A perfect title for a superior episode. We have on one hand, Methos. He has all the time in the world, already having lived 5000 years. On the other hand, we have Alexa. She has barely begun to live her life, and her time is quickly running out. Methos would gladly offer some of his time to her... but, as Duncan said to a dying Charlie DeSalvo... “It doesn’t work that way.”
However, the focus of this episode is Claudia Jardine, a musical genius who expects a normal life span. A frustrated Immortal, longing to touch greatness, “kills” her to perpetuate her gift forever. The result—she has all the time in the world but her genius withers.
Many geniuses have died young. Lord Byron was 36; Chopin was 39, Shakespeare only 52. Question. Did the intensity of their genius shorten their lives? Or, did the knowledge of their transient mortality inspire their genius?
On a lighter note — we get to see a hilarious Duncan MacLeod in drag!
New characters:
WALTER GRAHAM — An Immortal friend of MacLeod’s who employed him as a performer in a traveling Shakespearean troupe about fifty years after Shakespeare’s death.
CLAUDIA JARDINE — brilliant, pre-immortal concert pianist. As Duncan’s protégée, she has pursued her career, never knowing her possible destiny.
ALEXA BOND — A beautiful but fragile waitress in Joe’s Bar with less than a year to live. Methos is captivated by her.
JEREMY BEAUFORT — Lost his acting job in the Shakespeare troupe to Duncan because the Highlander was “younger and prettier”.
Empty, Dark Recital Hall
The musical brilliance—
Flows from her hands.
In the back of the hall,
MacLeod raptly stands.
Light shafts from the door—
That he opened come bursting.
She doesn’t like strangers—
When she is rehearsing.
“Whoever you are,”
She calls, “You are fired!”
“I’ll bear that in mind,
If I’m ever hired!”
“Duncan?” Her patron—
For him there’s a smile.
But he senses peril,
As he moves down the aisle.
High above, Walter sits—
Cutting a cable.
His buzz alerts Mac
Those lights are unstable!
“GET OFF THE STAGE!”
To Claudia, “NOW!”
His arms break her fall,
SHE’S safe, anyhow.
The piano’s in splinters,
She almost was, too.
Walter, now thwarted
Berates his snafu.
He runs out before—
MacLeod sees him there.
Next time he’ll plan—
His deed with more care.
The Loft
She’ll stay with Mac—
Until he feels sure—
The danger has passed,
And Claudia’s secure.
She puts up a front,
Suppressing her fears,
“Some folks have been jealous—
Of me through the years.”
Claudia mentions—
Some threats from the past.
“Why believe this one?”
But Mac felt that blast.
“Those were imagined.”
(His manner comradely)
“You made up excuses,
When you performed badly”
Her mouth forms a pout,
Mac calls her a brat.
But it’s said with affection,
She returns tit-for-tat.
“I used to be one,
But, that was all phony,
I’m considered a genius!
And you do not own me!”
He: “I don’t think that.”
She: “If not for you—
Paying for the lessons—
What would I do?”
“Is this a ‘thank-you?’”
She’s quick and resilient,
“The way that I thank you,
Is by being brilliant.”
A racket below—
Interrupts their reunion.
Her piano’s arrived,
And it’s getting a tunin’
Mac sees she is settled,
Her hands on the keys,
He’s off to meet friends,
“Take me along...please?”
Joe’s Bar
Joe’s explanation—
Of baseball is boring.
Methos has found—
Something else worth exploring.
Alexa’s a beauty—
Like a queen in a fable.
“Would you be my waitress,
If I picked a table?”
“Is he a good tipper?”
Joe shakes his head, “No.”
“But he makes up in cute...”
Alexa tells Joe.
Methos is charmed,
But the old guy’s so nervous,
Coming off like a cynic,
Does himself a disservice.
She coolly walks off,
To the old guy’s dismay,
He asks for Joe’s help,
“What did I say?”
“Forget it.” says Joe
In a serious voice,
“She’s not your type.”
But...she’s Methos’ choice.
Outside the Bar
Mac parks the car,
The rain’s pouring down.
He holds an umbrella—
So Claudia won’t drown.
A car whizzes toward them!
Another attack!
Again, Claudia’s saved—
By the quick-thinking Mac.
Inside Joe’s Bar
When Joe Dawson sees—
Who is gracing his bar,
He’s dazzled and awed—
By this fabulous star.
“Claudia Jardine!
I’ve heard you play...
You’re brilliant, superb!
This sure makes my day!”
He asks—as a favor—
Would she play some blues—
With him on guitar?
She doesn’t refuse.
While they make music,
Mac’s questioned by Methos,
“Does she suspect—
That she’s one of us?”
“She hasn’t a clue,
Gonna keep it that way.
But ONE of us knows—
Tried to kill her today.
First at the Hall,
Then a short time ago.”
“Who’d want her dead?”
Mac replies, “I don’t know.”
The Dojo, Later
“Admit it,” Mac coaxes,
“You had a great time.”
She agrees, also noting—
Joe’s musicianship’s prime.
“Why is Joe wasting—
That talent of his?”
“Joe doesn’t think so.”
“Oh yes, but he is.”
Then the old Immie Buzz—
Hits the Highlander hard,
Someone has entered,
Mac turns, now on guard.
Walter Graham, old friend,
In his hand, a gilt mask,
Souvenir of the theater,
Mac remembers that task.
Flashback, Rural England, 1663
Out in the open,
On a crude wooden stage,
The plays of the Bard—
Are the latest new rage.
The present production,
(All male cast and crew)
Is Shakespeare’s comedic—
“Taming of the Shrew.”
Walter, as Petruchio—
Implores Kate to speak.
Three times he has begged,
But nary a squeak—
From the well-endowed Kate,
Who now turns our way,
It’s Duncan MacLeod,
In full female array!
“Kate” is attired—
In velvet and lace,
Full flaring skirt,
And rouge on “her” face,
Her voice thin and strident,
(After all, she’s a shrew).
The peasants are laughing,
Only Beaufort goes, “BOOooo!”
Duncan and Walter,
Await their next scene,
Duncan’s upset,
Thinking Kate is too mean.
“If I were Petruchio,”
He whines, “I’d despise her.
Why can’t I,” he snivels,
Play the part nicer?”
“Just say the lines,”
Walter says, “Earn your pay.
If Kate were played nicer,
There would be no play!
You’d rewrite SHAKESPEARE???”
Walter hears the guffaws,
“Listen, they love us,”
How he thrives on applause.
The Dojo
Claudia’s enchanted—
By Walter’s flamboyance
He quotes other poets,
To Mac, an annoyance.
“He’s not said one line,
That he alone wrote,
All the years that I’ve known him,
Only others, he’ll quote.”
Walter asks her to play,
She’s eager and willing,
He listens...entranced,
Her genius is thrilling.
Mac says, “You have always—
Had a good eye for talent,
What do you want?”
“To kill her,” (so gallant).
The Loft
“Walter, it’s not—
Up to us to decide—
When mortal life—
Should be nullified.
“But she’s at her peak—
Of genius and beauty.”
“Get a life, Walter.
That’s your first duty.”
Claudia bursts in,
“This just is not done!
You ask me to play,
Then up here you run.”
“Walter’s just leaving.
Mac pushes him out.
“Don’t even consider—
What we talked about!”
“Your friend’s very weird.”
Understatement, thinks Mac.
He remembers how Walter—
Lamented his lack—
Of original talent.
He always stayed close—
To the truly creative,
Maybe they’d spare a dose.
Flashback, England 1663
MacLeod primps his face,
Puts lip rouge upon it,
While Walter admires—
A Shakespearean sonnet.
“This mortal whose years—
On earth briefly passing,
Wrote verse that remains—
To us, everlasting.”
“All I’ve written is drivel!
Bad verse by the ton!
It can’t hold a candle—
To what Shakespeare’s done!”
Walter checks Duncan’s bodice,
A bit flat, perchance?
He fills “her” out nicely—
With linen implants.
“To be close to brilliance,
To help make it live,
That is my dream,
Anything I would give.”
Meanwhile, outside—
Is a noisy commotion.
Beaufort’s upset—
Over Duncan’s promotion.
“You gave him my role—
‘Cause he’s younger and prettier!”
He goes after Mac,
Tears his dress with a rapier,
“You tore my dress!”
With a Highlander’s pride,
He knocks Jeremy Beaufort—
On his ample backside.
MacLeod, (still the lady),
Holds his head high,
Steps over Beaufort—
And prances right by,
“Take care how you speak—
To a lady, I say!”
He lifts up his skirts—
And flounces away.
The Loft, Next Day
The old guy has come—
To MacLeod for advice.
Methos fears that Alexa—
Will not think him nice.
Duncan offers support,
Now a query from youth,
What to tell Claudia?
“Why not the truth?”
“Her chance for a life—
That is normal will end.”
“You can’t keep her safe—
Forever, my friend.”
For the moment Mac stays—
By Claudia’s side,
While Methos goes wooing,
Alexa, starry-eyed.
Joe’s Bar
When Alexa comes in,
“Adam Pierson” is waiting.
Ensconced at a table,
Shyly asks about dating.
She seems self-protective,
Her armor, unchinkable,
“Why ask me out?”
“The alternative’s unthinkable.”
This man of the world—
Acts like a shy child.
Oh, the battles he’s fought!
But with her—meek and mild.
Alexa is charmed—
By his sweet boyishness,
Her armor’s been chinked.
She answers him, “Yes.”
Their date is next evening,
To Joe: “You were wrong;
She is my type,
Has been, all along.”
Joe looks despondent,
Methos starts prying,
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Alexa is dying.”
Outside the Dojo
They had a great time!
At Claudia’s request—
Mac took her out,
She seemed so depressed.
As Mac parks the car,
There’s a Buzz in the air,
It’s Walter, with flowers—
For his lady fair.
“NO-O-o!” MacLeod shouts!
He knows what’s transpiring,
But he is too late,
Walter’s pistol is firing!
Claudia collapses—
Dead in Mac’s arms.
Why didn’t he heed—
All those dreadful alarms?
The Loft
Claudia’s elated!
“Now I’ll play forever!
These fingers won’t suffer—
From arthritis...never!”
Why didn’t you tell me—
I’d have this reward?”
Mac: “Playing can wait,
First master the sword.”
“A sword?” she gasps... “Moi?”
“Don’t think so,’ says she,
Walter vows his protection,
“Come along, and you’ll see.”
They both waltz away,
In spite of Mac’s frowning,
All the while, Walter spouts—
Verses by Robert Browning
A Concrete Park Bench
They sit in the rain,
Keeping dry as they can,
“Our date for tomorrow,
It’s not a good plan.”
Says “Adam,” “I thought—
You liked me a little,
Is it my nose?
Is my accent too brittle?”
He soon has her laughing,
“Don’t...please...it’s not fair.”
He then tries to kiss her,
But that, she can’t bear.
“I’m dying,” she breathes,
“Tomorrow’s not right.”
“Absolutely!” he yields,
“We’ll make it tonight.”
Joe’s Bar
Claudia can’t play!
“No feeling! It’s dead!”
Mac tries to calm her—
But Walter sees red!
“Play harder!” he roars
But her brilliance is gone.
Is this what becoming—
Immortal has done?
“Adam Pierson” walks into—
A riotous mess.
Mac and Walter are angry—
At each other, no less.
In the middle, is Claudia,
Angry, confused
She thought she was blessed,
Now she’s feeling abused.
She bolts in a snit,
Mac and Walter go too,
Now “Adam’s” alone—
Only Joe to talk to.
“I’m here for Alexa.”
“Not here, called in sick.”
“I need her address,
And I need it quick.”
The Recital Hall
The music won’t come,
As hard as she tries,
Despite Walter’s shouts,
His threats and his cries.
“You did this to me.
My talent’s destroyed,
I’m better off dead,
My life is a void.”
“Make him go away,”
She begs of MacLeod.
Yet, Walter insists—
That will not be allowed.
“Do not come between—
A man and his dreams.”
I can kill you,” snarls Walter,
“You can try,’ MacLeod steams.
The Loft
A beautiful sword—
Is the Highlander’s gift.
You’ll need this to live,
To be strong and swift.
“I’m already dead,
Says his protégée,
Duncan consoles her,
“I felt the same way.”
MacLeod empathizes,
He knows she’s in pain,
The same ache he felt—
Inundates him again.
“Your life from now on,
Will not be the same,
But it hasn’t ended,
You are more than mere fame.”
“New worlds will open,
New futures each day.”
“But Duncan, I’m nothing—
If I cannot play.”
“Talent’s what you have—
It is not who you are.”
“But who’ll care about me?”
“I will.” She’s his star.
Front Porch, Alexa’s Home
Alexa is struggling,
Trying hard to explain.
“You don’t need to witness—
My illness and pain.
It’s going to get ugly,
Why do this?” said clearly,
“The alternative’s unthinkable.”
States Adam, sincerely.
“How long....?” softly asking,
“Less than a year.
Do you ever wish time—
Would stand still, disappear?”
(If only she knew)
Adam won’t give up hope,
Placing in her small hand—
A white envelope.
“Plane tickets...to where?”
“Everywhere, if there’s time”
“It isn’t so easy.”
Her voice, a sweet chime.
“Yes, it is. Your time is—
How you will it to be.
You can spend your hours dying—
Or living...with me.”
Outside Buddhist Monastery
MacLeod’s telling Claudia—
“Over there’s Holy Ground.
No Immortal can hurt you,
You’ll be safe and sound.”
Before they can enter,
Walter shoots MacLeod dead,
Again pleads with Claudia,
“Come with me, instead.”
“I’ll guide your genius,
I’ll make you whole.”
Claudia condemns him—
“My genius you stole!”
Walter’s incensed,
Puts his sword to her throat.
She kneels submissive,
He lets himself gloat.
But Duncan’s revived,
His katana applied,
“Drop the sword, Walter,
Claudia, go inside.”
Walter’s not worried,
“Your sword skills are nil.”
Mac: “I’ve had practice.
While you’ve written swill.”
They go at each other,
While Walter keeps quoting,
MacBeth to MacDuff,
Such pond’rous emoting.
MacLeod executes—
A nice little spin
He now holds both swords,
To Walter’s chagrin.
“I’ll let you live—
If you leave her alone.”
Walter spews more MacBeth,
Mac stifles a groan.
Then just as his head—
Is about to be lost,
From Walter.... “I promise!”
But his fingers are crossed.
“Let’s see your hands.”
Oh, MacLeod is astute.
This next bit is silly—
But awfully cute.
Walter lifts up—
His hands, fingers spread,
Contritely, “I promise.”
Thus saving his head.
The two walk together,
Toward the monastery,
Complimenting each other,
The hatchet, they’ll bury.
After all, how could Mac—
Slice the head off the wag—
That plumped up his bosom,
So his boobs wouldn’t sag?
The Dojo
She plays Debussy,
Her brilliance returned,
She has to fear death—
To feel music, she’s learned.
Mac wants her to master—
Sword skills, right away.
“Don’t do this,” he begs,
She smiles, “It’s okay.”
Outside Joe’s Bar
They’re loading the van,
First, a coast to coast tour.
Then an airplane to Egypt,
With its timeless allure.
Methos says to Mac,
“It’s not long enough.”
Mac sighs, “Never is.”
Then the couple drives off.
Joe says, “They don’t know—
If she’ll make it there.”
Mac: “Doesn’t matter.
He’ll still have to bear—
Her loss, even if -
She lives one hundred years.
When they go you are left—
With sadness and tears.”
“Where’s Claudia? Asks Joe,
“She is gone,” Mac admits
“On her own? Unprotected?
They are two opposites.
One trying to live,
One trying to die.
It’s crazy,” says Joe.
“Not for her,” Mac’s reply.
“Dawson, you’ll get—
A Watcher for her.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep—
An eye out, for sure.”
MacLeod walks away,
He’ll nourish the gleam—
Of hope that his friend,
Will accomplish her dream.
Peace, Emit
© 2002
Under the Kilt from Highlander: The Official Site:
Don Paonessa, Creative Consultant, Post Production
"We did some voice replacement on this."
Ken Gord, Producer
"I thought Rae Dawn Chong was great, I was really happy to get her. And I must say, when I cast Ocean Hellman, as Methos' girlfriend Alexa, I really put a lot of thought into that, well as I usually do, but specifically because I thought people would be really keyed up to find out what the love of his life is like. So I had to make sure that I cast someone that had a similar kind of soul, as opposed to some Hollywood plastic, silicon bunny type. And I'm not saying that Ocean's not lovely, because she is, but I decided to go with the heart as opposed to the skin."
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