Barrymore Page #4

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belonged to Ethel.

Lionel stole them and wore

them for his Macbeth tights.

When I got them, I wore

them for my Richard

tights, then my

Hamlet tights.

My dresser discreetly suggested

that they be laundered...

just once. Laundered,

you irreverent lout?

Have you no sense

of tradition?

I opened in these tights and,

by God' I'll close in them!

When I die, I shall

bequeath them to the

Cathedral of San Giovanni

Battista, to rest beside

the Shroud of Turin.

A king am I of

shreds and patches.

It's funny, the things

I remember of my London

opening of Hamlet.

There I was, a callow

youth of forty-three.

I remember waiting in the

wings, holding the theater

cat in my arms.

I called her my

little Ophelia.

Suddenly I hear my cue.

It's too late.

I have to carry

her with me.

What, wouldst thou be

a breeder of sinners?

I am indifferent honest,

but yet I could accuse me

of such things that it were

better my mother not borne me.

What should such

fellow as I do,

crawling between

earth and heaven?

We are errant knaves

all Believe none of us.

To a nunnery, go;

and quickly too. Farewell. "

Then afterwards, when

everyone had gone -

Frank, dim the lights.

What for?

Just dim the lights.

I waited till the theater

was dark and empty.

Then I walked out onto the

Haymarket stage and stood

there all alone -

except for the ghosts.

You that look pale and

tremble at the chance,

Had I but time - as this fell

sergeant, death, Is strict

in his arrest - O, I could

tell you - But let it be.

If ever thou didst

hold me in thy heart,

Absent thee from felicity

awhile, And in this harsh

world draw the breath in

pain to tell my story.

You know, there's one

moment in a lifetime when

all the stars seem to gather

together and become one -

Well, that

moment became mine...

Once, long ago, and

it was glorious...

while it lasted.

But I let it slip away.

You scared the

sh*t out of me.

What the hell

did you do that for?

We're wasting time.

Says who?

We've only got the

place for one night.

Stop bullying me!

I was about to tell

them my story.

What story?

The one about the...

old British bag.

The dowager story?

The dowager story.

Oh God, that one.

Well, make it fast.

Oh thank you

so much, Frank.

I'll try to accommodate

you as best I can.

During the run, a

dowager accosted me.

I do beg your pardon

Mr. Barrymore, but could

you tell me, in your

opinion, did Hamlet have

sexual relations

with Ophelia?

In my opinion, no madam.

Though I hear...

in a certain Chicago company...

Hamlet had fellatio

with Horatio.

Another prominent visitor

to the play was

George Bernard Shaw.

He came to see if this

American upstart would

fall flat on his face.

He very kindly delivered

his opinion of me by letter,

instead

of to the press.

I call it "The Shavian

Uppercut" I carry it,

next to my heart...

"My dear Mr. Barrymore, I

thank you for inviting me

to your first London

performance of Hamlet.

You saved an hour and a

half by the cutting,

and filled it up with an

interpolated drama of your

own dumb show.

I wish you would

concentrate on acting,

rather than authorship,

at which, believe me,

the Bard can write

your head off.

Yours, perhaps too

candidly, G.B.S."

No, damn it!

I was a hit!

"Haymaker at

the Haymarket. "

That's what the

London critics wrote.

Listen, you fat-headed

Fabian, in those halcyon

days I had ideals!

I reveled in being

compared to men like

Keane, Forrest,

Mansfield, Booth.

One of my greatest regrets

will always be that

I couldn't sit in an

audience and watch me perform.

That doesn't sound

conceited, does it?

Does it, Frank?

Oh no sir.

Of course not.

I held onto those ideals.

You have to, when

you're up there.

If I wasn't going to be a

painter, at least I could

try to master the family

business -Papa's business.

"Oh yeah? Not with

that raspy voice of yours

you little prick!

barkers on Coney Island. "

Yes. He was right.

Some of the time.

But most of the time

he was just Daddy!

Da - da - da

- da -da - da!

Mad as a hatter.

He was treated

in every known way,

But his malady

grew day by day.

He developed paresis,

Had long talk with Jesus,

And thought he was

Queen of the May.

I hardly remember

my mother.

She died when

I was so young.

A fine comedienne,

Papa would say.

But her mother.

That's another story.

Grandma Drew.

She called me

her little Greengoose

"like the pretty lad in

the storybook. "

We called her Mum Mum.

She sent me to kindergarten

at the convent school.

One day I threw an egg

at another little boy.

Mum Mum rebuked me.

Now, look here,

Greengoose, one day you

may become an actor like

your daddy, and the egg

will be thrown

back at you.

I think Mum Mum was

a great actress.

She was also the first woman to

head a major American theater,

the Arch Street Theatre

in Philadelphia.

Yes, that was hers.

Eventually, she lost it.

She lost everything.

She didn't seem to mind.

Before she died, she said, "You

children are my pride and joy.

Ethel will be the luminous one.

She has starlight

on her head.

Lionel will be the stable,

solid, practical one.

But you, Greengoose, you

will dream too long and

too deep, and one day be

gravely hurt by your awakening. "

We lived in her Twelfth

Street house which we

called "The Tomb

of the Capulets"...

a Victorian monstrosity

with cavernous halls,

monastic rooms and two attics,

where Lionel and I slept.

Up the long, dimly-lit

staircase to bed I'd go, scared

to death of the gloom ahead.

I don't want to go

up there, Mum Mum.

It's too dark.

"You needn't worry,

Greengoose.

There's nothing

to be afraid of.

Nothing can hurt you.

You have a

wonderful power.

Say that after me.

You can't hurt me.

I have a wonderful power.

Say it again and again.

Keep on saying it.

You can't hurt me.

I have a wonderful power. "

G'night, Mum Mum.

I'm coming up,

Lionel, be careful.

Don't pretend to be the

man in the bright nightgown.

It frightens me.

Oh God, it's black up there.

Where the hell am I?

Who's that over there,

standing in the wings?

Would someone tell me

who the hell that is?

What're you staring at?

It's just me. Frank.

Oh, yeah. Frank.

I'm sorry, I must have

taken a little detour there.

I'm sorry.

Goddamn, he looked

so familiar.

For a minute, I couldn't

think who he was.

Were you on a break?

No. Sir.

Who said you could

take a break?

But I didn't...

Where were you?

Where are they

when you need them? Line!

What line?

Any line!

If you do fight

against your country's... line!

your country's foes...

Your wives...

Your wives shall...

what?

What's the line,

Frank? Your wives shall... what?

Your wives shall

welcome...

but that's not

Richard's line, sir!

Well, whose is it?

Richmond's.

I'll take it!

Your wives shall welcome

home the conquerors.

My wives wouldn't welcome

me home if I came bearing

the Holy friggin' Grail!

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