!
- Orderlies! - You know that!
- I don't belong here! - Restrain her!
No! No, please!
I'm not mad! I'm not mad! Please! No!
No! Let me go! I want my daughter! Please!
Quite the little hellcat, aren't we?
Can you guess what I found...
tucked beneath a pillow?
You're reading this to our daughter?
This Cinderella?
Bring me my cane.
You bring this blasphemy into my house?
A minister's house?
For a minister's daughter?
Your feet, dear wife.
The ship... tears on.
Say it.
The ship tears on,
leaving such a furrow in the sea as when a plowshare...
You will say it.
One way or another.
I hate that it's come to this. You've left me no choice.
Say the lines. Rejoin the cast.
If you continue to defy me,
I will be forced to...
Very well.
Say the lines, Isabel.
Go to hell.
Nurse Helga, put Mrs. Wallace back in isolation.
Heart, soul, body, lungs, and life is Ahab bound.
Damn me, thou actest right, Captain.
My God.
You only have a few lines,
and you can't do better than that?
You know, you begged me to be in this play, remember?
I've told you a thousand times, cue pickup.
Are you still foggy on what that means?
No, sir.
Then why I am left waiting for your lines to begin?
Do you know what happens while you're gearing up for your cue?
Hmm?
The energy is dropping out of the performance!
- Stupid bitch. - Shh!
Say your lines.
Live in the game and die in it.
He would've shot me once.
Aye.
Powder in the pan.
Strange. These hands have handled so many deadly lances,
yet now they shake.
Shall this crazed old man be tamely suffered to drag...
to drag a whole ship's company down to doom with him?
There he is sleeping.
I but still alive and soon awake.
- Do you see what she's doing? - Stay in the moment.
He's supposed to be sleeping.
Cunt! Stupid, stupid bitch!
I cannot withstand thee then, old man.
Not reasoning, not entreaty will thou harken to.
Fuck you, bitch!
I may yet survive to hug my wife and child again.
Stupid, stupid bitch!
Great God, where art thou? Shall I?
Oh, Moby Dick!
I have you in my clutches at last.
All right.
That was good, Matron,
except when you let her distract you.
Hypocrite.
You accuse me of being distracted,
and then you work to distract me!
All right.
Matron.
Beatrice Price.
Benjamin Calhoun.
Was that how you rehearsed at the Orpheum?
We didn't have matrons or orderlies at the Orpheum.
When there's a crowd, you know I'll perform.
When there's a crowd?
Should I start directing when there's a crowd?
Oh, no, by all means,
start directing whenever you feel the urge.
I direct.
Lest you forget, we are in a loony bin,
and your cast is comprised of madwomen.
You're a joke. The whole play's a joke.
- Benjamin? - Hmm?
I dared to hope.
But I swear, they're threatening to tear my heart out.
Laudanum?
Just a few drops to help me relax, Phoebe.
That's all.
Mmm.
They don't appreciate what you're doing.
Your experiment will change the study of lunacy forever.
What are you doing?
I am giving you a foot rub.
When I was a little girl,
and my daddy came home from the lumberyards,
I would give him a foot rub every night.
So I'm something of an expert.
But I don't need a foot rub.
Oh, my.
Oh, that's nice.
What would I do without you?
You're the only one I can rely on.
You'd make do, I suppose.
Well, I try and try,
and they subvert me at every turn.
Do they mean to humiliate me?
Oh, my.
You didn't do that for your father.
I didn't do this either.
Hello, Isabel.
I've invited your husband to see you on opening night.
To see the progress you have made.
He'll never come here.
On the contrary.
Your situation is the talk of his congregation.
He knows he cannot ignore it much longer, no.
He's bringing Rebecca.
Look. She was traumatized by your arrest.
I told him to see you on stage happy, healthy
will set her mind at ease.
Help her move forward.
Will you be my Ishmael again?
All right, Isabel, whenever you're ready.
My pagan companion and fast bosom-friend, Queequeg,
has been seized with a fever.
Poor Queequeg.
He quietly lays in his hammock.
The rolling sea seems to be gently rocking him
to his final rest.
- An awe seizes... - Kara.
Stop that.
You're supposed to be half-dead.
Go on.
An awe seizes over me
as I sit by this waning savage
to the drawing near Death,
which alike levels all.
What is it you think we're doing here, Deirdre?
Playing some sort of game?
Dressing up like sailormen
and pretending to chase a whale?
You move like frightened women.
Have none of you coiled rope before?
No?
Let me show you.
I want manly strength.
You see that? Manly strength.
I want manly strength, not girlish prancing.
Let me see it again.
Are you stupid as you are crazy?
Orderly, deal with her.
Take her.
I was watching male patients on work detail the other day,
hauling casks and crates.
They moved with such easy strength,
such innate virility.
I see not a whit of that in our cast.
You have been making a noble effort, Phoebe.
Price is good when she decides to be.
But you cannot rid yourselves of your cursed femininity.
Well, we're just women.
Yes.
Perhaps that's the problem.
They're putting men's blood in us.
She's seizing! She's seizing!
Kara!
Get her feet!
I'm an actor.
You cast me as a man, and I'll give you a man.
You cast me as a sea captain, and I'll give you a sea captain.
You cast me as Ahab,
and by God, I will give you Ahab
without the benefit of his blood.
Get off! Off! Get off!
Put her in the chair.
Is everything all right?
Everything's fine.
We lost a patient.
No procedure is without its risks.
Matron Stokes, you will be receiving the blood treatment
like the rest of patients.
- What? - If you want to be in my cast,
you will behave like a man.
Dr. Calhoun, you overstep.
I am the head matron at this facility,
not one of your patients,
and I will not be receiving any sort of treatment.
I am truly disappointed.
I thought you were committed to this.
But now I can see you're just as weak as them.
No!
Beatrice!
All right, let's begin with the Queequeg scene, shall we?
All right, I realize that we've lost Kara.
It's unfortunate.
We will have to recast. All right, Mrs. Wallace,
I've changed the dialogue for Queequeg to narration.
Your treatment killed her.
Come now!
There is no connection, all right?
She's prone to seizures.
- Where's Beatrice? - She's not in this scene.
Griselda, would you mind filling in for Kara for today?
Let's get you in here.
There you go.
Queequeg told me it is the custom of his race
to stretch out a dead warrior in a canoe
and let him float away.
He shudders at the thought of being buried in his hammock,
as is the custom at sea.
Wait, please.
I'm not feeling your sorrow, Isabel.
Surely this is an opportunity for you
to channel your feelings for Kara, you know?
You're thinking too much.
Don't think.
Feel. Feel.
Feel.
Carry on.
He recalls that he has seen dead sailors in Nantucket
laid to rest in canoes.
He means coffins. And he desires one for himself.
If I may...
you're watching your friend slowly waste away.
How does it make you feel?
Fear?
Grief?
Anger?
There's something burning inside.
Hmm?
How much does it hurt?
A lot.
Show me a lot.
The ship's carpenter took his measure and went to work.
Now the last nail has been driven.
Queequeg entreats to be lifted into his final bed,
along with his harpoon.
Are those tears?
Ishmael is a man!
You understand?
Men do not show their grief in that manner!
Blast it, women! I mean, do we need another transfusion?
Is that what we want?
Do you want another transfusion, huh?
Show me some masculinity like Phoebe!
That's what I need! Now, now...
some of you sailors will lift up Queequeg
into his lovely coffin that I've had made,
but for now, Griselda, let's get you in the coffin, come on.
- I'd rather not. - No, no, no, it's okay.
It's nonsense. This is just make-believe.
There it is. Wonderful.
Manly strength. Manly strength. Go.
Isabel, come down, say your lines.
Come down and say your lines!
Queequeg is placed in the coffin.
He lies without moving,
his arms crossed over his breast...
Out here, out here.
while the coffin lid is placed over him,
- and the sails... - Ah!
Our Ahab has returned to us.
Are you ready to return to the fold, Beatrice?
One condition.
You get Edward Fry... to attend,
and I'll perform.
I would love Edward Fry to come.
But how do you expect me to do that?
Just mention my name.
Mr. Fry?
Excuse me, sir. Please stay back.
Can I speak to Mr. Fry?
Mr. Fry's a busy man. Please move along.
Yeah! Yeah!
Mr. Fry, good evening, sir.
My name is Dr. Benjamin Calhoun.
I'd like to talk to you about a theatrical endeavor.
Excuse me!
- Not tonight, all right? - I would like to have a word.
- Jeremy. - Yeah?
- A wager on Lizzy. - Of course.
To lose.
Very good, sir.
- If I could have a moment... - I don't think so.
- It's just a... - Listen, nothing tonight, okay?
Of course, yes, yes, yes.
I am mounting a play at the asylum where I work.
Mr. Fry does not...
Would you get your hands off of me?
Ow! Ow!
I have Beatrice Price!
You have Beatrice Price?
Yes.
On stage?
All right, Isabel,
please give us the lines
that describe Queequeg's resurrection.
Queequeg suddenly rallies and is half-well within a day.
He leaps to his feet, stretches his arms and legs, yawns
and finds himself fit for a fight.
He begins to use his coffin as a sea chest.
Here they are.
Dr. Calhoun, everyone.
Yes.
A distinguished guest.
Beatrice
Come here.
Let me look at you.
You left me here.
Beatrice, I tried, but you committed murder.
We saved your life by declaring you insane.
Mr. Fry.
Good to see you, sir.
Al...
Please don't let me interrupt. Continue.
Oh, yes. We were just about to start rehearsing
the "Captain, my captain" scene.
Uh, Isabel, whenever you are ready.
The ship tears on,
leaving such a furrow in the sea
as when a ploughshare churns up a field.
Stand close to me, Starbuck.
Let me look into a human eye.
It Is better than to gaze upon God.
I can see my wife and child in thine eye.
Captain, my captain,
noble soul, grand old heart after all.
What cruel, remorseless emperor commands me
that against all natural longings,
I so keep pushing recklessly,
making me ready to do
what in my own natural heart I durst not dare?
Is Ahab, Ahab?
Is it I, God, or who that lifts this arm?
Remarkable.
Do you have any comments, Mr. Fry?
No, not at all,
but I'd appreciate a moment alone with Miss Price.
Well, however we can accommodate you.
Would everyone except Beatrice please clear the room?
I'd like you to meet Mrs. Isabel Wallace.
She has all the makings of a true actress.
Mrs. Wallace, I'm charmed.
Yes, Mrs. Wallace has been doing remarkable.
I've really been working with her.
Call me Isabel.
Would you care to join us?
- Doctor. - Yes?
We'll fetch you shortly.
You wish for me to leave as well?
Come, come, Calhoun. Let the artists have a moment.
Yes, of course.
Benjamin.
Benjamin, please, get ahold of yourself.
Do you have any idea what this could mean?
Listen, I admit I was skeptical at first,
but Edward Fry?
The famous theatrical impresario in the flesh.
Do you have any idea how many wealthy patrons?
New York, Boston, he has them in his pocket.
With his support, we could reach new donors,
wealthy sponsors.
Benjamin, please,
it could lead to advanced equipment, facilities.
You must do everything you can to keep his interest,
do you hear me?
It's been too long.
God knows what they are getting up to in there.
Benjamin no!
Benjamin!
Dr. Calhoun.
The women were just telling me all about you.
Please have a seat.
What you are doing here...
is bold.
Revolutionary.
By accident, I suspect,
as I doubt alone you had the vision
to cast all the roles with women.
However...
this play has the potential to be sensual,
provocative,
transcendent even.
With two radiant women at its core,
all good fortune to you.
So I've decided to offer my patronage.
That means an audience,
publicity,
and potential funding for future endeavors.
Furthermore,
I will host the performance at my own Palace Theater.
Oh, Mr. Fry, that would be...
Naturally, there are some conditions.
First, Beatrice will take over all staging,
blocking and choreography.
Oh, uhh, that sounds like you mean
for her to direct the entire play.
Yes, that's right!
But we'll still use your fine script.
The only reason Beatrice Price isn't recognized
as one of the great directors of our time
is that the world of theater
is plagued by envy-ridden misogynists.
Now, Mr. Fry, with all due resp...
I'm not finished.
Monomania seized him.
Isn't that what Melville wrote about Ahab?
You have lost your way, Dr. Calhoun.
Now the only way to succeed is to turn over your play
to surer hands.
Dr. Withers, I trust there are no objections.
None whatsoever.
Great. Jeremy will come every day
to ensure that things proceed as I've describe.
I'll expect regular reports.
Good day, ladies, and good luck.
You women!
Where is your loyalty?
Transcendent? Provocative?
I wrote this!
Surely, Mr. Melville deserves some of the credit.
You're still in, aren't you?
I'm still in. Of course.
It's my only way of seeing Rebecca..
But then what?
She sees me on stage with madwomen, the play ends,
she goes home, and I'm still trapped here.
This play could be our way out.
We have to leave the grounds to perform.
I'm orchestrating all the action.
All eyes will be turned toward the stage.
We escape?
Exactly.
Edward will support us,
provide us with means of departure.
What about Rebecca? I can't leave her with him.
We can figure that out too.
I never told anyone why my husband put me here.
Every year, Tobias buys a brand-new cane.
He tests them on me.
Always in places nobody sees.
You wouldn't dare.
Hit me in the face, you coward.
Strike me where everyone can see.
- Stop it! - No!
- Stop it! - Do it! Do it!
Hit me in the face!
Do it!
Madwoman.
You're not mad.
Your husband is. Just like mine was.
We did what we had to do.
Happens all too often.
Artists, visionaries die unknown.
Benjamin Calhoun.
It's women or nothing.
Who's there?
All you care about is this absurd play.
Benjamin, we're just women.
Benjamin.
Whosoever of ye raises me a white-headed whale...
You're a joke. The whole play is a joke.
We are in a loony bin
and your cast is comprised of madwomen.
You're dead, whale.
From hell's heart, I stab at thee.
Surely, Mr. Melville deserves
some of the credit too.
As dawn broke,
Ahab could be seen staring out at sea.
Oh, what a lovely day.
A fair day could not dawn upon the world.
Here's a thought.
What if Ahab had time to think?
But Ahab never thinks.
He only feels.
Feels, feels!
To think would be audacity.
God only has that right and privilege.
Our poor hearts throb
and our poor brains beat too much for that.
There she blows!
With a hump like a snow hill!
'Tis Moby Dick! Did none of you see it first?
I saw him the same instant you did!
- Ready the boats! - There she breaches!
Wondrous phenomenon!
Rising with utmost velocity from the furthest depths,
the whale booms his entire bulk into the pure element of air.
Do you feel brave, my hearties?
Aye! Brave as fearless fire!
Keep pulling! Lower those boats!
In Jesus' name, no more of this!
It is worse than devil's madness!
Never wilt thou capture Moby Dick.
Yea, I'll ten times girdle the unmeasured
globe and dive straight through it,
but I'll slay him yet.
Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish
till we be dragged to the infernal bottom of the sea?
Some men die at ebb tide,
some at low water,
some at the full of the flood.
Shake hands with me, man!
O captain, my captain. noble heart, go not.
One and... Steady.
Great.
Okay, now my rowers, on my count.
It's to the one and two and one and right and...
Yes! It's looking good, ladies.
Are you ready, Matron?
The boats dart forward to attack.
All paddles plying with rippling swiftness.
Look out! Keep thou keenest eye on the boat
and mark well the whale.
They are nearing their foe.
The entire dazzling hump is distinctly visible,
and the glistening shadow of the broad, milky forehead
of the unsuspecting prey.
And... nice.
Not perfect, but maybe we can use that.
I like it.
And, um, Mr. Starbuck, if you please.
Through the serene tranquil, tropical sea,
the glorious white moves on...
Stop.
What are you doing?
Those are Ishmael's lines. Why is Starbuck telling it?
Ishmael is busy on a whaling boat.
Mr. Starbuck is standing on the Pequod, watching.
It makes sense.
Fry suggested you choreograph the action.
He didn't say you could rewrite my script
and massacre Melville.
The script is set.
Matron Stokes?
I think it's a huge improvement.
Please, sir, why don't you have a seat
and allow the ladies to work, huh?
Through the serene tranquilities of the tropical sea,
the glorified white whale moves on.
Beautiful.
Slow, graceful.
Love it. Very feminine.
This is a travesty.
The whale is male. The sailors are male.
There is no room in the story for femininity.
You're destroying everything!
Sir, I should hate to report to Mr. Fry
that you held up rehearsals.
Thank you.
More lines for me.
Okay, from the beginning, everyone.
I have news from Mr. Fry.
One of his vessels will be sailing from New Bedford soon.
He has delayed its departure.
Yeah.
Um, okay, everybody ready?
We open in three days.
From the top!
They come expecting a freak show,
but we shall show them a theatrical spectacle.
A grand adventure!
We have weathered many storms together.
Our voyage beset with perils from within...
and without.
But we have persevered!
A dead whale or a stove boat.
A dead whale or a stove boat!
Yes, Doctor, we have it.
We're as ready as we'll ever be.
Okay, let's get you all backstage.
He's the maddest one out of all of us.
Oh, Isabel.
If I may, uh...
I know it's been rocky between us of late.
But I, I feel we had something special,
and I'd like to get back to that when this is over.
So for my next production,
I want you to be my Cleopatra.
Okay!
Welcome. Please, please take your seats.
Ha ha! There you are, Calhoun.
- This is amazing. - It's great to have you.
Thank you. Please take your seat. Yes, yes.
It's great to be here.
Beatrice? Beatrice.
I don't think I can do it.
Relax, Everything is arranged.
I don't want to hear another word out of that pretty mouth
until I hear you say, "Call me, Ishmael."
Yes?
Hello, young lady.
This your first time in the theater?
Yes, sir.
We do not frequent these types of events.
- We're churchgoing folk. - Ah.
Well, the theater is my church.
It's like magic. You'll see.
Oh, my God.
What is this that shoots through me?
All my past has somehow grown dim.
Is my journey's end coming?
The grand god reveals himself!
Aye! Reach your last to the sun, Moby Dick!
Thy hour and thy harpoon are at hand!
For hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee!
From hell's heart, I stab at thee!
The spear is darted! Ahab's line runs foul.
It's caught around his neck!
The whale wheels around,
bears down the Pequod's advancing prow.
All is set. Mr. Fry's carriage awaits in the back alley.
I'm going to go check on Rebecca again.
Okay.
Think you can escape now, huh?
Don't you know? They all think you're mad.
You'll never leave. No, no, no.
You're going to stay here with me until you die.
Let go of her!
The whale! My God, stand by me now!
Water pours from the breach in our side.
We are doomed.
I did it.
You can still go.
Isabel, help me.
Isabel, grab his leg.
Okay.
- Arms on three. - Okay.
Ready? One, two...
You're supposed to be on stage. Go.
No.
Go. Finish the play.
Isabel, if you don't go now, they'll know something's wrong.
The drama is done.
Why then does one step forth?
Because one did survive the wreck.
- Take the coffin. Steady. - All the crew, were carried out of sight
- Go, go. - to the depths of the ocean.
Floating on the margin and in sight of the wreck,
I was slowly drawn towards the vortex.
Queequeg's coffin!
I grasped onto it...
and was buoyed up by that coffin for one day and one night.
On the second day, a sail drew near
and picked me up at last.
Then the great shroud of the sea rolled on...
as it has rolled on for 5,000 years.
Enjoy your moment.
You earned it.
Mother! Mother!
Rebecca! Come here! Mother!
- No! - Mother! Mother!
Let the girl be with her mother.
Rebecca!
Beatrice! Isabel!
Go.
Hey! Hey, get back here!
I did it! I killed him!
He deserved to die!
Hey, hey!
- To arms, ladies! - Yes!
Rebecca! Rebecca!
Where is he?
Rebecca, I said get back...
Hey!
Cocksucker! Cunt!
Let go!
Beatrice, what have you done?
To the docks. Mr. Fry's boat.
Thank you.
I got to die on stage.
Beatrice. Oh, Beatrice.
Where are we going, Mother?
Out to sea, like the men in the play.
Will there be a whale?
I doubt it.
Everyone says you're mad.
Are you?
Look at me.
When everyone says something, it doesn't always make it true.
I don't think you're mad.