No Minor Vices

-BOY:

-Get out of my house! I don't want you here no more!

-Very well, Bertram. Give me my bag.

-First, give me some medicine!

All right. This is special medicine. I wouldn't give this to anyone else.

I told you five times, I won't take it! You deaf or something?

You will take it. Stop annoying Dr Aswell.

-Am I annoying you?

-Not at all.

-I'm not annoying him.

-Go back to bed!

I've changed my mind! Add cherry flavour and I'll take the medicine!

One cherry flavour coming up.

There you are, Bertram.

Good day.

I don't know how you do it. He's impossible.

So rebellious, so disrespectful. Is there anything wrong with him? Something psychological?

-Definitely, Mrs Faraday.

-What?

-His parents.

-You shock me!

Good. Fracture the parents and heal the children.

Bertram will be all right in a few days.

DRAMATIC PIANO MUSIC

HE SOBS

-HE THINKS:

-'Hmm-hmm, seems we have a visitor.'

That piano - wonderful the way I play. Such anguish.

People think I feel it. That shows how stupid some people are.

My tears, how I suffer. What a joke!

I don't know how to suffer!

Empty...An empty nothing in the bottom of a hole of endless nothing. Allow me to introduce myself.

Hmm!

Would you mind putting that opinion into words?

-You want the truth?

-Who knows the truth?

-Tell me what you think.

-In one word - junk!

-Why?

-It's a man beating himself to death over nothing at all.

That's it! The final convulsion of the truth of my emptiness.

-It's magnificent.

-Nonsense! It's a childish feeling of rejection.

Petulant precocious pyrotechnics. It's not art. It's not truth. Junk!

-HE THINKS:

-'No-one tells a shoe-maker how to make shoes.

'Or a chemist how to mix chemicals. Or a pilot how to fly.

'But everybody is an art critic.

'Quaglini, this one you must teach a lesson - one he'll never forget.'

Two years that door has been open! At last, a friend. Octavio Quaglini.

Perry Aswell. Quaglini's friend.

-A doctor? You can be my doctor.

-But I'm a paediatrician.

-A child doctor?

-A psychologist. I charge more.

-I won't quibble about money.

You need a psychoanalyst.

Listen. Freud! Jung! Adler!

And all their neophytes and satellites!

There isn't an analyst's couch left in this town upon which I haven't lain. In fact...

-You know what they said?

-I can imagine.

Absolutely hopeless. Incurable!

A man without inhibitions. No dreams, no subconscious.

That couldn't be what they said.

So it's what I say. Anyway, I just can't grow up.

Some problem, eh? A grown man trying to grow up.

I want to show you something.

-I have to get back to my office.

-Wait a minute!

You walked in, destroyed my art. You can't leave me like this.

-You've got a responsibility.

-I have patients.

-Don't get sore. Take it easy. Humour me.

-All right. What is it?

You've got to see this.

Do you like this one?

-Hmm, that's good. Who painted it?

-Can't you read?

-But who painted it?

-Talented fellow, works in the post office.

The marchesa doesn't understand my work, so I buy this stuff, sign it.

She shows it to her friends. Big fat cheques every month.

-What if she finds out?

-She knows.

-She doesn't mind?

-She's my mother.

Your mother?

Mother a marchesa, father a fish pedlar.

Mother poor, wants dough. Father rich, wants refinement.

-I was rejected. Too much aristocrat for father, too much fish pedlar for mother. Get it?

-Perfectly.

Father dies. Marchesa gets the dough.

-So you ingratiate yourself with her.

-Wrong!

I terrorise her. If she barks that much, I threaten to kill myself.

And she believes this?

Oh, yes. I'm very convincing.

You put on an act and you get hoisted by your performance.

I'll show you how I do it.

Stop it. I don't want to see it.

My mother doesn't care if I live or die.

Let me recommend a good psychiatrist. Your neuroses...

Leave my neuroses alone.

Here I am, a great artist. Never mind what you think.

Assume I'm great. What would you do if you were me and had my talent?

-Paint people.

-People?

-You mean everyday people?

-Yes.

The people I see in my office. Plain, ordinary people.

Forget it. I'll paint you.

-I didn't mean me.

-Are you rejecting me?

-I have to get back.

-Are these people waiting for you?

-I hope so.

-I'll go with you.

-Wait!

I want to see what it is you think I ought to paint.

Fine. I'll call you in a few days.

-I want to go now!

-Take it easy. I'm not the marchesa.

I bared my soul. I thought you were my friend.

-All right. Come on.

-Why do you have to torture me?

You've never felt an honest emotion in your life.

You see right through me!

You MUST talk to Dr Aswell. I'll tell him when he comes in.

MAN: 'Have Mrs Pennypacker come in.'

Mrs Pennypacker? Dr Sturdivant will see you now.

-Why do you pass me off on Dr Sturdivant?

-Room three.

TELEPHONE RINGS

< Dr Aswell's office.

Yes, Mrs Totchkil.

A penny? When did he swallow it?

There's nothing to be worried about. Give him a piece of dried bread.

No, Dr Aswell isn't here.

Just give him a piece of...

I expect him any moment. Give the boy a piece...

Yes, Mrs Totchkil, I'll tell him.

INTERCOM BUZZES

Oh, here's the doctor. Now you can tell him all about it.

'Doctor? Call for you. Go ahead, please.'

Hello.

Yes, Mrs Totchkil. ..Oh, he did?

Give him a piece of dried bread.

He doesn't like bread? Put some butter on it.

Oh, he prefers marmalade?

Well, put some marmalade on it... Yes.

You don't think he should have marmalade? You think he should be punished?

All right, Mrs Totchkil. Do that right away. It'll solve everything.

-Goodbye.

-What's she going to do?

Have a nervous breakdown. Take off the coat.

Don't get excited. If I'm snooping around, I should look like I fit in.

-Oh, all right.

-INTERCOM BUZZES

-Yes?

-'Will you see Mr and Mrs Feltham?'

Send them in. Tell the staff we have an observer with us.

-'Shall I have a nurse show him around?'

-No. He can do that himself.

Quaglini.

I'll be busy. You go out that way.

The reception room is a good place for you to start. Then come back in.

OK, Doc.

-Hello, Gloria, Mr Feltham.

-Good afternoon.

-Sit down.

We'd like you to settle a disagreement.

Is Atlantic City the only place where the sun shines?

-Is it right to take the child from me?

-He never sees her anyway.

Her mother's in Atlantic City, the old bat.

-That's the reason.

-Who went to Atlantic City last year? You did.

I can't afford Atlantic City.

-Your partners' wives are in Atlantic City.

-That's up to them.

-You make me sick!

-Good.

-That's the way it goes - night and day.

Gloria, don't talk that way...

-Can I go out and play?

-You do what you like, dear.

-INTERCOM BUZZES

-Yes?

'It's Sturdivant. I have a problem.'

-I'll be free in a moment.

-'Thank you, Doctor.'

The child goes, alone if necessary.

-But I can't afford Atlantic City.

-You play poker?

-Yes...

-The horses?

Give up. He's got you cold.

Thank you, Doctor.

I'm free, Dr Sturdivant. Goodbye.

Goodbye, Doctor.

I have just received the greatest compliment of my life.

Mrs Pennypacker says I act so like you, she can hardly tell us apart.

Of course, a man should know his limitations.

-The bright moon always reflects the sun.

-What about the child?

-Tonsils should come out.

-Did you order a tonsillectomy?

-No. Not without your confirmation.

There must be a spark of real fire in you somewhere. You need the right girl.

Then you'll light up inside like a bonfire.

-Where's the child?

-Number three.

Miss Darlington, will you go out with me tomorrow?

-Was it Dr Aswell's idea?

-Well, generally, yes.

He did not specify as to the individual. That was my idea.

-Dr Aswell shouldn't give advice about women. Look at his wife.

-I disagree, Miss Darlington.

Not until he met her did his fire burst into flame.

I have a fire too.

We all have fires. Do I bother you? The Collymore baby's in room two.

The Steins are waiting in X-ray.

That's settled. The Pennypacker tonsils are coming out.

Dr Verik phoned. Did you get the message?

No. Would you get me Dr Verik?

She forgets those important details.

-Vitamin A.

-I suppose she does. She has more important functions.

Vitamin B.

Anything else, Doctor?

When will you take a vacation? It's been five years. You have ten weeks.

When did you last take a vacation?

-'Miss Darlington, room two.'

-Coming.

-I'm your employer.

-You employ my work, not my worries.

I have the right to worry about anyone I please.

-KNOCK ON DOOR

-Come in.

Here are your calls.

You forgot to tell me Dr Verik called.

If you don't like my work, fire me.

-Still have our date?

-Five o'clock.

-'Will you see the Carol child?'

-Yes, Miss Foster, I'll see anyone now.

They're waiting for you in X-ray, Mr Wilson.

-What's your IQ?

-Ah, go away. You make me nervous.

What's your IQ? I'm a genius.

-So what?

-So nothing! Your father's harmonica.

Beat it, will you?

No.

I'm bigger than you.

Now, wait till I get you outside.

Just try. I'll find out where you live.

I'll go up on the roof.

One morning, a nice big brick will conk you right on the head.

-Are you trying to terrorise me?

-Yeah.

OK.

-What do you want?

-I want to draw.

I can't draw on that. I've got big ideas!

(How about that wall?)

-Will you back me up?

-OK.

Arthur! What are you doing?

The doctor told me to draw, Mother. Ask him if you don't believe me.

Is Arthur telling the truth?

Certainly not. Just look at the boy.

But Doctor, you said...!

Ow!

What's the matter with your arm?

Ready? Aim!

Fire!

How do you do? I'm Dr Sturdivant.

-Quaglini, skin specialist.

-Isn't that rather superficial?

On top, yes. But I don't work on top. I get under.

You may dress the child now.

-Did you find anything interesting?

-More than I expected.

I can see why you're in heaven down here. What's up there?

-Where heaven ends - where I live with my wife.

-Did you have to marry her?

What was the deal? Her old man put you through medical school?

Where heaven ends, Quaglini, paradise begins.

-HE THINKS:

-'Did you hear that? Did you hear what he said?

'Some operator, this Aswell.

'Downstairs heaven, upstairs paradise.'

'What are you going to do, Quaglini?

'Oh, come on, leave him alone.

'Leave him alone? You're an artist.

'Don't be silly! An artist has to see everything.'

'Conscience, Quaglini.

'What about HIS conscience, with a dame downstairs and a wife upstairs?

'Oh, what are you doing, Quaglini?

'You're going up there anyway, whatever you decide.'

# La la la la la la la la la

# La la la la la la la la la. #

ON RADIO: "Station WRST, New York City..."

JAUNTY ADVERTISING JINGLE BEGINS

MUSIC STOPS

Well, hello.

What are you doing up here?

Funny. I was going to ask you the same question.

But I asked first. What are you doing?

-Cooking dinner.

-Why?

-Why what?

-Why are you?

-That's a good question. Come in.

Why am I? Why is anyone? I often wonder about that.

-That's not what I meant.

-But it's important. We must discuss it.

-What's this for?

-To put peas in after you shell them.

I never shell peas.

Very simple. See.

Try one.

Now you're an expert.

I asked you a question. What are you doing up here?

-I'm cooking dinner.

-But why?

Why am I? Why are you?

-You are Dr Aswell's receptionist.

-I am.

-And you cook for him?

-Yes.

-But what about his wife?

-I'm his wife too.

-You're Mrs Aswell?

April Aswell, born April Muihard, Vienna. How do you do?

How do you do?

Vienna? He the medical student, you the landlady's daughter?

The professor's daughter.

A Sunday date, a walk, a shack, a kiss, a wedding, a one-room flat.

-Two-rooms.

-You cook, clean. He needs you, you need him, you are very happy.

-You can see all that in my palm?

-And more in your eyes.

The diploma, America, and in a few years, success.

You still need him, but he doesn't need you. But you both pretend.

You still cook and clean.

He thinks it makes you happy.

What do you think? Don't answer that one.

Don't you want to know who I am?

You're the observer.

Octavio Quaglini.

-Rome, Paris, New York.

-Octavio Quaglini. The artist!

-Do you know my work?

-No.

-How do you know I'm an artist?

It's in your eyes.

The way you look at me with that probing sensitivity,

as if knowing you'll be hurt, you still have to find the truth.

You can see all that in my eyes?

-And even more on your face.

-What?

A smudge. From that charcoal pencil.

With which you draw in your sketch book.

Oh, what's this?

A very acute observation.

Yes, he's Perry's parrot.

A man doesn't become a parrot by himself. Someone trains him.

-How did you get here?

-Dr Aswell invited me.

He suggested that I study and paint people. My work is too subjective.

I didn't know Perry was into art. That's a new one.

Miss Darlington

when she talks to my husband.

Miss Darlington when she talks about me.

-Yes, she's crazy about him.

-Yes. And what use he makes of it.

Perry is wonderful. He gives free advice and everybody worships him.

He won't be happy until he sprouts wings.

Get back to those peas. I'm way behind schedule.

-They're alive.

-That's how you cook them - alive.

-Horrible.

-Aren't they?

A present from a grateful parent. Perry adores lobsters. He can eat plenty.

Come along, little fella.

All right...

Why spare him? Why not massacre him?

No room. He can live until tomorrow.

But that's not fair. Why should he go free?

All right. You pick one.

They should have an equal chance.

We'll draw lots - democratic procedure.

You write the tickets - one to five.

Draw.

Number four. One, two, three, four.

-What's the salt for?

-He can't live in freshwater.

-Where are you going?

-It's his last day on Earth.

I'm putting him in the bathtub.

SHE THINKS 'What are you laughing about?

'There is something in what he says.

'Beware, Mrs Aswell. He's putting doubts in your mind about Perry.

'Get rid of him. But what if he's right?

'You must find out.

'You can stop it if it goes to far.'

Now what's the matter?

Poor ugly things.

Don't you dare start that again.

They know exactly what you're doing.

-Nonsense. They can't feel anything.

-Are you sure?

Everything has a mission in life. This is theirs.

Why is it? Why can't they live out their lives like everybody else?

Because I promised Perry lobster for dinner and he'll get it.

All right. But it's such a horrible way to die.

It's much less cruel than letting them die of arthritis or old age

somewhere in a cold clammy ocean.

-I can't do it.

-Good! We can put them all in the bathtub.

No. I won't!

You can't make me!

Sorry, but Perry must have his lobster.

-Then let him commit murder.

-It is not his job.

-Nor mine.

-It is now.

Look at the time. I'll never be ready.

Put the pot on.

You mix the cocktails.

Here are all the ingredients. About four to one.

Bring them in here. I've got to get out of these.

You're still here?

I thought I told you - it's nearly five o'clock.

What happens then?

From five to seven, Perry must relax.

No patients, no phones, no visitors.

I hate to throw you out, but it's the rules.

-Unbreakable.

-I understand.

After all we've been through, you might've offered me a drink.

Octavio?

No time to sip. Swallow.

I'd like to paint you.

That would be nice. Talk to Perry about it.

I will.

Octavio?

I like you.

I must...paint you.

'That did it. Go on, Mr Quaglini, shake us up a little.

'Maybe we need it.

'But you do too.'

'Why did she say that, Quaglini?

'She didn't have to say she liked you.

'What was she really trying to say?

'He doesn't understand her.

'She's unhappy.

'But why was she so gay?

'Of course, she has to act gay. She's hiding a tragedy.

'Have you ever met a woman like her?

'No. You've got to do something!

'But what?

'No! No, no, impossible. No, Quaglini, you can't.

'Quaglini...you wouldn't!

'Hmm, well, try it anyway, what can you lose?'

Quaglini?

Well, you get around. I thought you'd gone.

-I'm still here.

-Did you find something to paint?

Doc, have you got a minute?

-My wife is expecting me.

-I know. It's five o'clock.

She asked you to leave? She wasn't rejecting you. It's just...

..a sacred ritual. Can't it wait?

In a happy marriage, these rituals are important.

Look, you helped me. You forced me to see the truth.

-Now, I must help you.

-I appreciate that.

I've only one problem - my wife is waiting.

Doc, I know something about your marriage that you don't know.

You like to shock people, don't you?

You do that to attract attention to yourself.

-You didn't mean what you just said.

-Are you afraid to listen?

Let's go into my office.

Now, what's troubling you?

This time, you're the patient.

Now, prepare yourself, Doc.

What don't I know about my marriage?

Yours is not a marriage. It's a tragedy.

-INTERCOM BUZZES

-My wife.

Yes, dear? How's my date?

-'She's waiting.'

-I was just having a few words with our artist friend.

-'Is Octavio still here?'

-He's just leaving.

-I didn't realise I was living a tragedy.

-You've enslaved your wife.

You've fallen in love with April.

All my friends love her.

You don't understand. I don't just love her. I'm in love with her.

-Quaglini, for once in your life, face reality.

-I love your wife.

I'm doing fine. It's you who is not facing reality.

I know what you're up to. You're trying to provoke me.

You want me angry.

You sure like yourself, don't you?

I might, if I knew which one of my personalities was truly myself.

Just how many of you are there?

Oh, two, three, maybe four.

They keep increasing all the time.

How do you go about making up a mind?

Whenever I have to make a decision, I call a conference of all my personalities.

We argue it out and we come to an agreement.

-Typical neurotic.

-Don't you have a personality to argue with?

-No!

Don't worry. You will.

Who is this supposed to be?

-April.

-That fat cook, my wife?

Why? Does it upset you? Don't you like it?

-It's idiotic!

-But you like her to cook for you.

-She enjoys it.

Well, there it is. That's what it says. She cooks and enjoys it.

-We agree.

-Is this the April you're in love with?

-No.

That's the April you love! Only you won't admit it.

-Quaglini...

-INTERCOM BUZZES

-Yes, dear?

-'Anything wrong?'

-No. Everything is fine.

-'Is Octavio still here?'

-He's leaving now.

Does April inspire you?

Beyond anything I've ever felt before.

Why don't you pour this inspiration into your art and paint?

Go away and paint.

You are just trying to get rid of me.

-That's a lie. Didn't I invite you here?

-You did. I'm grateful.

-I want to paint your wife.

-As a fat cook?

-And whatever else she is.

I'm going to probe every facet of her character.

Then I'll put her on canvas. She'll see that her life is tragic!

You're insane. You're not painting her.

OK.

But you'll have to tell her why.

Get out of here.

I've already asked her. She'll want to know.

-You're not afraid to tell her?

-Why should I discuss it with my wife?

If you don't, I will.

-Put up your hands.

-Why?

You'll find out. Put them up.

OK, Doc. But I'm warning you.

I've got a punch like a mule.

-Touche, Doc.

-Come on, get up.

-And resort to brute force?

-Get up and fight.

-I prefer to fight with my mind.

You provoked me to violence. You won't win this.

-Get up.

-Then what?

-I have no further plans.

-OK. Let's fight.

But if you don't let me paint her, you'll never know if I was right.

-That's very interesting.

-Well...

-Oh, hello, dear.

-Why didn't you say you were relaxing down here?

-I'd have joined you.

-I'm sorry. I'll go now.

-Just a minute.

-Octavio would like to paint you.

-I know. He told me.

Is that all right with you?

-It might be fun, if nothing else.

-Thank you. Come to the studio.

I'll be waiting for you. Day, night.

Any time you say.

I couldn't do that. I couldn't leave my work.

But you can come here. Paint me here.

Shall we say between five and seven?

-Any time BEFORE five or AFTER seven.

-Why don't we ask Octavio for dinner?

He helped prepare it.

Oh, did he? I didn't know.

-Will you have dinner with us?

-Is it all right?

Of course it is.

HE SINGS TO HIMSELF

I'll check dinner. Mix some more cocktails.

-More cocktails?

-You'll have to catch up with us.

Bring Perry the cocktail-shaker, will you?

-It doesn't take you long to find your way about.

-Keen observation.

What made you decide to let me paint her?

So she'll see what a fraud you are.

If you think that, why not tell her?

I'll leave that job to you. I'll have more pleasure that way.

Succulent little beasts, aren't they?

What's so funny?

Nothing.

Nothing, dear. It's silly.

You're not eating.

It still looks alive.

Why aren't you eating? You like lobster.

I knew him alive, too.

-Well, I didn't.

-That doesn't excuse you.

I'm not sensitive, but I should not be seen as a lobster cannibal.

-Perry is right.

-Yes. Because he's not sensitive, he should eat them.

-I'd love an egg.

-Chicken!

-Soft boiled.

-I'll fix you one.

I'll help you. You go right ahead, Doc.

LAUGHTER >

It's late. Why don't you go to bed?

He's been at that piano three hours!

How can I sleep when a man exposes his emotions in my living room?

It's obscene!

PIANO MUSIC STOPS

FOOTSTEPS

DOOR SLAMS

-HE THINKS:

-'Well, enough for one day.

'But how far can you go?

'He didn't pamper you, did he? Why pamper him?

'If he can dish it out, he ought to be able to take it.'

Do you think it's a good idea to let him paint you?

You started it. You told him to paint people.

You can't turn him away now. It wouldn't be fair.

But it'll upset everything, our whole routine.

If we're such slaves to routine, it'll be good to have it upset.

Don't you agree?

Well...

A routine can mean being in a rut.

But it can also mean efficiency. Good organisation.

Just to upset things for the sake of a change is not for the better.

Take that foot stool, for instance.

It serves a good and comfortable purpose for two feet.

Let's change it, upset it. Now, is it a better foot stool?

Quite the contrary. Now it is a useless piece of wood.

Think it over, Mrs Aswell.

April! What the...! What's this doing in my bath?

I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you. I can explain.

Yes. I would like to hear an explanation for this.

Well, he wouldn't fit into the pot. It was too small.

-So you cooked him in the bath?

-It had to be democratic.

-So now it's political?

-Please listen. We drew lots.

And the teapot did a dance on the ceiling?

It was his last day on Earth.

If they hadn't fallen into the pot by themselves, there'd be no lobster.

-Please put that back in the bath.

-I will not!

No lobster's going to dawdle in by bathtub!

If he's good enough to fill your stomach, he's good enough to dawdle!

What lobster filled my stomach?

I haven't had any dinner or rest. A mad man plays music in my parlour.

I walk in my bathroom and this beast peers at me.

I insist you put him back.

I'll put him in the garbage can.

-That's murder.

-All right! I'm a murderer!

Ha!

You're not angry, Perry? That's just a useless piece of wood.

Ha!

-Where's another bulb?

-I don't know.

-It's your job to know.

-It WAS my job. I just quit.

I'm not going to sleep. I'm going to lie here awake.

Do that. And if you get lonely, sing.

All right, I will sing. I can act crazy too!

HE HUMS

HE WHISTLES

RUSTLING

What's that? What's that noise?

Don't pretend you don't know.

What is it?

He's dying. You murderer.

Oh...

Can't you sleep, dear?

No!

Oh, don't let it bother you. It'll end soon.

How soon?

Two hours. Maybe three.

This is ridiculous. You've built this silly thing up.

I can't stand it!

Ha!

Don't put in a bulb. Don't turn on a light.

What do you care if I break my neck?

-What are you doing?

-Fishing for lobster! What else?!

Darling, let's not fight any more.

-My heart isn't in it.

-Neither is mine. Mine never was.

-After that garbage can, he really needs a bath.

-Let's give him one.

There.

Look at him. Isn't he cute?

So cute, I could eat him.

Darling...

Our first battle.

The honeymoon is over. Now we're married.

-Good morning, Mr Zitfleisch!

-Good morning!

-What am I having for breakfast?

-Orange juice, chicken liver satay.

Eggs, sunny side up, buckwheat cakes and coffee.

Hmm. Mrs Aswell.

It'll be ready in a minute.

-What's the matter?

-Nothing.

I'm so hungry, I'm so delighted.

Well, why are you staring at me, as though you've never seen me before?

Of course I've seen you before.

Do you know, darling - before I met you,

I used to dread the idea of cooking.

Now, all I want to do is cook, cook, cook, all day long. I love it.

There is something about me that's bothering you.

It's nothing, dear. Believe me.

I just can't help staring at you.

Did you just realise what a beautiful wife you've got?

I'll be at the table, dear.

-There is something wrong. What?

-I'll be all right when I eat.

-Why don't you eat?

-I'm not hungry.

Perry, what in heaven's name is the matter with you?

-Are you happy?

-Do I look sad?

-I mean inside. Deep inside.

-Why do you ask?

You've been working too hard.

-You ought to go away for a few days.

-And leave you here alone?

We can manage the office without you.

Wouldn't you like to come with me?

-Yes, but...

-Then pack a bag and we'll be off.

-Where do we go?

-Anywhere we can be alone.

-Just like that?

-Yes!

-Oh, Perry, I love you.

DOORBELL

I'll see who that is.

Good morning! How are you this morning?

-Aren't you early?

-May we come in?

Louis, set it up over there.

OK, Quagi. Morning, lady.

I see what you mean.

-We were just having breakfast.

-You're angry. Let me capture your eyes.

Excuse me.

OK, Louis. There you are.

-I got a hot tip at Belmont in the fifth.

-Put a fin down for me.

-All right?

-Oh...

Now, relax. That's it.

Now, just be yourself.

Don't hide anything and don't pretend.

That's it! That's it exactly!

Morning. Aren't you late for work?

-Changed your mind, dear?

-Changed my mind?

I thought we were going to the country.

Oh, the country! Of course.

If you don't want to go, say so.

-Oh, but I want to go.

-Well, then...

Sorry, Octavio, but I promised Perry I'd go away.

All right...

Go away.

My needs don't matter.

I'm only an artist. An unknown artist.

Don't worry about my feelings.

Trample on them. Everyone else does.

Please, Octavio.

This is just an act.

Give us the complete performance.

You cruel, destructive, sceptical man.

Did I ask you to come into my life?

There I was, at a moment of ecstasy,

about to paint a masterpiece

and then he appeared behind me

and in his cold, casual diabolic way, he paralysed me with his criticism.

I felt as though an icicle had been driven...right into my heart.

Octavio, don't exaggerate. You won't convince me of anything that way.

How could I resist entering your studio? It was like a circus!

He was banging away on the piano, wasting good canvas with gibberish.

"If you think I'm suffering," he said. "I am painting my emptiness."

Like a child, I bared my soul to you.

You bared more than that! This artist defrauds his own mother!

He signs paintings that aren't his.

If she's rich and doesn't understand art, why not?

Thank you. I thought he understood that.

He pretended he did and wormed his way into my confidence.

Fiend! You terrorise your mother by threatening to kill yourself!

The parent is to blame, not the child.

-I'm surprised at you.

-He forced me to come to his office.

Bald-faced liar! You clung to me like glue! I couldn't shake him off.

In agony and hope I came here, on his advice.

I was appalled at what I saw.

Everyone worships him. Miss Darlington won't take leave.

-Neither will Sturdivant.

-You've enslaved them to serve your ego,

while you sit, feet up, handing out wisdom, as if you were God.

-Thank you.

-That's unfair, Octavio.

-You don't need to defend me.

-She was protecting you.

In my office, he hid behind a screen and spied on me.

When I went and asked him humbly to let me paint you, he refused.

Absolutely refused.

I didn't refuse.

Do you know why I was on the floor in his office yesterday?

He had struck me and knocked me down.

Perry! You didn't!

Yes, I did. Right in the kisser.

-Perry!

-He deserved it. Tell her why I smacked you.

-You tell her.

-He said I enslaved you, that you were living a tragedy.

Do you really think that?

-Are you asking him seriously?

-He has a right to his own opinions.

-That's ridiculous!

-If it's ridiculous, why are you so angry?

Tell her what else I said.

-All right!

-Could you pass me the hotcakes?

This monster is in love with you.

Oh, Perry, that's charming. Aren't you being silly?

He's not being silly. I mean it.

Oh...

You see now?

He can't help it. Miss Darlington's been in love with you for years.

-Miss Darlington...

-Is it a crime to fall in love?

I never said I would do anything about it.

This man shivered and shook as if the end of the world had come.

Did he congratulate me for my honesty? No!

He is mad with jealous insecurity.

He is trying to rob me of the one inspiration I can build my life on.

Now you know why he decided to take you to the country.

The trees and the grass and the cows.

While I perish!

(Perry? I can't go away with you. Not now.)

Don't be fooled. This is a stupid neurotic.

There isn't an analyst's couch upon which he hasn't lain.

Octavio? Are you really suffering?

Wait. In two seconds, he'll get a knife and threaten to kill himself.

I want him to have a sharp one.

Right!

Cremate me and scatter my ashes.

-No! No!

-Go ahead. This is the world's greatest fraud.

No! No! Octavio! No!

Thank you.

That's all I wanted to see. You are truly concerned about me. Wonderful.

You mean you did all this just...

-Octavio, you ARE a fraud.

-Of course.

-Everything he said is true.

-That's the first true thing you've said.

But why am I doing this? I know no other way to show that I love you.

-You know, I do believe you mean that.

-I don't!

I'm going now.

I'll live out my life in the loneliness of my love for you.

There is no other way.

In this world, joy and misery can only be separated if someone takes all the misery,

leaving happiness behind for the other.

Poor Octavio.

Just a minute.

That was a pretty speech. Take your stuff, along with your phoney love.

Being so sincere, I'm sure you won't want an excuse to come back.

Insufferable lout!

Let me strangle you!

-Release him!

-You didn't see the sketch!

I'll tell you what I DID see - you are a vicious, uncontrollable brute!

What are you doing?

We're going to the country, aren't we?

'Now we're in business. Now we're cooking.

'You know, Quaglini, you really are a monster.'

I'm sorry I lost my temper, but look at this. This is what he accused me of doing to you.

Have I made you obese?

-You like to cook?

-I do. But look what it's doing to me.

In another year's time, I may look like that.

Octavio is merely pointing out the future.

So I made you a fat cook.

But do I also do this to you?

Do you expect me to control myself when a man accuses me of making my wife into that. Look at it!

Let's face it, I do lead a sheltered life. Perhaps a bit too sheltered.

In many ways.

The artist in Octavio saw that.

-I don't believe it.

-'Perry, you're staring at me again.'

Yes.

I am staring at you. I mean, not at you. I don't know.

'You look at me as though I were an hallucination.'

Now you're grinning.

You've just become yourself again.

Darling, you worry me. Octavio has really upset you.

It's not his fault that he understands me.

You're a doctor. He's an artist.

Why aren't you packing? You were in a hurry to go.

-We're not going to the country.

-It'll do you good.

Besides, it'll take us away from Octavio.

I don't want us to be away from him.

-But he's in love with me.

-I want him to paint you in his studio.

Have you forgotten the sketches? My sheltered life? My repression?

Either I'm right or he is.

I agree. Why should either of us live in doubt?

BANGING

I couldn't help overhearing.

I admire your courage.

Why should any of us live in doubt? At your service, madam.

-Goodbye, dear.

-Goodbye.

Doc, you're a gentleman.

Goodbye, Mrs Faraday.

-Goodbye, quarterback.

-I'm not a quarterback!

-No?

-I'm the captain. I play any position I want!

-I'll be back again tomorrow for another check-up.

-Thank you.

'That boy doesn't need a check-up. He's healthier than you are.

'You know what you're here for.

'No.

'You're not going to look at his door again.

'Don't stop. Keep going.

'Oh, go on. Turn back.

'Maybe you'll hear something.

'No.

'You've done this for two weeks. Once more makes no difference.

'Why don't you knock and walk in?

'Go on. Take a peep.

'No. That's spying.

'Go on. Just a little peep.

'Are you afraid?

'You don't trust her.

'Then what are you afraid of?'

-Dr Aswell.

-I'll see you later. My calls, please.

-I'll bring them in.

-I'll see them now.

-I was expecting one from Mrs Aswell.

-Those are all your calls, as listed.

Get me Quaglini's studio.

Later, Sturdivant!

-How long can this go on?

-I'll call Quaglini.

-Suppose I ask him.

-Don't get irritable.

It won't last forever.

Whatever he does, we must humour him.

-What's happened to that call?

-'They don't answer.'

-What's his number?

-'Ramsey 11121.'

RING TONE

'Why doesn't he answer?

'He's painting her and doesn't want to be disturbed.

'But it's ringing. It's annoying him.

'He must answer.

'Come on, Aswell.

'You weren't born yesterday. Use a little imagination.

'Why doesn't he answer?

'Nonsense! He will answer.

'All right. Suppose he does,

'are you sure you want him to answer now?

'Are you sure, Aswell? After it's taken so long?

'Now control yourself. Let's be objective about this. Why are you torturing yourself?

'Because you suspect that Quaglini's right,

'that April is not really happy with you.

'No. No, he's not right. He's mad. He can't be right.

'What about Miss Darlington? She said she was in love with you.'

Time for your vitamin pills, Doctor.

'That's silly.

'Is it?'

Vitamin A.

'Look at the way she hovers over you.'

Vitamin B.

'That's not love. That's efficiency. That's all it is.

'You think so?

'You're not sure, are you, Aswell?'

Anything else?

'Better find out.

'Find out? How?

'Oh, come now.'

Oh, Miss Darlington?

SHE SWOONS

'Satisfied, Aswell?

'That's no proof. She was taken by surprise.'

Miss!

'Wait.

'Why not try Sturdivant now?'

Send Dr Sturdivant in right away.

'You have made a paragon out of him.

'He won't believe what he sees - only what you tell him.'

HE KNOCKS

Come in.

Yes, Doctor.

I was trying to remember a statement I made on anorexia at a lecture a few months ago.

How did I phrase it?

"Most cases of anorexia in children is due to force-feeding by parents.

"Perhaps the only cure is to strap the parents in high-chairs and feed them endless gobs of cereal."

-Those were your exact words.

-That's all. Thank you.

-But Dr Aswell...

-Yes.

I can tell you what you said in the next paragraph.

You've enlightened me enough.

Oh, Sturdivant.

Take Miss Darlington with you.

Yes, Doctor.

She fainted.

'It's true. It's true.

'Everything Quaglini said is true.'

-Dr Sturdivant!

-You fainted.

Let me up.

He kissed me. He must be losing his mind.

It's terrifying. When I came in, you were in his arms.

-His wife is driving him crazy.

-She's having her portrait painted.

You don't think... I don't believe it!

-Then why are you so upset?

-Aren't you?

-Yes.

But he's upset because that mad artist has us all upset.

-Which upset him.

-Which upsets us.

There's something wrong here, Miss Darlington.

I don't believe we're leading our own lives.

TELEPHONE RINGS

Hello. Doctor Aswell's office.

Hello, Mrs Aswell. Just a moment.

'Mrs Aswell calling.'

-Hello?

-'Hello, darling.

'Sorry about last night. Octavio said he couldn't paint.

'I wanted to leave, then I had to stay. You understand?'

Yes, of course.

'You were sound asleep. I didn't want to wake you.'

That's very sweet of you.

I just called the studio. There was no answer.

'Octavio needed relaxation. We're in the country now.

'What's the matter? Anything wrong, dear?'

Oh, no. I thought we might have dinner when you're not too busy.

-'How about tonight?'

-Any time you say.

'Cocktails at five o'clock.'

Our five o'clock.

-'Yes, darling. OUR five o'clock. Don't be late. Bye.'

-Bye.

CUCKOO CUCKOOS

'Aswell, you fool.

'Look at her. How could you ever allow yourself to doubt her? Remember?'

'That's the way to settle it.

'The sanctity of the home has been tampered with.

'Oh, Aswell.

'So I sound old-fashioned, true. Kill him, then go to his funeral.

'But Aswell, you'll never get to the funeral.

'You'll be arrested. You'll be in jail.

'It's worth it. Is it?

'What about her? She'll convince everyone it was all your fault.

'And what will she be doing while you're pounding rocks?

'No, Aswell.

'There must be a better way.

'Yes. The better way.'

'That's the way to settle it. She's equally responsible.

'You mustn't be sentimental about her.

'So now they're happily dead, where are you, Aswell?

'You're on trial. Tell the whole world what they did to you.

'But Aswell, no-one will care what they did to you.

'People will hate you and feel sorry for them.

'There still must be a better way.

'There must be.'

'That's the way to settle it.

'But Aswell, what do you see?

'That's right. Nothing.

'Nothing at all.

'And that's the way it's going to be. A big black nothing for ever.

'Even blacker.

'And much hotter.

'Aswell, you are losing your mind.

'You fool. You jealous fool.

'If anyone deserves to be shot, it's you.

'How could you doubt her? Calm down. Go and get some air. Take a walk.

'Fresh air. That's it. Then you'll be all right.'

Miss Darlington, Dr Sturdivant.

-We'd like to talk to you.

-Later. I'll be right back.

KNOCK ON DOOR

There's the sandwiches, Quagi.

Sandwiches - don't you want them?

'Look at him. So quiet and serious.

'That isn't the Quaglini who PRETENDED to be in love. He IS in love.'

'Well, it's finished. You've put her on canvas.

'And now you're in trouble. That's not his child you've painted. It's your child.

'Did you have to fall in love with her?

'What happens now, Quaglini?'

'What's he doing about this love? Nothing.

'It's pure love now. Too pure to be demonstrated.

'Where's Perry? At home with a book, too proud to be jealous.

'And where are you?

'High up on a pedestal too bored for words.

'No, wait.

'Something's happening there. That's not a look of purity.'

'No, Quaglini. You can't do that.

'You've never done anything like that before.

'Never... Well, almost never.

'But Aswell was noble and brave. How can you be such a heel?

'Now, wait a minute.

'He had no right to leave you alone. He knew your character.

'How's that for a rationalisation? Not bad.

'Not bad? It's perfect.'

'Uh-huh.

'Oooh.

'Take a deep breath, Mrs Aswell. Here it comes.

'Be gentle. Hmm-hmmm.

'Entrance her with words.

'You mustn't reject him. He's sincerely in love with you.

'Why say anything? Be bold.

'Crush her in your arms.

'What are you going to do? Mrs Aswell? Mrs Aswell!'

Good evening.

Hello, Doc.

-Perry.

-I'm sorry to disturb you. I was passing.

-It's all right.

-Octavio...

That'll be all for tonight.

Sorry about our appointment, but Octavio decided to go on working and I simply couldn't leave.

I shall get dressed now. Shan't be a minute.

How long has this been going on?

-What?

-What I just saw!

You came determined to fulfil your jealous thoughts!

I demand to know what's been happening!

Nothing.

-Nothing?

-Nothing.

-She rebuffed you!

-I've often been rebuked, but never rebuffed.

-So you were!

I don't know. You were so noble, you ennobled me!

You inhibited me - up to the crucial moment.

-What crucial moment?

-When you walked in.

Now, neither of us know and everything is just as it was.

You've tortured yourself for nothing.

I curse the day I walked in that door.

You won't believe me, Doc.

But I know how you feel. We're in the same boat. I love her.

Octavio...

Why do you blurt out everything you feel?

I didn't say a word about it for two weeks.

I felt my love so deeply. So sincerely.

Then I must say, you're much more interesting as a fraud.

Sincere, you're an awful bore.

-Now, dear, let's not be unkind.

-Don't patronise me!

-If you hadn't come in...

-Perry, let's leave.

Quaglini, what about your portrait?

-My work is my work. You may see the portrait.

-Now all will be settled.

-What will?

-You can see yourself and know your life with me is tragic.

-Right?

-Right.

-Go on. Look at it.

If you agree with Quaglini, I won't stand in your way.

I'll gladly give you up.

-You'd give me up?

-I wouldn't want you to be unhappy.

Octavio was right. You don't need me any more.

That's why you sent me here, why you were so kind.

-You want to get rid of me.

-No. I don't want to.

-Then you were lying!

-I will give her up!

Please look at it. I want to expose him.

I will not look at it.

If you can even think of giving me up, then my life with you IS tragic.

-Octavio, please take me home.

-No. I tricked him.

-Why are you on his side?

-I understand him, now that I love you too.

Then he has no will of his own. I might as well marry Sturdivant.

He didn't trick me.

Then you knew what you were saying and you meant it.

Sorry, Doc. I did the best I could.

MUSIC PLAYS

-Arthur Murray?

-Fred Astaire.

-Have you been doing it long?

-Since medical school. You?

-Five years.

-I don't believe it.

-Neither do I.

Why, Dr Sturdivant. And Miss Darlington.

-How nice of you to drop in.

-Why, Mrs Aswell, where have you been?

-We missed you at the office.

-Dr Aswell...

-Do something for me. Get out, take Miss Darlington.

-I will not.

-I can't talk to you now.

-What do you mean? Who do you think you are?

Our lord and master!

What is this?

-HE PLAYS "La Marseillaise"

-Oh, excuse me.

-We don't like it, Dr Aswell.

-What?

-We're not leading our own lives.

Who's stopping you?

-She is.

-No. He is. He upset us.

-But she upset him.

-He upset me.

-You upset me, so I upset him.

-No. She upset him.

-He upset me!

-She upset her and you!

And you upset us and we just don't like it.

Ha!

-Take Miss Darlington out. She's fainted again.

-Yes, Dr Aswell.

He was right about Sturdivant being a parrot and Darlington loving me.

But he's not right about you.

Now, is that the real April? Go on. Look at it.

-You really understand me.

-You see? You're not angry?

How could I be angry?

You made me realise that my life has indeed been empty and tragic.

Face it, Doc. That's life.

You must, darling. He made me face it.

I don't believe it.

For a moment, I thought... Please forgive me for doubting you.

That's true art. Now I realise what's been missing.

I want to thank...

-He's gone.

-The knife! He's got the knife!

Sorry. Purely an oversight.

Something has happened to me.

My emptiness has gone.

I'm suffering, for the first time in my life.

Such magnificent agony.

Having loved you and lost you, the pain is quite exquisite.

I can live on it for years.

Doc? The next time you look at the work of an artist...

think twice before you speak.

In this imperfect world, not everybody's an art critic.

-To little Perry.

-Uh-huh. To little April.

That is sweet of you, but he painted a little Perry.

-He painted a little April.

-Well, I know what I saw.

-Let's settle it.

-No.

There comes a time when with a little help and lots of trouble,

everyone sees what he has to see.