The Serpent's Kiss
1997
Juliana: You can't swim. I suppose you could drown, though. Anybody can do that. Even on dry land.
Chrome: Your servant. Thea: Your mistress.
Thea: It's so undignified... lying on your back with your legs spread out.
Madam Clevely: Any flowers? Chrome: This is an Anglo-Dutch garden, madam, with French influence. We have progressed from flowers. A garden is a celebration of art's triumph over nature. Fitzmaurice: We shall be the fucking flowers. We shall provide the color and scent as we walk among the gravel paths.
Thea: (on spotting Chrome walking through the wilderness, nude) Mynheer Chrome, is it you? You seem so... different.
Smithers: Well, Chrome, shall we make the desert bloom? Chrome: First we must make the desert.
Fitzmaurice: Don't you remember? Cousins can do things that other people can't. And we were more than children before anyone knew what we were up to. Juliana: Even we didn't know.
Fitzmaurice: Could you lend me a carriage? Smithers: My dear James, have you nothing of your own? Fitzmaurice: Taste, my dear Thomas. Taste.
Chrome: There's something missing. Smithers: Missing? Chrome: Yes. Smithers: The bills lack nothing. Nothing missing from the bills.
(Chrome and Juliana are talking in the hothouse at night) Chrome: There will be flowers of brown and green and black. Juliana: Black? Chrome: The Larousse collection specializes in dark plants, often black. Primula Arricula. Canna Indica. Tulipfera Nigra. Anemone Atrocarrulea. Juliana: I would be unacceptable then in a Larousse collection. Chrome: Oh, I think you would be rare enough, exotic enough. Juliana: But my skin is white. Chrome: Completely white? Juliana: Completely. Chrome: No blemishes, no stains? (Juliana shakes her head "no.") But inside (Chrome licks his fingers and begins to put out the candles, one at a time) ... deep inside... there is a darkness. Juliana: I feel there is. I can't be sure. It would need an expert touch to discover and comfirm it. Chrome: Perhaps if Monsieur Larousse was here he would be able to verify. Juliana: But in the absence of Monsieur Larousse - ... Chrome: I am not worthy. Juliana: And I might not always find it convenient to wait for the arrival of Monsieur Larousse. May I move now? (She flutters her fan, extinguishing the last candle)
Chrome: Thea! Please! Why won't you listen to me? Thea: Because you're saying nothing. Whisper your sweet nothings to my mother. She will hear you. I can't. Good-bye, Mr Chrome, whoever you are.
Fitzmaurice: Your husband is cursing God. Fortunately God can't hear his blasphemies above the noise of the wind.
Chrome: I want no more part of it. Fitzmaurice: For one who so enjoys outdoor activity, you are surprisingly unconcerned for your freedom.
Smithers: (referring to his artificial hill) The swollen belly of my pride!
Secretary: (on finding Thea in the carriage) She can't come with us. She... (Chrome grabs him by the throat) Chrome: You ever wonder what happened to the real Mynheer Chrome? Hmm?