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The Boys in the Band Page #6
- R
- Year:
- 1970
- 118 min
- 4,961 Views
makes him so nervous.
Who is she?
Who was she?
Who does she hope to be?
Who knows, who cares.
His name is Alan McCarthy.
Not the famous
college chum?
Is this my surprise
from you, Michael?
I think Alan's the one
who got the surprise.
And if you'll notice,
he's absolutely speechless.
Oh, she's in shock.
She's a beast.
That's your surprise.
Uh, speaking of beasts.
From me to you, darling.
How do you like it?
Well, I suppose he has an
interesting face and body,
because he can't talk
intelligently about art.
Yeah, ain't it a shame?
I could never
love anyone like that.
Never. Who could?
I could and you could.
That's who could.
Mary, she's gorgeous.
She may be dumb,
but she's all yours.
In affairs of the heart,
there are no rules.
I'm so thrilled to get it,
I could kiss you.
But I don't wanna
get blood all over me.
Oh, look at
my sweater.
Wait'll you see
your face.
Come on, Emory,
let's get you cleaned up.
Happy birthday, Harold.
Thanks, love.
My sweater's ruined.
Take one of mine
in the bedroom.
Oh, the one on
the floor is vicua.
My sweater's ruined.
Come on. You'll feel better after I bathe your face.
with the folks.
Here's a cold bottle
of pouilly-fuiss
I bought especially
for you, kiddo.
Pussycat.
All is forgiven.
You can stay.
Ah.
No, you can stay,
but not all is forgiven.
Cheers.
I feel sick. I think
Wait a minute.
Say that again,
and I won't have to take
my appetite depressant.
All right, up the steps,
to the john. Right?
Easy does it.
One step at a time.
There.
Feel better?
I'm not ready for my close-up,
Mr. DeMille.
Nor will I be
for the next two weeks.
Oh, my God,
he's after me again!
Turning on.
Anybody care to join me?
Many thanks. No.
How about
you, Tex?
Yeah.
Michael, I left
the casserole in the oven.
You can
take it out anytime.
You're not going.
I couldn't
eat now anyway.
Well, I'm absolutely
ravenous.
I'm going to eat until
I have a fat attack.
I said, you're not going.
Beware the hostile fag.
When he's sober,
he's dangerous.
When he drinks, he's lethal.
Attention must not be paid.
I'm starved, Em.
I'm ready for some of your
Alice B. Toklas
opium-baked lasagna.
Are you really?
Oh, that makes me so happy.
Maybe I'll just
serve before I leave.
Nobody's
going anywhere.
You are going to have
schmertz tomorrow
you wouldn't believe.
I'm turning on,
and you're just turning.
Michael, is there
any air spray?
Hair spray? You're supposed
to be holding his head,
not doing his hair.
"Air" spray. Not hair spray.
There's a can of floral spray
right on top of the john.
Right. Thanks.
I keep my grass
in the medicine cabinet,
in the Band-Aid
box.
Somebody told me
it's the safest place.
If the cops arrive,
you can always lock yourself
in the bathroom
and flush it down the john.
Very cagey.
Makes more sense
in an oregano jar
in the spice rack.
I kept forgetting
and accidentally
with the salad. Hm.
No matter what meal
she comes over for,
even if it's breakfast,
she says:
"Let's have a salad."
I bet you move your lips
when you read.
I bet you sit in the steam room
and say things like,
"Hot enough for you?"
I don't use the steam room
when I go to the gym.
It's bad for you after
a workout. Flattens you down.
Just after you've broken
your back to blow yourself up.
Like a poisoned dog.
Yeah.
Oh, Harold,
he's beautiful.
Yeah. Beautiful.
He has unnatural
natural beauty.
Not that
that means anything.
It doesn't mean everything.
your hair drops out in handfuls.
Faggots are worse than
are over at 30.
Physical beauty is not
all that goddamn important.
Of course not,
how could it be?
It's only in the eye
of the beholder.
And it's only skin deep.
Only skin deep.
And it's transitory too.
It's terribly transitory.
Oh, yes. It's too bad about
this poor boy's face.
It's tragic.
He's absolutely cursed.
How could his beauty
ever compare with my soul?
And although
I've never seen my soul,
I understand
from my mother's rabbi
that it's a knockout.
I, however, cannot seem
to locate it for a gander.
And if I could...
I'd sell it in a flash...
for some skin-deep,
transitory,
meaningless beauty.
Forgive him, father,
for he know not what he do.
Michael, you don't know what
side of the fence you're on.
Say something pro-religion,
you're against it.
Deny God, you're
against that.
One might say you have
some problem in that area.
You can't live with it,
and you can't live without it.
with very little effort.
You hang on to that
great insurance policy
called the Church.
That's right.
I believe in God.
And if it turns out there
isn't one, okay, nothing's lost.
But if it turns out
there really is, I'm covered.
Harriet Hypocrite,
that's who you are.
Right. I'm one of those
truly rotten Catholics
who gets drunk,
sins all night,
and then goes to Mass
the next morning.
Gilda Guilt. It all depends
on what you think sin is.
Will you just shut up
and get back
in the goddamn kitchen?
Say anything you want.
Just don't hit me.
Well. Is it bigger
than a bread stick?
He's lying down
for a minute, Michael.
How does
the bathroom smell?
Better.
Before, it smelled like
somebody puked.
Now it smells like somebody
puked in a gardenia patch.
Dinner is served.
Bread. Isn't that great?
Emory, it looks
absolutely fabulous.
I'd make somebody
a good wife.
I could cook. I could
do an apartment and, um...
I could entertain.
Kiss me quick, I'm Carmen.
for that sort of thing.
And a getaway car.
What are you having,
big boy?
Alan McCarthy,
and don't hold the mayo.
Oh, I can't keep up with you two.
First you're mad at him, now
he's bitchin' you. What gives?
Never mind.
W-what is it?
Lasagna.
Uh, it looks like
spaghetti and meatballs,
all sort of flattened out.
It's been
in the steam room.
It has?
It looks like spaghetti
and meatballs,
all sort of
flattened out.
Oh, yes, Harold.
Truly enviable.
As opposed to you, who knows
Raconteur, gourmet, troll.
It's good.
You like it? Eat it.
Stuff your mouth
so you can't say anything.
Turning!
Wine?
No, thanks. Water.
Oh, go on, kiddo,
force yourself.
Have a little
vin ordinaire
to wash down all
that depressed pasta.
Sommelier,
connoisseur, pig.
Aren't you gonna have some of that fantastic sauce you made?
No. My lip hurts
too much to eat.
I hear that if you puts a knife under the bed,
it cuts the pain.
I hear if you put
it cuts your throat.
bring a plate up to Alan?
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"The Boys in the Band" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_boys_in_the_band_19837>.
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