Two sets have been created and recreated in the 36 hours since I last visited the Fort Greene brownstone where the Londinium crew has been working at break neck speed. In the front parlor Jules Whitby’s tinker shop has been moved from the kitchen and recreated and dressed. In the bedroom a blackbox theatre has been erected out of old black velvet theatre curtains and c-stands. A fog machine is chugging idly by ready to fill the space with smoke. In the kitchen I am introduced to Trevor Bittinger playing Dr. Stephens for the day and a dancer, Jasmin from Austria. First up is a scene where Dr. Stephens tries to conjure up the spirit of Dr. John Dee, Astrologer and alchemist extraordinaire to Queen Elizabeth herself. We’re talking 1560’s not the current century. In his psychotic effort he conjures something far more sinister and perhaps a manifestation of the dark state of his mind. The nude masked dancer appears in the mist as Dr. Stephens continues his soliloquy. The sight of it reminds me a little of “Eyes Wide Shut”, Stanley Kubrick’s last film starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. The brief idea of it is that Tom (also a doctor) pulls a Salahi and crashes a member’s only masked ball after his wife confesses that she thought about cheating on him. Once inside the mansion he is stunned to find a secret society of men whose identities are hidden by Venetian carnival masks and robes engaged in an orgy with hundreds of nude masked women. The woman he selects as concubine warns him to get out. When he is discovered she is sacrificed.
Now, obviously for budgetary reasons there is only one grand master and one nude woman in the Londinium scene. After watching this scene intercut with an incredibly provocative one between Catherine and Richard makes me think that this insane doctor has connections with the dark side and just maybe…maybe Catherine is a part of it.
Looking at it from a sociological point of view, sure. The class system in Britain at the time assured people of noble birth had an unfair advantage over everyone else. Old white men make the rules and they usually belong to a group or society or brotherhood in order to unify and achieve their common goals. In America it is the Skull and Bones, The Trilateral Commission, in Europe the Bilderberg Group, the Carlyle group, the Illuminati (Thank you Dan Brown), and of course the Freemasons. Afterall, it was the Freemasons that formed this country. I bring up the Freemasons again only because the myth surrounding the ripper murders resurfaces that the killer was a mason. But a new character in the ripper crimes seems to hold the public’s imagination. That is the rumor of Dr. William Gull, physician to the Queen. Dr. Gull was responsible for treating Prince Albert Victor when he came down with Typhoid fever. In 1973 Joseph Sickert, the illegitimate son of the artist and ripper suspect Walter Sickert, claimed that a royal cover-up involving Dr. Gull was responsible for the murders. This plotline is the basis for From Hell, the Johnny Depp film about Jack the Ripper. Apparently the Prince fell for a prostitute in the East End while taking art lessons from Walter Sickert. They had a child and were secretly married with other hookers in attendance as witnesses. Sounds outlandish already, however, the murders were supposedly perpetrated in order to get rid of all witnesses and evidence of the marriage, the baby, and the alleged wife. 1) Gull was not a Freemason according to my research. 2) He had a stroke in 1887 and was half paralyzed to the extent that he could no longer practice medicine. The murders occurred in the fall of 1888. Gull could not have physically conducted the murders. 3) The Prince was known in close circles to favor men. 4) Prince Albert Victor was also mildly retarded and most likely incapable of secretly marrying anyone. The real conspiracy around the Prince is that he had contracted syphilis in the Bahamas and Dr. Gull was treating him for venereal disease. And the joke of it all is that Joseph Sickert recanted his tall tale and said he made it up. Interesting lies become an ingredient in the elixir that myths are made of.
Robert D’Onston Stephenson is more likely the historic suspect that our Dr. Stephens is loosely based on. He murdered his wife although he was never caught. He spent time in a lunatic asylum in London. And in an extreme case of projection identified one of the hospital’s doctors as being the killer. Even going so far as to visit Scotland Yard to tell them what he knew of the murders and the murderer. He suspected that the killings were part of a ritualistic murder rite, that the bodies had been killed at specific points in order to form a geometric symbol using the streets of the East End as a canvas. A pentagram, perhaps? Who knows. Does it stand up? By a stretch of the imagination, sure.
In the movie Dr. Stephens propositions Jules to put his motion picture camera to work for him explaining that ‘it could contribute a great deal to the field of medicine’. Jules commences collecting images for money. But when does collecting become creating? The first snuff film is born. But Jules can’t keep his trap shut even though he is being paid to follow Richard. I smell a set-up. Richard and Jules become acquainted once Richard realizes he is being ‘watched’. ‘Show me how it works’, he says and Jules more than accommodates. For a story set in the Victorian era it certainly has a contemporary moral tale to tell. Big Brother and a whole host of unknown eyes are watching us at all times. It poses the question of feeling safe or violated? What energy do our physical selves hold and how is that energy affected or disturbed by psychic manipulation. i.e. voyeurism? A lot to think about from a little blog. Dr. Stephens’ taste for unknown women or ladies of very low esteem is piqued and his tastes move from collecting images of dying whores to gathering images of one of the most prominent women in London, Victoria Thornton. Jules concedes and does it out of greed and extortion. Dr. Stephens does it for more lascivious purposes. Even Richard pinches the pieces of Victoria’s image for his own designs. I know this sounds trite but I hope it is out of love. When Dr. Stephens arrives one day to get his freak on over the images he finds that the celluloid is missing and threatens Jules with a big-assed knife. But he doesn’t kill his source because the images will stop. It’s a marriage made in hell. Richard goes to extreme measures to protect the identity and honor of his love. If their affair is made public a scandal could ruin the lives of all involved. After the dancer is filmed and dismissed Thom asks me if I might stand in as a dark figure. “What do I have to do?” I ask. I stand there and am handed a mask that looks a lot like a possessed goat. Then Thom gives me a black robe. This is still early September and it is hotter than the hinges of hell on the set.
“You’re going to wear this and just stand there. You don’t have to do anything.” Thom assures me.
“That’s the best acting tip Thom ever gave me.” Ed says cheerfully.
“Don’t you have a boom pole to collapse?” Thom replies and I can hear the beginning tone of exasperation starting to build.
“I can tell you’re getting hungry.” Ed says in a sing-song voice.
“I’m not hungry. I’m getting annoyed.” Thom replies.
“You want me to fix you a sandwich?” Ed asks sweetly.
“You can’t keep throwing food at me every time I start to lose it.” Thom continues.
“Are you losing it?” I ask concerned that I might completely melt or pass out from heat exhaustion.
“If you’re going to start in on me, I can’t work like this.” Thom says and the pack of cigarettes makes it from his pocket to his hand.
“Okay. You are not going to leave me standing in this latex for ten minutes while you smoke. So put them away and get the director so we can roll.” I say assertively.
Ed gives me a mark. I stand there sweating buckets while under black velvet and latex. The fog machine chugs and now I am blinded with smoke. ACTION! I have truly arrived at perdition.
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