The Barefoot Contessa Page #3

have had me swallow Oscar's whisky

and go off on a bat

But it wasn't a script.

Right now, I wish it had been

The script would have made

so much more sense about

all of us than life did

Maria Vargas?

Seora Vargas?

I'm sorry. "No hablo espaol. "

I look for Maria Vargas

Wait a minute. This is important

Mucho importante

Why to find my sister

is so important?

Ah, Doctor Livingstone

- You got cigarettes?

- Help yourself

Keep the pack. I've got more

I'm a film director and I

talked to your sister tonight

about going to America

to play in the movies.

I want to talk to her again

It's good you no understand

my mother. Is liar

Why not fight this out

later? I haven't much time

I don't know what your troubles are

but I must find Maria.

Every minute counts

My mother forbids

Maria to go to America

- What does Maria say?

- I think we can talk better outside

- My brother took all your cigarettes?

- I have another pack

- What did you tell your mother?

- Just now?

Uh-huh

I told her if she said one more

word, I would go to America,

even if I did not want to go

- Are you in trouble with Mr Edwards?

- In a way

- Because I ran away?

- Mm-hm

I do not like Mr Kirk Edwards

You're standing at the

end of a long, long line

Somehow, to me, he

is not a healthy man

Somehow, he's sick

And I cannot bear to

watch sick people be sick

That is why so suddenly

I had to go away

Mr Dawes, do you think

really that I could be a star?

There's one phrase I've

avoided like the plague

because it never worked out

With you, I think it would.

You couldn't miss

I think that I am pretty enough

but I would not want

to be that kind of star

Pretty enough? Any woman that can

use the moon for a key light...

Key light? What is that?

Your own special light when the stage

is all lit up. It shines only on you

- Like the moon

- Like the moon

You must learn how to find

it out of all the other lights

How never to lose it.

How to make it do things

for your eyes, lips and hair

- But this is not acting

- No, this is not acting

And it's not all you

have to learn either

But... if I could act a little

would you help me to become a really

good actress? Would you help me?

What makes a man want to write

about people, or direct people

is because usually he has a sort of

sixth sense about

them, or thinks he has

Like a witch

Now, my five ordinary senses

what with alcohol and the

rest, are nothing special

But I have a sixth sense

that any witch in the world would

give her left broomstick to have

And... with sense number six,

you feel something about me

Therefore, owing to circumstances

which believe me,

are beyond my control

I hereby advise you not to

come to Rome to make the test

Not to come to America.

At least, not for a while

- At least, not...

- At least, not to Mr Kirk Edwards

- Is that what you fear?

- Part of it

That's the only part

I can put into words

Or perhaps you want me for yourself

and you are afraid Mr Edwards' money

will make him more

attractive than you

What makes women think that money

makes a man feel more attractive?

I never met a rich

man who didn't think

he was being loved

in spite of his money

- And you? - Me? Well, I'm afraid

I've had three wives

I've been around with actresses,

female writers, singers, painters

even a female agent

But I don't think I've met

more than three women in my life

Six months or so ago,

I fell in love with one of 'em

- Is she an actress?

- No, I told you. She's a woman

- Does she have to work?

- Script girl. Her name is Jerry

- She has the name of a man

- There is no further resemblance

- What is a script girl?

- You find out

Apparently, your sense number

six has changed its mind

No,I've just come to the realisation

that it's none of my business

- You now want me to go?

- It's up to you

I have no fear of Mr Kirk Edwards

America is a rich

and powerful country

but you have no monopoly on evil men

I have known them since

I was a very little girl

- Not like Kirk - They did not have

millions of dollars

But, to a girl with

nothing, a man with hundreds

is as rich as one with millions

I do not say this

with pride, Mr Dawes

Nor do I want it to sound

like one of the foolish things

we laugh at in the movies

But no man has ever paid for me

and I do not think any man ever will

Then... why not with pride?

Because it has not

been out of goodness

Not even because

I've tried to be good

I have nothing to say about

it, Mr Dawes, about whom I love

It is a kind of sickness

And, as I have said, I cannot

bear to be with sick people

But when the sick one is

yourself, you cannot run away

When I was a little

girl, like so many others

there was no money

to buy shoes for me.

And when the bombs

came, in the civil war

I used to bury myself in the

dirt of the ruins to be safe

I would lie there, safe in the dirt

and wiggle my toes

and listen to the noise

and dream of someday being

a fine lady, in fine shoes.

I hate shoes, Mr Dawes

I wear them to dance

and to show myself

but I feel afraid in shoes

And I feel safe with

my feet in the dirt

My words in English are so simple

And yet what I want to

say is not simple at all

Even in my own language

my brain and my words

could not say it, I'm afraid

There's more to

talking than just words

And you have one more

sense than other people

For instance, you understood

about my cousin right away

And when I was older

and the bombs still came

just to bury myself in the

dirt was not enough to be safe

I needed someone to be with me

Someone to love, to

love me, to make me safe

I needed it. I still

need it when I'm afraid

Like a baby who needs

a light on in the dark

I need to be loved when I'm

hiding in the dirt, and afraid

But the bombs are gone

You surprise me, Mr Dawes

Is fear gone?

- What are you afraid of?

- The same as everybody else

The same as you

Of being exposed and unprotected

Like Mr Kirk Edwards

without his money

Like you, as you used

to be without your drink

or now without your

script girl, who loves you

Like me, in my shoes and on

display for men and women to examine

for different reasons

Many men must be in love with you

In the dirt, it's hard to tell

Haven't "you" been in love?

From the dirt, it's easy

to look into the clouds

Has Mr Kirk Edwards already

flown away in his private plane

all covered with diamonds and stars?

Or, by now, has it

changed into a "calabaza?"

Oh, that must be

Spanish for "pumpkin"

We still have time, if you're coming

- Yes

- Then you'd better get your things

I have them

Then you'll want to say goodbye

I've no desire to look

at my mother once more

and I would only confuse "pap

Pedro will take care of him

Con Dios, pap

I am ready, Mr Dawes

You forgot your shoes

No. I did not forget them.

What happened next,

if you go to movies

or if you've ever sat under

a dryer or in a waiting room

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