A Sentence of Sorts

The Pseudoscientists, Act I, scene I: Scary Fun Things Happen at Night

(We meet Hyde and are introduced to his wonderful world of gaslamp-fantasy London! We also get our first informal glance at the members of the Society for Experimental Science and meet Dr. Lanyon, who seems to have it out for them.)

Let’s be self-indulgent and start off with a series of impressionistic scenes flowing into one another: Dr. Frankenstein conducting electricity in his laboratory, the Time Traveler leaping into another era, Dr. Moreau dressing a vivisected monkey in human clothes, the Invisible Man disappearing skin by muscle by bone …

Finally we see the silhouette of Dr. Jekyll. He is not engaged in frantic motion like the others but is sitting slumped in his cold, empty laboratory. Seeming to come to some decision, he stands and goes over to his chemistry set. There, he mixes chemicals together until a great plume of smoke erupts into the frame. The smoke grows thicker and thicker until it becomes the London fog—we are traveling quickly through grimy streets lit by ghostly gas lamps.

Over all of this we hear Edward Hyde’s voice, waxing poetic about the strange and exciting world of mad scientists and monsters, the dark wonderful realm that men dream up when the world of daylight can no longer contain their deepest desires. As he speaks, we rise up out of the fog across the rooftops until we reach a tall balcony where Hyde is waiting, long cape billowing in the wind, looking very spooky-scary indeed.

A wolf’s howl echoes down below. Hyde grins: this is his cue. He leaps down off his perch and lands on top of a fast-moving carriage packed with a motley crew of young men. These men don’t look or act the part of brave adventurers or hardened criminals–actually, they look more like students–but they are brimming with youthful energy. 

They are chasing an enormous wolf–a werewolf, in fact–down the foggy streets. 

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The party roars past a pretty, classical-style building. We cut inside to a fancy dinner party. The chandeliers shake from the rumbling outside and a precariously placed bottle of wine crashes to the floor. The guests look up, startled, and then all turn to look out the window, catching just the tail end of the party disappearing from view. They laugh, writing it off as some ruffians out for a good time, and return to their meal.

All except one: A shrewd-looking man with gray-streaked hair–Dr. Lanyon–keeps his eyes locked on the window. Excusing himself from the table, he goes out on the balcony to see the little hunting party gathering at the end of the street, which ends in a small square. He narrows his eyes and heads for the exit.

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In the square, Hyde and his crew have cornered the werewolf, which lunges menacingly at them. Hyde instructs the others to back down–he will face down the monster alone.  Hyde is dwarfed against the wolf, but he is a tiny ball of violent energy and he is having far too much fun to notice that he could have his head torn off any minute.

This (his narrative continues) is what he lives for, these frightful night adventures. He is not afraid. He can do whatever he wants, he can do anything!

Time is of the essence. Luckily hyde is quite fast—he dodges around the wolf’s blows and with the aid of some sturdy rope manages to bring it crashing to the ground.

The crew flood the square, cheering. Hyde surveys his handiwork, pleased with the enormous mess he has made of the street. A Lanyon apprentice approaches cautiously: “That got messy back there! The boss is gonna have us flayed alive.”

Somehow Hyde is not nearly as concerned: “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him.”

But it turns out that there are things worth worrying about: A look-out in their group has spotted a small crowd gathering outside the fancy house from earlier. Most of the people are peering out casually from the balcony, but Lanyon is in the street, heading towards them.

At the first sign of the crowd, Hyde freezes like a cornered cat. He quips, “Well, I’m sure you boys can take care of this. If the coppers show up, don’t say anything. Bye!” before disappearing down an alleyway. 

The Society members are left momentarily stunned without their leader. But they manage to regroup and manage to get the werewolf out of sight right before Lanyon reaches them. They work quickly enough that the people on the balcony, who are at least a good block away, cannot make out quite what is going on. They saw no wolf, only what appeared to be a confused scuffle on the streets. Losing interest, they return to their party inside.

The only one who remains is Lanyon, and he takes it upon himself to corner the remaining men before they can run away. He questions them about the wolf, and when they resist, he fixes them with a paralyzing glare. “Deny it if you will, but I know what I saw. And I also have a funny feeling you are no ordinary hooligans.” He pauses for effect. “You work for Dr. Jekyll, don’t you?”

The men avoid his gaze with “not supposed to talk to you” shifty eyes, and that is all the answer that Lanyon needs. “I thought so. That is very well. Seeing as you all are so woefully tongue-tied, I am sure he will be able to elucidate things for me.  Shall we go and see him?”

The men offer protest, but Lanyon grabs the nearest one by the wrist in a surprisingly strong, boney grasp. “Oh, but I think we shall! I wish to see what he has been up to. And he owes me a vintage Cabernet*.”

*I don’t know shit about wine