Boom Page #2

Synopsis: Film version of playwright Tennessee Williams' "The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore" involves very wealthy Flora 'Sissy' Goforth, supposedly dying, and living in a large mansion on a secluded island with her servants and nurses; into her life comes a mysterious man, Angelo Del Morte and "the Witch of Capri." The mysterious man may or may not be "The Angel of Death".
Genre: Drama, Thriller
Director(s): Joseph Losey
Production: Universal
 
IMDB:
5.6
Rotten Tomatoes:
8%
PG
Year:
1968
110 min
805 Views


and pills in the pharmaceutical kingdom?

I need myself a lover.

What do you mean by a lover?

I mean a lover. What do you mean by a lover?

I've only had one lover, my husband

Charles. He died last spring.

Yeah, last spring... it beats me how you

could have a husband named Charles

and not call him Charlie.

Hmm, mixed market with

light trading...

Did he take a bath without resistance?

He seemed happy to bathe.

Did you hang around and have a look at

him in the bathtub?

Naturally. Yes, of course.

Well, I would've looked.

I'm not a child of nature,

as you say you are.

Pity...

The only clothes he as are the

ones the dogs demolished,

so I suppose you'll have to

provide him with something to wear.

I'll provide him with

something to wear.

That should be an

interesting costume for him.

Robe of a professional Japanese warrior.

Put that in the pink villina.

Oh, wait.

- With the sword?

- Heheh... Yeah, why not?

A man has the right to defend himself if he

wants to. Now, do that, and do this:

Call the uh, Witch of Capri.

The one that wired me last month,

"Are you still living?"

Say I've never been better, and to come

here for dinner this evening.

And that it's urgentissimo. And that

I'll dispatch a boat around sundown.

Urgentissimo... like

everything else this summer.

The b*tch would have me

over here at high tide

so's that I should get up there

looking like a bit of seaweed...

Well, no comment?

hurry up

The Witch of Capri has landed.

Hey, what's this third place at the table?

Are you having dinner with us?

No, thank you.

Well, who's the third place reserved for?

The man in the pink villa.

I thought he'd be dining with you.

Well, you thought wrong. He's having no

meals with me till I know more about him.

The Witch should be able to give me the

lowdown on this mountain climber.

Yahooo, yahoooo... yahooo. Sissie!

Billy!

Uh...

don't tell me we're going to

have a Chinese dinner!

This isn't a Chinese costume,

it's a Kabuki costume.

That so...

Yes, it's, um, some centuries old.

Hmm- don't you feel ancient in it?

Hahaha... No... no, no, no, no.

Actually, I studied Kabuki once.

That's right, I became quite good at it.

Is that so?

Umm. I was the guest artist

at a relief thing for...

tycoon, or typhoon victims.

I can still do... watch...

Haha- I have a touch of,

er, neuritis tonight.

I'm suffering too, Sissie.

The sea is full of medusas -

you know, those giant jellyfish that sting.

One of them got me today.

Ah- what did he do with you,

or would you rather not say?

Have a gull's egg, Bill.

Oh, no, I can't stand gulls.

We eating their eggs cuts

down on their population.

What is this monster of the deep?

It has a very horrid expression.

Well, don't look at it. Eat it.

I couldn't possibly.

Are you still living on

blood transfusions, Bill?

Not good, turn you into a vampire.

Your neck's much too thin, Billy love.

Is it true that you had all

those monkey glands

or shots, or whatever

they are in Switzerland?

I don't approve of it.

It keys you up for a while, and

then you have a complete collapse.

What did they say at

the hospital, Sissie?

I just went into the hospital

for a regular checkup.

The doctors were disgusted

with my good health.

When you called me this morning,

I was so relieved I could die,

I shouted a silent "hallelujah"

to myself.

I've heard some very disturbing

rumors about you, Sissie.

Rumors? Such as what rumors?

I love you too much

to repeat them.

Repeat them. Astonish me with them.

Well... this party you

had over from Capri...

Last month went back to Capri...

babbling about poor Sissie.

They said they couldn't sleep here

because you spent the whole night

shouting over loudspeakers and

pressing electric buzzers.

Capri has turned into a

nest of vipers,

and the sea is full of medusas,

and the medusas are spawned

by the witches.

Male and female.

The kind that have little forked

tongues in their mouths, like lizards.

I shall tell you truth,

if you should care to hear it.

I am writing my memoirs over a

very elaborate intercom system

to my secretary, Miss Black.

And that is the truth of the story.

Has it ever occurred to you

that life is all memory?

Except that each present moment goes by

so quickly you can hardly catch it?

Ha-ha, now, don't depress me.

Oh, no, look - watch...

I walk.

When I was there, is a memory.

I take another step.

Where I was before I took the

other step is a memory, Bill.

Now watch - watch:

I walk to the end of the terrace.

I come back.

When I was at the end of the

terrace is a memory now.

Look!

A shooting star.

Shot! It's a memory.

All husbands, all lovers...

are a memory now.

You seem very wrought up, dear.

Today when I was dictating

to Blackie

the story of the one great

love of my life,

my marriage to a wildly

beautiful and

beautifully wild young poet

named Alec.

He loved mountain climbing,

fast cars, roulette,

and me.

We'd begin our day at sundown.

He'd get out of bed and put on

the robe of a Samurai warrior,

with the sword belt and

the sword,

and I'd jump out of bed

as naked as he,

and pick up a little

pearl-handled revolver.

Then we'd threaten each other.

I'd say, "Surrender your sword

or I'll shoot you!",

and he'd answer, "Put down your

pistol or I'll chop off your head!".

What fun!

Oh, yes.

Yeah.

But the point is,

Today, while I was describing Alec,

the poet and mountain climber,

another poet climbed the

mountain to see me.

He, uh, he sent this book to me.

to identify himself. His

picture's on the frontispiece.

What, Christopher Flanders,

still in circulation!

Well, God help you, Sissie.

I don't want to go into

any terrifying details,

but Christopher Flanders

has the unfortunate reputation

of calling on a lady just a step or

two ahead of the undertaker.

Why, just last summer he was

staying with some Texas oil people,

not in the best of health,

but in the worst,

Well, one night at dinner that

wicked old Duke of Parma -

we always called him

the Parma Violet -

poured a bottle of champagne

over Christopher's head, and said,

"I christen thee Christopher Flanders,

the Angel of Death.

Il angelo de la morte. "

And the name has stuck to him, Sissie.

I'll tell you more:

When the Texas oil lady

found out why

the Parma Violet had given

poor Chris that name,

she was thrown into a panic,

and told him he must check out

the first thing next morning.

Well, that night he swallowed

some sleeping pills, Sissie.

He's done this before.

We called it a sleeping trick.

And it is a trick, because Chris always

tells a servant wherever he's staying

to call him early in the morning

so that he can get on the road.

Consequently, you see,

he's always found

and revived,

before the pills can be fatal.

- Bill, follow me.

- Where to?

The pink villina. He's been

asleep ever since he's been here.

I think he may have been playing

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Tennessee Williams

Thomas Lanier "Tennessee" Williams III (March 26, 1911 – February 25, 1983) was an American playwright. Along with Eugene O'Neill and Arthur Miller, he is considered among the three foremost playwrights of 20th-century American drama.After years of obscurity, at age 33 he became suddenly famous with the success of The Glass Menagerie (1944) in New York City. This play closely reflected his own unhappy family background. It was the first of a string of successes, including A Streetcar Named Desire (1947), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1955), and Sweet Bird of Youth (1959). With his later work, he attempted a new style that did not appeal to audiences. Increasing alcohol and drug dependence inhibited his creative expression. His drama A Streetcar Named Desire is often numbered on short lists of the finest American plays of the 20th century alongside Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey into Night and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman.Much of Williams' most acclaimed work has been adapted for the cinema. He also wrote short stories, poetry, essays and a volume of memoirs. In 1979, four years before his death, Williams was inducted into the American Theater Hall of Fame. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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