Paris - When It Sizzles Page #7

Anything.

- Anything?

- Anything. lt's not so hard.

l, too, in my own way,

am a highly paid professional.

Not so highly paid as you, perhaps,

but still... a professional.

We're two of a kind, you and l.

There's no reason for us

to be enemies. We can perhaps be...

..friends.

Perhaps...

Their two bodies now moving as one

roll like turbulent breakers

crashing on an undiscovered shore.

And now, now,...

..we slowly...

..and lingeringly...

..dissolve...

Gracious.

Exactly, Miss Simpson. Well said.

You might even add heavens to Betsy.

What's wrong, don't you like it?

Oh, l like it,

but can you get away with it?

Get away with it? Get away with what?

Well, that scene with them

on the bed is rather suggestive.

Don't you think

the censors will object?

How can they possibly object?

We dissolved, didn't we?

- Yes, but...

- Miss Simpson, as l said before,

a dissolve is a most useful device.

Not only can it take you

from one place to another,

but it also leaves

what's happening on the screen

to your imagination.

Now if l were you, Miss Simpson,

l would stop going to

those sinful art theatres,

and start seeing more good, wholesome

American family-type pictures.

l don't know what you and the censors

think they're doing on that bed,

but l take the position

that they're playing... Parcheesi.

As much as l've enjoyed our little

game, it's almost eight-thirty.

Time for the climax of

our glorious day. We must be off.

Off? Where to?

You know perfectly well where.

The costume party at

the Eiffel Tower, to finish thejob.

You mustn't. You can't go through

with the plan, whatever it is.

Gillette will be there and the place

will be surrounded by police.

Gillette was in Tangier last year.

The entire city was surrounded by

police. Now if you'll excuse me...

Where are you going?

To the wardrobe department,

to find something for us to wear.

Quite alright. l always carry

a packet of bubble bath in my purse

and l'm getting on swimmingly.

Howdy,...

..stranger.

You must be the new schoolma'am.

l hate to rush you, ma'am,

but it's getting late.

How long will it take

to get out of that tub,

into this costume

and out to the car?

Absolutely no time at all...

And now, according to my master plan,

the time has come to take

the most dangerous step of all.

Yes, Rick?

l must trust you

and tell you the details.

l can trust you, can't l, Gabby?

How can you ask, Rick? After our

Parcheesi game this afternoon,

l am yours for ever

and ever and ever.

Can l trust you, Gabby?

Can l really trust you?

ln the back of this car are

28 cans of motion-picture film.

The Eiffel Tower party is being

given by the picture's producer.

Tell me the plan in a minute, Rick.

lt's a long drive to the Eiffel Tower

and the traffic is heavy.

Mr Benson...

Rick.

Gabby, maybe, but l'm not...

Well, l'm not that kind of a girl.

Oh, l can't stand girls

who say things like that.

Oh, dear...

l guess maybe

we are that kind of a girl.

Exterior. Eiffel Tower. Night.

Rick and Gabby have been driving

and driving and driving.

Through all that

marvellous traffic.

The tower is ablaze.

Richard, how can I type

if you're going to...?

Alright, alright...

The tower is ablaze

and chauffeur-driven limousines

are pulling up.

Miss Simpson, how can I dictate

if you're going to...? Hmm...

Trust me, darling.

l do. Here we go.

And now, darling, Rick and Gabby

make their way to the elevator

which will carry them and us

to the inevitable party scene,

so dear to the hearts

of movie directors everywhere.

It's summer time

and the vita is dolce.

Breakfast is at Tiffany's

and everybody is high.

And now that the director

has distracted the audience

with these

totally extraneous vignettes,

he reluctantly returns to the plot

and another new character.

The producer. Host and victim.

Who looks remarkably like

my producer and victim,

Mr Alexander Meyerheim.

lf you look left, just behind you,

as casually as possible,

you will see that idiot Gillette

dressed appropriately enough

as an executioner.

- Ready, darling?

- Ready, darling.

Excuse me for a moment, darling.

You're late.

Untrue, Gillette. Everything

is going precisely according to plan.

- And the plan, you have it?

- Of course.

While not exactly highly paid,

l'm at least... a professional.

Well?

lf you will kindly read this,

l believe the entire situation

will become clear immediately.

At this very moment,

he's delivering the ransom note.

- The ransom note?

- Exactly.

He has in the trunk of his car

28 reels of film.

They are the negative

and only existing work print

of the producer's just-completed

six-million-dollar spectacle,

The Girl Who Stole

the Eiffel Tower.

You are certain you have both

the negative and the only work print?

Absolutely.

And it is your serious intention

to destroy them?

Unless you turn over the key

to your safe-deposit box

in your bank in Casablanca.

My dear boy,

l haven't the faintest idea

who you are.

But you are beautiful. Whoo!

Absolutely beautiful.

Not only that, you've saved my life.

The Girl Who Stole the Eiffel Tower

is frankly a disaster.

The title is symbolic.

She doesn't actually steal it.

Or l don't think she does.

The end's so confusing

it's hard to tell.

Anyway, the script is so ghastly

it could never possibly be released.

l was finished. Done for.

This party tonight

was planned as a final farewell

gesture. A sort of swan song.

At midnight, when the cheque

was presented, l planned to sign it,

add a lavish if purely imaginary tip,

and then, as the fireworks were

exploding in the black velvet sky,

to hurl myself from the top

of this grotesque edifice.

And now, suddenly at the last minute,

in the nick of time - don't tell me

there isn't someone up there

who watches over whimsical

movie producers - you appear!

l can't believe it.

lf you swear to me

that you will destroy this film,

hook, line and sinker,

not only will l give you the key to

my safe-deposit box in Casablanca,

but we will split the insurance,

60-40.

50-50.

Oh, my darling, darling boy.

lf ever you consider going into

the motion-picture business,

do not hesitate to call me.

l've searched for

a partner like you all my life.

We understand each other perfectly.

You are so beautiful...!

lt's a rugged

but curiously sensitive face.

lt's so beautiful...!

His plane is waiting for him

at Le Bourget Airport.

His chauffeur's even now

warming up the engines.

Good girl. Tomorrow, your entire

police record will disappear

oh-so-mysteriously from my files

and you will be free.

Thank you, my dear Gillette.

And now, Gillette,

if you could quite casually

dance me across the floor

and over to the gentlemen's lounge.

You fool. You little fool.

He's using you

like he did that poor unfortunate

girl last year in Tangier.

Keep dancing, Gillette.

l should have known! l should.

That man is irresistible to women.

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