Cradle Will Rock Page #2

- Pierre!

- Hello, darling.

I trust you're not too tired

from touring the U. S. A.

I have seen such great theater.

So inspiring.

- Have you heard the rumors?

- About the stripper?

Stripper, no. People from Washington

snooping around our files.

- All this talk about Congressman Dies.

- Dies as in death?

- Something about a subcommittee.

- No. It's news to me. Hello, everybody!

Go stand on someone's neck

While you're takin'

Cut into somebody's throat

as you put

For every dream and scheme's

Depending on whether

All through the storm

You've kept it warm

The nickel under your foot

Who's singing?

A prostitute. She's starving.

She sells herself for food.

She thinks she feels

a nickel under her foot,

but when she reaches for it,

there's nothing there.

She's that... hungry.

You hate that, don't you?

I didn't say that.

I didn't say anything.

I... I'm not here.

You haven't slept in two days.

Go to sleep.

- Ooh! Oh. I'm so sorry.

- Ooh! Oh!

- Are you all right?

- Yes. Oh!

Oh!

- Countess!

- Jack! Jack, I found the play charming.

Utterly darling. And the idea of setting

the Scottish play in the Caribbean.

- Ah, yes.

- Carlo commented afterward he'd never seen anything like it.

And he's from Vienna,

you know.

I would be very interested to cultivate a

relationship with yourself, Mr. Welles and Carlo.

- What's the name of your opera, dear?

- Le Cordonier Desespere.

The Cobbler In Despair. He sings

passages from it to me all the time.

- He can't seem to get it out of his head.

- Yes.

- Poor Carlo. Such a sad man.

- Shh!

His store of pleasures

must be sauced with pain!

Now, worthy Faustus,

methinks your looks are changed.

- Gentlemen.

- What ails Faustus?

Look, sirs, comes he not?

Comes he not?

Yet, Faustus, look up to Heaven.

- Hey, cue lightning! Goddamn it, Abe.

- Cue lightning!

That's late. If the cue is late,

it will get a laugh.

We do not need this laugh.

It's a stupid, embarrassing laugh.

Concentrate, folks.

Now, do it again.

Yet, Faustus,

look up to Heaven!

Which one

is Mr. Welles?

He's the, um, ranting madman

with the Blue Boy wig.

I gave up my soul

for my cunning.

That's my cue.

- It's not your line.

- What's my line?

- It's Bert's line. Bert, say your line.

- No, it's his.

- Say the line!

- Oh, God forbid!

- Oh, God forbid!

- Break time. Break time!

Union break! Fifteen minutes!

The date is expired. The hell with

the theater, and the hell with you.

I've got to go have

a coffee and a fart.

Never mind that for the first time

in this goddamn rehearsal process...

we were in the middle of a discovery

essential to making the play work!

I... need... a smoke!

You're not actors,

you're smokers!

You wouldn't know the church of the

theater if it smacked you in the mouth!

- Shut up, Orson, or I'll smack you in the mouth.

- F*** you, john!

You're not a believer,

you're a worker.

Damn right. And you're not a director.

you're a dictator!

You're atheists!

You have no respect for the theater!

This isn't a game!

This isn't a goddamn cocktail party!

- This is work! It's hard work!

- Blah, blah, blah, blah.

And if you're not willing

to give your blood to it,

then it isn't worth it

because you'll never make theater...

with your coffee klatch

union breaks.

You will make...

pageants...

without truth,

without soul!

Bloodless,

sweatless, shallow,

lily-white pageants...

signifying nothing!

I'm going, Jack!

You can give them a two-hour-long smoke.

We'll pick up...

with the Seven Deadly Sins.

Right!

He has his moments.

He is busto,

multidissimo.

It's so fascinating. I've always wanted

to observe the process of art-making.

- So what happens now?

- Now we wait for the prima donna to return.

- Willie!

- Sandra!

- Baby!

- Where have you been?

- Oh, good grief.

- Excuse me, Mr. Houseman?

- I have to go to the hospital.

- The hospital? Are you hurt?

- No, no, no. Hello. My wife just had a child.

- How do you do?

- Oh, congratulations!

- Thank you.

Countess, may I introduce a supporting

member of our cast... Aldo Silvano.

- Plays the role of, um...

- I'm the fourth scholar.

- Fourth scholar, yes.

- Wonderful.

This ain't no political meeting house.

This is a damn theater.

We're not doin' nothing here but

entertaining and making people laugh.

Well, I'm making people laugh.

Get me up.

Mrs. Flanagan wants me to teach

those Reds how to make people laugh.

- Forget it. You?

- Nothing funny about Communists.

- There's nothing funny about you.

- Reds are glum, serious people.

- What about that Stinky Magoo? He was funny.

- He wasn't a Communist.

Oh, most certainly was.

As Red as a rooster's crown.

Melvin, you don't know what you're talking

about. Stinky Magoo was a Republican.

- He was Red, Tommy.

- No, he wasn't.

- Yes, he was.

- No, he wasn't.

- You would know.

- He was not a Red! Stinky Magoo was a Republican!

He was funny!

Well... he was funny.

You're right about that.

- God rest his soul.

- May he make God laugh.

Hear, hear.

Mr. Crickshaw,

hi-loo.

Uh, we are ready

for our tutorial.

- We're ready for our tutorial.

- We're ready to learn how to be funny.

And how to do the mouth thing.

It is fantastic, this art form

that embraces the future,

shatters convention and uses color

to create an exquisite sensuality, huh?

It looks all cut up.

- Shapes distributed geometrically.

- Exactly.

- What does it mean?

- It means whatever you want it to mean.

The Futurists, they exist

in the realm of emotion...

the Eros, not the intellect.

Ah, yes, Eros. I particularly like

the sensuality of the colors.

- Mmm, mmm.

- This one has interesting colors too.

Well, you have a very good eye,

Mr. Mathers.

- Gray.

- Gray?

- My name, not the color.

- Ah.

- Is that a Modigliani?

- Yes, it is.

Nelson Rockefeller,

meet Margherita Sarfatti,

- cultural emissary to Premier Mussolini.

- Piacere.

- Enchante.

- Delighted to see you, Nelson.

Mr. Mathers. Mr. Hearst, always

a pleasure. Good to see you, Mary.

Premier Mussolini is very thankful

to you and your family...

for your generous contribution

for the museum.

I understand that you...

are personally responsible...

for bringing

the exhibition here.

Well, my motives

are purely selfish, madame.

I've never been lucky enough

in my life...

to stand inches away from

a da Vinci or a Michelangelo.

Ah, how does it feel?

Extraordinary.

- Nelson can be very helpful in the oil department as well.

- Really?

There I go again

jumping the gun,

ruining a perfectly civil conversation

on art by getting to the point.

Eh, Margherita?

I must confess, I'm more interested in

the oil in paint than the oil in derricks.

Ah, bravo! Bravo!

- I understand you know Diego Rivera.

- Mmm.

Paris, wild times.

- I am to see him today.

- Ah.

- Any tips?

- Swing left, stay sober.

He was once a cannibal,

you know.

- What?

- Yes.

Never before has the link

between government and industry...

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