Barbie as Rapunzel

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Shakespeare said,

"Life was full of sound and fury,

"and in the end, signified nothing."

Okay, let's begin with Helena.

-Cristal Delgiorno?

-Come in, my darling.

I'm Helena Shepridge.

-Ain't you beautiful?

-Thank you.

Gabriella told me you wanted a reading.

She said you know the future.

I adore Gabriella.

She's such a gifted masseuse.

I must say, I've become addicted

to those massages.

They're the only thing that

relieves the throbbing in my neck.

Will it be cash or check, darling?

Gabriella told you the fee?

Believe me, it's far less expensive.

These fancy psychiatrists I've been seeing...

-Have a little seat, then. Make yourself comfy.

-Thank you.

They sit there all stony-faced

when you need help.

These horrible, horrible medications,

they make me feel even more fidgety.

Is there something I could sip on?

Do you want a cup of tea?

Have you any sherry?

A little drinky. Scotch?

Even better.

I want to tell you something, darling.

My first impression of you

is a woman

who is constantly blaming herself.

Am I right?

You're being too hard on yourself,

my darling.

Thank you.

Well, you're very perceptive.

When my husband walked out on me,

I tried ending my life.

Well, I imagine Gabriella told you

that little tale.

She's such a gossip.

I now realize that was foolish.

I have everything to live for. I do, don't I?

I mean, is that what you see?

I mean, do you see...

Is my future hopeful?

Shall I tell you something?

I wish you were sitting here with me

because all I am seeing

is huge, cosmic waves

moving towards you, of positive energy.

You're bathed in a rose light, my darling.

You've got nothing but good coming to you,

I promise you.

Well,

One becomes terribly dependent.

My husband walked out on me

for one simple reason,

I was too honest with him.

I refused to allow him to delude himself.

Meet Helena's ex-husband, Alfie Shepridge.

He woke in the middle of the night,

pictured eternity, lay there in a cold sweat,

and has not been able

to get back to sleep since.

Suddenly, it became

all jogging and health foods.

And give me one more set of

-I can't, I've had enough.

-One, two...

-Alfie, you're doing too much.

-...three, four...

-You'll kill your back again.

-...five...

-He thinks he's

-...six.

Those days are over.

You're not a young man anymore.

Jesus.

You do push-ups,

but the clock still ticks. You can't fight time.

You see?

She already has me dead and buried.

But there's longevity in my genes,

and that's what counts.

Genes, right?

Poor Helena.

She didn't understand

that truth is not beauty,

as the poet said, but quite the opposite.

Alfie dumped her.

He bought a sports car.

He took a flashy bachelor pad.

Had his teeth whitened

and his skin darkened.

And Helena? She took it like a trouper.

She had a nervous breakdown

and popped

She has become the official burden

of her only child, Sally.

Sally, who married Roy.

My daughter married badly.

Waste of education.

He graduated from medical school

to give it all up to become a writer.

He's had one successful novel

and since then, he's failed over and over!

He's a one-book phenomenon.

He can't accept that! Am I right?

I mean, do you see a future for him,

or was he just lucky the first time around?

I want you to bring me something of his,

something that he's had close to him,

like a scarf or a glove

or a T-shirt, all right, darling?

I pay their bills!

Sally can't survive on what she earns.

He doesn't work

so he can stay at home and write.

He's been working on

the same bloody novel for years.

It's not entirely true,

what Helena tells her swami.

Roy tried a while ago to earn money.

It's not that he didn't try.

He just wasn't much of a chauffeur.

I've had it with that goddamned job.

-What?

-That's it, I quit!

Please, Roy, not this conversation again!

What are you doing home, anyway?

What happened?

I had an accident today.

I smashed up the car.

What?

I can't write all night

and then drive in the daytime!

-I fell asleep at the wheel.

-Oh, God.

Well, are you okay? Did anyone get hurt?

Look, I need time to work on my book.

When are you gonna

finish that book, anyway?

I mean, how many times can you write

and tear up and rewrite these chapters?

-It's like you're scared to finish.

-Okay, you know what? You're right.

I'm gun-shy.

I can't handle it if it's confirmed, yet again,

that all those nice things predicted about me

were wrong.

That I was a flash in the pan.

-Stalling is not the answer.

-Yeah.

Jesus Christ.

You know, all my friends have families.

And what are we doing here?

One way or the other,

I want to move on with our lives.

Roy's attention was caught

by a lovely apparition

moving into the flat across the way.

He and Sally fought so much now,

it was hard to imagine that

they fell so much in love when they first met.

-Are you okay?

-Yeah, I'm fine,

but he came straight out in front of me.

-It looks so painful.

-It's killing me.

-It's swollen all there.

-Yeah.

If you can move it, it's not broken.

My guess is that you strained the metatarsal.

-Are you a doctor?

-Unlicensed.

May I?

-Her foot's okay?

-Oh, yeah, it's better than okay.

It's very pretty.

"So much depends

"upon a red wheelbarrow

"glazed with rain water

"beside the white chickens."

And Sally's ass.

I'm paraphrasing, of course.

You know, the day I graduated

from medical school was the day

that I knew that

I would never practice medicine.

There was no question in my mind

that I was gonna write,

and that I was gonna make it as a writer.

I mean, you know how you feel those things?

And Roy's first book did make it.

At least it showed real promise.

But that was then.

And as the years passed,

Sally put her dreams on hold

and went to work.

Now, the hours are

The work involves everything from,

I don't know,

filing papers to keeping clients happy

and painters pampered,

to getting my lunches.

So, what are your ambitions?

Well, I've got a degree in art

and a background in art history,

and I've worked for the museum

and some photographers.

How did you hear about this job?

My friend, Jane Brooks,

who works at The Geller Gallery,

she told me you were looking for someone.

And when she said

it was The Clemente Gallery...

Well, you're going to school with the best.

I've been working at The Geller Gallery

for four years now,

and I've really had an education,

even though I can't stand Lois Geller.

Well, Greg's a dynamo.

And I must say, extremely attractive.

Sally, don't get a crush on your boss.

That way lies total madness.

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