He must have something profound. All about eve is talking about a very important thing, something Westerners like to talk about, never tire of talking: innocence/innocence. Especially in the moment of materialism, (in the background of this story, Hollywood is its image) in a world full of deceit and hypocrisy, this thing is particularly precious, so I bring it up again and again.
But the idea itself has no power. It has to lead the characters and lead the story, and it becomes extremely powerful.
all about eve is not a superficial story of [Du Lala ascends], it is a story of a girl full of ambition and desire who seizes power after she has exhausted her calculations. It builds Hollywood/American mainstream values and predicts the future. It predicts what the whole present and the whole world pursues: the mainstream values of this world advocate the desire and ambition of power and reputation, and in the pursuit of success, we will lose the original and purest things. Innocence, kindness, integrity, honesty, these are the most precious things in human nature.
Therefore, the screenwriter has created a group of people such as margo, eve, karen, Lloyd, and addison. In such a whirlpool of fame and fortune, they are involuntarily and involuntarily testing their inner [innocence].
Not to analyze them one by one, what is particularly interesting is the subtle contrast between the prosperous old star Margo and the young eve who is eager to rise.
Maybe Margo was so scheming back then to achieve today's status, but now she looks old and has both fame and fortune. She should be a slick and sophisticated character, but she is naive/straightforward. I don't think she doesn't know how to hide, but It's because he doesn't care if he doesn't want to pretend, and he's tired of pretending. After years of stardom, she reveals her heart from time to time:
The things you drop on your way up the ladder, so you can move faster.
Although this statement largely reflects the powerlessness and insecurity of women, and reflects the vulnerability of women in such a patriarchal society. But at the same time, Margo presents a particularly innocent, candid, pure and vulnerable side. We see the pure heart of a teenage girl under the shell of a forty-year-old woman. Compared with the naive Margo under the gorgeous appearance, eve has a naive name, a naive age, and a naive [background story], behind which is a scheming and vicious woman. The contrast is dramatic. ps, after watching the whole drama, there is a feeling that human nature is really complicated/society is really complicated. You dare not criticize a specific character, but you seem to have a little more understanding of life and the world, and reflection.
This is a good story!
The performance of the whole story to several women is very exciting, which is largely due to the witty/wisdom and inadvertent depth of the lines. I found the script for myself and those who are interested to study and study in the future:
FADE IN:
INT. DINING HALL - SARAH SIDDONS SOCIETY - NIGHT
It is not a large room and jammed with tables, mostly for
four but some for six and eight. A long table of honor, for
about thirty people, has been placed upon a dais.
Diner is over. Demi -tasses, cigars and brandy. The overall
effect is one of worn elegance and dogged gentility. It is
June.
The CAMERA, as it has been throughout the CREDIT TITLES, is
on the SARAH SIDDONS AWARD. It is a gold statuette, about a
foot high, of Sarah Siddons as The Tragic Muse. Exquisitely
framed in a nest of flowers, it rests on a miniature altar in
the center of the table of honor.
Over this we hear the crisp, cultured, precise VOICE of
ADDISON deWITT:
ADDISON'S VOICE
The Sarah Siddons Award for
Distinguished Achievement is
perhaps unknown to you. It has been
spared the sensational and
commercial publicity that attends
such questionable "honors" as the
Pulitzer Prize and those awards
presented annually by the film
society...
The CAMERA has EASED BACK to include some of the table of
honor and a distinguished gentleman with snow-white hair who
is speaking. We do not hear what he says.
ADDISON'S VOICE
The distinguished looking gentleman
is an extremely old actor. Being an
actor - he will go on speaking for
some time. It is not important what
you hear what he says.
The CAMERA EASES BACK some more, and CONTINUES until it
discloses a fairly COMPREHENSIVE SHOT of the room
ADDISON'S VOICE
However it is important that you
know where you are, and why you are
here. This is the dining room of
the Sarah Siddons Society.
The occasion is its annual banquet
and presentation of the highest
honor our Theater knows - the Sarah
Siddons Award for Distinguished
Achievement.
A GROUP OF WAITERS are clustered near the screen masking the
entrances of the kitchen. The screens are papered with old
theatrical programs. The waiters are all aged and venerable.
They look respectfully toward the speaker.
ADDISON'S VOICE
These hollowed walls, indeed many
of these faces, have looked upon
Modjeska, Ada Rehan and Minnie
Fiske; Mansfield's voice filled the
room, Booth breathed this air. It
is unlikely that the windows have
been opened since his death.
CLOSE - THE AWARD on its altar, it shines proudly above five
or six smaller altars which surround it and which are now
empty.
ADDISON'S VOICE
The minor awards, as you can see,
have already been presented. Minor
awards are for such as the writer
and director - since their function
is merely to construct a tower so
that the world can applaud a light
which flashes on top of it and no
brighter light has ever dazzled the
eye than Eve Harrington. Eve... but
more of Eve, later. All about Eve,
in fact.
THE CAMERA MOVES TO: CLOSE - ADDISON deWITT, not young, not
unattractive, a fastidious dresser, sharp of eye and
merciless of tongue. An omnipresent cigarette holder projects
from his mouth like the sward of D'Artagnan.
He sits back in his chair , musingly, his fingers making
little cannonballs out of bread crumbs. His narration covers
the MOVE of the CAMERA to him:
ADDISON'S VOICE
To those of you who do not read,
attend the Theater, listen to
uncensored radio programs or know
anything of the world in which we
live - it is perhaps necessary to
introduce myself. My name is
Addison deWitt.
My native habitat is the Theater -
in it I toil not, neither do I
spin. I am a critic and
commentator. I am essential to the
Theater - as ants are to a picnic,
as the ball weevil to a cotton
field ...
He looks to his left. KAREN RICHARDS is lovely and thirtyish
in an unprofessional way. She is scraping bread crumbs,
spilled sugar, etc., into a pile with a spoon. Addison takes
one of her bread crumbs. She smiles absently . Addison rolls
the bread crumb into a cannonball.
ADDISON'S VOICE
This is Karen Richards. She is the
wife of a playwright, therefore of
the Theater by marriage. Nothing in
her background or breeding should
have brought her any closer the
stage than row E, center...
Karen continues her doodling.
ADDISON'S VOICE
... however, during her senior year
in Radcliffe, Lloyd Richards
lectured on drama. The following
year Karen became Mrs. Lloyd
Richards. Lloyd is the author of
'Footsteps on the Ceiling' - the
play which has won for Eve
Harrington the Sarah Siddons
Award...
Karen absently pats the top of her little pile of refuse. A
hand reaches in to take the spoon away. Karen looks as the
CAMERA PANS with IT to MAX FABIAN. He sits at her left. He's
a sad-faced man with glasses and a look of constant
apprehension. He smiles apologetically and indicated a white
powder with he unwraps. He pantomimes that his ulcer is
snapping.
Karen smiles back, returns to her doodling. Addison mashes a
cigarette stub, pops it out of his holder. He eyes Max .
ADDISON'S VOICE
There are two types of theatrical
producers. One has a great many
wealthy friends who will risk a tax
deductible loss. This type is
interested in Art.
Max drops the powder into some water, stirs it, drinks, burps
delicately and close his eyes.
ADDISON'S VOICE
The other is one to whom each
production mean potential ruin or
fortune. This type is out to make a
buck. Meet Max Fabian. He is the
producer of the play which has won
Eve Harrington the Sarah Siddons
Award...
Max rests fitfully. He twitches. A hand reaches into the
SCENE, removes a bottle of Scotch from before him. The CAMERA
follows the bottle to MARGO CHANNING. She sits at Max's left,
at deWitt's right. An attractive, strong face. She is
childish, adult, reasonable, unreasonable - usually one when
she should be the other, but always positive. She pours a
stiff drink.
Addison hold out the soda bottle to her. She looks at it, and
at him, as if it were a tarantula and he had gone mad. He
smiles and pours a glass of soda for himself.
ADDISON'S VOICE
Margo Channing is the Star of the
Theater. She made her first stage
appearance, at the age of four, in
'Midsummer Night's Dream'. She
played a fairy and entered - quite
unexpectedly - stark naked. She has
been a Star ever since.
Margo sloshes her drink around moodily, pulls at it.
ADDISON'S VOICE
Margo is a great Star. A true Star.
She never was or will be anything
less or anything less...
(slight pause)
... the part for which Eve
Harrington is receiving the Sarah
Siddons Award was intended
originally for Margo Channing...
Addison, having sipped his soda water, puts a new cigarette
in his holder, leans back, lights it, looks and exhales in
the general direction of the table of honor. As he speaks the
CAMERA MOVES in the direction of his glance...
ADDISON'S VOICE
Having covered in tedious detail
not only the history of the Sarah
Siddons Society, but also the
history of acting since Thespis
first stepped out of the chorus
line - our distinguished chairman
has finally arrived at our reason
for being here...
At this point Addison's voice FADES OUT and the voice of the
aged actor FADES IN. CAMERA is in MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT of him
and the podium.
AGED ACTOR
I have been proud and privileged to
have spent my life in the Theater -
"a poor player ... that struts and
frets his hour upon the stage" -
and I have been honored to be, for
forty years, Chief Promoter of the
Sarah Siddons Society...
(he lifts the Sarah
Siddons Award from its
altar)
Thirty-nine times have I placed in
deserving hands this highest honor
the Theater knows...
(he grows a bit arch, he
uses his eyebrows)
Surely no actor is older than I - I
have earned my place out of the
sun...
(indulgent laughter)
... and never before has this Award
gone to anyone younger than its
recipient tonight. How fitting that
it should pass from my hands to
hers...
EVE HANDS: Lovely, beautifully groomed. In serene repose,
they rest between a demi-tasse cup and an exquisite small
evening cup.
AGED ACTOR
Such young hands. Such a young
lady. Young in years, but whose
heart is as old as the Theater...
Addison's eyes narrow quizzically as he listens. Then,
slowly, he turns to look at Karen...
AGED ACTOR
Some of us a privileged to know
her. We have seen beyond the beauty
and artistry-
Karen never ceases her thoughtful pat-a-cake with the crumbs.
AGED ACTOR
-that have made her name resound
through the nation. We know her
humility. Her devotion, her loyalty
to her art.
Addison's glance moves from Karen to Margo.
AGED ACTOR
Her love, her deep and abiding love
for us-
Margo's face is a mask. She looks down at the drink which she
cradles with both hands.
AGED ACTOR
-for what we are and what we do.
The Theater. She has had one wish,
one prayer, one dream. To belong to
us.
(he's nearing his curtain
line)
Tonight her dream has come true.
And henceforth we shall dream the
same of her.
(a slight pause)
Honored members, ladies and
gentlemen - for distinguished
achievement in the Theater - the
Sarah Siddons Award to Miss Eve
Harrington.
The entire room is galvanized into sudden and tumultuous
applause. Some enthusiastic gentlemen rise to her feet...
Flash bulbs start popping about halfway down the table of the
Aged Actor's left.. .
Eve rises - beautiful, radiant, poised, exquisitely gowned.
She stands in simple and dignified response to the ovation.
A dozen photographers skip, squat, and dart about like water
bugs. Flash bulbs pop and pop and pop...
THE WAITERS applaud enthusiastically...
AGED ACTOR, Award in hand, he beams at her...
EVE smiles sweetly to her left, then to her right...
MAX has come to. He applauds lustily.
ADDISON's applauding too, more discreetly.
MARGO, not applauding. But you sense no deliberate slight,
merely an impression that as she looks at Eve her mind is on something else...
KAREN, nor is she applauding. But her gaze is similarly fixed
on Eve in a strange, faraway fashion.
ADDISON, still applauding, his eyes flash first at Margo and
then at Karen. Then he directs them back to Eve. He smiles
ever so slightly.
The applause has continued unabated. EVE turns now, and moves
gracefully toward the Aged Actor. She moves through
applauding ladies and gentlemen; from below the flash bulbs
keep popping...
As she nears her goal, the Ages Actor turns to her. He holds
out the award. Her hand reaches out for it. At that precise
moment - with the award just beyond her fingertips - THE
PICTURE HOLDS, THE ACTION STOPS. The SOUND STOPS.
ADDISON'S VOICE
Eve. Eve, the Golden Girl. The
cover girl, the girl next door, the
girl on the moon... Time has been
good to Eve, Life goes where she
goes - she's been profiled,
covered, revealed, reported, what
she eats and when and where, whom
she knows and where she was and
when and where she's going...
ADDISON has stopped applauding, he's sitting forward, staring
intently at Eve... his narration continues unbroken.
ADDISON'S VOICE
... Eve. You all know all about
Eve... what can there be to know
that you don 't know...?
As he leans back, the APPLAUSE FADES IN as tumultuous as
before. Addison's look moves slowly from Eve to Karen.
KAREN, she leans forward now, her eyes intently on Eve. Her
lovely face FILLS THE SCREEN as the APPLAUSE FADES ONCE MORE -
as she thinks back:
KAREN'S VOICE
When was it? How long? It seems a
lifetime ago. Lloyd always said
that in the Theater a lifetime was
a season, and a season a lifetime.
It's June now. That was - early
October... only last October. It
was a drizzly night, I remember I
asked the taxi to wait...
DISSOLVE TO :
EXT. NEW YORK THEATER STREET - NIGHT
Traffic is not heavy, the shows have broken some half-hour
before. The rain is just a drizzle.
There are other theaters on the street; display lights are
being extinguished. Going out just as Karen's taxi pulls up
is: MARGO CHANNING in 'AGED IN WOOD'. The marquis display
below includes "Max Fabian Presents" and "By Lloyd Richards."
The taxi comes to a stop at the alley. Karen can be seen
through the closed windows telling the driver to wait. Then
she gets out. She takes a step, hesitates, then looks about
curiously:
KAREN'S VOICE
Where was she? Strange... I had
become so accustomed to seeing her
there night after night - I found
myself looking for a girl I'd never
spoken to, wondering where she
was...
She smiles a little at her own romanticism, puts her head
down and makes her way into the alley.
EXT. ALLEY - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT
Karen moves toward the stage door. She passes a recess in the
wall - perhaps an exit - about halfway.
EVE'S VOICE
(softly)
Mrs. Richards...
Karen hesitates, looks. Eve is barely distinguishable in the
shadow of the recess. Karen smiles, waits. Eve comes out. A
gooseneck light above them reveals her...
She wears a cheap trench coat, low-heeled shoes, a rain hat
stuck on the back of her head... Her large, luminous eyes
seem to glow up at Karen in the strange half-light.
KAREN
So there you are. It seemed odd,
suddenly, your not being there...
EVE
Why should you think I wouldn't be?
KAREN
Why should you be? After all, six
nights a week - for weeks - of
watching even Margo Channing enter
and leave a theater-
EVE
I hope you don't mind my speaking
to you...
KAREN
Not at all.
EVE
I've seen you so often - it took
every bit of courage I could raise-
KAREN
(smiles)
To speak to just a playwright's
wife? I'm the lowest form of
celebrity...
EVE
You're Margo Channing's best
friend. You and your husband are
always with her - and Mr.
Sampson... what's he like?
KAREN
(grins)
Bill Sampson? He's - he's a
director.
EVE
He's the best.
KAREN
He'll agree with you. Tell me, what
do you between the time Margo goes
in and comes out? Just huddle in
that doorway and wait?
EVE
Oh, no. I see the play.
KAREN
(incredulous)
You see the play? You've seen the
play every performance?
(Eve nods)
But, don't you find it - I mean
apart from everything else - don't
you find it expensive?
EVE
Standing room doesn't cost much. I
manage.
Karen contemplates Eve. Then she takes her arm.
KAREN
I'm going to take you to Margo...
EVE
(hanging back)
Oh, no...
KAREN
She's got to meet you-
EVE
No, I'd be imposing on her, I'd be
just another tongue-tied gushing
fan...
Karen practically propels her toward the stage door.
KAREN
(insisting)
There isn't another like you, there
couldn't be-
EVE
But if I'd known... maybe some
other time... I mean, looking like
this.
KAREN
You look just fine...
(they're at the stage
door)
... by the way. What's your name?
EVE
Eve. Eve Harrington.
Karen opens the door. They go in.
INT. BACKSTAGE - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT
Everything, including the doorman, looks fireproof.
Eve enters like a novitiate's first visit to the Vatican.
Karen, with a "Good evening, Gus -" to the doorman, leads the
way toward Margo's stage dressing room. Eve, drinking in the
wonderment of all the surveys, lags behind. Karen waits for
her to catch up...
EVE
You can breathe it - can't you?
Like some magic perfume...
Karen smiles, takes Eve's arm. They proceed to Margo's
dressing room.
EXT. MARGO'S DRESSING ROOM - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT
No star on the closed door; the paint is peeling. A type
written chit, thumbtacked, says MISS CHANNING.
As Karen and Eve approach it, an uninhibited guffaw from
Margo makes them pause.
KAREN
(whispers)
You wait a minute...
(smiles)
... now don' t run away-
Eve smiles shakily. At the same moment:
MARGO'S VOICE
(loudly; through the door)
"Honey chile," I said, "if the
South had won the war, you could
write the same plays about the
North!"
Karen enters during the line.
INT. MARGO'S DRESSING ROOM - CURRAN THEATER - NIGHT
It is a medium-sized box, lined with hot water pipes and
cracked plaster. It is furnished in beat-up wicker. A door
leads to an old-fashioned bathroom.
Margo is at the dressing table. She wears an old wrapper, her
hair drawn back tightly to fit under the wig which lies
before her like a dead poodle. Also before her is an almost
finished drink.
LLOYD RICHARDS is stretched out on the wicker chaise. He's in
his late thirties, sensitive, literate.
Between them, by the dressing table, is BIRDIE - Margo's
maid. Her age is unimportant. She was conceived during a
split week in Walla Walla and born in a carnival riot. She is
fiercely loyal to Margo.
Karen enters during the line Margo started while she was
outside. Lloyd chuckles, Birdie cackles.
KAREN
Hi.
(she goes to kiss Lloyd)
Hello, darling- MARGO
Hi
.
(she goes right on - in a
think "Suth'n" accent)
"Well, now Mis' Channin', ah don't
think you can rightly say we lost
the wah, we was mo' stahved out,
you might say - an' that's what ah
don' unnerstand about all these
plays about love-stahved Suth'n
women - love is one thing we was
nevah stahved for the South!"
LLOYD
How was the concert?
KAREN
Loud.
BIRDIE
Lemme fix you a drink.
KAREN
No thanks, Birdie.
Karen laughs with them.
LLOYD
Margo's interview with a lady
reporter from the South-
BIRDIE
The minute it gets printed they're
gonna fire on Gettysburg all over
again...
MARGO
It was Fort Sumter they fired on-
BIRDIE
I never played Fort Sumter.
She takes the wig into the bathroom. Margo starts creaming
the make-up off her face.
MARGO
Honey chili had a point. You know,
I can remember plays about women -
even from the South - where it
never even occurred to them whether
they wanted to marry their fathers
more than their brothers...
LLOYD
That was way back...
MARGO
Within your time, buster. Lloyd,
honey, be a playwright with guts.
Write me one about a nice, normal
woman who shoots her husband.
Birdie comes out of the bathroom without the wig.
BIRDIE
You need new girdles. MARGO
Buy
some.
BIRDIE
The same size?
MARGO
Of course!
BIRDIE
Well. I guess a real tight girdle
help when you're playin' a lunatic.
She picks up Lloud empty glass, asks "more"? He shakes his
head. She pours herself a quick one.
KAREN
(firmly)
Margo does not play a lunatic,
Birdie.
BIRDIE
I know . She just keeps hearin' her
dead father play the banjo. MARGO
It
's the tight girdle that does it.
KAREN
I find these wisecracks
increasingly less funny! 'Aged in
Wood' happens to be a fine and
distinguished play-
LLOYD
- 'at's my loyal little woman.
KAREN
The critics thought so, the
audiences certainly think so -
packed houses, tickets for months
in advance - I can't see that
either of Lloyd's last two plays
have hurt you any!
LLOYD
Easy, now...
MARGO
(grins)
Relax, kid. It's only me and my big
mouth...
KAREN
(mollified)
It's just that you get me so mad
sometimes... of all the women in
the world with nothing to complain
about-
MARGO
(dryly)
Ain't it the truth?
KAREN
Yes, it is! You're talented,
famous, wealthy - people waiting
around night after night just to
see you, even in the wind and
rain...
MARGO
Autograph fiends! They're not
people - those little beast who run
in packs like coyotes-
KAREN
They're your fans, your audience-
MARGO
They're nobody's fans! They're
juvenile delinquents, mental
detectives, they're nobody's
audience, they never see a play or
a movie, even - they're never
indoors long enough!
There is a pause. Lloyd applauds lightly.
KAREN
Well... there's one indoors now.
I've brought her back to see you.
MARGO
You've what?
KAREN
(in a whisper)
She's just outside the door.
MARGO
(to Birdie;also a
whisper)
The heave-ho.
Birdie starts. Karen stops her. It's all in whisper, now,
until Eve comes in.
KAREN
You can't put her out, I
promised... Margo, you've got to
see her, she worships you, it's
like something out of a book-
LLOYD
That book is out of print, Karen,
those days are gone.
Fans no longer pull the carriage
through the streets - they tear off
clothes and steal wrist watches...
KAREN
If you'd only see her, you're her
whole life - you must have spotted
her by now, she's always there...
MARGO
Kind of mousy trench coat and funny
hat?
(Karen nods)
How could I miss her? Every night
and matinee - well...
She looks to Birdie .
BIRDIE
Once George Jessel played my
hometown. For a girl, gettin' in to
see him was easy. Gettin' out was
the problem...
They all laugh. Karen goes to the door, opens it. Eve comes
in. Karen closes the door behind her. A moment.
EVE
(simply)
I thought you'd forgotten about me.
KAREN
Not at all.
(her arm through Eve's)
Margo, this is Eve Harrington.
Margo changes swiftly into a first-lady-of-the-theater
manner.
MARGO
(musically)
How do you do, my dear.
BIRDIE
(mutters)
Oh, brother.
EVE
Hello, Miss Channing.
KAREN
My husband...
LLOYD
(nicely)
Hello, Miss Harrington.
EVE
How do you do, Mr. Richards.
MARGO
(graciously)
And this is my good friend and
companion, Miss Birdie Coonan.
BIRDIE
Oh, brother.
MARGO
Miss Coonan...
LLOYD
(to Birdie)
Oh brother what?
BIRDIE
When she gets like this... all of a
sudden she's playin' Hamlet's
mother...
MARGO
(quiet menace)
I'm sure you must have things to do
in the bathroom, Birdie dear.
BIRDIE
If I haven't, I'll find something
till you're normal.
She goes into the bathroom.
MARGO
Dear Birdie. Won't you sit down,
Miss Worthington?
KAREN
Harrington.
MARGO
I'm so sorry... Harrington. Won't
you sit down?
EVE
Thank you.
She sits. A short lull.
MARGO
Would you like a drink? It's right
beside you...
KAREN
I was telling Margo and Lloyd about
how often you'd seen the play...
They start together, and stop in deference to each other.
They're a little flustered. But not Eve.
EVE
(to Margo)
No, thank you.
(to Lloyd)
Yes. I've seen every performance.
LLOYD
(delighted)
Every performance? Then - am I safe
in assuming you like it?
EVE
I'd like anything Miss Channing
played...
MARGO
(beams)
Would you, really? How sweet-
LLOYD
(flatly)
I doubt very much that you'd like
her in 'The Hairy Ape'.
EVE
Please, don't misunderstand me, Mr.
Richards. I think that part of Miss
Channing's greatness lies in her
ability to choose the best plays...
your new play is for Miss Channing,
isn't it, Mr. Richards?
MARGO
Of course it is.
LLOYD
How'd hear about it?
EVE
There was an item in the Times. i
like the title. 'Footsteps on the
Ceiling'.
LLOYD
Let's get back to this one. Have
you really seen every performance?
(Eve nods)
Why? I'm curious...
Eve looks at Margo, then drops her eyes.
EVE
Well. If I didn't come to see the
play, I wouldn't have anywhere else
to go.
MARGO
There are other plays...
EVE
Not with you in them. Not by Mr.
Richards...
LLOYD
But you must have friends, a
family, a home-
Eve pauses. Then shakes her head.
KAREN
Tell us about it - Eve...
Eve looks at her - grateful because Karen called her "Eve."
Then away, again...
EVE
If I only knew how...
KAREN
Try...
EVE
Well...
Birdie comes out of the bathroom. Everybody looks at her
sharply. She realizes she's in on something important. She
closes the door quietly, leans against it.
EVE
Well... it started with the play
before this one...
LLOYD
'Remembrance'.
MARGO
Did you see it here in New York?
EVE
San Francisco. It was the last
week. I went one night... the most
important night in my life - until
this one. Anyway... I found myself
going the next night - and the next
and the next. Every performance.
Then, when the show went East - I
went East.
BIRDIE
I'll never forget that blizzard the
night we played Cheyenne. A cold
night. First time I ever saw a
brassiere break like a piece of
matzos...
Eve looks at her unsmilingly, then back to her hands.
KAREN
Eve... why don't you start at the
beginning?
EVE
It couldn't possibly interest you.
MARGO
Please...
Eve speaks simply and without self-pity.
EVE
I guess it started back home.
Wisconsin, that is. There was just
mum, and dad - and me. I was the
only child, and I made believe a
lot when I was a kid - I acted out
all sorts of things... what they
were isn't important. But somehow
acting and make-believe began to
fill up my life more and more, it
got so that I couldn't tell the
real from the unreal except that
the unreal seemed more real to
me... I'm talking a lot of
gibberish, aren't I?
LLOYD
Not at all...
EVE
Farmers were poor in those days,
that's what dad was - a farmer. I
had to help out. So I quit school
and I went to Milwaukee. I became a
secretary. In a brewery.
(she smiles)
When you're a secretary in a
brewery - it's pretty hard to make
believe you're anything else.
Everything is beer. It wasn't much
fun, but it helped at home - and
there was a Little Theater Group...
like a drop of rain in the desert.
That's where I met Eddie. He was a
radio technician. We played
'Liliom' for three performances, I
was awful - then the war came, and
we got married. Eddie was in the
air force - and they sent him to
the South Pacific. You were with
the OWI, weren't you Mr.
Richards?
(Lloyd nods)
That's what 'Who's Who' says...
well, with Eddie gone, my life went
back to beer. Except for a letter a
week. One week Eddie wrote he had a
leave coming up. I'd saved my money
and vacation time. I went to San
Francisco to meet him.
(a slight pause)
Eddie wasn't there. They forwarded
the telegram from Milwaukee - the
one that came from Washington to
say that Eddie wasn't coming at
all. That Eddie was dead...
(Karen puts her hand on
Lloyd's)
... so I figured I'd stay in San
Francisco. i was alone, but
couldn't go back without Eddie. I
found a job. And his insurance
helped... and there were theaters
in San Francisco. And one night
Margo Channing came to play in
'Remembrance'... and I went to see
it. And - well - here I am...
She finishes dry- eyes and self-composed. Margo squeezes the
bridge of her nose, dabs at her eyes.
BIRDIE
(finally)
What a story. Everything but the
bloodhounds snappin' at her rear
end...
That breaks the spell. Margo turns to her-
MARGO
There are some human experiences,
Birdie, that do not take place in a
vaudeville house - and that even a
fifth-rate vaudevillian should
understand and respect!
(to Eve)
I want to apologize for Birdie's-
BIRDIE
(snaps in)
You don't have to apologize for me!
(to Eve)
I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings.
It's just my way of talkin'...
EVE
(nicely)
You didn't hurt my feelings, Miss
Coonan...
BIRDIE
Call me Birdie.
(to Margo)
As for bein' fifth-rate - i closed
the first half for eleven years an'
you know it!
She slams into the bathroom again. At that precise instant
BILL SAMPSON flings open the door to the dressing room. He's
youngish, vital, undisciplined. He lugs a beat-up suitcase
which he drops as he crosses to Margo-
BILL
Forty-five minutes from now my
Not ready yet, looking like a
junk yard- MARGO Thank
you
so much.
BILL
Is it sabotage, does my career mean
nothing to you? Have you no human
consideration?
MARGO
Show me a human and I might have!
KAREN
(conscious of Eve)
Bill...
BILL
The air lines have clocks, even if
you haven't! I start shooting a
week from Monday - Zanuck is
impatient, he wants me, he needs
me!
KAREN
(louder)
Bill-
MARGO
Zanuck, Zanuck, Zanuck! What are
you two - lovers?
Bill grins suddenly, drops to one knee beside her.
BILL
(smiling)
Only in some ways. You're
prettier... MARGO
I
'm a junk yard.
KAREN
(yells)
Bill!
BILL
(vaguely; to Karen)
Huh?
KAREN
This is Eve Harrington.
Bill flashes a fleeting look at Eve.
BILL
Hi.
(to Margo)
My wonderful junk yard. The mystery
and dreams you find in a junk yard- MARGO
(
kisses him)
Heaven help me, I love a psychotic .
Bill grins, rises, sees Eve as if for the first time.
BILL
Hello, what's your name?
EVE
Eve. Eve Harrington.
KAREN
You've already met.
BILL
Where?
KAREN
Right here. A minute ago.
BILL
That's nice.
MARGO
She, too, is a great admirer of
yours.
BIRDIE
Imagine. All this admiration in
just one room.
BILL
Take your mistress into the
bathroom and dress her.
(Birdie opens her mouth)
Without comment.
Birdie shuts it and goes into the bathroom. In a moment we
hear a shower start to run. Eve gets up.
KAREN
You're not going, are you?
EVE
I think I'd better. It's been -
well, I can hardly find the words
to say how it's been...
MARGO
(rises)
No, don't go...
EVE
The four of you must have so much
to say to each other - with Mr.
Sampson leaving...
Margo, impulsively crosses to Eve.
MARGO
Stick around. Please. Tell you what
- we'll put Stanislavsky on his
plane, you and I, then go somewhere
and talk.
EVE
Well - if I'm not in the way...
MARGO
I won't be a minute.
She darts into the bathroom. Eve sits down again.
KAREN
Lloyd, we've got to go-
Lloyd gets up. Karen crosses to pound on the bathroom door.
She yells - the shower is going...
KAREN
Margo, good night! I'll call you
tomorrow!
Margo's answer is lost in the shower noise. Karen crosses to
kiss Bill. She's joined by Lloyd.
KAREN
Good luck, genius...
BILL
Geniuses don't need good luck.
(he grins)
I do.
LLOYD
I'm not worried about you.
BILL
Keep the thought.
They shake hands warmly. Karen and Lloyd move to Eve.
KAREN
Good night, Eve. I hope I see you
again soon-
EVE
I'll be at the old stand, tomorrow
matinee-
KAREN
Not just that way. As a friend...
EVE
I'd like that.
LLOYD
It's been a real pleasure, Eve.
EVE
I hope so, Mr. Richards. Good
night...
Lloyd shakes her hand, crosses to join Karen who waits at the
open dressing room door.
EVE
Mrs. Richards.
(Karen and Lloyd look
back)
... I'll never forget this night as
long as I live. And I'll never
forget you for making it possible.
Karen smiles warmly. She closes the door. They leave.
KAREN'S VOICE
- and I'll never forget you, Eve.
Where were we going that night,
Lloyd and I? Funny the things you
remember - and the things you
don't...
INT. MARGO'S DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT
Eve sits on the same chair. Bill keeps moving around. Eve
never takes her eyes off him. He offers her a cigarette. She
shakes her head. He looks at his watch.
EVE
You said forty-seven minutes.
You'll never make it.
BILL
(grins)
I told you a lie. We'll make it
easily. Margo's got no more
conception of time than a halibut.
He goes to the dressing table, picks up Margo's pocketbook,
opens it. He finds a letter. He glances at it, puts it back.
BILL
She's been carrying that letter
around for weeks. I've read it
three times...
There's a sudden sharp yelp from the bathroom.
MARGO'S VOICE
You' re supposed to zip the zipper -
not me.
BIRDIE'S VOICE
Like tryin' to zip a pretzel -
stand still!
Bill grins.
BILL
What a documentary those two would
make... like the mongoose and the
cobra-
He sprawls on the chaise, closes his eyes. A pause.
EVE
(finally)
So you're going to Hollywood.
Bill grunts in the affirmative. Silence.
BILL
Why?
EVE
I just wondered.
BILL
Just wondered what?
EVE
Why.
BILL
Why what?
EVE
Why you have to go out there.
BILL
I don't have to. I want to.
EVE
Is it the money?
BILL
Eighty percent of it will go for
taxes.
EVE
Then why? Why, if you're the best
and most successful young director
in the Theater-
BILL
The Theatuh, the Theatuh-
(he sits up)
- what book of rules says the
Theater exists only within some
ugly buildings crowded into one
square mile of New York City? Or
London, Paris or Vienna?
(he gets up)
Listen, junior. And learn. Want to
know what the Theater is? A flea
circus. Also opera. Also rodeos,
carnivals, ballets, Indian tribal
dances, Punch and Judy, a one-man
band - all Theater. Wherever
there's magic and make-believe and
an audience - there's Theater.
Donald Duck, Ibsen, and The Lone
Ranger, Sarah Bernhardt, Poodles
Hanneford, Lunt and Fontanne, Betty
Grable, Rex and Wild, and Eleanora
Duse. You don't understand them
all, you don't like them all, why
should you? The Theater's for
everybody - you included, but not
exclusively - so don't approve or
disapprove. It may not be your
Theater, but it's Theater of
somebody, somewhere.
EVE
I just asked a simple question.
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