In Victorian Era London, a troubled clairvoyant police detective investigates the murders by Jack The Ripper.

Sir William Gull: One day men will look back and say that I gave birth to the twentieth century.
Abberline: You're not going to see the twentieth century.
Jack the Ripper: Why have you called me here, Netley.
Netley, the Coachman: It's just... you say only three more have to be killed. I don't know if I can do it anymore. It's in all the papers. I'm just a simple chap, sir. I'm not a great man like you. I just don't know where I am anymore.
Jack the Ripper: There, there Netley. I shall tell you where we are. We're in the darkest region of the human brain, a radiant abyss where men go to find themselves.
Netley, the Coachman: I don't understand, sir.
Jack the Ripper: Hell, Netley. We are in hell.
Mary Kelly: What's wrong? You think I was born a whore? Oh that's right, England doesn't have whores, just a great mass of very unlucky women.
Sir William Gull: Below the skin of history are London's veins. These symbols, the mitre, the pentacle star, even someone as ignorant and degenerate as you can sense that they course with energy and meaning. I am that meaning. I am that energy.
[after trying to kiss Abberline and he refuses]
Mary Kelly: What? You think I was paying you back? I didn't mean it as business. I'm still a woman, they haven't taken that away from me, not yet anyways!
[Abberline proceeds to shove her against the wall and kiss her passionately]
[reading the return address on the package sent by Jack the Ripper]
Peter Godley: "From Hell". Well at least they got the address right.
Sir William Gull: Laudanum is a derivative of opium. Apart from doctors and addicts, not many would be able to detect it. How long have you been chasing the dragon, Inspector?
Abberline: I want every veterinarian, butcher, furrier in the district interviewed.
Constable Withers: Furrier? What he do, sir? Skin her?
Abberline: He disemboweled her. Removed her stomach, intestines...
Abberline: [about Polly's murder] I'm waiting for the police surgeon's report for more details.
Sir Charles Warren: [sits at his desk while smoking a cigarette] I see. Well, one thing's for certain; an Englishman didn't do it.
[Warren pulls up a newspaper clipping of American Natives]
Sir Charles Warren: Maybe one of these Red Indians wandered into Whitechapel and indulged his natural inclinations.
[Abberline looks doubtfully at the drawing]
Abberline: With all due respect, sir, I believe this was done by someone with at least a working knowledge of dissection. An educated man, such as a doctor...
Sir Charles Warren: [quickly interjects] An educated man? That's preposterous! No well-bred man would do this!
Sir Charles Warren: Probably a tradesman or a butcher...
Abberline: [nods] A tradesman is a possibility, sir, yes...
Abberline: But there's a strong indication against it. There was a sprig of grapes under her body.
Sir Charles Warren: What are you driving at?
Abberline: No one in Whitechapel, no matter what their trade, could afford grapes. Obviously, they were given to her by the killer. It follows that he must be someone with money.
Masonic Governor: You stand before your peers, masons and doctors both.
Sir William Gull: I have no peers present here.
Masonic Governor: What?
Sir William Gull: No man amongst you is fit to judge... the mighty art that I have wrought. Your rituals are empty oaths you neither understand nor live by. The Great Architect speaks to me. He is the balance where my deeds are weighed and judged... not you.
Abberline: This ain't killin' for profit. This is ritual.
Abberline: Why?
Sir Charles Warren: Are you questioning my decision?
Abberline: No, sir, I just simply want to know why.
[Johnny Depp's first lines]
[Sergeant Godley slaps Abberline to wake him up]
Abberline: Hello, darling.
Sir Charles Warren: It's over with, It's done. You have my word.
Abberline: Fuck your word! I will bring down every one of you fucking cunts!
Polly Nichols: [to her John] All right. We can do it here, but hurry up.
[they start to undress]
Polly Nichols: The bobbies are trackin' us!
Polly's John: Right.
[he pulls down his pants]
Polly's John: Gotta get the old man hard first.
Polly Nichols: Give it here. I'll put it in meself!
[she grabs his genitals]
Polly's John: Is that in?
Polly Nichols: Of course it is. Come on!
Polly's John: No, it's not. Ya got it stuck between yer bleedin' legs!
Polly Nichols: [frustratingly] No, I haven't! Come on!
Polly's John: I knows it when I feels it!
[they start copulating against the wooden fence]
Sir William Gull: Have you forgotten the most telling fact? What ever the Prince may be, he knows little or nothing about human anatomy.
Ada: Look, I bring everything for supper!
Mary Kelly: [snatches an envelope full of money] You little thief! I need this money!
Ada: I only take some money to buy food. For me and for you. Was that bad, Marie?
Mary Kelly: It's fine, dear. But until I go away, it's not safe for you to go out by yourself.
Ada: [caresses Mary's face] I stay with Marie, beautiful Marie.
Mary Kelly: It's alright, darling. You don't have to pay for your food.
Ada: Pardon?
Netley, the Coachman: Boo! Did I scare ya? I've been looking for you. I've been looking all over you.
Dark Annie Chapman: You've been looking for me?
Netley, the Coachman: Not for me. For my gentleman. Very fine gentleman. He sent me to look for you.
Dark Annie Chapman: Your gentleman sent you to look for me? Oh, get off! I may be an unfortunate, but I'm not a blithering idiot!
Netley, the Coachman: It's the truth! It's the God's truth! He's seen ya, he likes ya, and he said tonight only you'll do.
[last lines]
Peter Godley: Goodnight, sweet prince.
Sir William Gull: I think you mean to draw a Lister knife.
Lord Hallsham: How did he find out about the unfortunate and her child?
Sir Charles Warren: Well, he has that kind of cleverness you'll sometimes find in the middle classes. A cheap sort of intelligence, but effective nevertheless.
Lord Hallsham: Hmm. Thank God that's not something you're burdened by.
Sir Charles Warren: Yes, thank God.
Peter Godley: A rose by any other name?
Kate Eddowes: We work the streets harder than ever, right?
Liz Stride: [approaching his carriage carefully] 'ello, sir.
Jack the Ripper: Is anything wrong?
Liz Stride: No sir. For a second, I thought you were someone else.
Jack the Ripper: Oh.
[offers her absinthe spiked with laudanum]
Jack the Ripper: Thirsty?
Liz Stride: [takes it and drinks] Always parched, sir.
Peter Godley: You know who you're going to turn into. That sad old man in the pub that no-one wants to sit beside because after a few drinks he'll start talking about the girl that got away.
Sir Charles Warren: My God. He's out of his mind.
Abberline: That's very astute of you sir.
Peter Godley: Withers, when the inspector is talking you are listening.
Victoria Abberline: [as they make love] I have wonderful news.
Abberline: Tell me.
Victoria Abberline: Surely you, of all people, can guess.
Abberline: I don't want to guess with you.
Victoria Abberline: Dr.Marbury says...
Abberline: Dr.Marbury says?
Victoria Abberline: Dr.Marbury says I'm going to have your child.
[Abberline smiles and kisses Victoria]
Opium Den Owner: I pay. I already pay.
Peter Godley: I'm not after you, emperor. Where is he?
Peter Godley: Sorry about the rude awakening.
Polly Nichols: [in Jack the Ripper's carriage] That was the thing that was in my dream. What's it called again?
Jack the Ripper: Cleopatra's Needle.
Polly Nichols: Cleopatra, she was a beauty.
Jack the Ripper: They were carved 1450 years before the son of God was born. Six men died bringing it here.
[kills Polly]
Abberline: Sergeant? It's night.
Peter Godley: Your observations are correct. It is indeed night.
[turns to two constables]
Peter Godley: And gentlemen, unless you wish to be free of the confines of your duties, this never happened.
Peter Godley: You do not fuck with the special branch, the special branch fucks with you.
Abberline: And Withers, for your information... the star of David has six points.
Liz Stride: [Arrives in pub with Ada] Ah 'ere you are, 'ello girls.
Mary Kelly: I told you to wait for me.
Liz Stride: I can't stay in a pub and not 'ave a drink: that's cruel.
Mary Kelly: We were starving. But we were starving in fresh air.
Sgt. Peter Godley: Right, once more into the breach, gentlemen!
[the police constables remain where they are, confused]
Sgt. Peter Godley: Dismissed.
Peter Godley: There's your typical Londoner, imbued with Christian sympathy for his fellow man, or fellow whore in this case.
Constable Withers: You could be dead... right now. But then there would be too many bloody questions.
Peter Godley: They used to burn men like you, alive.
Peter Godley: Withers, when the inspector is talking you are what?
Constable Withers: Listening, sir.
Sir William Gull: [Re: Dr Ferral] He knows all about Anatomy and nothing about the soul.

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