A Double Life Page #3
- APPROVED
- Year:
- 1947
- 104 min
- 495 Views
Don't talk at all.
All right.
Why shouldn't Max
want you to play it?
All he'll have to do is to
pace back and forth outside,
like an expectant father.
Tony:
Well, what do youwant him to do, play Iago?
I just that I hate to see you
getting pressured into anything.
Maybe you're not sure
I can play Othello.
Now, Tony.
I may not believe in myself,
but I expect others
to believe in me.
Does that make sense?
Oh, of course.
What's this for?
That is for nothing.
Thank you, darling.
You'd be a smashing Desdemona.
You know it?
It's funny. No one has
even bothered to ask me
if I want to play it or not?
Not you, not anyone.
Oh, Brita?
It's all right.
It's all right, darling.
I'm used to it.
I... used to what?
while you chase the moon.
Well, if you do go ahead,
it means some hard work
on my blankety-blank
accent.
You will be
able to manage it, I'm sure.
[speaking swedish]
Translation, please.
Oh, no.
Eh, I can imagine.
Right.
What is it?
It's nothing.
The tricks
your mind can play.
You know,
somewhere in the future
I can see it all finished.
I can see the whole
magical production?
Opened, praised.
It feels fine to have
done something worthy,
and then I think
of all the things
that have to be done
between now and then?
The terrifying thought
of that first rehearsal.
The actors nervous
and frightened...
Though in the trade of war
I have slain men...
Tony:
Your inner selftelling you every instant
you're making a mistake
to try this,
knowing all the time
you're caught
and it's too late
to change your mind.
'Tis better
as it is.
Oh, no.
Yes, Tony, it's fine.
Trying to make someone
else's words your own,
thoughts your own...
"Thou cunning'st
pattern."
Over and over and over.
Thou cunning'st pattern
of excelling nature.
You whip your imagination
into a frenzy.
The key to the character?
Jealousy,
and you dig for it
within yourself.
What does it feel like?
Real jealousy?
Try to remember
jealous moments
in your own past.
Jealousy.
Jealousy.
Find it, hold it,
live it!
Jealousy!
And the hours
when you worry about
nothing but shoes
and props
and make-up
and the costume fittings...
That's perfect.
That's wonderful.
Really.
And then the dress rehearsals?
The heartening moments
when it seems
to be going right...
Nay, but he prated.
Hey, look out!
The inevitable things
that go wrong...
Nerves,
arguments,
changes...
Far, far into the night.
Pills to help you
stay awake...
And pills to help you sleep.
The part begins to seep
into your life,
and the battle begins?
Imagination against reality.
Keep each in its place?
That's the job if you can do it.
And all at once...
It's opening night.
And you look out
at the audience,
a terrifying monster
with a thousand heads.
You're in a kind of trance,
only vaguely aware
that the curtain
is about to go up.
Man:
Places, please.Then, somehow,
the next thing you know,
the play is almost over.
The last scene is about to begin.
But you remember
that you're on a stage
in a theater,
an audience in front of you...
And suddenly?
Suddenly you're startled by
the sound of your own voice.
Yet I'll not shed her blood,
nor scar that whiter
skin of hers than snow
and smooth as
monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die,
else she'll betray
more men.
You try to hang on
desperately.
You're 2 men now,
grappling for control?
You...
And Othello.
Put out the light,
and then...
Put out the light.
If I quench thee, thou flaming
minister, I can again
should I repent me.
But once put out
thy light...
Thou cunning'st pattern
of excelling nature,
I know not where is
that Promethean heat
that can thy light relume.
I must weep...
But they are cruel tears?
this sorrow's heavenly.
It strikes where it doth love.
She wakes.
Who's there?
Othello.
Ay, Desdemona.
Will you come
to bed, milord?
Have you prayed
tonight, Desdemona?
Ay, milord.
If you bethink yourself
of any crime
unreconciled as yet
to heaven and grace,
solicit for it straight.
Alas, milord,
what may you mean by that?
Well, do it, and be brief.
I will walk by.
I would not kill
thy unprepared spirit.
No, heaven forfend,
I would not kill thy soul.
Talk you of...
Killing?
Ay, I do.
Alas! Why gnaw you so
your nether lip?
Some bloody passion
shakes your very frame.
You all right,
Mr. Friend?
Opening-night jitters.
Look, if mr. Donlan
or mr. Lasler ask for me,
tell 'em I'm in the bar
across the street.
They've been there
since the second act.
Brita:
I hope theydo not point on me.
Tony:
Cease and be still!Brita:
I will so.Oh... what's the matter?
That handkerchief
which I so loved
and gave thee
thou gav'st to Cassio!
No, by my life and soul.
Send for the man
and ask him.
Sweet soul, take heed.
take heed of perjury.
Thou art
on thy deathbed!
Ay, but not yet to die.
Yes, presently!
Therefore confess thee
freely of thy sin,
for to deny
each article with oath
cannot remove nor choke
the strong conception
that I do groan withal.
Thou art to die!
Milord,
have mercy on me.
I say, Amen.
And have you mercy, too.
in my life,
never loved Cassio.
But with such general
warranty of heaven
as I might love,
I never gave him token.
By heaven,
I saw my handkerchief
in his hand.
Oh, perjured woman,
thou dost stone my heart
and mak'st me call
what I intend to do a murder,
which I thought a sacrifice.
I saw the handkerchief!
He found it, then.
I never gave it him.
Send for him hither.
Let him confess a truth.
He has confessed.
What, milord?
That he hath used thee.
How, unlawfully?
Ay.
He will not say so.
No. His mouth is stopped.
Honest Iago has
taken order for it.
Oh, my fear interprets.
What, is he dead?
Had all his hairs
been lives,
my great revenge
had stomach for them all.
He is betrayed,
and I undone!
Out, strumpet!
Weep'st thou for him
to my face?
Oh, banish me, milord,
but kill me not.
Down, strumpet!
Kill me tomorrow.
let me live tonight.
Nay. If you strive...
But half an hour!
Being done,
there is no pause.
While I say one prayer!
It is too late.
Milord!
Milord!
Oh, good milord!
Milord!
Milord!
Milord...
Milord!
What ho!
Oh, good milord,
I would speak
a word with you.
It's almost over,
Mr. Lasler.
Well, you told me
to tell you
when it was the last scene.
Oh, sure. Thanks.
Last scene.
What play?
Our play.
It's good.
There's a murder in it.
You don't say.
Who to who?
What?
Who murders to who?
Tony.
Tony murders this girl.
Kills her dead...
With a kiss.
Ridiculous.
Unbelievable.
Tonight, he murders this girl.
Tomorrow, they'll
probably murder him.
Oh, no.
How came you, Cassio,
by that handkerchief
that was my wife's?
I found it in my chamber,
and he himself
confessed even now
for a special purpose
which wrought to his desire.
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"A Double Life" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 7 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/a_double_life_7171>.
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