Seconds Page #3

Hey there, you old rascal!

Slow down. Where's the fire?

Can't wait to get back to

them pretty little models, huh?

Uh-oh, I am late.

If I didn't have to catch a plane,

I'd make you buy me a drink, by God!

See you soon. Got to run.

Welcome home, Mr. Wilson.

My name is John. I've

been assigned to help you.

It's very nice.

I think you'll be

quite comfortable, sir.

Do you like your studio?

- Yes.

- Perhaps you'd like to freshen up...

and have a drink.

Afterward, I'll try to clear up any

point on which you may have curiosity.

The bath is through here.

I'll unpack these for you later.

Fine.

How long will you be here?

John, sir. For as long as you need me.

The company is fully aware that

you may have problems at first...

and will spare no effort

to help you solve them.

Thank you.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir?

I had a curious

experience at the airport.

What was that?

Well, I was accosted by a

man who called me by name.

He seemed to know me, and I'm

certain I've never met him.

I suppose it was a mistake on his part.

So it would appear, sir.

What kind of people live here?

Professionals. Some in

business. Some write.

No artists, I hope.

I think you are the only one, sir.

If I may suggest, sir...

perhaps you'd like to give a cocktail

party for the immediate neighbors.

Oh, well, I...

I'd better get myself

used to things first.

Later on, maybe.

As you wish, sir.

That's very good, sir.

Thank you.

Wouldn't you enjoy meeting

some of the people here, sir?

I told you I'm not ready yet, John.

I'll do this in my own

way and in my own time.

Of course, sir.

Hello.

Hey, wait.

I'm sorry about back there.

How about if we try it again?

Hello.

I'm Nora Marcus.

I'm...

Tony Wilson.

- Walk?

- Sure.

Ocean, I love you! You're beautiful!

Beautiful!

All that power, and

she's got all the answers.

Got a question!

What did you ask?

Oh, a tough one.

"Who and what is Tony Wilson?"

And what did it say?

It told me to mind my own business.

That was my life. Two

boys, ages ten and twelve.

Successful and indulgent husband.

A beautiful house, complete

with microwave oven...

intercom, station wagon, et cetera.

Ad infinitum.

And?

I made myself a cup of

coffee, dressed and left.

That was four years ago.

You never went back.

I've seen them from time to time, but...

it's different now.

Maybe because I'm different.

I don't expect you to understand.

I think I do.

You?

An artist?

Why should you understand?

You spent your whole life being.

You don't know anything

about me, really.

Yes, I do.

It's all right there in your face.

What is?

Now you're fishing.

No. Seriously.

This may hurt a little.

I agreed to take my chances.

Madam Marcus will read the leaves.

What kind of a man is he?

There's grace in the line and color...

but it doesn't emerge pure.

It pushes at the edge of

something still tentative.

Unresolved. As if...

somewhere in the man,

there is still a key...

unturned.

That's quite an analysis.

Not really.

When you come to think of it, it

sort of fits everybody, doesn't it?

It's very nice here.

The good things always

happen with the rain.

When will I see you again?

I'm going to Santa Barbara tomorrow.

There's a kind of gathering.

Can I come?

It's going to be very wild.

Maybe that's part of turning the key.

To the god Pan. To

the gods of this place.

Drink! See ye, ye gods.

March down upon this

procession and bless us all!

The Queen of the Wine!

Wine!

Wine! The Queen of the Wine!

Stomp those grapes!

Stomp those grapes!

Stomp those grapes!

Now the season ends, and the

old vines are buried deep.

Now, in dying, Bacchus

gives us his blood...

so we may be born again...

laughing, laughing.

- Come dance with me.

- Nora, I don't know these people.

- I don't think I...

- Don't think me, Tony. Don't.

I came here to feel... to be.

I'm dying, and that's the world...

the whole bloody world!

It's not a question of

dancing. I'm not part of this!

I'm dying, and that's the world!

The whole bloody...

Don't!

Come back here! Get out of there!

Wait a minute. Get your hands

off me. Nora, get out of there!

No, please don't!

Stomp those grapes!

Please!

Kiss me!

Yes. Yes!

- Thank you, John.

- Oh, Mr. Wilson.

- May I present Mr. And Mrs. Lloyd?

- How do you do?

- This is your host.

- Pleasure.

- Mr. Filter.

- Pleased to meet you.

- How do you do?

- Hello.

You have seen Tony's

paintings, haven't you?

Cheers.

- May I present Mr. Mayberry?

- Nice to meet you.

Peekaboo.

- Honey, please slow down.

- Never!

Never!

Come. I'm taking you to ze Casbah.

As soon as these people

leave, I'm going to attack you.

Why, Mr. Wilson, you dirty old man.

I really am.

I want you to know that.

I'm counting on it.

Miss Marcus, you shock me.

- Please, ease up.

- Why?

Because it's not like you.

Oh, I know that.

I'm sorry.

Guess I just needed the added strength.

Well, that's silly.

They're all wonderful people.

Just give them a chance.

- Okay.

- Give yourself a chance.

- Okay.

- Yes?

I promise. No more.

And I promise to behave myself.

I'm sorry. Forgive me.

I've embarrassed you.

No, you haven't.

I think I love you.

You're beautiful!

- You're an ocean.

- Let's go back.

The sooner we get rid of those

people, the sooner we can be together.

- I'm going to hold you to your promise.

- Oh, God. You're evil.

- Yes!

- God, how evil you are.

Henry Bushbain, my husband.

- Nice to know you.

- How do you do?

- You're staggering.

- Hank, that's a dirty lie.

Watch out for this

character. He's a lawyer.

Harvard, I want you to know.

- Really? That's a coincidence.

- Hold it!

- Thank you.

- Me too. In fact, me too twice.

Hollow leg again?

Will you listen? At home, he makes

me look like a veritable piker.

Henry, you sneaking two-face, you.

- Private joke?

- No. I'm sorry.

Come on, Nora. Let's

ditch these two sots.

Help! Rape!

- Wait a minute. You can't do that.

- There's no way you'll get away.

You're going to stay right here.

That's my woman. Hey!

That's very funny.

What's funny?

Is he really a sneaky two-face?

Yes.

There's such a religious climate

out here. Don't you agree?

- I love the climate.

- Yes.

I belong to a special kind of group.

Nothing subversive, I hope.

Oh, good heavens, no! We change sects.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, no, no. Good heavens.

You thought I meant...

"Sects. "

S-E-C-T-S.

- Oh, sects!

- Yes.

Well, thank God!

We change every month.

Right now, we're in Aztec.

Huitzilopochtli, Quetzalcoatl,

virgin sacrifice and all.

I just love your paintings.

How do you ever do it?

Well, you see...

It all began with a big, red ball.

You see...

I paint naked, Mrs. Filter.

- The only way to get at the truth.

- How interesting.

Of course. In this way, my

inner essence is revealed...

and I am presented to the canvas...

in direct relationship

in my primeval state...

without its sociological trappings.

- Watch it!

- Oh, look!

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