Interiors Page #3

Well...

You couldn't think of anything

you liked about it

so you had to call it something.

Concise. Spare. Pithy. Lean.

Okay, okay, well, you just can't

handle a compliment, that's all.

No, I guess I can't.

We gotta go.

Really? We hardly had any chance to speak.

I know.

So, how are you doing? You look okay.

I'm good.

I read something of yours in a magazine.

New Yorker, I think.

A poem called "Wondering."

It was very beautiful.

It's an old poem. I redid it.

Now, when I reread it,

I find it much too ambiguous.

Yeah, I may redo it again.

We're starting our drive back.

Can we drop you someplace?

I have to catch a plane

really early tomorrow morning.

Right. You're shooting a movie in

those cold Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Couldn't be someplace like Acapulco?

That's my idea of fantasy.

Lie around on a beach,

get waited on hand and foot.

Really? I can't take Mexico.

I always think I'm gonna get shot

just walking down the street.

What was that?

"Happy birthday. Love, Arthur."

They're beautiful.

I like white roses better than

any other flower on Earth.

There you are, Mother.

I knew he wouldn't forget.

Mom, and you were worried.

They're a good sign. Don't you think?

Well?

Are you getting dressed, or what?

Are you talking to me?

We said everything.

Don't blame me. I've been

nothing but understanding.

You don't help by patronizing me.

I wasn't patronizing you.

Your work is great. Who cares

what the critics think?

That's easy for you to say. You

get nothing but encouragement.

You're their little darling.

They're lenient with me,

obviously, because I'm a woman.

It's because you're so damn good.

So are you.

The book didn't get

the response it deserved.

I hate to tell you how often

they've missed the boat.

Stop lying to me. I count on

you for honesty, not flattery.

I'm not lying. And who

cares what anybody thinks.

They think what I think. My work once

showed promise, and I haven't delivered.

Your work's not fashionable, Frederick.

You should be thankful for that.

I mean, what are you after?

The superficial acclaim of some little

book reviewer in some room somewhere?

We've always talked about fine work

that means something in the long run.

I don't care about fine work.

I don't wanna wait 25 years

to be appreciated.

I wanna be able to knock somebody over now!

They're stricter with you

because you attempt more.

They refuse to consider that.

Stop looking for excuses.

I'm not writing for a time capsule.

And half the stuff that's written

is garbage, they pay sky high.

The baby-sitter will be here in a minute.

I'm not going!

We can't not go.

What is the matter with you?

I'm not in the mood for your lesbian friends

and a lot of vacuous gossip

about New York poetesses.

Stop pitying yourself so much.

It's nauseating. I'm going.

Why can't you, just once in a while,

consider my feelings and my needs?

I'm sick of your needs. I'm tired of

your idiosyncrasy and competitiveness.

I have my own problems.

There'll be lots of superficial

chitchat about the nature of poetry,

your symbolism, your imagery,

your contribution to whatever.

We never see Marion and Gail.

I don't understand.

You used to like them.

I can't stand them. They're so enthusiastic.

College kids. I get embarrassed.

Well, don't get embarrassed.

Stay home, drink yourself unconscious.

That's one of the cliches

of being a novelist

you've had no problem with.

Yeah, I sure can drink.

Yes, you're fine as long as

I keep everything going.

"Keep everything going"?

Do you mean the monthly check from Daddy

so that you can write yourself

into immortality?

I also raised the family

that you thought you wanted.

Hey. You made some noises

about experiencing motherhood.

I'm sure you thought it was

great potential raw material.

Now you've got another human being.

Three of us.

It wasn't my idea. And I'm not

ashamed to be subsidized either.

I turn things out.

Yeah. You do.

You turn things out. You're incredible.

Frederick.

Frederick, you have so much to offer.

I want to help, not hurt.

I can't go out.

I'm not in the mood.

I'm liable to kill somebody.

I'm going. Good night.

You look as good as I've

seen you in a long time.

And in no time at all, you've turned

this place into a lovely home.

I saw Joey last week.

I may be working on her apartment.

Mike seems amenable. He isn't

really what I had in mind for Joey.

But I'm getting more used to him.

She has no direction.

I expected such great things from her.

She was an extraordinary child.

How are you getting along, Arthur?

Fine. I'm fine.

Busy.

It's important to keep busy.

Did you like the Matisse drawing?

It was on sale at Parke Bernet.

Yes. It's lovely.

So delicate.

Well,

we'll talk, Eve.

Good night.

She's got to go back to the

sanitarium for a while, at least.

Poor Joey. Poor Joey.

She spends so much time with her.

But what's the point?

We can't watch her constantly.

There's no way you can be

with her all the time.

How is Joey?

I worry about her.

She seems to be floundering.

I don't know. I guess she

hasn't found herself yet.

Couldn't you help her? She looks up to you.

I do, Dad. I try. I try to be supportive.

I've tried to encourage her.

I'm not criticizing,

but it just seems to me there's always

been an antagonism between you two.

You know Joey. She tends

to be competitive with me.

Well, you're very successful.

I think you hold that over her.

Come on, Dad. That's not true.

Now, Renata, I'm not blind.

I see what's going on.

You seclude yourself in Connecticut,

acting out the part of the aloof

artist, and no one can get near you.

I don't want to discuss this right now.

Can we just avoid the subject?

I'm upset. You're upset.

Joey had such potential. Now

it's come to nothing...

It's so typical. It's so typical.

As usual, you're obsessed with Joey

- while Mother's in a hospital room.

- Don't blame me for that.

That's nobody's fault.

How's Frederick?

Fine.

He's going to be teaching at Barnard.

How nice.

I read something he wrote recently

in the Sunday Times. A review, I think.

It was very nasty, but very funny.

It's a giraffe.

Enormous. Cory would love it.

It's probably way too much money,

but I'd really like to buy her one.

She's so cute.

She sits and has conversations

with the television set.

She's such a pretty thing.

How's Mike?

Fine.

We'd love to get together

with you and Frederick.

That'd be great, but, you know,

it's been a rough week for me.

It doesn't have to be this week.

I mean, I gotta give Frederick a

chance to get settled in at Barnard.

Rennie, why do you keep pushing me away?

I don't.

Yeah, you do.

It's like you don't want me near you.

Joey, come on.

You know I've been having work problems.

I need isolation. I need to be alone.

The creative thing, it's very delicate.

Well, that's great, isn't it?

You're hiding behind your work,

Flyn's never here, and I inherited Mother.

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