Bullets Over Broadway Page #8

- Yeah.

- I didn't know you knew writers.

- Do me a favor. Shut up.

Don't tell me

to shut up.

All right,

number one.

See, I don't believe she loves

the guy right from the start.

She's too on, uh, top of him

all the time. That's not love.

That's like keeping somebody in prison.

But if you changed it, right?

And she left him,

then she would feel so bad about it...

- that she would have the

nervous breakdown and go nuts.

- [ Music Stops, Applause ]

- How ya doin', Cheech?

- Tulio, listen, I gotta see you later.

- I wanna get down on the Cardinals

for the doubleheader, all right?

- You got it.

- Them birds look good.

- Teach your friend some manners

and get him outta here.

- All right, so--

- You were-- You were talking about--

Right, all right.

So, now...

if the doctor feels what Sylvia's

feelin'-- That's her name, Sylvia.

- There's a Sylvia in my neighborhood.

- Oh, yeah?

-Yeah. What was her name? Sylvia Pincus.

-Sylvia Pincus.

Sylvia Pincus. Big, fat Jewish broad,

had a little tiny husband.

She chopped him up with an ax and mailed

his pieces all over the country.

I don't know what

she was tryin' to prove.

That's disgusting. You gotta

tell that story in front of me?

- Relax.

- You know I got a weak stomach.

- You were tellin' me

about the play a minute ago.

- Don't interrupt me.

- You were sayin' about Sylvia?

- Right. So if the doctor feels

what Sylvia's feelin'--

- Uh-huh.

- Know what I mean?

Yeah. She identifies

with her patient, a bit.

Right. This way when she gets jealous,

it makes sense.

- Right.

- Uh-huh.

There's gotta be a time when the

Lieutenant has it out with the doctor.

Why isn't that in there?

You're talking about a whole

different direction for the play.

Definitely.

Think about it.

How would the audience know

Sylvia was feeling guilty? lf--

Oh. I don't know.

Wait a minute.

Yeah. Wait.

You could work it out with maybe you--

you hear what she's thinkin'.

-You mean she speaks her thoughts aloud?

-Sure, why not? It's a play anyhow.

It don't have to be real,

but it'll be stronger.

You think about that.

And you, don't interrupt me no more.

I'm sorry.

So how come you had so much

to say to that Valenti goon?

No, nothing. I was just

thanking him for his ideas.

- What ideas? He only had

the one suggestion, didn't he?

- Yeah.

- That was just it.

- So do you like your wallet?

- What?

- The wallet.

- Oh, yes, yes, it's terrific.

- Are you sure?

Oh, it's very exciting. I love

leatherette. Always have loved it.

Boy, are you loaded.

- Yeah.

- Happy birthday.

Thanks.

[ David ] September 24. I gave the cast

the rewrites. Everyone seemed pleased.

- [ Helen ] These are brilliant! Oh!

- [ Warner ] They are.

Now Sylvia's

not so passive.

She uses her wiles to trap

the Lieutenant, and that's

what causes her guilt!

[ Warner ] The whole thing is motivated.

It drives on. Wonderful.

- [ Olive ] You mean I gotta

memorize all new lines?

- [ Helen ] They're wonderful!

- How did you come up

with such divine changes?

- They're not really mine--

- Oh, no? Whose are they, God's?

- [ Laughing ]

- Well, they are mine

in the sense that they're mine--

- Your modesty becomes you.

But let's face it;

you are a major talent.

A major new voice

in the theater.

The word genius gets thrown around

so frequently in this business...

- but, darling, if the shoe fits--

- Congratulations.

- It finally has balls.

- Now, if we can do something

about Act Ill...

we got a big, fat hit

on our hands.

- [ Warner ] Three cheers

for the writer! Hip-hip--

- [ Cast ] Hooray!

[ David ] I stayed up all night

working on the third act.

I admit it came rather hard...

and before I handed in the pages,

I sent them over to Cheech to read.

He suggested I come down

to his office.

- You missed the idea.

- I did?

Yeah, you did.

Plus, nobody talks like that.

- You got that problem.

You don't write like people talk.

- I take poetic license.

Poetic license, bullshit.

People believe what they see

when the actors sound real.

- Come here. Let me show you.

- What are you doing?

- What does it look like I'm doin'?

- You're gonna write it?

What am l? A f***in' idiot?

They taught me how to write in

school before I burned it down.

- You burned down your school?

- Yeah, it was Lincoln's birthday.

There was nobody there.

- If you actually write--

- Look, I know how people talk,

all right?

Go shoot a rack,

and let me do this.

But if you actually write it,

then I'm not--

- Don't worry about it.

I ain't gonna tell anybody.

- No?

No. I saw you playin' the big shot.

I know what it's all about.

Where I come from,

nobody squeals.

Go shoot a rack.

Stop starin' at me.

[ Helen ] What dialogue!

This is better than O'Neill!

Max Anderson

will never touch you!

So you liked it.

It's so full of passion!

It's so full of life!

- I hoped it would lift the story.

- What a difference between this

and your first draft.

You hadn't found yourself yet. The idea

was there, but it hadn't crystallized.

You needed to hear it

on its feet, and now this.

It's no longer tepid

and cerebral.

It's full of life!

It's full of passion!

It reeks with humid sexuality!

It's carnivorous at last!

- You thought my first draft

was cerebral and tepid?

- Only the plot and dialogue.

- But this--

- Was-Was-Was there nothing

in the original draft...

that you feel

is worth saving?

The stage directions were lucid.

Best I've ever seen.

- And the color of the binder.

Good choice.

- Thank you.

I always had a flare

for stage directions.

I went back and reread your

earlier plays. They suffered

from the same problem.

- [ Sighs ]

- Good ideas, but

too contrived, no real guts.

It's like you

finally happened.

- Helen, I have a confession to make.

- Yes?

[ Inhales Deeply ]

- I--

- Don't speak!

No, no, don't speak.

I know you wanna deprecate yourself.

I know you do, but you're

going to take this town by storm.

I didn't...

realize what

an inspiration...

you've been

to my writing.

Oh, David.

Dear, dear David.

Pungent,

seething artist.

The cocoon

has opened.

I would give my body freely to

the man who wrote those words.

Those glorious,

powerful words.

- Helen--

- No, don't speak.

- [ Mumbling ]

- Don't speak. Don't speak.

No. Silence. Silence.

- Don't speak.

- [ Mumbles ] Please.

[ David ] September 28.

The play is working much better now.

Helen has been getting on more

pleasantly with Eden, and I

believe she likes Mr. Woofles.

- [ Barking ]

- Back! Back! Back! Back!

[ David ] Warner Purcell and Olive seem

to always be exchanging coy glances.

I don't know if it's my imagination, but

he seems to have put on a little weight.

Perhaps the tension of our

upcoming Boston opening has

caused him to cheat on his diet.

[ David ] Can we go

from "God of our fathers"?

Take it from

"God of our fathers."

[ Ellen ] Oh! God of our fathers,

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