Suddenly, Last Summer Page #3
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- Year:
- 1959
- 114 min
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No, Chicago. Actually, dementia
praecox is a meaningless phrase...
Chicago. I've always wanted
to see two places before I die.
Hong Kong...
...and Chicago.
Because I must use every inch and ounce
of what little strength I have...
...in doing just what I'm doing.
The foundation you referred to?
Building a memorial to my son.
You see, Sebastian had
no public name as a poet.
He didn't want one.
He refused to have one.
that come from being publicly known...
...from fame,
from personal exploitation.
He'd say to me, "Violet, Mother,
you're going to live longer than me.
When I'm gone, it will be yours
to do whatever you please with."
Meaning, of course,
his future recognition.
-You're very like him, doctor.
-ln what way?
Because you, a doctor, a surgeon...
...are dedicated to your art.
Yes, to your art.
It is an art, what you do.
Using people the way he did.
Grandly, creatively.
Almost like God.
I'm afraid my art is to help.
Not to use, but to be used.
Well, it comes to the same,
doesn't it?
I mean, in the end.
Oh, I don't know what I mean.
There is the atelier,
Sebastian's studio.
Most people's lives...
...what are they
but trails of debris?
Each day more debris, more debris.
Long, long trails of debris...
...with nothing to clean it all up
but, finally, death.
I guess...
...quiet desperation
is the word for most lives.
But ours were different.
Sebastian's and mine.
I know it sounds
hopelessly vain to say...
...but we were a famous couple.
People didn't speak of
Sebastian and his mother...
...or Mrs. Venable and her son.
They said Sebastian and Violet.
Violet and Sebastian
are staying at the Lido.
They're at the Ritz.
And every appearance,
every time we appeared...
...attention was centered on us.
Everyone else eclipsed.
My son, Sebastian...
...and I...
...constructed our days.
Each day, we would carve each day
like a piece of sculpture.
We left behind us a trail of days...
...like a gallery of sculpture...
...until suddenly, last summer...
Your son died?
You say that your niece suffers
from dementia praecox.
There must have been
a more exact diagnosis.
Such a pretty name for a disease.
Sounds like a rare flower,
doesn't it?
Night-blooming dementia praecox.
What form does her disturbance take?
Madness.
Obsession, memory.
She lacerates herself with memory.
Memory of what?
Visions, hallucinations.
It all started last summer.
The first I knew, there was a cable...
...from this clinic in Paris...
...saying, "Your niece is out
of her mind. What shall we do?"
I was almost out of
my own mind last summer.
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"Suddenly, Last Summer" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/suddenly,_last_summer_19053>.
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