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Barefoot in the Park Page #6
- G
- Year:
- 1967
- 106 min
- 5,073 Views
La la
la la la la la
La la la la
la la-la la la
La la
la la la la la
Hey
Hey hey
Hey hey
Hey!
Hot shama
El kema ma
Hey! Wait!
I'll race you
up the stairs!
No! No! No!
Oh, you!
Oh!
Ha ha ha ha!
Oh!
Ha ha!
No, you don't!
No! No!
Aah! Aah!
Ha ha!
Whoo!
Ohhh, no.
I won!
I won. Ha ha
ha ha ha!
That was not a fair race.
You tickled me.
Hey, how do you
say it again?
Say what?
Waiter, there's
a fly in my soup.
Oh. Poopla,
sirca al mercoori.
Sirca, poopla
al mercoori.
No, no.
No?
That's, "fly,
you have a waiter in my soup. "
I did. He put his hand in
to take out the fly.
Ha ha ha!
Ooh! How's my head
going to feel tomorrow?
Wonderful!
No headache?
No, but
you won't be able
to make a fist
for three days.
Hey!
Look at that!
Coffee. We promised
to make coffee.
Oh! And a promise
is a promise!
I forgot the stove
doesn't work.
Hey, upstairs,
everybody, for coffee.
Don't you two
want coffee?
Oh, they'll drink it
if we make it.
Don't you two go away.
Shama shama el mal kema ma.
I feel like
we've died...
and gone to heaven...
only we had
to climb up.
Struck down
in the prime of life.
It isn't exactly
that I feel sick, just...
kind of numb...
and I can't
make a fist.
Mom, you want to hear
something frightening?
My teeth feel soft.
Huh. It's funny.
The best thing we had all night
was the knichi.
Ohh... anyway, Corie
had a good time.
She seems to get
such a terrific kick out of living.
You've got to admire that,
don't you, Paul?
Yes, yes.
I admire anybody
who has three portions
of pelenchki.
I tried, Paul.
I just couldn't seem
to work up an appetite
the way they did.
No, you mustn't blame
yourself, Mom.
We're not used
to that kind of food, that's all.
You don't...
pick up a fork
and dig
into a black salad.
You got to play
with it.
I don't think I could get through
coffee tonight.
I'm all out
of pink pills.
Where you going?
Home. I'd like to die
in my own bed.
What will I
tell them?
Make up some
clever little lie.
Tell Corie I'm not
really her mother.
We've decided to have
flaming brandy.
I'm afraid you must
excuse me, darling,
but it is
a little late.
You can't go.
It's early.
I know, but I have a 10:00
dentist appointment at 9:00,
and it's been
a very long evening,
and I don't know
what I'm saying.
You can't do that.
Darling.
Good night, Paul.
Good night,
Mr. Velasco.
Good night,
Paul.
Good night.
Good night,
Corie.
You're not
going, too?
Certainly. I'm driving
Mrs. Banks home.
Oh, no. I mean,
it's too late.
For what?
The buses stop at 2:00.
How would you get home?
I'll meet that problem in New Jersey.
Really, Mr. Velasco,
it's very sweet...
Victor.
What?
If we're spending
the rest of the evening together,
it must be Victor. And I insist
the arrangement be reciprocal.
What is it?
What
is what?
Your name,
Mother.
It's Ethel.
Oh, yes. Ethel, that's right.
My name is Ethel.
That's better.
Are you ready... Ethel?
If you insist...
Walter.
Victor. It's Victor.
Yes, Victor.
Good night, Paul.
Shama shama, Corie.
Shama shama.
If you don't hear
from us in a week,
we'll be at the Nacional Hotel
in Mexico City...
Room 703.
Come on, Ethel.
What did he mean
by that?
Stop worrying, Mother.
Call me in the morning.
Oh...
How about that?
He likes her!
He likes my mother!
He'll probably
have to sleep over.
Paul, do you
suppose that...
Not my mother.
Boy, what a night!
I got an idea. Let's take the bottle
of Scotch downstairs
and ring all the bells
and yell "police. "
Huh? Just to see who comes out
of whose apartment?
What's the matter, darling?
Don't you feel well?
What a rotten
thing to do,
dragging your mother out like that
into the middle of the harbor
for a bowl
of sheep dip.
It was Greek bean soup.
And at least
she tasted it.
She didn't jab at it
with her knife
throwing cute
little epigrams like,
"Ho, ho, ho. I think
there's somebody in there. "
That's, um... quite
a match you made.
I can just hear the conversation.
Sparkling dialogue.
He's telling her about some great
Japanese restaurant
in East Berlin,
and she's describing
the joys of having
a root canal job.
Give me your
hand, Ethel.
My what?
Your hand. There is ice
on the stoop.
I can manage.
Ohhh!
Ethel.
Are you all right?
Uhhh...
Ohhh...
Well.
I just can't
understand
how you can be so unconcerned
about all this.
- Unconcerned?
- I really...
Do you think
I'll get one wink of sleep
until that phone
rings tomorrow?
I'm scared to death
for my mother.
And I'm grateful there's finally
something to be scared about.
What I'm really
concerned about is you.
Me?
Me?
Yeah. I'm beginning
to wonder
if you're capable
of having a good time.
Why? Because I like
to wear my gloves in winter?
No. Because there isn't the least bit
of adventure in you.
You know what you are, Paul?
You're a watcher.
You're a watcher.
There are watchers in this world,
and there are doers.
And the watchers
sit around watching the doers do.
Tonight you watched,
and I did.
It was a little harder
to watch what you did
than it was for you to do
what I was watching.
You can't even relax
for one evening.
I don't know, Paul,
sometimes you act like a...
What? Hmm? A stuffed shirt?
Is that it?
I didn't say that.
That's what you
were implying.
That's what
you're anticipating.
I didn't say
stuffed shirt.
Mm-hmm.
But you're extremely
proper and dignified.
Proper and dignified?
When was I proper and dignified?
you were drunk, right?
Right.
I was stoned.
Exactly. I didn't
even know it
until you told me
in the morning.
Uhh... I mean, you're a funny kind
of drunk, Paul.
You just sat around looking unhappy,
watching your coat.
I was watching
my coat
because I saw someone else
watching my coat.
If you want, I'll get drunk
for you sometime,
make your hair
stand on end.
In Harry's Bar last New Year's Eve,
I punched an old woman.
Don't tell me
about drunk.
When else? When else
was I proper and dignified?
All the time.
You're always
dressed right.
You always look right.
You always say
the right thing.
You're very nearly
perfect.
That's a rotten
thing to say.
Before we were married,
I thought you slept with a tie.
Just for formal sleeps.
You have absolutely no sense
of the ridiculous.
Like last
Thursday night,
you wouldn't walk barefoot with me in
Washington Square Park.
Why not?
Simple answer.
It was 17 degrees.
Exactly. It's very logical,
it's very sensible,
and it's no fun.
Maybe you're right.
Maybe I am
a little bit too proper
and dignified for you.
Maybe you would've
been happier
with somebody a little more colorful and
flamboyant... like the geek.
It'd be a lot more laughs than
a stuffed shirt.
You said I wasn't.
Well, you are now.
I'm not listening
to this.
I have a court case
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"Barefoot in the Park" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/barefoot_in_the_park_3614>.
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