The Mirror Has Two Faces Page #2

what I envy about people in love?

I'd love it

if someone really knew me.

What I like. What I'm afraid of.

What kind of toothpaste I use.

I think

that would really be wonderful.

Hey, sister-in-law,

having a good time?

- Have you seen Claire?

- No, I'll find her for you.

You look beautiful tonight. I'm not

just saying that. You really do.

I heard you.

Why don't you have some coffee?

I'll find Claire.

- Alex is looking for you.

- Brother, it's starting already?

How could you do this?

I'll never forgive you.

- Yes ...!

- I'm Professor Gregory Larkin.

I'm calling about the response to

my ad. Is this Professor Morgan?

- I'm her sister. She knows nothing.

- Then maybe we shouldn't talk.

No! Rose would never answer herself.

Most of these guys are creeps.

But when it said you taught

at Columbia, something just clicked.

- You have seen her picture, right?

- Yes.

- And ...?

- And what?

Nothing. Great.

Make way, please.

This is the scene

at my sister's wedding.

She's getting drunk, regretting that

she got married for the third time.

My mom's sprouting snakes from her

hair in jealousy. It was perfect ...

We've got three feminine archetypes:

The divine whore, Medusa -

and me. What archetype am I?

- The Virgin Mary?

- Thanks a lot, Trevor.

No, the faithful handmaiden. Always

the bridesmaid, never the bride.

It proves what Jung said all along.

Myths and archetypes are alive

and well and living in my apartment.

As I stood beside the altar beside

my sister and her husband to be, -

- it struck me that this ritual,

a wedding ceremony, -

- is the last scene of a fairy tale.

They never say what happens after.

That Cinderella drove the prince mad

by obsessively cleaning the castle.

They don't say what happens after

because there is no after.

The be-all and end-all

of romantic love was ... Mike?

- Sex?

- You have sex on the brain.

- Marriage.

- But it wasn't always like that.

The 12th century had "courtly love",

which had nothing to do with sex.

The relationship between a knight

and a married lady of the court ...

And so they could never

consummate their love.

They rose above "going to the toilet

in front of each other" love, -

- and went after

something more divine.

They took sex out of the equation,

leaving them with a union of souls.

Think of this. Sex was always

the fatal love potion.

Look at the literature of the time.

All consummation could lead to was

madness, despair or death.

Experts, scholars and my Aunt Esther

are united in one belief:

True love has spiritual dimensions,

while romantic love is a lie.

A myth. A soulless manipulation.

And speaking of manipulation ...

It's like going to the movies

and seeing the lovers kiss ...

The music swells,

and we buy it, right?

So when my date kisses me, and I

don't hear strings, I dump him.

The question is,

why do we buy it?

Because, myth or manipulation,

we all want to fall in love.

That experience makes us feel

completely alive.

Our everyday reality is shattered,

and we are flung into the heavens.

It may only last a moment, an hour,

but that doesn't diminish its value.

We're left with memories we

treasure for the rest of our lives.

I read, "When we fall in love,

we hear Puccini in our heads."

I love that. His music expresses our

need for passion and romantic love.

We listen to La Boheme or Turandot,

or read Wuthering Heights, -

- or watch Casablanca, and a little

of that love lives in us too.

So the final question is:

Why do people want to fall in love -

- when it can have such a short run

and be so painful?

- Propagation of the species?

- We need to connect with somebody.

- Are we culturally preconditioned?

- Good, but too intellectual for me.

I think it's because,

as some of you may already know ...

While it does last,

it feels f***ing great.

I'm almost finished,

and you haven't started yet.

The perfect bite.

You need a therapist.

Do we have to have the TV on?

Can't we have a conversation?

I'm not intellectually stimulating,

like your university people ...

I'm sorry. How was your day, Mother?

- Who gives a sh*t?

- I said I was sorry. Let's talk.

I've lived too long.

I should be dead.

Give me that! Talk to me already!

All right. You haven't even noticed

I had my hair done differently.

I thought you looked different.

It looks great.

- What's different about it?

- The ...

Nothing. You're just like

your father. So easy to trip up.

- So, how was work?

- Same as always.

Though I had one customer in

for a make-over. She needed one.

Dyed blonde hair. Blue eyeshadow.

Ash-brown foundation. Hideous.

- She was shocked over my age.

- How old were you?

Sorry.

I ran into Mr. Jenkins again.

He cornered me in the elevator.

He invited me to an Alzheimer's

benefit. I said forget it.

I can't believe he still asks you.

Why don't you go with him sometime?

No ... I raised two daughters.

I buried a husband. That's my life.

I don't want to start another.

And he knows my situation with you.

You won't see him because of me?

How would it look? The mother's

dating and the daughter stays home?

Who's looking?

Hello ... Hi.

Hello, this is ...

Hello, I'm Gregory Larkin.

Professor Gregory Larkin.

Answer the phone. I'm sleeping.

Is Professor Larkin there?

I mean, is Professor Morgan there?

- Barely. Who's this?

- Gregory Larkin.

I'm a professor

in the math department at Columbia.

I was just calling to see...

- How are you tonight?

- I'm fine. How are you?

Fine.

I hope it wasn't presumptuous

of me, but I went to your class -

- and was very impressed. I hoped

we could eat dinner Saturday.

- Louder!

- I sat in on your class.

- Hold on. Don't go away.

- I was impressed by your teaching.

I was hoping

we could have dinner Saturday.

I can do this!

Can you hear me?

- Okay ... You want to eat dinner.

- I sat in on your class.

- Who's on the phone?

- Quiet! No, not you.

Gregory Larkin.

Math department. Columbia.

- I saw you pass by.

- I was just passing by ...

- I'm sorry about calling ...

- I was so confused.

- Are we on for Saturday night?

- Sure.

- I'm looking forward to it.

- Moi aussi.

He must be good-looking,

for you to go to all this trouble.

- I hate lipstick.

- Did you try the samples I brought?

- I'm not going.

- Oh, what do you want for dinner?

I don't care. I'm upset.

Can't you see that?

- You always cancel your dates.

- This is not a date.

Then why does it matter how you look

with this one?

Stop calling him "this one".

And nothing's going to happen.

You need more colour.

Let me do it.

- Don't make me look like a clown.

- You won't look like a clown.

- Where's the hairpiece?

- Shall I make you something to eat?

Make him wait. He mustn't think he's

the only date you've had in years.

Where's the bow?

Hey, your mother did you up again.

Looks great! Can I get you a cab?

Sorry.

Are you sure?

You're going to take me?

Here's where I'm going, but don't go

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