He's coming! He's coming!
[Man] All right, now.
Let's give a good Colorado welcome here.
Sir, you're most welcome.
[Oscar] Thank you.
Everybody, listen up.
I want to introduce you
to Oscar Wilde.
Welcome to the Matchless Silver Mine.
Today, we opened up a new seam.
We're gonna name it after you.
How very kind.
I look forward to collecting the royalties.
Now, why don't you follow me over here?
Great lecture you gave last night.
We're truly honoured to have you visit us.
If you'd like to step in here.
There you go, sir.
[Gunshots]
[Oscar] I thought I was descending into hell.
But with these angel faces to greet me,
it must be paradise.
Is this the way to my personal seam?
I should have preferred gold.
Purple and gold.
But we live in a silver age, alas.
So much that is exquisitely beautiful
is wrought from suffering, from pain, from toil.
Broken bones and blistered skin.
Benvenuto Cellini understood silver.
He took the metal that you mine so nobly down here
and transformed it into works of art
for popes and princes.
Cellini, is he a wop?
A Renaissance man. In every sense.
The greatest silversmith the world has ever seen.
But a genius in life as well as art.
He experimented with every vice known to man.
He committed murder...
He killed a man?
More than one.
Thank you.
I'd like to meet this Cellini. Why didn't you bring him?
I'm afraid he's dead.
Who shot him?
Is Miss Lloyd connected to Lloyd's Bank?
[Irish accent] No. No.
[First woman] Pity.
But she's comfortable, Ada. A thousand a year.
Then I congratulate you, Lady Wilde.
Now that Oscar's been to America
and sown his Wildean oats,
it's time he settled down.
But weren't they very rough?
No. Charming. Well, charming to me.
With each other, they were a little brusque.
They hanged two men in a theatre
just before I gave a lecture.
I felt like the sorbet after a side of beef.
I know your friend is famous, Ada.
Notorious, at least.
But I don't understand for what.
For being himself, Lady Mount-Temple.
Don't Americans talk the most wonderful slang?
I did hear one lady say,
"After the heel-lick, I shifted my day goods."
What on earth did she mean?
She'd changed her clothes after an afternoon dance.
Connie, my love,
Lady Mount-Temple is so anxious to meet you.
I knew your father, Miss Lloyd.
She's delightful. And not stupid.
Really, not stupid at all.
Is that quite a reason to marry her?
Well, I must marry someone.
My mother has our future planned out in every detail.
I'm to go into Parliament.
We're going to have a nice house
and live a proper settled life.
Literature, lectures, the House of Commons.
Receptions for the world in general at five o'clock.
How dreary.
Your attendance will not be required at those.
But your sphinxiness
will be essential for our dinners at eight.
[Irish accent] 'Twill be a grand life, a charming life.
I see Constance will be busy preparing the dinners.
What will she contribute to the literature and lectures?
She'll correct the proofs of my articles.
What a little sunbeam!
I do love her, Ada.
She's...
Silent.
I find her very silent.
But so sympathetic.
And I do need an audience.
I don't see how you can possibly take it all in,
reading at that speed.
Try me.
I know better.
Where are we dining tonight?
At the Leversons'.
Then you must show your true colours
as a propagandist for Dress Reform.
The cinnamon cashmere trousers, I think.
And the cape with the ends that turn up into sleeves.
I... don't think I can wear those trousers any more.
[Irish accent] A new Wilde for the world!
Another genius for Ireland!
We shall have to buy you a whole new wardrobe.
[Ada] Ernest proposed to me under that statue.
[Oscar] The things that go on in front of works of art
are quite appalling. The police should interfere.
We were made not to marry.
Whereas you and Constance are so happy.
Everyone says so.
It's perfectly monstrous
how people say things behind one's back
that are absolutely true.
Your audience has proved as responsive as you hoped?
Receptive, yes.
Responsive?
I always wonder what she's thinking.
[Ada] I expect it's about the baby.
[Oscar] Yes.
Constance is such a natural mother,
she's invited Robbie into the nest
while his parents are abroad.
Robbie is Canadian.
You can tell by his youth.
Have you been brought to England to mature, Mr Ross?
That was the idea.
But it doesn't seem to be working.
I've lived here since I was three
and you see the pitiful result.
Robbie comes from a long line of imperial governors.
His grandfather was Prime Minister of Upper Canada.
Or was it Lower Canada?
The British take their class system wherever they go.
They apply it even to continents.
Are you planning to govern a continent?
Oh, no.
I don't even plan to govern myself.
All look the same to me.
[Boisterous chatter]
Hello! Hello, sir!
If I give you these, my love,
I'll see if I can find a cab.
[Cab driver] Coming through!
Mind your backs!
Looking for someone?
[Oscar] Cab!
Cab!
Bed time.
Just one more cigarette.
Oscar?
No. No thanks, Robbie.
Don't stay up too late, Robbie.
Goodnight.
Goodnight, Oscar.
Goodnight, Robbie.
(He's asleep.)
[Oscar] (He's so beautiful.)
Almost as beautiful as his mother.
I don't know what I'd do without you,
my constant Constance.
Goodnight, my dear.
Goodnight.
A university education is an admirable thing,
so long as you remember
that nothing that is worth knowing can ever be taught,
least of all at Cambridge.
But you told me, in Greece...
in ancient Greece, the older men taught the younger.
They drew them out.
I look forward to being drawn out immensely.
Yes, well, em...
Greek love, Platonic love,
is the highest form of affection known to man,
of course.
You also told me
the Greeks put statues of Apollo in the bride's chamber
so she would have beautiful sons.
I can't help noticing that here,
the statue is in your bedroom.
Constance prefers a bath.
She was so beautiful when I married her, Robbie.
Slim...
White as a lily. Such dancing eyes.
I've never seen such love in a pair of eyes.
She was...
Nothing should reveal the body...
but the body.
Didn't you say?
There has to be a first time for everything, Oscar.
Even for you.
[Child cries]
[Nanny] There's a good boy.
Come on now.
There, there.
[Child screams]
Now come on, Cyril,
it's time for your bath.
Be a good boy.
Don't make such a fuss.
Ssh.
No, you've got to get undressed.
I know you hate it.
Boys, Mrs Wilde,
they never do what they're told.
We're going to have a girl next time.
Aren't we, Oscar?
I must go.
[Cyril continues to cry]
Goodnight, my dear.
Behave, Cyril.
A gentleman should take a bath
at least once a year.
Goodnight!
Come on, Cyril.
I shan't be back till late.
I'm dining with the Asquiths.
Come on, now.
Do you love me?
I feel...
like a city that's been...
under siege for 20 years.
Suddenly the gates are thrown open and...
the citizens come pouring out.
To breathe the air and walk the fields
and pluck the wild flowers.
I feel...
relieved.
You don't worry about Constance?
[Oscar] Every afternoon, on their way home from school,
the children used to play
in the garden of the Selfish Giant.
[Cyril] The garden where we play?
[Oscar] No. This one's much larger and lovelier
with soft green grass.
There's grass where we go.
Yes, but are there 12 peach trees
that burst into blossoms of pink and pearl in springtime
and bear rich fruit in the autumn?
Are there, Mama?
I don't think there are, Cyril, no.
Could you hand me a matchstick, darling?
I'll put this hussar's head back on. Thank you.
The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly
that the children used to stop their games to listen.
"How happy we are here," they said to each other.
How could they be happy if there was a giant?
There wasn't. Not yet. He was away visiting a friend.
You're always away.
[Oscar] I only go away for a night or two
and I always come back.
Whereas the giant whose garden it was,
had been staying for seven years with an ogre in Cornwall.
After seven years, when he'd said all he had to say
because his conversation was very limited,
he decided to return home to his own castle.
When he arrived and found the children playing in his garden,
he was very angry.
"What are you doing here?" he cried.
And all the children ran away. [Doorbell]
"My own garden is my own garden!" said the giant.
"And I won't allow anyone to play in it except myself."
So he built a high wall all around.
And put up a large noticeboard
on which was written, in capital letters,
"Trespassers will be prosecuted."
[Knock at door]
Arthur, you're trespassing.
Cyril will now eat you.
It's Mr Ross, sir, with Mr Gray.
Heavens. I must fly.
The horses of Apollo are pawing impatiently at the gates.
I beg your pardon?
Papa must go.
You will come back and finish the story?
Of course I will.
[Constance] Come on, Cyril. It's almost tea-time.
I really don't know why people bother
painting portraits any more.
You can get a much better likeness with a photograph.
But a photograph's just one moment in time.
One gesture, one turn of the head.
Yes. Portraits are not likenesses, Mr Gray.
Painters show the soul of the subject.
The essence.
[Mr Gray] The essence
of the sitter's vanity, you mean.
Well, this is a portrait
of Lady Battersby
as a young woman.
She's over there
as a matter of fact.
I must go and console her.
How nice to see you.
Poor thing.
I expect in her heart
she thinks she still looks like this.
If we could look young and innocent forever.
D'you think we'd want to?
If our souls were ugly, yes.
Give a man a mask and he'll tell you the truth.
Have we had enough of this?
Shall we go and have dinner somewhere?
[Speranza Wilde] "Dorian Gray"
is the most wonderful book I've ever read!
And the end, when the servants break in,
and they find him wizened, old and dead
and the picture young again.
I fainted!
My family say it's dull and wicked.
Dull!
[Speranza laughs]
Oh!
It's sublime!
It's about the masks we wear as faces.
And the faces we wear as masks.
That my son should have written a work of such...
People say it's full of dangerous paradoxes.
Hardly anyone will speak to us any more.
We're ceasing to be respectable.
Artists care nothing about respectability!
Oh, it's only jealousy.
It's the spite of the untalented
for the man of genius.
Where is Oscar?
He's in the Lake District.
Writing a play.
A drama?
A comedy.
Oh!
Robbie Ross has gone to keep him company.
I do like Robbie.
And they both love you.
It'll be a great success.
Oscar's made for the stage.
[Cheering and applause]
- Author! - Author!
Oscar, please.
Magnificent!
Well done, everybody.
[Cheering]
Bravo!
[Applause dies down]
Ladies and gentlemen,
I have enjoyed this evening immensely.
[Laughter]
The actors have given us a charming rendering
of a delightful play
and your appreciation has been most intelligent.
I congratulate you
on the great success of your performance,
which persuades me
that you think almost as highly of this play
as I do myself.
[Laughter]
[Man] Absolutely splendid, Oscar!
An absolute triumph!
Thank you so much.
How sweet of you to say so.
It went so well, Oscar.
Even better than I'd...
They loved it. They absolutely loved it!
And I, dear boy, love you.
[Woman] Congratulations, Oscar!
Thank you.
It's good to see you.
Mr Wilde - wondrous. Really wonderful.
- Oscar! - Sphinx!
You really must be careful.
You're in grave danger of becoming rich!
It was wonderful, as I knew it would be.
Thank you, Robbie.
Everyone's dying to know who the real Lady Windermere is.
Every woman in this room, and most of the men.
- Oscar! - Lionel!
It's a wonderful play.
My cousin, Lord Alfred Douglas, is here.
He would very much like to congratulate you.
[Woman] Wonderful!
Oscar, this is Bosie Douglas.
We met last year.
Lionel brought me to tea at Tite Street.
How could I possibly forget?
I love your play.
The audience didn't know whether you meant your jokes or not.
You shocked them -
especially with your speech.
But the more frivolous you seem,
the more serious you are, aren't you?
I love that.
Thank you. I always say,
the young are the only critics
with enough experience to judge my work.
We need shocking. People are so banal.
And you use your wit like a foil -
you cut through all those starched shirt-fronts.
You draw blood. It's magnificent.
I wish you'd draw some blood down in Oxford.
Though you'd need a miracle.
All the dons at my college have dust in their veins!
At which college do you educate the fellows?
Magdalen.
My own college.
Well, I shall claim the privilege of a graduate
and come and take tutorials with you.
Come soon, then.
They're threatening to send me down.
How could they be so cruel
to one so beautiful?
Dons.
They're so middle-class.
My dear Oscar,
you've shocked London, smoking on stage like that.
Excellent! We shall run for a year.
You must say something to Marion Terry.
She was good, wasn't she?
So good, she wrote most of the lines herself.
Excuse me, Lord Alfred.
Bosie, please.
Bosie.
[Man] You must be so thrilled, Oscar.
I know! Isn't that humiliating?
[Constance] "'My own garden is my own garden, said the giant.
"So he built a high wall all round it
"and put up a noticeboard.
"'Trespassers will be prosecuted.'
"He was a very selfish giant.
"The poor children had now nowhere to play.
"They tried to play on the road
"but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones
"and they did not like it.
"They used to wander round the high wall
"when their lessons were over
"and talk about the beautiful garden inside.
"'How happy we were there! '
"they said to each other."
I hope he was a very beautiful boy.
Well, pretty.
You know - in a street Arab sort of way.
There's no point being blackmailed by an ugly one.
What's tiresome is,
he's threatening to show my letters to my father.
Who will show them to all his friends,
for the excellence of their style.
No.
No, you don't know him. He's a brute.
Really.
He carries a whip wherever he goes.
He used to beat my mother.
He beat my brothers.
He thrashed me from the age...
My dear boy!
Of course, he's practically illiterate.
He probably won't understand the letters, anyway.
By an unforgivable oversight,
I've never been blackmailed myself,
but all my friends assure me
that a hundred pounds will usually suffice.
Really? God, I... You promise?
Mm. Leave it to Lewis.
George Lewis, my solicitor.
He knows what he's doing.
He acts for the Prince of Wales.
[Bosie] # Ah, leave me not to pine
# Alone and desolate
# No fate seemed fair as mine
# No happiness so great
Isn't he killing, Mr Wilde?
He's perfect.
He's perfect in every way.
#... And sung in accents clear
# This joyous roundelay
# He loves me
# He is here
# Fa-la-la-la
# He loves me
# He is here
# Fa-la-la-la, fa-la #
[Ripple of applause]
That was lovely. Well done, Bosie.
Yes, absolutely enchanting.
More tea, anyone?
I think so, yes.
I don't want to sit here.
I want to sit there.
You heard what Lord Alfred said.
I want everyone to look at us.
I want everyone to say,
"Look - there's Oscar Wilde with his boy."
So, what shall we let people see us eating?
Foie gras and lobster.
And champagne.
For two.
We do everything together.
Very good, Mr Wilde.
[Bosie] I think he enjoyed thrashing me.
All my family are mad.
My uncle slit his throat last year.
In a railway hotel.
Which station?
Euston.
Ah.
All life's really serious journeys
involve a railway terminus.
And now I must go to the station myself.
Sarah Bernhardt thinks she knows better than I do
how to play Salome.
Stay.
Please stay.
At least... at least till this evening.
Sarah is divine, as you are.
She will be wonderful at the play's climax
when Salome kisses the lips
of the severed head of John the Baptist.
"Ah, thou wouldst not suffer me
"to kiss thy mouth, Jokanaan."
Jokanaan is an old Hebrew name for John.
"Well, I will kiss it now.
"I will bite it with my teeth
"as one bites a ripe fruit.
"Yes... I will kiss thy mouth, Jokanaan.
"Thy body is white
"like the snows that lie on the mountains.
"Like the snows that lie on the mountains of Judaea
"and come down into the valleys.
"The roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia
"are not so white as thy body."
[John Gray] I'm not good enough for him any more.
I'm just the son of a carpenter, while Bosie...
Oscar's only ever been smitten before.
He was smitten with me.
He was smitten with you.
I wasn't smitten!
I loved him.
Well...
now he's fallen in love.
I'm halfway to hellfire. I'm not joking.
Someone else was a carpenter's son.
I've given in and become a Catholic.
I find confession...
wonderfully consoling.
I can't go to confession...
when I want to kill Bosie.
Or myself.
[Constance] Oscar's furious.
[Lady Mount-Temple] He knew the Lord Chamberlain
would never allow a play with Biblical characters.
Oscar doesn't think there should be
censorship of plays.
Of course there must be censorship.
Or people would say what they meant,
and then where should we be?
- When's he coming to join us? - He's not.
He must stay and look after Lord Alfred.
Those Douglases are always ill.
When they're not demented.
One of them roasted a kitchen boy on a spit.
Bosie's father, Lord Queensberry,
he's a dreadful man, Constance.
Doesn't believe in God, or marriage.
A marquis should set a proper example,
or what are the upper classes for?
I tell you,
I wouldn't want a daughter of mine
to marry a Douglas.
I haven't got a daughter.
Plenty of time still, my dear.
Oh.
Oh, I see.
It's my fault.
After Vyvyan was born,
all I could think of was the children.
Ah.
So that's why Oscar spends so much time
with his men friends.
Oscar needs disciples.
Lord Alfred's a poet.
A very fine poet, Oscar says.
He's studying classics.
Oscar and he talk about Plato and so on.
There's nothing wrong.
Really, there isn't.
It's not whether there is anything wrong.
It's whether or not there appears to be.
That's all people care about.
The empire was not built by men
like Bosie Douglas.
[Oscar] Then the Spring came.
Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant,
it was still winter.
The birds did not care to sing in it
as there were no children.
And the trees forgot to blossom.
The Snow covered up the grass
with her great white cloak
and the Frost painted all the trees silver.
Let's go out.
If you like.
[Bosie] The thing about renters is,
you don't have to consider their feelings.
[Oscar] If someone is willing to give one pleasure,
one should show gratitude.
No. Money - that's all they want.
What's wonderful about going to Taylor's
is no-one pretends.
You just do it and be done with it.
I do love you, Oscar.
But variety is the spice of life.
You can watch me if you like.
[Man] You must attempt
to keep a grasp upon your sobriety.
Don't be sick on your suit!
That is disgusting. Less of that.
- Good evening. - Lord Alfred.
Evening, Lord Alfred.
Alfred Taylor, this is Oscar.
Delighted to make your acquaintance, Oscar.
Charles Parker. I remember you.
'Allo, Oscar.
Charming to see you again.
And you.
- Do you smoke? - Oh, I do everything.
- Everything that pays! - Expertly, I might add.
[Laughter]
Mr Wilde, some wine.
Thank you.
That's a nice case.
I want you to keep it.
Thank you.
So, this is a den of vice.
I should call it more of a garden.
Such pretty flowers, Mr Taylor.
Wise of you to keep the curtains closed.
They'd never grow in the common light of day.
Who are you calling common?
Certainly not you, dear boy.
You seem to be a flower of the rarest hue.
Bosie never told me that you were a botanist, Mr Taylor.
That you roam the earth
climbing the highest peaks of the Himalayas
and plunging into the darkest forests of Borneo
to return triumphant to this delightful conservatory
in the shadow of Westminster Abbey
to exhibit your... specimens.
The boys are all Londoners, actually.
[Oscar] Impossible.
I see Londoners every day,
but never such... exotic blooms as these.
Does he always talk like this?
Not when he's in bed.
[Laughter]
[Robbie] I am discreet. Bosie, of course,
is far too grand and well-born for that.
He wants everyone to know.
Oscar, you must understand...
I must be with young people, Robbie.
They're so frank and free.
They make me feel young myself.
That's all very well. But what would you say
if someone wanted to go to bed with your son?
Cyril's eight!
What will you say when he's 18?
Nothing.
He must do as his nature dictates.
As I only wish I had done.
"I do believe the Spring has come at last,"
said the giant.
And he jumped out of bed
- and looked out of the window. - And what did he see?
[Oscar] You tell me.
[Cyril] You tell it.
[Oscar] All right.
He saw the most wonderful sight.
Through a little hole in the wall,
the children had crept back into the garden
and were sitting on the branches of the trees.
In every tree that he could see,
there was a little child.
And the trees were so glad...
They covered themselves with blossoms!
And were waving their arms
above the children's heads.
And the birds were twittering
and singing above them with delight.
Oscar!
The flowers
were looking up through the grass
- and laughing. - It's time the boys changed
or we'll miss the train.
Ah.
Come on, boys.
Oh, Papa, can't we stay?
[Constance] Oh, Papa's got to work.
He's got to finish his play.
Yes. Poor dear Papa.
Poor Papa!
Poor, poor, poor, poor, poor Papa.
[Man] Where is Oscar?
We haven't seen him at all.
[Bosie] Where d'you think he is?
He's working. He is a writer, after all.
I hear your father's threatening to shoot Lord Rosebery.
Really? He usually prefers the horsewhip.
Says he's been buggering your brother.
Well, Rosebery is Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs
and Francis is his private secretary.
Actually, Francis is about to get engaged.
What's your father talking about then?
Oh...
He's obsessed with sex.
He thinks Oscar's buggering me,
as though I'd allow anyone to do that.
I'm sick of the country.
Let's go back to London.
What's the point of us living together
if you're always working?
I have responsibilities. A wife...
God, not that again!
I ask my friends over from Oxford
and you just disappear.
I'd be better off staying at my mother's.
At least she's there.
You asked me to take this house...
Now I'm bored with it.
And with you.
I can't give it up. It's paid for in advance.
And until I finish my new...
Bosie, dear,
you have beauty, you have breeding
and most glorious of all, you have youth.
But you are very fantastical
if you don't think that pleasures
have to be earned and paid for.
Whenever I want to do anything,
you say you can't afford it.
But you give renters cigarette cases.
But I've lavished presents on you!
Every penny I've earned from my play,
- I've spent on you! - I'm sure you've been counting.
You're so mean.
And penny-pinching and middle-class.
All you can think about is your bank balance!
For God's sake, this is intolerable!
No gentleman ever has the slightest idea
what his bank balance is!
You're absurd!
Telling everyone how they ought to live.
You're so vulgar!
I never want to see you again. Ever.
If that's what you want, then go!
Go on, go! Get out!
Get out!
[Slams door]
[Cyril] But in the farthest corner of the garden,
it was still winter,
and in it was standing a little boy.
He was so small
he could not reach up to the branches of the tree.
"Climb up, little boy," said the tree.
But the little boy was too tiny.
Egypt is lovely this time of year.
But you mustn't idle your time away.
Oh, Mother.
And... I want you to promise me something.
Not to write to Oscar Wilde.
I can't do that.
- Bosie... - I love Oscar.
I love him as a disciple loves his teacher.
But he's not fit to teach anything.
He's evil.
Do you really think your own son
could love someone evil?
I just wish I could love Oscar
as loyally, devotedly, unselfishly and purely
as he loves me.
But I'm not as good as he is.
I probably never will be.
Goodbye, then.
[Man] I adore simple pleasures.
They are the last refuge of the complex.
But, if you wish, let us stay here.
Yes, let us stay here.
The Book of Life begins
with a man and a woman in a garden.
[Woman] It ends with Revelations.
Yes. Mr Tree, may I?
I'm delighted that you find my lines funny.
But please don't try and make the audience laugh with them.
They should sound completely spontaneous and natural,
as though people spoke like that all the time.
Yes, of course.
Let's try again.
You should break with Bosie more often, Oscar.
Then we'd have more
of your spontaneous and natural plays.
Bosie was envious.
That's why he stopped Oscar working.
- That's not true. - 'Course it is.
His poems aren't nearly as good as you pretend.
And he knows it.
He's just a shallow little...
Rivulet.
Bosie's a child. A vulnerable child.
He needs love.
We all need love.
But which of us can give it?
[Boys] # We wish you a merry Christmas
# And a happy New Year
# Good tidings we bring
# To you and your kin
# We wish you a merry Christmas
# And a happy New Year! #
[Oscar laughs]
Cracker time!
[Oscar] It is cracker time.
Oh, I won this time!
And the giant's heart melted
as he looked out.
"How selfish I have been," he said.
"Now I know why the Spring would not come here.
"I will put that little boy on top of the tree
"and I will knock down the wall
"and my garden shall be the children's playground
"for ever and ever."
He was really very sorry
for what he had done.
[Cyril] This is really nice.
So he crept downstairs
and opened the front door quite softly
and went out into the garden.
The little boy did not run away
for his eyes were so full of tears
that he did not see the giant coming.
And the giant stole up behind him
and took him gently by the hand
and put him up into the tree.
And the tree broke at once into blossom
and the birds came and sang on it
and the little boy stretched out his two arms
and flung them round the giant's neck
and kissed him.
Oscar?
Oh, I don't care what people think!
I love you!
It's all that matters to me.
It was agony being away from you.
Just... Well, here I am.
Bosie, you're my catastrophe! My doom!
Everyone says so - even me!
[Bosie laughs, they kiss]
[Bosie] Oh, I missed you!
I, uh, thought you might like something
to celebrate your return.
Oscar!
When I saw them in the window,
they begged me on their knees
to make them yours.
I'll put them on now.
They're superb!
[Man] No, no, no, no.
I want a proper table.
Something wrong, my lord?
Young fool wants me to sit
by the service door.
Oh, God! My father.
He's new. He didn't know who you were.
This way.
Bosie, you're not going to flee?
Give me the menu.
I'll have the pea soup and then the salmon.
- Will you have it with us? - Bosie.
I'm lunching with Oscar Wilde.
Will you join us?
I told you never to see that vile cur again.
He's not vile, or a cur.
He's utterly delightful. Come and see.
How do you know what he's like
when you've never met him?
Come on, Papa. You're not a man to be influenced
by other people's opinions.
Oscar, you've, uh...
you've never met my father, have you?
Lord Queensberry.
Bosie has told me so much
about your exploits on the race track.
I've never heard such bad luck as yours
with the Grand National.
Bosie tells me that you would've won
but your cousin wouldn't let you ride the horse?
Bloody fool said I was too old.
You're never too old.
Besides, I'd ridden Old Joe on the gallops.
Came in at 40 to 1.
No horse could've carried me over the jumps, I fear.
What are you having?
Pea soup and salmon.
Then I shall join you.
Spring is the time to lunch on salmon.
Though it tastes so much nicer
if you've caught it yourself.
You fish?
I used to, when I lived in Ireland.
My father had the most charming hunting lodge
on an island in a lake.
D'you know the west of Ireland?
Not really.
Whereabouts, exactly?
The Christians go around pretending they know
who God is and how he works.
I've no time for that tomfoolery.
If you don't know something,
you should stand up and say so,
not pretend you believe in some mumbo-jumbo.
I can believe in anything, provided it's incredible.
That's why I intend to die a Catholic,
though I couldn't possibly live as one.
Catholicism is such a romantic religion.
It has saints and sinners.
The Church of England only has respectable people
who believe in respectability.
You get to be a bishop not by what you believe,
but by what you don't.
That's true enough!
It's the only church
where the sceptic stands at the altar
and St Thomas the Doubter
is prince of the apostles.
No, I couldn't possibly die in the Church of England.
Where do you stand on cremation?
I'm not sure I have a position.
I'm for it.
I wrote a poem.
"When I am dead, cremate me."
That's how it begins.
"When I am dead, cremate me."
What do you think of that for an opening line?
It's... challenging.
I'm a challenging sort of man.
That's why people don't like me.
I don't go along with the ordinary ways of thinking.
Then we are exactly alike.
Another glass of brandy?
I find that alcohol, taken in sufficient quantities,
can produce all the effects of drunkenness.
You were there for ages.
You stayed talking till after four.
I knew you'd like him once you'd met him.
He's got charm, I admit that.
But that's bad.
Men shouldn't be charming.
It's disgusting.
Don't think much of his action.
Let's have a look at the bay.
Mind you, Wilde's no fool.
Talks wonderfully. Really wonderfully.
But that means nothing
when what he says is such rot.
Worse than rot - evil.
Which is why I insist
you stop seeing him forthwith.
What's that supposed to mean?
I will cut off your allowance
if you don't do as I say.
Trot him up and down a bit!
Look, Father...
You wasted your time at Oxford,
pretending you were going into the Foreign Office,
where that Jew queer Rosebery is Foreign Secretary
and buggers the juniors, including your brother.
That's all lies.
Spent your time writing obscene poetry.
My poems aren't obscene.
They're in the manner of Wilde,
that's filthy enough for me.
Have you read any of Oscar's poems?
I wouldn't sully my mind
with perverted trash like that.
Tell him to pick his feet up!
He's not straight!
Are you calling Oscar a pervert?
Because that's libellous!
I'm not saying he IS one,
I'm saying he's POSING as one.
Which is worse.
His wife's divorcing him, did you know that?
For sodomy!
That's COMPLETELY untrue.
I hope it is.
Because if it were true,
I'd shoot him on sight.
You will cease to see Wilde
or I will cut you off without a penny.
As though I wanted your money!
What little you have left from your tarts!
How dare you speak to your father like that!
What a funny little man you are.
Bosie!
Come back here,
you filthy-minded cissy!
You're absurd!
And you're nothing but a bum-boy!
You're pathetic!
Bosie!
I'm a bloody good shot.
I'll shoot him through the heart
if he threatens me.
Better use a silver bullet.
Here's one for the Black Douglas! [Bang!]
Bosie, for God's sake!
One for his liver... [Bang!]
One for his lights... [Bang!]
And one for his stinking, rotten soul!
Bosie!
I'll save one for myself.
My own father!
He wants to kill me!
My life is everything I ever wanted.
I have fame.
I have recognition.
With two plays about to open in London,
I may even have money.
The world is at my command.
Yet I can't command myself.
I can't command my feelings for you.
[Oscar] Constance! My dear...
How nice.
Constance!
Bosie.
I-I brought you your letters.
You haven't been home for so long.
Thank you.
So much more convenient for Oscar
living in the West End
when he has a play coming on.
I'm like one of those northern businessmen
who has to keep an eye on his factory.
The boys ask for you all the time.
They're longing to see you.
Oscar has to make sure the play's a success.
I'll come round this afternoon.
For tea.
It's the dress rehearsal this afternoon.
Tomorrow, then. I'll... come tomorrow.
Well...
tomorrow then.
[Kisses his head]
Goodbye, my dear.
Goodbye.
Goodbye, Constance.
What am I trying to get?
Oops.
- Perhaps... - Cod?
I've a strong feeling
codfish prefer it deeper.
- D'you think there'll be skate? - Possibly.
A-choo!
I don't think there'll be anything
for our table tonight.
A-choo!
I'd better stay. You're getting a cold.
No, no. I'm all right.
Let's get the boys some ices.
Boys, stay and look after Nanny.
Oh, all right.
We'll look after you, Nanny.