Boom Page #3

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


his sleeping trick on me!

Now, be quiet. Shhh!

Breathing and pulse, normal.

Good color.

Seems to be sleeping naturally.

What the hell is that?

Many years ago I had a call

in New Orleans,

a particularly elegant gentleman

know as 'Cher'.

who would never go out in the

evening without

a little vinaigrette like this

filled with ammonia.

And whenever he saw a girl

approaching along the sidewalk,

He would cry, "Poisson, poisson",

means fish, you know, dear,

and hold the little cut glass

decanter to his nostrils

until the girl had passed by.

Be that as it may, I've always

found girls to be fragrant...

in any phase of the moon.

Pronto, dica.

Sicily? I didn't place any

phone call to Sicily.

How do you like that? He's making

long distance-telephone calls.

And what's that - a tray of food.

If there's anything I can't stand,

it's a houseguest,

especially one who hasn't been invited,

you views your house like a hotel,

charging long distance

telephone calls,

calling up room service.

Pain... awful...

Injection.

Oh... oh, God!

Yoohoooo - Sissie...

Sissie! Yoohoo...

Chris...

Chris, Chris...

Where were you?

Sissie! She's disappeared!

She's left me, she's lost.

Woo-woooo

You're drunk.

Woo-woooo!

I don't understand bird language.

No, don't go out. Don't go, stay!

Pain gone till tomorrow...

Hello?

You still prowling around here?

Well, I... I just woke up hungry.

What're you hungry for, huh?

You want some of this?

You hungry for this?

How does that feel, does that

feel good on your stomach,

- you want some more of that, do you?

- What's going on here?

Oh, he's got the dry heaves, Blackie...

He's Mrs. Goforth's guest, you drunk

gorilla, now get off the terrace!

Mr. Flanders, what happened?

Thank you.

I'm lucky that you were...

not asleep.

I don't sleep much this summer.

I couldn't find any clothes when I

woke up, so I put on this strange robe.

I think I'll take off this sword.

I would keep the sword on

at all times while you're here.

Don't I, uh, don't I look frightening?

- No, but...

- You look frightened.

Last spring I lost my husband.

What are you...?

It's wrong? I'm going to do

two simple things for you:

First I'm going to put this picture

of your husband in the drawer,

and I'm going to put away

your sleeping pills.

In the drawer.

Now... one more thing:

I think you're taking unfair

advantage of...

Of a... chance situation?

Yes, and you're using...

Tricks?

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

No, right!

Blackie!

Oh, it's her!

She wants to give me dictation.

I can't. Yes?

Yes, Mrs. Goforth.

It's night. Late at night.

Yes, it's late Mrs. Goforth.

Don't answer me, this is dictation!

Don't interrupt me.

This is clear as a vision.

The death of Harlon Goforth.

Remembered, just now, clearly.

Clear as a vision.

It's night. Late, late night.

Without sleep. And I, scarcely

more than a child,

am in bed with the great

Harlon Goforth,

whose name I still carry after

five later marriages.

The great Goforth,

king of munitions, a gentleman.

A warlord who monarchs and presidents

place next to their wives at banquets.

In bed... all dignity gone.

A powerless thing without shame.

Now... he mounts me again.

He's crushing me under the

awful weight of his body.

He mounts me again.

He's trying to make love,

he never could.

He stops suddenly now.

He whispers, "Baby, I have a pain.

I have a terrible pain in my head. "

Silently I say to myself,

"Oh, thank God",

but aloud I say, "Tablets?

You want... you want tablets?"

Harlon. What is it, Harlon?

He answers me with a grunt,

with a groan.

I look at Harlon. I see

death in his eyes.

I see, I know...

He has death in his eyes,

but he has something worse in them:

Terror! He has terror in his eyes!

I see it. I feel it myself.

I get out of the bed.

I get out of the bed as if

escaping from quicksand.

I don't look at him any more!

I move... I move away from the bed.

I move from the bed.

I move from death! Terror!

I leave him with, It's him, it's him!

It's not...

I go straight to the door.

To the door, yes.

Wanting escape. The door...

It's closed!

I can't open it!

I leave him alone with his

death, his...

I've got out!

I've got out now.

I'm on the terrace, 25 stories high,

above the high, high city of Goforth.

I see lights blazing below the

high, high city,

but there's not a light

blazing, no, not one,

not a light blazing as bright as

the terror in his eyes!

Ohh, wind... cool wind, clean.

Release! Relief!

Escape after the night after night

weight of the impotent...

crushing me, weight of the...

dead? No.

Behind me now...

body of Goforth! Goforth!

- Goforth! Die!

- Mrs. Goforth!

Don't move!

I'm lost, I'm blind!

I'm dying.

Oh, Blackie, don't leave me alone!

Don't leave me alone!

Blackie, don't leave me alone.

Still here?

The air's turned cold.

Church bells are waking up.

Yes.

Taking off my sword.

Everything you say or do

is like you're playing a game.

Games can be honestly played.

Hot sun, cool breeze,

white horses on the sea,

and a big shot of vitamin B in me.

Now- I want to begin this chapter

on a more serious note:

The meaning of life.

Pictures now?

What's he pushing that thing

out here for?

Looks like a baby buggy for

a baby from Mars.

It's just a portable X-ray machine

that your doctor in Rome sent here,

to spare you the trouble of going

back there for another examination.

Examination for what?

Later. A little later.

Leave that here!

And get your fat ass and your

sneaky grin off this terrace!

Out!

Down! Go!

Shall we call it a day?

Hurry up.

Begin!

Continue dictation.

Meaning of life.

Monkey off balcony! Remove it!

Breakfast?

There's nothing out here but

black coffee and saccharin tablets.

But soon as I get a chance,

I'll raid the kitchen for you.

Sooner or later, a person's obliged

to face the meaning of life.

Dictation?

No, no. Reflection.

I'll raise my hand when I

begin dictation.

I've often wondered about...

wondered more, lately...

what the hell are we doing?

Just going from one goddamed

frantic distraction to another.

Tell finally one too many goddamed

frantic distractions lead to...

disaster!

Blackout.

Eclipse of,

total of, total... sun?

There's a fog coming in. Do you see

that over there, that fog coming in?

Why, no. It's perfectly clear

in all direction today.

Excuse me.

Blackie, will you kindly

or unkindly...

Yes, immediately!

Meaning of life, what is it?

Oh, ho... no wonder.

- Banzai, samurai.

- You're the kindest person I've ever met.

Yeah.

Er, sorry, I seem to have disturbed

you in your work.

This day's work is shot to hell!

Blackie, what's the matter with you?

Manners. I have them too.

Yeah. I guess they're epidemic.

Blackie?

You've had the pleasure of meeting

this gentleman. I haven't.

Blackie, will you introduce me to him?

I was hoping you'd remember

our meeting, Mrs. Goforth,

- I'm Christopher Flanders.

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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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